Someone To Watch Over Me
by MarblePlum
Summary: Manny's facing reality, as Toby faces the past. Ashley's freaking out, Spin's beachbound, Emma's spazzing out, and Sellie's driving towards a crisis. Sequel to Cherish. A boulevard to broken dreams, broken hearts, but always holding out hope.
1. Chapter 1

**Someone To Watch Over Me**

And she's at it again. :) Well, as the summary says, this is the sequel to Cherish. I couldn't end Tobanny/Spepper's story there, now could I? Actually, yeah, I could've. They were happy. Well, they're still happy, but happiness doesn't last long in the world of Degrassi, does it? Every other week, you get some angsty explosions or romantic entanglements. Speaking of those two things...all over this particular story. Sure, there'll be fluff. I like fluff, to smile, to laugh, to go "awww" and such. Still, life is heavy, so why not show that side too?

This story features Toby/Manny, of course, then three other couples: CrAsh, Sellie, and Spemma. Yeah, that's Spinner/Emma. Believe it or not, I'm going to try them all in to create a hopefully coherent piece. Well, anyway, I don't think it's a case of who gets the biggest plot and so forth, although Tobanny essentially gets the most development.

Should you read Cherish before this? Um, I'd recommend it, but it's not necessary. I laid the foundation of Tobanny in there, and also reunited CrAsh and Sellie, with Ashley and Sean returning to finish their school years. You were also introduced to Lia Andrews, Manny's fellow actress, and Justin, a fellow computer whiz, and then Clara. Clara shows up briefly, though, which should make some of you happy. Lia plays a huge role in this.

Okay, this is an AU/UC story like Cherish. That means I take creative liberty. However, I also respect events that are canon. Here's the thing. This story takes place between the last days of May through August. That's the end of Ellie, Craig, Ashley's, etc. final year. If it happened around then, I go with it. So Jiberty gave up the baby for adoption and aren't together; Palex is having problems; Spinner/Jimmy have made amends. None of this stuff is really important for this story, but if I name drop a plot, it's because I'm keeping it canon. There are some things that I pretend don't happen, however. For instance, since Spinner's interested in Emma, no HF Spaige hook-up, and no Peter/Emma. Craig hasn't been signed to a label. One storyline I'm actually altering altogether for the sake of a plot: Emma's anorexia, and the family troubles they go through. Now, Snake has had an affair with Hatzilakos, troubling the home, but it's going to have different consequences. Emma's eating habits are normal. Snake left, and Spike won't talk to him. Additionally, Manny is in the process of packing up for the Santos home, which wasn't an issue until season six.

So when we last left everyone, it was all peachy, right? Tobanny confessed their love for one another, and Manny's relationship with her father got much better. I'm happy to say, that's still the case for the beginning here. :) They've been dating a few months. In Cherish, Toby received an internship and Manny got an agent, who recommends a drama camp to her. Okay, Ellie lost her virginity to Sean, and he also made some strides with Mrs. Nash. Ellie's father also made contact with them. Sean works at a garage, and has his own apartment. Ashley was offered a spot in a London music festival during the month of July, and she asked Craig to accompany her. They were planning on eventually getting their own place, and there was a battered women's shelter that gets referenced in this story. A couple other things: Sean/Ash bonded a bit last story and you'll be getting a little more of that here; the video store, which brought sweet little Tobanny together, no longer has Toby as the assistant manager. Clara's the only one working there now. Aww, what a loss. ;)

This installment features various locales, so I'm going to have to drag up all my memories of London, L.A., and another place I'm not going to say. It'll be a surprise, but I've been there on many occasions. I've been to Canada a couple times, but never to Toronto, so that stinks. Good thing Degrassi shows Toronto at its finest. :D It also features new secondary characters, though like Heather Sinclair last story, they're just here to cause drama, none more than Ms. Anne Marie Isaacs. Yep, Toby's mom. Oh, and Jay, of course. But we love him and all that. The Sellie and CrAsh plots don't start until the second chapter.

This author's note is the longest piece of rambling I've ever composed. Oh, well. I'll end it by saying all the songs and Degrassi are not my property. In fact, the songs are all featured in films, either as the theme to the movie or in crucial scenes of movies. Gotta go with Manny's career of choice. Oh, and I hope you enjoy it.

**I. The Way You Look Tonight**

_Someday,  
When I'm awfully low  
And the world is cold,  
I will feel a glow just thinking of you  
And the way you look tonight. _

_Yes, you're lovely  
With your smile so warm  
And your cheek so soft.  
There is nothing for me but to love you  
Just the way you look tonight._

_With each word your tenderness grows,  
Tearing my fear apart.  
And that smile that wrinkles your nose,  
Touches my foolish heart._

_Lovely,  
Never, never change.  
Keep that breathless charm.  
Won't you please arrange it, 'cause I love you  
Just the way you look tonight--  
Just the way you look tonight._

**This song was written by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, and appears in the film **_**Swing Time. **_**What can I say? When I think of a goofy, charming guy, I think of Astaire...and Toby.**

**Let's Hear it for the Boy is the property of Deniece Williams.**

A bunched pink scarf travels across the warm basement room, nearly missing the lavender comforter, but landing on the bed, next to several tubes of lipstick. There are seven different shades, all of which she's tried on, and has decided they're not flattering enough, or they're too loud or they make her lips look like carefully applied blood. She tried them on so much her mouth is numb from the pressure.

Although, tonight is special, she thinks. She searched awhile for the perfect dress, a mix between formal and casual, ultimately selecting a light blue, glittery silk number with spaghetti straps and an empire waist. Holding the dress against her body while staring into the mirror, she's sure she made the right choice.

"Hey Em," says Manny Santos, smoothing out the bottom of the dress. "What do you think?"

Emma stops writing in her journal, decorated with a ballet dancer cover, and rolls her eyes.

"You mean, for the hundredth time?" sighs Emma. "It's gorgeous, Manny."

"I know," gushes Manny. "Light blue...Toby's favorite color. Well, blue is. Do you feel like it's too light?"

"Manny!" protests Emma. "Look, the party's in ninety minutes. Just go with it!"

"Okay, did someone forget to recycle?" says Manny. "Because you're as moody as a pre-jail Paris Hilton."

Emma doesn't answer for a while, resuming her writing. As happy as she was in her current relationship, she felt really bad for her friend. Snake left the Nelson home two months ago, a few days after the premiere of her movie with Kevin Smith. Manny watched Emma say nothing then too, and she herself had no words for what Snake had done. He kissed Daphne Hatzilakos, actually kissed her the night of the premiere, according to Emma. Emma sat in her room most of the time, stopped going places, including dance class, something she took up around Valentine's Day. Spinner's gift, though they still weren't official to Manny's knowledge, was paying for the first month of it. Emma stuffed her dance shoes into a corner around Easter, and no one spoke of it again. Thankfully, she is going out with everyone tonight.

For her, the night of the premiere passed like a dream, her totally falling into the euphoria of it all. She strolled down the red carpet, holding Toby's hand, her father, mother and J.J. trailing them. Cameras flashed, and she finally got to do that chin over the shoulder move she saw in magazines. Then, they entered the theater, movie playing, and the darkness of the place, the excitement swirling in her heart overwhelmed her. Her character's dialogue was met by laughter, and she ducked into a bathroom with gold sinks during the after party, letting tears fall. Only they were tears of joy, her smile illuminated in gold as she bent over the sink. How many people actually get what they want so soon? She knew she shouldn't give up right at that moment.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Manny," says Emma, softly. "Just...got a lot on my mind."

Manny goes over, ruffles Emma's hair.

"There'll be no Sylvia Plath tonight," commands Manny, pulling Emma up. "We're going to celebrate like it's 2099. Be all _Entourage_-y."

"We'll be dead in 2099," says Emma, smiling, shaking her head.

"Not if we're famous," argues Manny. "Know why?"

"Manny...don't," warns Emma.

"_Fame...we're going to live forever..."_

Emma laughs, heads over to her closet, Manny pulling off her top.

"Hopefully, drama camp teaches you to sing at appropriate moments, you know, when the audience is willing to hear it."

Manny sticks out her tongue, lets her skirt fall to the floor. It seemed like she'd been waiting for this camp to start forever, and now there was only a week left.

There were other things she had to wait for. Toby proved to be worth the wait, however. More than worth the wait. The Kytel internship took up a great deal of his schedule. At least he was getting paid. The hours became so consuming that he eventually had to give one thing up. School was out of the question, and happy to her ears, he said he'd always make her a top priority. This feeling remained, so he left the video store, and a down-hearted Christian who swore on his love for all things Coppola that Toby could always have the job back whenever he wanted. Manny's not so sure Toby wants to, since the internship left him with a nice chunk of change and Kytel was making an offer for next year too. She was worried that he might be spreading himself a little too thin, with Kytel, school, and Student Council, and was truly surprised when he told her he was running for school president. Liberty, fatigued from dealing with the adoption of her son, announced she would be leaving to focus solely on her studies. That left the gate open for Toby and any other student. Manny told him to deal with the speeches, his main concern, while she took care of the rest. With J.T., she hung banners, fliers that she designed herself with the cutest picture of Toby ever, anything that would help Toby beat out Sully, who admitted as much to his friends that he was just doing it to get something on his transcript. Toby actually wanted to improve the school, maybe because he witnessed how intense things were after the shooting. Manny knows how much he struggled with that. Sometimes passion trumps popularity, because Toby won in a pretty close vote. Sully tossed him dirty looks now and then, but Manny thinks he was secretly relieved he didn't have to actually do all that work.

"Political party tonight!" cries Manny, slipping into the dress.

"I can't believe you planned this whole thing," compliments Emma, removing an orange dress from a hanger, then throwing it down, making a disgusted face.

"It was nothing," shrugs off Manny.

"Please," says Emma. "Booking the hall in the hotel. Coaxing Spin to donate the services of the Dot. Ordering a cake. That's huge."

"If you weren't dating Spin, I never would've got the Dot deal," assures Manny.

Emma looks down, hesitantly going on. "Yeah...but um, still pretty big."

"Well, Toby's pretty big in my life," says Manny, blushing. "_Four_ months. I swear...when he finally said those three special words I thought...I thought I'd faint."

She glances at Emma, who has retrieved a pretty, navy blue summer dress and sliding it down her slim frame.

"Yeah, you looked a little out of it," says Emma, giggling. "Like you were about to puke. Toby wouldn't have kissed you if that happened."

"You know what...," begins Manny, grabbing the scarf, tossing it at Emma's waist.

"Ah!" cries Emma, throwing a bundled up pair of socks at Manny's legs.

The two girls continue hitting each other with various bits of clothing, squealing when they actually make contact. Manny's glad Emma's lightening up. She can't imagine what Emma's state of mind will be when she actually leaves the house in August. Oh well, better not to dwell on that yet, she surmises, holding up her composition book to block a flying white slip.

"Girls!" calls a voice from upstairs. "Girls!"

They stop, go over to the steps, see Spike looking down at them. Her hair is disheveled, body wrapped in a scruffy T-shirt and pajama bottoms. In short, she didn't look too well, not her usual self at all. Manny notices Emma's face fall.

"Sorry, Mom," says Emma.

"Try to keep it down, alright?" replies Spike, shutting the door.

Emma swallows a lump in her throat, quietly sits at the make-up mirror.

"We were kinda loud," says Manny, softly. "Um...want me to do your hair?"

"No, I'll leave it like this," waves off Emma, eyes downcast.

Manny nods, reaching for her light jacket.

"Are...are you still moving?" speaks up Emma. "I know things are crazy here but..."

Crazy? More like hectic, with Emma preparing their meals, trying to keep the house clean, watching over her mom and Jack. Manny made a point to be out of the house, mainly with Toby. There were trips to the drive-ins, where it felt like his car was the only car in the lot. Sometimes they'd just hang out, like they did on the ski trip, and it was just as satisfying. Even more, things were peaceful with him. She didn't have to walk on eggshells. That was the case every time she walked into a room where Spike was. Snake left many a crack in his former home, totally different from when she first stayed there. Spike got agitated six days out of the week, Emma kept busy, and Jack could barely talk. She really thought living with her parents was stressful, a year ago, and it simply didn't seem as bad anymore, compared to Emma's, especially since she and her father reconciled.

"Yes," whispers Manny, starting to button her jacket. "Em, I..."

"You promised your dad," says Emma, more to herself.

"I want to be there for you," insists Manny. "You know you can call me..."

"A phone call," says Emma, coldly. "Nice. I bet Toby doesn't get phone calls when he needs your support. Yeah, he gets banners and parties. I know why you run off to him, Manny. I'm not stupid."

Emma shoulders her purse, Manny seeing tears forming in her eyes, starts up the steps.

"You're not riding with me and J.T.?" calls Manny after her.

"I'm getting a ride with Spin," replies Emma, running up the rest of the steps.

Ugh, forget the political party. Emma threw a better party, a pity party, and I'm the only one invited, thinks Manny.

Manny rubs her forehead, falls back onto her bed, which would really only be her bed for one more week. Then, camp would come, and she'd be stress-free. And Toby-free, she laments, inwardly. She takes a photograph of them from her nightstand, sweetly refurbished by Snake before he went away, viewing her and Toby.

It was the picture of them on the ski trip, heads next to each other, covered in snow, smiling. She looked at this picture after their first kiss, now looks at it every time she wakes up. Their relationship caught a lot of flack at school as some predicted, mainly Heather, but there comes a point where the words become weightless. She's not clear when that happened, though it happened. Toby took the brunt of the teasing, which she hates, but she can't not be with him.

Sometimes the sun slid under the slit of the basement window, catch the glass of the picture, almost as if it were meant to highlight this picture, highlight them. Then, the light would fade, so she'd turn her lamp on until she fell asleep.

II.

"This is really, really horrible," groans J.T., lifting to the bottle to his nose. "What possessed you to get it?"

"Look, it smelled better in the store," defends Toby.

"Ugh, it's the scent of a dead cat, or my hamper," says J.T., shuddering.

Toby removes the perfume bottle from J.T.'s grasp, smells it again, winces. He knew that lady behind the counter was a little too happy about making that sale. Man, he must always have that "I'm gullible" expression on his face.

"Manny's gonna hate it," says Toby, glancing at the bottle. "Moonlight Everglades. The lady said it was in."

J.T. wrests the bottle from Toby, tosses it into a trashcan. "Yeah, _in _the garbage."

"Next time, I'm just getting that J. Lo stuff she likes," sighs Toby. "I still need something for her."

J.T. shrugs, scratches his neck. "Why not...uh, see what Kate has?"

"J.T.!" says Toby. "I couldn't..."

"Ask her," insists J.T. "Manny's coming over any minute."

Toby twists his lips. Manny hinted that it was a big surprise, and he wasn't going to show up empty-handed like a chump, especially since the way he feels about her has grown. He missed her that first night at computer camp, and it got worse and worse. After Clara kissed him, he immediately knew which girl his heart sped up for, and she wasn't there with him. Clara admitted she basically saw it coming, got really red-faced, and spent lab time with Toby, and personal time with Justin and Derek. As things turned out, she ended up liking Justin somewhat, some type of weird love/hate relationship. For a moment, it brought back shades of J.T. and Liberty to him, but Toby wouldn't say as much. They'd been dating only a month, but Clara was happy, or pretended to be. He's not certain.

"Fine," says Toby, sliding on a black blazer over his dress shirt.

He does a quick check in the mirror, straightens his glasses and some hair, leaves J.T. alone in his room. In the hallway, a rushing blur goes past him, nearly knocking him into a lamp.

"Hey!" complains Toby.

He views Ashley, in a long, wool robe, shiny grey heels on her feet. Okay, he knows Ashley likes to experiment with her appearance, but this? Wait a second. Was she going to this thing too?

"Get dressed in the dark?" questions Toby, grinning.

"I don't make fun of your clothes," snaps Ashley, closing her bedroom door.

Toby shrugs, peeps inside his father and Kate's room. Hmmm, no Kate, only his father with his back turned. Oh well, J.T.'s good idea, which he rarely had anyway, wouldn't do. He starts to walk away, stops when he hears his father's voice get more forceful.

"Anne Marie, do not start this," says Jeff Isaacs.

Man, his mom. He's so sick of their arguments. They promised they'd get better with that years ago, and no, still hasn't changed.

"What do you want me to tell him?" asks Jeff, his voice rising. "That your schedule wouldn't permit it? That's great...that's...oh yeah, making it up by flying him out for his birthday will really do the trick! Did you think I'd maybe want to spend that day with him?"

His birthday is coming up in July. He really didn't feel like dwelling on it, though, since Manny would be gone. Why couldn't his mom send the card and money like she always did?

"You'll try to make the after party?" sighs Jeff. "Confirmation only comes once, Anne Marie...yes, of course, Kate will be there...if you're going to be like that, don't come. Really, do not come!"

Jeff slams the phone down, mutters a few things under his breath. Toby silently backs up, at least makes the attempt to, as his shoes produce a creak from the hallway floor. To his annoyance, he hears his father moving, and Toby goes to straighten his collar in the nearby bathroom.

"Toby...you weren't...weren't supposed to hear that," stammers Jeff, clad in a really nice black suit and blue tie.

"Whatever," replies Toby, washing his hands. "Used to it."

"Son, if you need to talk...," begins Jeff.

"Manny's on her way," interrupts Toby, not meeting his father's gaze.

Jeff pats Toby on the shoulder, leaves him alone. Drying his hands, he recalls how really ugly the divorce got. His mother was very open about how much she despised Kate, and his father would take pot shots at his mom over how little she saw Toby. Toby accepted that she couldn't get away from work. Hollywood, where she relocated a couple years ago, is stressful and animated. She was definitely keeping up with the financial part of the custody agreement, sending these huge checks to him and his father, so much money Toby didn't know what to do with it. Her company continued to take on these high-profile clients, so much so that she was currently searching for a partner. The other parts of the custody agreement, you know, actually seeing him, he got fed up with hoping that part would kick in after she moved. He saw her every other weekend for awhile, and she came for his bar mitzvah, and then following that, not a lot else. He decided to put up some walls to make it hurt less, though he politely took her calls or sent her e-mails. Now, apparently, she's not coming to his Confirmation. He only agreed to take those classes in the hope that she'd show. Like he said, whatever. She wouldn't ruin yet another event for him.

"Any luck?" asks J.T., bringing Toby back to the present.

"No," admits Toby.

J.T. laughs mischievously.

"What?" prompts Toby.

"Guess who worked his magic on Ashley Kerwin," says J.T., winking.

He holds out a gold, linked bracelet, dropping it into Toby's hands. Toby raises his eyebrows.

"Uh...what is this?" he says.

"Charm bracelet, only Ashley took all her charms off," answers J.T. "Just tell Manny some gooey stuff about you wanting her to fill it up with whatever she wants. Make her all sentimental."

"That...that might actually work," says Toby, beaming.

"Um, yeah, speaking of work, I promised Ashley we'd clean the garage while she's in London...to make room for her car," says J.T., tentatively. "See ya downstairs, Tobes."

"Our garage!" exclaims Toby. "The impossibly dirty garage!"

Too bad J.T.'s already heading downstairs. Toby shakes his head. He'd have to kill J.T. later. Just then, he hears the doorbell ring a couple times. He hurriedly situates the bracelet in the inside pocket of his blazer.

"Toby, your Manuellita's here!" yells J.T., tauntingly.

Toby smiles at his reflection, tries hard not to hurry down the stairs too much. Reaching the final stair, he stalls, feels his pulse quicken. Staring at Manny has that effect. She appears so warm and angelic in a light blue dress that so perfectly suits her. Manny smiles in his direction, lowers her eyes.

"Amazing," says Toby.

"Yeah, I try," jokes J.T. "Ready to scat?"

Toby goes past J.T., his hands circling Manny's waist.

"I know...I know blue's your fave," stammers Manny, staring into his eyes.

"You remind me of Persephone," says Toby.

"Perse-what?" replies Manny.

"She's this innocent, beautiful goddess that gets taken away, and the abduction results in her being able to change the seasons," informs Toby.

J.T. rolls his eyes. "Leave it to Toby to come up with some nerdy, romantic analogy. I'm in the car, lovebirds."

They both ignore J.T. as he shuts the front door.

"Change the seasons, huh?" says Manny, grinning. "Not that powerful."

"To me, you are...and you're going away," points out Toby.

"Not for a week, and then I'm right back here before school," promises Manny.

Toby wishes he believed that. From the way Manny described this camp, young talent got snapped up pretty fast. She might really enjoy acting, or get offered some roles. Her turn in the Kevin Smith movie earned her a host of admirers. He's betting the same thing occurs in California.

"Right," says Toby, his heart still heavy.

"We'll talk everyday I'm gone," assures Manny. "Can I kiss the president now?"

"Only if you tell me what's going on," whispers Toby in her ear.

"Mmmm mmm," replies Manny, managing to get herself out of his grasp. "You are not getting another secret out of me."

"I knew my dad was planning that post-Confirmation thing," says Toby. "So like him."

"No, I shouldn't have spilled," sighs Manny. "With that sweet smile you have, couldn't resist. This time, lips zipped."

"I'd rather you do something else with those lips," kids Toby.

"Where did this smooth guy come from?" laughs Manny.

"Renewed confidence," says Toby, leaning in. "Necessary for political office terms."

"I'm going to like this term then," whispers Manny.

Her lips barely touch his, before he hears his father's voice creep in. Ugh, why?

"Who's driving you kids there?" questions Jeff, walking down the steps. "Oh, hey, Manny."

"Hi, Mr. Isaacs," replies Manny.

"Call me, Jeff, sweetie," reminds Jeff. "Remember, I'm a cool dad."

Toby feels like banging his head against the banister. He doesn't know what's more embarrassing, his father calling them kids or saying he's the cool dad?

"So cool in fact that I can give you guys a lift?" offers Jeff.

"Uh," says Toby, grabbing his dad's arm, leading him to the foyer.

Manny peers after them, but Toby's clear that she's out of earshot.

"My car's not a lemon, Tobes," says Jeff, jovially. "You can ride in style. This is your special night."

"No, this is a special night for me and Manny," says Toby. "I wanna go wherever it is with my girlfriend, unsupervised."

Girlfriend. Wow, that took awhile for him to get used to, though he loves saying the words when he can. He smiles at his father.

"You guys aren't planning to do anything tonight!" whispers Jeff.

"No, not that!" whispers Toby. "I do want time with her before she leaves, though."

"Well, really, I was hoping we could talk about...earlier," confesses Jeff.

"Not tonight," says Toby, checking his watch.

"We'll have to talk sooner or later," says Jeff, eyeing his son up and down.

"Fine," mutters Toby.

Toby walks to Manny, takes her hand, opens the door for her.

"I mean what I said, Toby!" says Jeff after them.

"What was that all about?" asks Manny, the late, sweet spring air hitting their faces.

"Not important," replies Toby.

III.

Emma gently rests the ladle into the punch bowl, shaved ice shaking. Hmmm, blue punch. She has to hand it to her best friend. When Manny goes all out, she goes all out. The whole, spacious room is decked out in blue and gold, Degrassi's school colors: gold napkins and silverware; blue balloons and tablecloths; a two-tier vanilla cake with the silver-toned metal letters, T and I, as cake toppers. Manny is a good planner, having worked on the Sweetheart Dance and two semi-formals, but this was impressive.

The party's already going, in anticipation of Toby's arrival. J.T. took Toby and Manny out to eat, his treat, while they set up. Behind a turntable, Deejay Derek, as he called himself, plays fairly decent tunes, Danny grooving to the beat. Liberty is explaining the history of the Council gavel to anyone she can find, which in this case is Nate and Darcy. Emma's heard that speech before. For a Saturday night right before finals, it's a great turn-out. Toby would be thrilled.

She's more thrilled by one of the servers, throwing Spinner a smile as he lowers the top of a hot tray, some steam filtering out. Spinner, dressed in a tuxedo shirt and black pants, grins, starts straightening the tablecloth at the other end of the table. The thrill starts to fade as she remembers her last conversation with Manny. She didn't mean to attack her, or anyone for that matter. All of this is really hard, though, and it is tough not to have someone in the same house to talk to. Who would be there to comfort her when she notices all of Snake's mail is piling up, or that Spike wakes up around two just to get out of their bed and sleep on the family room couch? She remains silent, about everything, tries to keep the flow going as usual.

Before Snake left, things were going so well too. The beauty pageant brought her some pride, and more people were bringing that up than what she did in the ravine. Manny introduced her to a whole new wardrobe. She thought it'd be good to live up to the name Best Personal Style, but thankfully, they weren't too showy or colorful. Spinner didn't seem to care. He confessed that he liked how brave she was, not only for putting herself out there in the pageant after a tough year, but for trying new activities. He took her rollerblading to start with, then convinced her to play soccer, which she enjoyed more than she thought she would, and lacrosse. What she didn't know, he taught her. Snake used to teach her, until she requested study hall instead of Media Immersion with him. Luckily, it was March when she bailed, and maybe guilty for the whole disruption in her life, Hatzilakos agreed to Emma's request.

"Play?" chirps a sweet voice to her side.

Emma glances over her shoulder, turns, sees a small girl, around eight. She timidly holds up an origami game, one of the games she used to play herself way back when. Funny how you believe choosing a number and a color could decide your future. Well, she'll indulge the nice little girl.

"Sure," agrees Emma. "I pick five...then one."

Beaming, the girl moves her thumb and fingers five times. She moves her hands again, tells Emma to choose a color.

"Green," says Emma.

The girl nods, opens the green section of the game.

"This says who should be your boyfriend," informs the girl.

"Really?" says Emma, shrugging. "Who?"

"Spinner!" exclaims the girl, then running away, giggling as she departs.

Emma narrows her eyes, smiles at Spinner.

"They all say Spinner, don't they?" questions Emma, walking over to him.

"No, I knew you'd pick green," defends Spinner. "Or some other color you find in the woods. It was Kelsey's idea."

"Uh-huh," laughs Emma. "Pimping yourself isn't the best way to use paper, for the record."

Spinner throws up his hands in surrender. "I sorta guided Kelsey to you."

"Using your boss' daughter," chastises Emma. "That's a new one."

"No, what's new is me actually seeing you," says Spinner. "You've been M.I.T. for two weeks."

"M.I.A.," corrects Emma. "Missing in action. Due to circumstances totally out of my control."

"I can help with stuff. Until Cali, that is."

Much to Manny's excitement, Spinner was actually going to visit Kendra in Santa Clara for a couple weeks, so she'd know someone else out there besides Lia. Emma liked Manny having a friend to hang out with, but she'd be losing a friend, and a semi-boyfriend, or whatever Spin is.

"Spin, that's sweet. So not necessary."

Spinner releases a deep breath. "And the boyfriend possibility?"

Emma avoids his eyes. She enjoyed hanging out with him, definitely no complaints when it comes to the kissing. A commitment, however? It's not like Spinner wouldn't be a good boyfriend, either. She can feel her cheeks reddening, opens her mouth to speak, until a roar of voices sound, and she realizes she's missed Toby's entrance.

"Talk later?" suggests Emma.

Spinner nods, lips tightening. She's not ready to answer him yet. Ugh, horrible start to the festivities.

Ambling through the crowd, full of people shaking Toby's hand and congratulating him, Emma pats Toby on the back. Toby beams at her. Suddenly, she's not so concerned with Manny spending every second with him. He is pretty happy.

"Shocked?" she yells over the noise.

"I'm floored," replies Toby, kissing Manny's cheek.

"I had J.T. drive around the parking lot for a few," confesses Manny, linking arms with Toby.

Jeff, Kate, and Ashley approach Toby, exchanging solid hugs with him. Derek wordlessly hands Manny a microphone, Manny blinking down at it in surprise.

"What's this for?" says Manny.

"Speech," guesses Emma. "Toby might want to thank everyone for coming."

"Oh...yeah," says Manny.

"And Manny, earlier I...I was pretty rude," says Emma.

"Please," waves off Manny. "What kind of best would I be if I didn't understand?"

Emma and Manny hug, Emma sure this is as fulfilling as the ones Toby is receiving. Manny releases her, taps the microphone, producing a shrill squeak. Half the partygoers cover their ears.

"_President Isaacs_," sing-songs Manny into the mike.

Toby chuckles, gently takes the microphone from Manny. Emma can see he's getting pretty flustered as all eyes in the room stare at him.

"I still need to get better at public speaking, but...um," begins Toby. "I'm truly...truly flattered that you...you guys showed up to support me. It means a lot."

They all clap politely, J.T. whooping.

"Hopefully, I'll live up to Liberty's good reputation," continues Toby, then looking at Manny. "And to my biggest supporter...Manny, I can't imagine you not standing next to me. You're like...worth more than all the ballots in the world."

Manny blushes furiously, buries her head in Toby's chest.

"Awww," gush Liberty and Darcy simultaneously.

"Dude!" cries Danny, wincing. "Man, get the mike. I can't take this garbage anymore."

Derek retrieves the microphone, Toby and Manny sharing a light, soft kiss as applause fills the room. There were pluses to having a boyfriend. She couldn't deny that. Momentarily glancing at Spinner, meeting his eyes, she swallows a lump in her throat. Her skin begins to heat up. Heading for the door, head down, she bumps into something big, bigger than her, and that honestly wasn't a bunch of people.

"Oh...I'm sorry, Em," says a nervous voice.

Unfortunately, it is him, the voice she hasn't heard in their household for awhile.

"Excuse me," says Emma, trying to get past him.

Snake manages to stand in front of her.

"Why are you here?" demands Emma, tears burning the back of her eyes.

"Toby's father invited me," explains Snake. "He is one of my best students. Thought it'd be nice to come."

"Sure, nice," mutters Emma. "What is this? The one nice thing you've done this year?"

"Emma, come on..."

"You haven't made any effort."

"Your mother refuses to talk to me."

Snake stares at her pathetically, that friendly expression that usually makes her trust him. She hates him for it now.

"So I have a really good feeling about those two," he says, nodding towards Toby and Manny.

Changing the subject? Great tactic, though so not getting him off the hook.

"Yeah, as long as he keeps his mouth off another girl, there shouldn't be any problem," snaps Emma, rushing past Snake.

She doesn't even care how much that hurt to say. He should've known better than to try and talk to her, especially since Spike hasn't talked to him. She put herself in the middle before. Not anymore.

IV.

"Maestro, if you please," requests Manny, handing Derek a vinyl record.

Derek pretends to blow some dust off the cover. Manny crosses her arms.

"This ain't Soul Train, baby," says Derek, popping his collar. "I play contempo, cool, stuff that won't get me beat up."

"So? This music totally fits the occasion, and I want to dance with my man, so get to scratchin'," says Manny. "Only...um, don't scratch. That's Spike's."

"Ugh, this soft spot for hot actresses," whines Derek, clutching his heart playfully.

Manny smiles, spots Toby chatting with Nate and J.T. She grabs Toby's hand, interrupting the chatter, leads him to the center of the floor. Toby laughs.

"What's going on?" he says.

"We're dancing," replies Manny, nodding to Derek.

Derek puts the record on, nods his head to the chirpy beat. Manny claps to the rhythm, indicating for everyone to join in. They all comply, Darcy dancing along.

_My baby, he don't talk sweet  
He ain't got much to say  
But he loves me, loves me, loves me  
I know that he loves me anyway  
And maybe he don't dress fine  
But I don't really mind  
Cause every time he pulls me near  
I just wanna cheer_

Manny twirls Toby around, holds up his left hand in triumph. The crowd cheers, Jeff the loudest. Toby turns red, rights his glasses when they slide down.He's probably as red as she was during that speech. That speech. Wow, she got goosebumps just recalling it. As she draws him closer, she's fully aware the words were heartfelt.

_  
Let's hear it for the boy  
Let's give the boy a hand  
Let's hear it for my baby  
You know you gotta understand_

Unfortunately, there wouldn't be many moments like this soon. Sure, his Confirmation is coming up, a couple dates, and lunch with her dad, but there'd definitely be a break.For Kytel, it was hard to wait for a little over a week, and they weren't even dating then. She and Lia went over the drama camp package before Lia flew to Los Angeles. The camp would last a whole month and a half, and the activities were jam-packed during the day and some evenings. Well, I'm not ruining this evening, thinks Manny, as Toby dips her to some enthusiastic cries.

Manny shimmies, Toby doing the same. She loves that he's looser now, and she hopes it's because of her. After all, he had modeled for her, she remembers, grinning. Getting him out and away from the computer was hard at first, but with each passing week, she had to bug him about that less and less. Currently, he's actually encouraging more outings, including the lunch with her dad, which she said he could skip. Maybe he's depressed about the distance too. He kind of indicated that.

"We should get dirty, bump and grind, totally shock your dad," says Manny, softly. "Get all scandalous."

Toby's mouth drops. "What?"

"I taught you how to pop, lock, and drop it," teases Manny. "This is easier."

"Nobody was around!" points out Toby. "I mean, except you."

"Presidents are known for scandals," insists Manny, stroking his cheek. "Especially ones that involve girls."

"You're more the first lady kind," replies Toby, lifting her chin, kissing her.

Manny's shoulders relax, her brain growing cloudy. The glow of the chandeliers above seem to collect in one light, warm her face. The heat enthralls her, or is this some inner heat? Sweat beads form on the back of her neck. It all feels new, more sweet, more intense. Why is she reacting this way? She's kissed him a lot before, heavy make-out sessions and everything. She glances around, thankful no one's watching them anymore, finds Toby's mouth again. Her fingers clutch the end of his blazer on his left side, move against the inside of his jacket. Toby's lips stop, looks down.

"Not that hot in here, is it?" asks Toby, raising her hand, kissing it gently.

Yes it is, she thinks timidly. She offers him a nervous grin, smooths out her dress.

"A bit...bit stuffy," stammers Manny. "Thought...thought you were hot. Yeah, but keep the blazer. That's one I picked out for you?"

"Yep," replies Toby. "Can you meet me in the lobby afterwards?"

"Um, sure," says Manny.

V.

"Who knew blue punch could make you pee so much?" groans Emma, from behind the stall.

Manny slides the clips out of her hair, begins to fluff out her hair intensely. Several strands were sticking out or up or any unflattering way possible. Man, she looked more Medusa than Persephone. At least her dress was in good condition. Derek managed to get some congratulatory cake icing on Ashley's dress, mainly because she rejected him, reminding him that yes, she has a boyfriend.

"Yeah?" responds Manny, absent-mindedly.

Emma flushes the toilet, exits the stall, goes to the sink. She stares curiously at Manny.

"Memo to Manuella," says Emma, grinning. "Usually, people don't fuss with themselves when they're headed home."

Tapping a manicured nail against the marble of a vanity, Manny beams.

"What if I'm not heading home?" she asks.

"Uh...lost here," confesses Emma.

"Toby wants to meet in the lobby," whispers Manny.

"And?"

"We're...we're in a hotel," finishes Manny, winking at Emma.

Manny sees Emma's jaw drop, turns away from her.

"Manny..." she says.

"Toby...Toby's waiting," interrupts Manny.

"Yeah, I'll say!" exclaims Emma, eyes widening. "He's been waiting for...what, almost seventeen years?"

"Just...just cover for me, if you need to," whispers Manny, urgently.

"I'm as shocked as Toby was earlier," murmurs Emma, shrugging. "Mom's probably out cold anyway. I...I hope it's safe...and nice."

Manny nods, smiling. She leaves the bathroom, sits on a couch in the lobby, leg rising and falling. Wringing her hands in anticipation, she takes note of the people checking in and out. They carry expensive luggage, ask for extra towels, pay bellhops, retrieve room keys...room keys. Manny's sure the heat in her body is at an apex now.

They had their first kiss in a hotel, so surprising, so scary, so alarmingly perfect. They'd spent those three nights together, so that part would be a breeze. The other expectations...as new as the kiss.

Toby walks to her, his whole face glowing. Manny grabs her knees to keep her fingers from shaking again. Her heart's already out of wack. He sits next to her.

"Close your eyes," he instructs.

Manny grins widely.

"Open your palm," he says.

She does so, exposing her wrist, her pulse increasing. Something cool, light touches her palm. A key. Manny takes a deep breath.

"I wasn't expecting...," she says, opening her eyes.

A bracelet?

"Oh...oh, so sweet, Toby," says Manny, awkwardly. "You know...I love...I love jewelry."

"Let me put this on," says Toby, clearly pleased at her reaction.

He undoes the bracelet, slides it on, clicks it with a short snap.

"I want to buy you your first charm," offers Toby. "Then, you can fill the bracelet with whatever you want. Symbols of our relationship, I hope."

"Definitely," promises Manny, hugging him.

Over his shoulder, she looks at the bracelet. What a stupid assumption. And she told Emma and everything? Stupid.

"Excuse me," says a bellhop in a black and gold suit, wresting a white glove off.

Manny lets Toby go, and they stare at him.

"Uh, you guys aren't checking in, are you?" asks the bellhop. "I have to run an errand for my daughter, so if you have luggage?"

"No," replies Toby, politely. "We don't need a room."

We don't need a room, she repeats in her head. We _don't _need a room. Gosh, just pound the sentiment in forever. Why didn't he want one?

"Good, thanks," says the bellhop, wiping his brow.

Toby stands, helps Manny to her feet. "Ready?"

Yes, but you aren't, she thinks. Frowning at the floor, her sight goes to the bracelet. Ah, sometimes little things can be just as meaningful. Her mouth grows into a smile.

"I'm ready," she answers.

VI.

J.T.'s shaggy head is surrounded by comic books strewn across the floor. _Crimson Kid, X-Men, Fantastic Four. _He throws one to the side, fetches another. The only light in Toby's room is a small lamp near his computer as Toby types away.

"Can't believe Liberty avoided me all night," groans J.T. "I even tried to crack a joke during that gavel chronology of hers. She sorta smiled a bit."

Toby's sure Liberty would like to talk to him. The last few months were so surreal. Her giving birth, handing the baby off to his adopted parents, J.T. getting involved in drug dealing. It was almost like it was straight out of one of the soap opera scripts Manny sifted through. Presently, Liberty is keeping her distance, though he did see her perk up every time he mentioned J.T. in passing.

"She'll come around," comforts Toby.

"Eh, lemme listen to Chris Rock, mellow out," says J.T., grabbing his CD player.

"Remember to clean up those comic books off the floor," reminds Toby. "My dad's already rattled."

"Either he found a grey hair or your mom called," guesses J.T.

"Mom," supplies Toby.

"Bleh," condemns J.T. "Who chooses L.A. over T.O.?"

Hopefully not Manny, thinks Toby, bringing up a page with antique charms. Wow, there are loads of them. He'd be up all night, but there is no school tomorrow. J.T. presses play, goes off to his own little world.

"Politically incorrect jokes," laughs J.T. to himself. "Where have you been all my life?"

Toby smirks at J.T., hears his computer announce "You've got Mail." A little mail icon pops up, him clicking without delay. Sometimes Manny would wish him good-night that way, but he thought the goodnight kiss was awesome in itself. She wouldn't get out of his car for a full five minutes, which was pretty sweet. Her lips were so soft. Now Toby's lips don't feel that way, as he reads, his mouth growing tense.

"Kendra," he breathes, eyes frozen when he reaches her name.


	2. What Are You Doing The Rest of Your Life

**II. What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?**

_I want to see your face in every kind of light  
In fields of dawn and forests of the night  
And when you stand before the candles on a cake  
Oh, let me be the one to hear the silent wish you make _

_What are you doing the rest of your life?  
North and South and East and West of your life  
I have only one request of your life  
That you spend it all with me _

_All the seasons and the times of your days  
All the nickels and the dimes of your days  
Let the reasons and the rhymes of your days  
All begin and end with me _

_I want to see your face in every kind of light  
In the fields of dawn and the forests of the night  
And when you stand before the candles on a cake  
Oh, let me be the one to hear the silent wish you make _

_Those tomorrows waiting deep in your eyes  
In the world of love that you keep in your eyes  
I'll awaken what's asleep in your eyes  
It may take a kiss or two _

_Through all of my life  
Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall of my life  
All I ever will recall of my life  
Is all of my life with you _

**This song was written by Michel Legrand, Alan Bergman, and Marilyn Bergman for the film _Happy Ending _and appears in _The Way We Were. _**

**Author's Note: I found out Manny's mother's name is something else...Julietta? But I like Maria more, and I used it in Cherish, so sorry, it's staying.**

The rush of cool water is light compared to the clattering pots and pans of the hotel kitchen, the sound pounding in Ashley's ears. She swears she's this close to getting a migraine. Derek's set, composed mainly of thumping rap anthems, certainly didn't help. Then, he had the nerve to smear cake icing on the side of her dress when Toby blew out the cake candles, after she nicely asked him to leave her alone. Tracing a wet washcloth over the ruined fabric,she shakes her head.

Nothing has been really going well today. Well, for her. Toby's day couldn't have been better with the party, the congratulations, and she begrudgingly has to add, a very supportive girlfriend. Manny surprised her. She didn't regularly interact with her, but even from a distance, she can tell the relationship is pretty genuine. Still, it is pretty new compared to her relationship. To her disappointment, Craig couldn't get off work tonight and she didn't really hang out with any of Toby's friends so she mainly hung around Jeff and her mom. Sales at Jeremiah Motors were increasing after Diane convinced Joey to do a second commercial. In a way, that's probably good. The more money he made, the more money he'd be able to spend while they were in London. Craig suspected Joey was slipping him more cash than usual too, maybe as an added graduation gift.

Her own graduation gift? That was outside, a black Acura she picked out with the help of her mother. Kate Kerwin said it was a reward for her responsibility, and that she was proud of her for graduating on time, working extra hard that semester. Ashley can't deny that it wasn't easy. In between crafting songs for the BB6 New Voices Festival, making plans with the touring company, and volunteering at the women's shelter, her studies always had to come first with her. She caught up, and would be walking across the stage with Craig and Ellie, and the rest of their class.

She shouldn't be complaining. Soon, to quote one of her favorite songs, London would call and she _never felt so, so much alive_. Who can say? Maybe this will be the beginning of a great musical career. Yeah, she thinks, humming, the Clash in the kitchen. Really can't get any better.

"Having food fights without me?" teases a voice behind her. "I didn't know you were such a wild child."

Ashley glances down, sees Craig's strong arms wind around her waist.

"Where'd you come from?" asks Ashley, unable to stop a grin from forming.

"A musician never reveals his secrets," says Craig.

"That's a magician," says Ashley.

"Ugh, fine," sighs Craig, kissing the top of Ashley's head. "Angie needed a ride, so Joey closed the store early. I came, Spinner was loading up the catering van, and I snuck in."

"Oh," says Ashley.

"Under cover of darkness," whispers Craig, playfully.

"Very Bond, Manning," praises Ashley. "Very Bond."

Ashley dots her dress one more time, throws down the washcloth disdainfully. Meh, if she were still clothes-obsessed, she would care more. Anyways, with Craig here, the night's definitely looking up. She takes Craig's hand, leads him out into the cool air.

"The best one is Sean Connery," asserts Craig.

"No, Pierce Brosnan," argues Ashley, smiling.

"Connery," says Craig, as they head towards Ashley's car.

"Brosnan," maintains Ashley, fishing out her keys. "You are not changing my mind."

She unlocks the car, but Craig comes around, begins to tickle her. Ashley squirms, pulls the collar of his leather jacket, pressing her mouth against his. They stop after a while, Craig glancing through her car window.

"I say we continue this debate in the backseat," says Craig, biting his lip. "You know, without the talking."

"Mmm, can't," replies Ashley. "Promised Mom I'd get myself and the car home at a decent hour. She's like overly protective of the car right now."

"Or you since you're dating me."

"Nah, the car."

"It is shiny and hot, I'll give it that," waves off Craig. "But personalitywise, no way can this baby live up to me."

"You tell Joey's customers that when you're selling cars?" laughs Ashley. "No. If I'm responsible here, my mom won't worry when I'm actually in England. With you."

"Why would Kate Kerwin be worried?" asks Craig, shrugging. "I only ruined her former husband's wedding reception, deflowered her daughter, convinced her daughter I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread..."

"Uh-huh," says Ashley, sticking her tongue out at Craig.

Her mother went totally blank when she found out Ashley invited him. She gave Ashley the silent treatment for a couple of weeks, eventually waned when Ashley's birthday came. You can't stay silent when your kid's eighteenth birthday arrives, she guessed. Plus, she thinks her mother missed talking to her, about everything else. When Craig came up, she tried to change the subject, though. She doesn't understand why her mother can't get over the past. Craig really was different, much more mature and thoughtful.

Ashley opens the door, Craig backing up.

"The car must go, and so must Ashley," she pouts, Craig closing the door after her.

"Make sure to buckle your seatbelt," reminds Craig, as she adjusts her mirror.

"I always do," says Ashley.

"All your lights work?"

Ashley nods. "Including the one upstairs."

"You're still getting Sean to give the car a once over, right?" questions Craig. "Not that I have anything against dealerships, of course, but better to get a second opinion from someone you trust."

"Already talked to him," replies Ashley. "Anything else, officer?"

Craig leans in, kissing her gently, so gently she definitely doesn't want to go home despite this new responsibility kick she's on.

"Connery," he whispers, beaming.

Ashley lightly shoves him. "Good-bye."

"Only one of them has an Oscar, Ash," teases Craig.

She starts up the car, smiling, looking at Craig one more time.

"Yeah, and only one of them can give you a run for your money," says Ashley, smirking.

"You better be joking!" exclaims Craig over the roar of the car.

"Call me tomorrow and I'll tell you," replies Ashley, pulling off.

II.

The reception on Spinner's car radio goes fuzzy, cool air conditioning cutting through Emma's pantyhose. Spinner swerves right, nearing the street where her house stood. Emma folds her hands together, hopes he keeps swerving. Streetlights illuminate the hood of Spinner's car as he stops in front of the Nelson's. They bring out the blonde tints in his hair, something she always liked noticing, hadn't until they began hanging out.

"Thanks for waiting for me after work," says Spinner. "I'm sure it was fun watching me load and unload."

Emma fiddles with a blue shawl covering her shoulders, lowers her eyes. The wait wasn't that bad. Nobody bothered her, and Snake not being in the parking lot was the best bonus. He must've left right after the party, because she didn't see him when she went to the bathroom with Manny. Good, she thinks. Maybe he'll actually apologize again. She can't believe he tried to make it up to her mother and her by offering that trip to New York. Of course, Spike was oblivious he cheated at the time. But that was not the way to do things, and he knew it. He had to, since he's so smart. Man, why do smart people make these stupid mistakes?

She feels something light touch her shoulder, stares at Spinner's fingers on her skin.

"Is this about me playing that Dane Cook tape on the way here?" asks Spinner, trying to read her face. "I had no idea he'd do those ovary jokes."

"Oh...no...no," assures Emma. "I'm distracted. Finals...finals and everything."

"Finals?" says Spinner, grimacing, then pretending to shoot himself in the head.

"Yeah, finals!" exclaims Emma. "Spin, you have to study."

"I...I choke on tests...majorly," stammers Spinner. "Especially when I get nervous. Plus work is taking..."

"No excuses," interrupts Emma. "Even if I have to go to the Dot and read off quadratic equations while you fry up burgers. Ewww."

"I hate math too," admits Spinner.

"No, I like math," says Emma. "Burgers...gross. All you have to do is take charge when you're stressed."

"Oh," says Spinner, a puzzled expression on his face. "That makes sense...sort of. I always thought like relaxing would be the best option."

"Not for me," says Emma.

Spinner raises his eyebrows. "You are the smart one."

"You're smart too," says Emma, blushing. "And compassionate. This year...has been totally good for you, Spin. So many great changes you've made. It's no wonder Jimmy came around. And I'm..I'm glad I'm around too."

Grinning widely, he turns down the air, whistles softly. He yawns, a very loud one. The quiet unsettles Emma, since it's a very loud quiet. Emma swallows a lump in her throat, as Spinner slowly raises an arm, droops it over her shoulder.

"Um...," says Emma, quickly pushing her door handle.

She gets out so fast, she nearly trips over her shawl. Spinner's cheeks are all shades of pink, him clearing his throat.

"Wearing deodorant," she hears Spinner mutter under his breath.

"You're fine," says Emma. "I...I'm really cold."

"Dude, yeah, shouldn't have raised it," apologizes Spinner. "I can walk you."

"No!" protests Emma. "I mean...Mom's asleep. She gets crabby if you wake her up."

"Alright," says Spinner.

"Night," says Emma, offering him a nervous smile.

"Don't let the bed ants bite," laughs Spinner. "Man, they come up with the weirdest sayings."

Spinner makes his way down the street, Emma keeping her gaze on the back of his head. She freaked out, totally freaked out, and he hadn't even mentioned the potential boyfriend question again.

"You're attracted to a spaz, Spinner," she laments, retrieving her house key. "A total spaz."

Going to the door, she finds it's already unlocked. Odd, she thinks. Is she the only one that remembers to do the important things like lock the door? Lights are off too, except for the kitchen light. The living room television is on, so perhaps Spike is awake. She hangs her shawl on a coat hook, views Manny coming out of the kitchen. Wearing a frilly yellow nightgown, and white slippers, she scoops some cookie dough out of a package with a spoon, eats. Her hair's all over the place, frowning as moonlight streams in through a small window above the front door.

"So is this post-sex hair?" whispers Emma.

"This is post-making out with Toby hair," answers Manny. "Because that's all we're ever going to do."

"I take it there were some mixed signals," says Emma.

"Typical Manny, getting caught up in the romance of the situation," sighs Manny. "Although in my defense, the boy's been getting really handsy lately."

"Handsy?"

"I mean, he hasn't touched the mountains and valleys of yours truly yet, but..."

"Manny!" cries Emma. "I don't want to hear that! Honestly, you can be way too...um, vocal sometimes. Look, are we baking Friday? You're kinda eating the materials I bought."

"Chill out," says Manny, rolling her eyes. "And yes."

"Only you could compare sex and geography," says Emma, shaking her head.

"Correction...no sex," clarifies Manny. "I'm off to bed."

"Why don't you study?" suggests Emma. "That way, you'll know the longitude and latitude of Polo's travels, instead of where Toby's hands have traveled."

"I already know that stuff," replies Manny. "Watching _Elimidate _and getting my cookie dough on."

"You'll get some fat on," insists Emma. "There are carrots."

"Jack can eat those," says Manny, offering Emma her sweetest smile. "Bye."

"You're waking up with zits!" calls Emma after her.

"I don't care!" shouts Manny back, trudging down the stairs towards the basement.

Let her go, moans Emma inwardly. It seems with each passing week, the less she can control or monitor. Manny would be gone soon, anyways. Let her do what she wants.

Hearing a couple kids yell on the television set, she walks to the living room, views Spike shuffling, her bare feet covered by a purple blanket. Sweat rolls on her forehead, and Emma's sure she's having some type of nightmare. Emma kneels next to her, as Spike breathes in and out a couple times, resting a hand on her heart.

"No...don't," whispers Spike, eyes shut.

Heartbroken, totally heartbroken. Spike fights in her sleep, legs moving to kick off the blanket. Emma retrieves the blanket, stretches it over her mother again as she begins to calm down. A couple tears slide down Spike's, no longer fighting, cheek, as Emma fights to keep in her own tears. She watched the men who dated her mother hurt her, desert her.

Emma finds a pillow, sits, lays her head next to her mother's side. Snake wasn't supposed to be one of those men. He was supposed to make her happy. After all, he vowed to love, honor, and obey. When did people stop taking those words so lightly? How could he forget how much she loved him, how much he loved her?

III.

"What if he forgets?"

"A father can't forget a daughter in two years, especially you."

Ellie squeezes Sean's arm, glancing over a group of people standing directly in front of them. Bus exhaust fills her nose, an engine cluttering. Sunshine beats down on her face.

"Someone seriously needs to get that engine checked out," comments Sean. "Might have to play with the spark plugs..."

"Sean, I don't care about plugs, or diesel units, or anything else!" exclaims Ellie.

"You should. You're taking driver's ed in August," jokes Sean.

"Sean!" cries Ellie.

"Sorry, El," says Sean, hugging her. "Relax, though. I'm sure your dad doesn't want to meet you all frazzled."

Ellie roots her black boots firmly in the pavement. Amazingly, her feet haven't grown. She hopes her dad realizes they're the same shoes she wore when they saw him off for Afghanistan. Wow, two years, and he's back in time, for her graduation. Ellie shakes her head in disbelief, stares at smaller kids carrying "Welcome Home Dad" signs, with Canadian flag stickers surrounding the letters. The men and women in the throng wait patiently. It's strange. In a way, she feels like both of them, wanting to welcome her father home, but also very patient, a tad scared. She is different, a little taller, a little more womanly, a lot happier.

"I'm not as frazzled as Mom," says Ellie. "She's drinking her fifth cup of coffee."

They both peer over at Mrs. Nash as she takes another sip. Grimacing, she spits the contents out onto the street, fixes the top of her pretty blue pants suit.

"She usually only has one cup," explains Ellie, smiling slightly.

"Oh," says Sean.

A dirty-brown colored bus approaches the crowd. Ellie spies men in fatigues from there, her heart racing. She lets Sean's hand go, as the bus stalls. Joyous cries and yells come from all over, Mrs. Nash standing right beside Ellie. The bus door opens, a twentysomething man hopping out. A small, black-haired girl bursts into tears, runs straight for him.

"Hey, princess," says the man, immediately walking to a woman Ellie assumes is his wife.

More and more men funnel out, Ellie seeing a cast on one man's leg. She brushes some hair off her shoulder, secretly wishes her dad's okay. He sounded fine in all the phone calls, most paid for by the card Sean provided. Ugh, this is torture, she thinks, watching more people come off. Is he the last one?

Colonel Nash is, in fact, shouldering a light, army green duffel bag, hobbling towards them. Ellie covers her mouth, starting to cry. He still had that gentle gait, nicely kept black hair, though there were bags under his eyes. Who cares about bags? Ellie can't stay there any longer. She meets him half-way. He collects her in a hug, smiling, silent.

"Aw, Ellie," he whispers. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dad," she breathes, rubbing his back.

"No more pigtails?" he asks, letting her go, holding up a wavy tendril of her red hair.

"Nah," says Ellie, shyly. "Those have been retired, thankfully."

"Growing up on me," he says, with wet cheeks. "How about that?"

"I was a big fan of her side ponytail," speaks up Mrs. Nash. "Hey, John."

"Amanda," says Mr. Nash, softly.

John Nash instantly hugs her, clutching her to his chest. Ellie beams. Normally, she wasn't a big fan of parental P.D.A., but this? Definitely could deal. John kisses her cheek.

"You're as beautiful as I left you," compliments John.

"Go on," says Mrs. Nash, blushing. "Where are your bags?"

"They're unloading them now, I think," replies John. "Two more."

"I...I can help with those, sir," speaks up Sean, coming forward.

Ellie takes Sean's hand, leads him to a spot right in front of her dad. This was probably the moment she anticipated the most after meeting her father, the introduction.

"Dad, this is Sean," says Ellie.

"_The _Sean?" says John, shaking hands with him. "Based on Ellie's description, you sounded a little too good to be true. Nice to meet you."

"I don't think I can live up to Ellie's flattery, sir, but great to meet you," replies Sean, who Ellie is glad to see is playing off any nerves pretty well.

"I can point them out to you, Sean," says Mrs. Nash, nodding.

They make their way through the various hugging families, towards a row of luggage. Ellie hugs John from the side, John putting an arm around her as they walk.

"Still clomping around in those boots, I see," says John.

Ellie grins. "Some things never change."

"Well, you didn't have a boyfriend before I left," brings up John. "That's one change I'm going to have to get used to. How does your mom feel?"

"Started rough," admits Ellie, glancing at her mom and Sean, sharing a laugh with the driver. "But they've gotten better."

"Have you?" asks her father, completely out of nowhere.

The cutting, she guesses. Yeah, she's sure her mother's kept him up to speed somewhat.

"Not in one whole year," announces Ellie, proudly.

"Great," whispers John, hugging her tighter. "If I have it my way, things are never getting that difficult for you guys again. Speaking of difficult, Sean doesn't seem like the talkative type. Will it be hard for me to get to know him?"

"Eh, just talk cars, and he'll open up like a can of pop," replies Ellie, laughing.

"Gotcha," says John. "That's what he wants to be, right? A mechanic? That's noble work."

"Yeah," agrees Ellie. "Us journalists like people with ethics."

"Nice," says John. "When it comes to Sean, I'll trust your instincts."

IV.

"The promo with Manny and Jason Mewes has the most hits on YouTube," informs Toby.

Maria grins, puts a healthy portion of brown rice on Toby's plate.

"YouTube?" says Joseph, glancing at Manny. "That sounds like a toy."

"It's a computer thing, Dad," chimes in Manny. "You can watch videos on it. Mrs. Dale said a lot of people still watch the trailers even with the movie out."

"Trailer?" says Joseph.

"The preview for her movie, Joseph," says Maria. "Honestly."

"They've got five different names for things nowadays, Maria," defends Joseph. "Some kid called his shoes kicks at the construction site, and I had no idea what he meant."

"Each generation has their own slang," says Maria, taking a seat.

"My slang's rusty too," admits Toby.

"Better rusty than repetitive," comforts Manny. "If I hear J.T. say 'let's get it crack-a-lackin' one more time..."

They all laugh, placing their napkins in their laps. Uh-oh, she thinks, as Joseph takes Maria's hand, then hers. She always feels uncomfortable for Toby when they pray. If he ever minded, he never said. This was yet another great thing about him.

"Toby, would you like to bless the food?" asks Joseph.

Toby nods, holds Maria and Manny's hands, clears his throat. They all bow their heads.

"Blessed are you, HaShem, for the food you put before us. We are thankful for Mrs. Santos for preparing this meal, and we're thankful to you for letting us come together," says Toby.

"Amen," says Manny, as they open their eyes.

"What's HaShem mean?" asks Joseph. "More words I don't know."

"It's Hebrew," replies Toby.

"A name for God," adds Manny.

She tries to pick up on some of the stuff Toby learned for Confirmation every now and then. The computer stuff was a little easier, though, because Toby was more excited to share that information.

"Well, I liked that prayer," commends Joseph. "You speak very eloquently."

"Uh...thanks," says Toby, turning red.

"That's why he's president," says Manny, sipping some water.

"We're so sorry we missed the party," says Maria. "I said we'd visit my folks in Manila, and Manuella kept the plans so secret...we just got back today."

"That's fine," comforts Toby. "Your cooking more than makes up for it."

Maria smiles. "Nice to know someone appreciates my cooking."

"This is good, Mom," says Manny, keeping her gaze fixed on her plate.

They all wait for Joseph to respond. He drops his fork, a couple pieces of rice stuck in his moustache.

"What Manuella said," he offers quickly, digging in again.

Manny smirks. Moments like this would make her really miss her weekly lunches with her father while she was away. Truthfully, they started off weird. Manny thought it best just to start with the two of them, get to know each other again. Joseph rambled on and on about construction projects his company was doing, later confessing that the nerves were directing all of his dialogue. Around the third lunch, however, things were easier, Manny telling him about her upcoming Miss Degrassi activities and her small role in _Hamlet_ (the servant Reynaldo). She wanted to play Ophelia, but her other commitments wouldn't allow it. Kwan eventually selected Heather Sinclair to take Ophelia on, which she nor Toby, the play's gravedigger, were particularly happy about. Still, Heather kept her word to Manny, and blasted everyone else, excluding her and Toby. Of course, Paige landing Lady Macbeth, incurred the most wrath. Heather threatened to break Paige's other leg like Manny did if she screwed up any more lines, and that was really the only time Heather bothered to bring her name into anything. She took Marco to task for ruining the scene by coming out to his father during that festival. Well, she thinks, Heather will always be Heather.

The lunches after the premiere ran smoothly, and Toby joined her too, just like her father suggested. Joseph genuinely liked Toby as well, which made her ecstatic. Then again, why wouldn't he? He's smart, well-mannered, responsible. Her mother adored him too, sneakily working her way into the lunches because she enjoyed talking with him. The one minus in Joseph's book was Toby's religion, but something tells her her mother told Joseph not to pry too much. That's the great thing with her parents. Maria was always that great, gentle guiding light for him. She'd like to be that for Toby one day.

"Must take a smart person to learn various languages," speaks up Joseph. "My J.J. knows Spanish and French."

"Toby's good in Hebrew," says Manny. "He also knows French, a little Japanese..."

"Not fluently," insists Toby. "Definitely not fluently."

"He could learn it if he wanted to," sighs Manny.

"How old is the Hebrew language?" asks Joseph.

Manny lays down her fork, stares at Toby as he gives her dad a detailed answer. She rests her elbow on the table, cups her chin against her hand. He looked really good today, in a nice, black cotton shirt and blue jeans. Very clean-cut, handsome. She really can't explain it to Emma. All the metaphors in the world won't do, or some fancy Shakespearean monologue regarding sexuality being mingled with innocence. Oh boy, there were several of those. Romeo and Juliet, for example. But they can express themselves beautifully. In fact, they do, all throughout the play. Like her father said, Toby's the eloquent one. If she was as smart as him, she'd compare it to some chemical reaction or some other scientific theory.

"Manuella!" whispers Maria, urgently.

"Huh?" says Manny, breaking her eyes away from Toby.

"Elbow," whispers her mother.

Manny glances at her plate, sees rice covering her elbow. Great. She laughs nervously, wipes her skin with her napkin.

"Boys, eat up," instructs Maria, sweetly. "And don't be shy, Toby. Everything's kosher."

Maria stands, taps Manny on the head, indicating that she should follow her. Manny does so, fiddling with her empty charm bracelet. They stand in the kitchen, Maria leaning against the sink.

"Where were you?" laughs Maria.

Manny shrugs. "I don't know."

"Look, it's fine, Manuella," says Maria, tugging at her daughter's ponytail. "I'd rather you be dreamy over Toby than dreamy when you should be doing schoolwork."

Not if you knew how I really feel, thinks Manny guiltily.

"I guess I'm also concerned that you'll become...dreamy when you go away," confesses Maria. "L.A.'s a very strange place, from what I see."

"Mom, so not the case," says Manny. "L.A. is tough, but I'm a lot tougher. I've had to deal with a lot of heavy things too, remember?"

"It's just...just I would hate for you to lose sight of who you are," continues Maria.

Manny gives her a puzzled look.

"The plastic surgery earlier this year...that made me sad," says Maria. "Not everyone has to be a certain way."

Yes, the plastic surgery, she thinks. That was some fleeting decision, though. Her heart was never attached to the idea. She thought her mom wouldn't bring that up anymore.

"I like...like that you look like me," says Maria, shyly. "I hope that doesn't sound conceited."

No, to her, it sounds amazingly sweet. Manny hugs her mother, Maria stroking her head.

"Plastic surgery is not an option," promises Manny. "You'll see. I'm going to make you guys and Emma and Toby really proud, okay? For the rest of my career."

"Okay," whispers Maria.

After one final hug, they reenter the living room, Joseph and Toby rising.

"Don't get up for us," says Maria.

"I've...I've got finals to cram for," says Toby, apologetically. "Thanks for lunch."

"I'll be back," says Manny.

She and Toby walk side by side, out of the apartment, Manny closing the door.

"I don't want to say good-bye," says Manny, lightly kissing his neck.

"And you think I want to?" says Toby, shutting his eyes. "Mmmm."

Manny moves her mouth more intensely, stroking his shoulder. She can feel Toby's muscles tense.

"Your dad...," breathes Toby.

"Isn't opening the door," says Manny, raising her head, kissing him.

V.

"Oh my gosh!" exclaims J.T., laughing. "It's huge."

"Shut up!" whispers Toby, urgently.

"You should show it off," encourages J.T. "Come on!"

"No," says Toby, buttoning up his shirt collar.

J.T. falls back onto Toby's bed, chuckling uncontrollably. Why did J.T. have to walk in at that exact moment, his father letting him in? He was sure what it was, but sort of wanted a better look in his bedroom mirror.

"You can concentrate on finals when you've got a massive hickey on your neck?" questions J.T., grinning. "No way. This is...I am so, so proud."

"J.T...," starts Toby.

"This is it. Manny's left her mark on you. A physical expression of female desire," says J.T. "I heard that description on Dr. Sally."

"How come you memorize everything Dr. Sally says, but barely anything else?" asks Toby, clicking his computer out of sleep mode.

"How come you won't show Manny's love tattoo around school?" replies J.T. "I mean, this is your first one, right?"

"Yeah," answers Toby, softly.

And boy did it feel good. He's not clear what came over Manny, but there was no way he'd stop her. He lost total control in that moment.

"Kendra never did it? Eh, not surprised."

With Manny, that e-mail basically floated out of his mind. Now, here, with J.T. mentioning her name, all the words return. Kendra wished him well, said congrats on the presidency, so Spinner must've told her. Or she must've asked what he was doing, he thinks. In any case, she ended by saying she had to talk to him. The tone of those final words...so desperate. He can't remember an e-mail making that impression on him, not even the short ones from his mother. Contacting her might bother Manny, though. He's not sure, never having been in this position, being a boyfriend of one girl and talking to his ex-girlfriend. J.T. was in that position at one point with Manny and Liberty, he thinks, glancing at his best friend, sniffing his armpit.

"Phew," says J.T., shuddering and coughing.

"Um, J.T.?" says Toby.

"If you're still shy, don't worry," says J.T. "Hickeys eventually go away. Though that big one's going to take awhile."

"Kendra...Kendra e-mailed me," blurts out Toby.

"What?" cries J.T.

"Yeah, my reaction too," says Toby. "Last night."

J.T. strokes his chin. "Well, not to be mean or anything, but...okay, yeah, to be mean, she ditched you for some other guy."

Toby doesn't need the reminder. When Kendra left him for Sam, a student at her new school, he shut down as quickly as his PC. He cried, he blocked himself off, and he didn't go out that entire summer, unless J.T. dragged him out. They stopped talking after she sent the good-bye letter...two years ago. He can't possibly understand what else she has to say.

"Stick with the hickey provider," says J.T. "Forget Kendra."

"You're right," agrees Toby. "I should...should ignore her."

"Like she did," adds J.T. "I've got a variety show meeting. When I see Manny there, I'm totally getting on her for what she did to you too."

"Leave her alone, man," begs Toby.

"Boasting won't kill you, dude."

"No."

J.T. clicks his tongue. "Bah, you guys are so private. Fine. Adios."

Hearing J.T.'s feet move downstairs, Toby sits at the computer, brings up the e-mail. He moves the mouse to delete, ready to press it. Ready? Just one more read. Again, that last line, sounds so urgent. She really needed him, perhaps more than ever. What if he's the only person she can trust? He can't turn away from someone he dated for a couple years. An ex-boyfriend can still be a really good friend, can't he?

"Let's talk. Toby," he types, pressing Send.


	3. Accentuate the Positive

**III. **_**Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive**_

You've got to spread joy up to the maximum  
Bring gloom down to the minimum  
Have faith or pandemonium's  
Liable to walk upon the scene

To illustrate my last remark  
Jonah in the whale, Noah in the ark  
What did they do just when everything looked so dark?

(Man, they said "We'd better accentuate the positive")  
("Eliminate the negative")  
("And latch on to the affirmative")  
Don't mess with Mister In-Between (No!)  
Don't mess with Mister In-Between

**Accentuate the Positive was written by Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer, and most famously recorded by Bing Crosby and Dr. John. Though it's appeared in several movies, including **_**Blast from the Past **_**and **_**L.A. Confidential**_**, the best and most fun use of this song imo is when the kids are skating around to the song in **_**The Mighty Ducks**_**, just having fun. Ya'll know you like that flick. :P We haven't gotten to the angst yet, so I figure I'd better use it now. Plus, it fits the chapter. Thanks for the reviews:D**

"Is this too jerky?" asks Darcy,swaying her hips to the music coming out of the tape deck.

Manny hits the side of her head with the clipboard. Darcy has the most allotted time and she's still unsure about her routine, which would be performed in less than a week. Lowering her huge red glasses, Darcy taps them against her waist, covered by a mod white and black, checkerboard dress Chante made. With finals and preparing for this trip, Manny doesn't need the aggravation. Hardly anything is in tip-top shape. Spinner had to make some adjustments for the new lighting cues, J.T.'s speech ran too long, and the graduation committee have also taken over the auditorium, forcing Darcy and the others to perform in the middle of the room, in the center of a circle of chairs. Unfortunately, all the performances were either lackluster or done half-heartedly. Why did Manny agree to co-organize this in the first place? Well, yeah, there was this huge gap in her daily life when the Miss Degrassi activities came to an abrupt halt last month. She attended Rotary Club meetings, more ground-breaking ceremonies, presented a few scholarship checks, and did some promotion for the events at school. Things would get worse in the fall, with school starting up again, last right up into December, when they'd crown someone else to take her place.

When J.T. and Liberty were kind of together that spring, before the birth, Liberty told her she admired Manny's drive and commitment, a not so subtle compliment to soften her in order to get her to agree to lead at least one event– the variety show. With it all coming back to Manny now, she never knew Liberty could be so sneakily clever. One thing's for sure. Liberty's probably glad she doesn't have to deal with this chaos, thinks Manny, staring at Liberty, shyly smiling over at J.T.

J.T. was acting strange too, all throughout this meeting. He kept winking at her. Was there some secret spreading around? Manny pats her hair self-consciously after another wink from J.T. I'm so ending this meeting on account of weirdness, she thinks. Manny uses her hands to whistle, Danny shutting off the music.

"Okay, so since we're all so unorganized, we're meeting here Tuesday!" informs Manny, jotting the date down.

She hears a chorus of groans.

"Boo!" mutters Derek. "Finals. Hello!"

"You brought this on yourselves people!" replies Manny. "Come prepared to work Tuesday, or else."

Guilty looks cross the faces of everyone in the room, as they collect backpacks, water bottles, equipment, and costumes. Darcy stands in a corner, dancing by herself, mouthing numbers. Twirling his top hat in his fingers, J.T. glances at Manny, walks past her, chuckles. Liberty, seated next to Manny, raises her eyebrows.

"Your former beau's cuckoo bananas," says Manny to Liberty.

Manny takes out her cellphone, sees that she has two new messages from Lia. She can confidently say she's never met anyone like Lia, grinning as she listens to her voicemail. Her messages were usually random, but completely cool. Today's were about sheets.

"So me and Dad went shopping, and I'm saying, hey, we need sheets for Manny's bed. So I'm like pink Chanel satin with pillowcases, and he's, what, she's ten? Was about to go all Tarantino on him because duh, pink Chanel is hot, classic, totally you. Purchased that and a frap for me. Vanilla. Oh, remind me to take you to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. No worries. That awful _Bewitched _with Le Kidman is done filming there. Memories haunt me. But you gotta be caffeinated, you know? Hit me on the cell later."

Manny laughs, makes a mental note to call her. They'd been in repeated contact ever since January, when Lia faked appendicitis so that Manny could find Toby at the bus station. Based on the descriptions from Darcy and Nate, it was some performance after Manny left, with continued moaning and sweating, finally ending with Lia standing, brushing herself off, and announcing that it was most likely severe cramps from an old skiing injury. Ms. Dale didn't buy it, but for whatever reason, maybe because Lia was one of her best clients, she gave up trying to figure it out. That seemed to be the case with Lia. Put on a show, managing to pull in the attention of others, and go on her merry way. Any deeper feelings Lia hid very well. Maria asked Manny about Lia's mother when Manny's parents and Mr. Andrews sat down with the girls to discuss details, although Manny isn't sure what more to say. All Manny has heard is what Lia has told her, that her mother was a popular actress in a few comedies during the eighties, the campier ones. Lia was very proud of her– Ursula Andrews. That's all Lia would divulge, never going into how she died or her parents' divorce. If anybody knew the desire to keep family secrets to yourself, Manny did, so why not leave well enough alone?

Besides, her parents got along well with Lia's father, Kel. He ran a top production company, a company that produced more family-oriented films. Manny's mother was a fan of a few of them. What Manny saw and what her parents saw were pretty different. Kel barely spent time with Lia or her sister, Hannah. Sadly, he fit the buy-them-anything-they-want-and-they'll love you mold. That's one part of Lia's life Manny didn't envy, especially after becoming closer with Joseph these past few months.

Manny's thoughts are interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. Chante stands next to her, holding a hanger with J.T.'s vest.

"Hey," greets Manny, putting her phone in her purse.

"Manny...um, since Darcy's dance is so choppy, I was kinda thinking my cheerleading routine could be one tiny minute longer," says Chante, softly, eyeing Darcy.

One minute longer? No, the show's set, decides Manny.

"When you auditioned, I set the limits," speaks up Liberty. "Sorry."

"Please...it's a minute!" exclaims Chante. "The costumes didn't make themselves."

"You're getting credit from Kwan," reminds Manny. "We all are. I made sure you guys were getting something out of this after all the hard work you put in during finals."

"I'll ace my finals," laughs off Chante. "My dad's coming from New York to see me. Haven't seen him in two years, and he's coming for this! I need the extra minute."

"A lot of parents are coming to this," says Manny. "Have to be fair."

Chante rolls her eyes. "Including yours?"

"Yes," replies Manny.

Chante smirks, yanks up her top, exposing a tighter shirt underneath. Manny purses her lips, her face growing flustered.

"This is the real show your parents should see," says Chante, angling her chest at a few grade ten students. "Vodka and a nice view. All free in your e-mail. Courtesy of Manny Santos. _I'm going to be a star._"

About half the students in the meeting laugh, Manny crossing her arms over her chest. That stupid video, and this is the second instance where Chante has made a joke regarding that horrible night.

"Cram it, Chante!" snaps J.T., silencing the group.

"It's all you're going to be known for, _Miss Degrassi_," asserts Chante, lowering her shirt, then walking off. "Your boobs."

Liberty shakes her head, pats Manny's knee.

"Negativity is found in the roots of jealousy," comforts Liberty.

The video comments barely bothered her anymore, actually. There were too many positive occurrences to truly focus on the bad. Her career, her family reuniting, Toby. What did Chante have, except a need to tear her down? No, after all those instances with Heather during the holidays, she wouldn't get that depressed again. Like the variety show, everything is set in its proper place, and she couldn't be happier.

"I'm jealous of Nate," sighs Darcy, flopping into the other seat next to Manny's. "He's taking his tests on Wednesdays so he can do an audition on Thursday."

"Hopefully, he does well," says Manny.

"Like Toby," says Liberty. "I was so proud of him during the assembly. His speech totally killed Sully. My oratory skills must've rubbed off on him."

"My man is impressive," agrees Manny, nodding to herself.

"In every department?" asks Liberty, elbowing Manny. "I bet it's really good. Toby's so attentive."

"Liberty!" whispers Manny, hanging her head.

"I cannot be the _only_ one that's curious," defends Liberty. "J.T.'s winking invites the question."

"What question?" says Darcy. "Oh, wait...ohhhhhhhh."

Manny can swear the room is crowding in on her, and not only because of the graduation committee swarming from side to side. Spinner and Nate lug a heavy podium towards Principal Hatzilakos as Manny's cheeks begin to burn intensely.

Yes, at this point, she can understand why people are wondering. She and Toby were in an on-going, stable, happy relationship. More than enough people heard about the room mix-up during the ski trip, so whenever she ran into a group of giggling girls, she'd wager someone had filled them in and made certain assumptions. This was the more innocent wonder. Unfortunately, like Chante, this wasn't the case for everyone. A percentage of the student population dismissed her as some very free, very sexual being who'd go for it any chance she got, and they felt that way long before the e-mail. Well, for her, it has to be special, and everyone who mattered knew that was true of her.

"Why...why would you guys say...," stammers Manny.

"I was sitting next to him during the pageant," interrupts Liberty. "The way he looks at you."

"Is completely innocent," insists Darcy. "Like you're his princess. Toby's different from other guys. He's sweet."

"I know, and I love it," agrees Manny. "But what if...what if I want to be his sexy princess?"

"There's nothing wrong with...with waiting," says Darcy, tentatively.

"Yeah," says Manny. "Only this is the longest I've ever waited. Nearly five months and Toby hasn't made any moves."

"Odd, but in his nature," comments Liberty. "You guys should talk."

Liberty has a point, as usual. If she didn't tell Toby about these recent feelings of hers, things between them could become pretty strained. She got so caught up in the hallway of her parents' apartment building, moving her lips against his skin. It was probably their most sensual moment, and luckily, Toby didn't freak out.

"Sex is way too complicated for me," sighs Darcy. "With the signs and the feelings all jumbled up. So glad I'm abstinent."

"Good luck," says Liberty, patting Manny's shoulder.

Tomorrow, Toby would lead his last Computer Club meeting, and she'd be going there afterwards, anyway. Clara volunteered to step up as head of the club, so Toby could focus on his newfound duties. Too bad that meant Justin might be hanging around her and Toby more. Manny didn't care for him. What annoyed Manny the most, secretly, was that she suspected Clara went for him just because he was a blonder version of Toby, with the exception of Justin's really nasty mean streak. He said exactly what he wanted to say, and Manny felt a little bad for Clara since his personality stunk. In her final days at the video store, Manny had to interact with him a lot. He made snippy little comments about the way she dressed, and her clothes weren't even that revealing anymore, especially post-video scandal. That didn't stop Justin from looking down her top, something she caught him doing several times. Manny hinted to Christian that she might come back next year, once all this craziness ended, and he was pretty sad, though not as sad as when he lost Toby. But if Justin was there, she might chuck that plan out the window.

Forget Justin, she thinks. No, she'd take Liberty advice, reveal to Toby what she needs to, as much as it scares her. But Toby is always good at listening. They've had so many conversations surrounding how they felt, and she can do this.

"Manny!" calls over J.T.

J.T. puckers his lips, claps his hands.

"I'm the only sane one in this show," she whispers, shrugging.

II.

"Good news first, or bad news?" shouts Sean, over clanging metal and tires inching across the floor.

Ashley ducks under a couple guys carrying a rusty bumper. Ugh, she never knew garages could be so dangerous.

"Sorry, miss," says the more heavy-set of the two.

Her Acura is parked in the center of the garage, several other cars being worked on in the same line. All the mechanics, ranging from Sean's age to thirty, were wearing dark blue uniforms, grease or oil smeared on the front. In the corner, she views one guy, probably twenty-one, using a wrench to repair a carburetor. The guy is sort of lazily doing it, however, unlike Sean, who went right to work assessing her car, making small adjustments in the process.

Sean takes a pen, starts checking off what he's done on a paper.

"A checklist?" teases Ashley.

"Ellie's idea," says Sean, grinning. "We both know she loves records. Normally, I'd just use my mouth to tell you what's wrong."

"Wrong?" moans Ashley.

Man, she tried to get her mom to go to Joey's lot so they could pick out a decent automobile, but anything involving Craig or his family quickly met with a "no" from her. Who knows what kind of car the dealership gave her?

"Can I have the good news first?" asks Ashley, hoping that will prepare her for the worst.

"The car's a beaut mostly," praises Sean. "Great tires, audio's tight, brakes are fairly good..."

"Fairly good?" says Ashley. "Care to clarify?"

Sean scratches his head, covered by a bandanna.

"Sometimes it's not the fault of the dealers," explains Sean. "Sometimes the brake pedals come in rough, and no one spots it since the car drives fine. Later on, though, you'll get problems with your rotor, your brakes, and it might cost you a bundle in tires in the mean time. Not good if you're a college student."

"How long will it take to fix?" says Ashley.

"Mmm, that's tricky," says Sean. "I'm going to need to install some stuff. Other than that, your little black Acura's in good shape."

"Always has to be me," sighs Ashley. "Mom doesn't know I'm here, and she'd rather the car be at our house. And I leave for London after graduation."

Sean stands, wipes his hands, then squeezes her shoulder.

"Tell you what," whispers Sean. "I know where your house is. Can work on it during my days off."

"No, Sean, that's...," begins Ashley.

"I have no plans for the summer, anyway," admits Sean. "No, with my apartment with Jay always over and this garage, could use a change in scenery. Toby could let me in. And if your mom's real anxious, we'll get Ellie to boost me up."

Ashley beams at Sean. She's truly glad he and Ellie found their way back to each other, because he's a first-class act. Truth be told, she missed her own friendship with Sean, which sort of evaporated after the ski trip. She loved Craig, but Sean was quieter and let her get more words into the conversation. This arrangement at her house could definitely work. The bonus is her mom has no beef with Sean, and he was sorta friends with Toby.

"Thanks," whispers Ashley.

"You won't be saying that when you see the bill," laughs Sean.

Ashley chuckles, opens the side car door for him.

"Get in," she instructs.

"Why?" says Sean.

"Since you're taking care of my baby, you have to be properly introduced," asserts Ashley.

Sean smiles, slides into the passenger seat, closes the door. Ashley gets in the driver's seat, shuts her own door.

"Nice," says Sean, fiddling with her mirror. "Very nice."

"Don't touch!" scolds Ashley, playfully hitting his arm.

"Sorry," says Sean. "So has Craig been in here?"

"Nope, you're the first guy," answers Ashley.

"So you're...car cheating on me with Craig?" jokes Sean, rubbing his hands together.

"No," protests Ashley, smiling. "Mom would chop his head off if she or someone else saw him in this car."

"Sounds like Ms. Nash pre- New Year's," comforts Sean. "Parents...eventually give you a chance."

"I hope so," says Ashley. "Craig's...my backbone. I'd never tell him this, because I'm not sure if I could be articulate, but...without him in London, I could see myself falling apart. He keeps me going."

Sean faces forward, peers through the windshield. Eh, this is probably too much information for a guy's guy like him. He leans back against the car seat, closes his eyes.

"Every car needs a mechanic to keep them going," says Sean, softly, then staring at Ashley.

"Yeah," says Ashley, leaning back herself.

III.

"You may be wondering where this extra bounce comes from," says Nate, running a hand through his carefully brushed blonde hair. "That's a secret I'm willing to tell. To achieve fresh follicles with fullness, try new Maverick Shampoo. Silk and soy protein, cleansing and strengthening your cuticles, these ingredients are all natural. For that devil-may-care look, and good-lucking guys on the run. Dermatologist approved."

Toby and J.T. snicker, Nate giving his hair one more fluff, adjusting the white towel around his waist.

"Laugh all you want, dudes," says Nate, obviously overhearing them. "Once my mug's on TV, you won't be laughing then. Not all of us are landing prime parts like your girl, Toby."

"Yeah," says Toby, proudly.

He takes a seat on the bench, makes sure his shirt is pulled down all the way. Gym, he groans inwardly. Definitely his least favorite subject. Though thankfully, they'd just finished their last class. Behind him, Derek and Danny were pummeling each other with towel snaps, apparently trying to see who could get more red post-shower.

"Guys, be careful," says J.T.

"Why should I listen to the impregnator?" exclaims Danny, narrowing his eyes at J.T.

Toby has no guess as to when Danny would ever let up on J.T. for that.

J.T. shakes his head, walks to his locker, without a shirt. Toby wishes he felt comfortable doing that. And the hickey's not the only thing I want to hide, he thinks. He always put on his shirt immediately after drying off, never strolling around so others could see what he didn't like to show. This spring, he'd lost a little weight, running around everywhere for school and the internship, but he was nowhere near as lanky as Nate or J.T.

Or Sully, he adds in his head, as Sully goes past him, sunglasses over his eyes. Toby swears he's the only boy in this school to wear sunglasses in the boy's lockerroom. Peter follows, drying his ears with a towel.

"Guess who got some action and satisfaction this week?" says Sully, his voice carrying.

"Man, the entire room doesn't want to hear about your conquests," says Nate, fetching a comb, trying to figure out a new hairstyle.

"Why? Cause you guys ain't getting any?" says Sully, smirking. "Eh, at least you don't have the opportunity, Nate. Darcy's a good girl. I respect that."

Nate resumes combing, but Toby can tell he's annoyed. In fact, the whole room is, except Derek and Danny, still caught up in their game.

"Pete's too busy playing the field so that's understandable," continues Sully. "Toby, on the other hand..."

Toby raises his head, glares at Sully. Sully says nothing more, starts taking out his clothes. J.T. scowls, joins Toby on the bench.

"I bet that hickey would shut him up," whispers J.T.

"No," whispers Toby, strongly.

"He's so idiotic," says J.T., a little louder, apparently not realizing Sully was coming closer.

"J.T...," says Toby, trying to warn him.

"I mean, who starts their campaign speech bragging about their family connections?" says J.T., Sully inching closer. "Hi. My name is Sully, my family's rich...duh, I'm popular and have good hair...uh, I don't have any deep thoughts."

"What?" snaps Sully.

Toby fearfully looks at J.T., trying to think of some way to help his best friend, though he's surprised when he feels someone yank at his shirt. Sully stares down at him, his hot breath on Toby's face. Toby turns his head.

"Man, it was me bagging on you," says J.T., rising.

"Isaacs probably started it, didn't you, Isaacs?" whispers Sully, forcefully. "Everybody thinks you're so nice, and you're just a jerk who got people's pity votes."

"You lost fair and square, man," says Derek, he and Danny stopping their game to watch the scuffle.

"Get over it," says Danny.

Sully shoves Toby lightly, letting him go. Toby swallows a lump in his throat as Sully's eyes pierce through him. Why was he so upset? Neither of them could control what happened. Toby had more experience, being vice president this past year. That must've tipped the scales, or maybe his speech.

"I'm sorry, okay?" says Toby, lowering his gaze.

"You are sorry," blasts Sully. "A fat, four-eyed freak. I don't care about that election. Just don't want to see your pathetic self or your slutty girlfriend."

"She's not a slut!" shouts Toby, coming forward, staring directly at Sully.

Peter and Sully laugh. Sully takes off his sunglasses.

"Manny Santos is a selective slut," says Sully. "She'll only open her legs for one guy and one guy only. Craig. She wouldn't give it to me, and she's definitely not giving it to you. I'm surprised she ain't bored with you yet."

"She'd have to be drunk with Toby," says Peter. "Even then, she'd be confused."

Toby can feel his insides deflate, like someone is crushing him from the inside. He already hated his body, and now they're reminding him that Manny might hate it too? J.T. glowers at Sully, though like Toby, it's not clear how they can end this torment without getting in a fight.

"She'd be like _ohhh, Craig, don't stop_," says Peter in a high-pitched voice. "_Ohhh...oh, no, it's Toby on top of me. Noooo, I'm going to barf."_

Peter and Sully exchange a high-five.

"You're such an anus," mumbles J.T.

"At least I didn't get a dork pregnant," shoots back Peter.

J.T. stands, fists clinched. Toby makes a move to hold him back, but Sully pushes him into a locker. A shot of pain goes through Toby's arm, as he slides down, wincing loudly.

"Hey!" yells Nate, blocking Sully from hitting him again. "Pound him again, and deal with me."

"Actor boy is taller than you, man," whispers Peter to Sully.

"Whatever," says Sully, shrugging. "I don't need any more detentions."

Sully rolls his eyes, retrieves his pricey duffel bag. Unzipping it, he takes something out, flings it at Toby, whose eyes haven't left the floor.

"Tell Manny to use that when she gets back with Craig," he says, then walking off.

Toby's eyes, increasingly more wet, drift to it. A condom. J.T. scoops it up quickly, tosses it in his locker, closes it with an angry slam. But he's seen it. He's already seen it.

IV.

"Do you want to talk?" whispers J.T., glancing over his shoulder.

The school bell rings, kids funneling out of various rooms. The ache in Toby's arm keeps growing. He's sure he has a bruise, though he's certain he's bruised more inside. For that perfect speech he wrote weeks ago, he has no words now.

"No," answers Toby, as they exit Armstrong's math class.

"Toby, you can't shut me out. Look, does it still hurt?"

"No," lies Toby, strongly. "Leave me alone."

"Toby..."

"J.T., there's nothing to discuss," says Toby, walking to his locker.

"Okay," says J.T., hesitantly. "So...um, Confirmation. Is your mom coming?"

Normally, he hates talking about how his mom isn't coming to such and such an event. Now, he's grateful for the distraction.

"Maybe the afterparty," says Toby. "Uh...I'm not counting on it."

"Guess we'll see," says J.T.

"At least it'll be consistent," shirks off Toby. "She'll send money or an e-mail..."

Yes, Anne Marie Isaacs' short e-mails, asking what he's studying, how his dad and Ashley are, never mentioning Kate. They barely went past that. Is it that painful to ask more? He wasn't Kate, after all.

"Speaking of e-mail," interrupts J.T. "You did delete that e-mail from a certain ex, right?"

"I only have one ex," points out Toby. "Yeah, but...um, not after replying."

"Toby!" exclaims J.T., pressing his palm to his forehead.

"She sounded sad," defends Toby. "You talked to Manny after you guys split."

His only goal is to make sure she's alright. If it was anyone else he hung out with, he'd do the same. Wouldn't he?

"Not without Liberty knowing, and we didn't date for two years," says J.T. "Manny's gotta know, man."

"Manny's stressed with the show," reminds Toby. "I will tell her...before she goes."

"Good," says J.T. "Are you...are you alright?"

"Yes!" exclaims Toby. "I'm...I'm fine. Sully's an idiot."

"True that," agrees J.T. "Off to work."

"See ya," says Toby.

"If you really are bruised, just think of this bruise," says J.T., tapping his neck.

Toby smiles lightly, touching the spot where his hickey is covered.

J.T. knocks fists with Toby, goes out the school's front door. With him clearly out of sight, Toby rubs his arm, heading for the MI lab.

V.

From outside, she can hear a lot of beeping, a printer sounding off, lots of terms she isn't familiar with, and Toby's voice, something she's happy she's familiar with. Manny peeps inside the glass door of the MI lab, watching Toby speak, gesturing with his hands. Danny, Derek, Clara, and a few others listen intently. So cute, she thinks, smiling.

She checks her watch, grateful the meeting would be ending shortly. The sooner she can open up, the better she'll be. Toby's not the only one that can speak despite shyness, she reassures herself, viewing everyone standing up. Clara hugs Toby gently. That agitates Manny a little, knowing their history, but no, no, the hug doesn't last long. Manny takes a deep breath, goes in as a couple Computer Club members exit.

"Hey, Manny," greets Clara.

Clara was a whole lot nicer to her after it all, perhaps the saving grace of her dating Justin and getting over Toby. Or maybe Manny helping her uncle Christian out gained her respect.

"Hi," says Manny.

"Toby did awesome for his last day as our leader," compliments Clara. "See ya."

Clara brushes past her, checking her cellphone, most likely for messages from Justin. Justin liked to call the girl a lot.

Danny and Derek were staring at a monitor, Toby logging off of his. Danny raises his head, immediately takes off his "I Love My Module" cap.

"Lord have mercy!" calls out Danny. "Manuella's here! I promise...promise I'm not a computer junkie."

Toby meets Manny's eyes, greets her with a huge smile.

"There's only one computer junkie I want," says Manny, beaming.

"Gag," mumbles Danny. "Let's scram, man."

Danny and Derek log off, exit the room. She drapes her bookbag over a chair, walks as confidently as she can to Toby.

"You had me at hello," speaks up Toby. "_Jerry Maguire_."

Manny giggles, recognizing the game they started once she and Toby started dating. So they wouldn't break the no kissing rule they established at work, they'd toss each other romantic movie lines, whenever Clara wasn't around. The game was pretty easy too, especially after the scene they did for the pageant. Toby had collected more than her, since he had been at the store longer, but Manny knew and loved movies more so she usually won.

"You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how," says Manny. "_Gone with the Wind."_

"Hmmm," says Toby, thinking. "What I really want to do with my life– what I want to do for a living– is I want to be with your daughter. I'm good at it. _Say Anything._"

Manny places her hand over her heart. "Awww."

"I win," sighs Toby.

"Nope," says Manny. "Um...I know you think we can't be together, but can't you respect me enough to let me make my own decision? I know there'll be risks but I want to face them with you. It's wrong that we should be only half alive...half of ourselves. I love you. So here I am– standing in your doorway. I have always been standing in your doorway. Isn't it about time somebody saved your life?"

"Wow," says Toby, grinning. "I'm... speechless."

"I win then," boasts Manny happily. "_Spider-man 2."_

"Psh, I made you watch that," reminds Toby.

"Yep," says Manny, settling into his lap.

Toby winces, looks painfully up at Manny.

"I'm not that heavy, am I?" asks Manny.

"No," replies Toby, rubbing his arm. "Carpal tunnel...or something."

Manny nods, though she can tell Toby's holding back. His eyes under his glasses are actually a little sad.

"You're upset," says Manny.

"No, not with you here," promises Toby.

"Are you sad because it's your last Computer Club meeting?" guesses Manny.

"Yeah...that's it," whispers Toby.

Manny kisses him softly, the air conditioning of the lab surrendering to the same warmth she's felt before. Toby gently rubs her back, increasing her fervor. No, no, we have to talk, she thinks, breaking away from him.

"That Clark Gable quote rings so true," breathes Manny.

"The kissing one?" says Toby, blushing. "Well, yeah. And um..."

Toby slowly lowers his shirt collar, revealing a reddish spot. Manny gasps.

"Toby!" exclaims Manny. "I...I didn't mean to...are you embarrassed? I'm totally sorry."

"I...I liked it," confesses Toby, shyly. "Just...just didn't want others to see."

"Really?" breathes Manny.

Okay, that's an encouragement. After all, he's a teenage boy like everyone else. We all have hormones. Yeah, why not go further?

"Um, Toby, I think...we should have one of our world famous conversations," begins Manny.

"Shoot," says Toby, nodding.

"Well, we've been dating for almost five months, and I love it, first of all," says Manny, after clearing her throat.

Toby grins. "Ditto."

"We love each other, and I feel like we can share...more things with each other," continues Manny.

She hopes that will be enough. Toby is a smart guy.

"We share a lot with each other already," shrugs Toby.

Ugh, come on, Toby, she laments inwardly, stroking her forehead. Make this less hard for me.

"Yeah," says Manny. "More stuff, if possible. To bring us closer."

"Closer to?" prompts Toby.

"To each other," says Manny, taking his hand.

"I'm like...like lost?" admits Toby.

The direct approach is the way to go, because he's sure not figuring it out otherwise.

"I want...want us to make love," stammers Manny, tucking some hair behind her ear.

Toby stands abruptly, Manny's butt hitting the floor. It really hurt since she was wearing a skirt.

"Um," says Toby, looking away from her.

Manny grabs the end of a desk, avoids Toby's eyes. Such a mistake, she thinks, her heart dropping. He obviously isn't interested. The rejection of the hotel room should've clued her in. She makes a grab for her bag, frowning, but Toby stops her.

"Was an idea I had," says Manny, turning red. "It's...okay if you don't say yes."

"You startled me...I...I...let me think about it," says Toby.

Her heart begins to beat again. He'd think about it!

"That's not a no?" says Manny.

"Of course it's not a no," says Toby. "Um...this is a huge step so..."

"Yeah," interrupts Manny. "How...what if you think on it, and get back to me? But we...we don't have a lot of days left...but no pressure or anything."

"Okay...um, okay," stammers Toby, turning red.

Manny kisses him on the lips, both their mouths shaking. Although, for her, it's a good kind of shake. Her heart won't stop throbbing as she shoulders her backpack. Toby watches her, with the sweetest stare he's given her all day. Before leaving, she turns around.

"Toby, just the fact that you're considering it means a whole lot to me," says Manny.

Toby grins, waves awkwardly as Manny goes out of the door. She bumps into Emma, eating a piece of celery, a bunch of stalks in a baggie. Manny takes one of them out, crunches it.

"I thought you hated celery," says Emma, swallowing.

"Suddenly, I love everything," replies Manny, hugging her from the side.


	4. Come Rain or Come Shine

**IV. Come Rain or Come Shine**

_I'm gonna love you, like nobody's loved you  
Come rain or come shine  
High as a mountain, deep as a river  
Come rain or come shine  
I guess when you met me  
It was just one of those things  
But don't you ever bet me  
'Cause I'm gonna be true if you let me  
You're gonna love me, like nobody's loved me  
Come rain or come shine  
We'll be happy together, unhappy together  
Now won't that be just fine  
The days may be cloudy or sunny  
We're in or out of the money  
But I'm with you always  
I'm with you rain or shine _

**This is yet another song written by Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer. It was written for the musical **_**St. Louis Woman. **_**This song has been recorded by so many greats (Judy Garland, Ray Charles, Sinatra, Bette Midler), but it's the type of song that can be sung by a talented stranger and be just as beautiful in my book. The last time I heard it was by Katherine McPhee, who did a pretty good job with it on American Idol. Anyways, it most famously appears in **_**Leaving Las Vegas**_**, and this chapter's all about leaving. :) The chapter's also mostly set-up. Hee. :P**

**Pon De Replay is the property of Rihanna.**

Jack Simpson wobbles as he walks to the wooden rocking chair in his nursery, yanks on Emma's peasant skirt as she nearly completes her list of prime ministers for the history final. She pats his blonde head, as he continues on his journey. His small hands go through an open drawer.

"Fish!" he squeals happily.

Emma hears a small ripping sound, not unusual since he was known to rip up her mother's magazines, which she read too. Looking up, however, she sees that he's ripping something unusual. She groans.

"My dolphin pants," she mutters, collecting Jack in her arms.

Sure, they were worn and forgotten, desperately in need of repair. Yet, the sentimental part of her can't throw them away. Money was growing tighter too, since her mother and Snake weren't in contact. Pride is expensive. The pants wouldn't fit anymore, she knows, throwing them back in the drawer, with Jack struggling in her grasp. Still, they were a cute reminder of her younger days. She shuts the drawer, situates Jack in his small bed.

"No!" screams Jack.

Before Snake left, her parents were trying to convert Jack from sleeping in a crib to sleeping in a bed, complete with his favorite Bob the Builder sheets and blanket. Another thing Snake isn't here for, she thinks.

"You don't want to be a big boy?" asks Emma, straightening his pillow.

"I see sun," answers Jack.

Jack seldom slept while the sun was still up, and reminded his female family members of it whenever he got the chance. Snake never fell for this. I won't either, decides Emma.

"Yes, I know," replies Emma. "But it's still your bedtime. The sun goes in a little later during the summer."

He makes a face, winces as he lays his head on the sheets. Good, he's not putting up much of a fight today, perhaps because he spent most of the day trying to coax Spike outdoors while Emma was in school, taking a difficult English exam. Jack's eyes start to droop, and she wagers he'll be out soon.

Earlier that afternoon, Spinner called. His calls always elicited a smile from her, no matter what she was doing. He told her about this party at Joey's, said since it was in her neighborhood, maybe she can get away for a bit. The party would last until ten o' clock, some Downtown Sasquatch blow-out Marco arranged. Emma has to admit that the whole thing might be awkward. It was weird seeing Craig and Ashley together, because of his history with Manny, and then Sean and Ellie might also be there. Never mind Alex, who hated her guts. She left him a message that she had to study.

The nursery quiet now, she recalls she put a load into the washing machine in the basement. Emma trudges down the stairs slowly, wiping her eyes to keep awake. Her ears detect softer voices coming from the kitchen, one with a thicker Canadian accent. A tea kettle sounds off, someone walking over to turn the stove off. If they were drinking tea, that meant her grandmother was here.

Well, she doesn't want to disrupt their conversation, reaching for the door knob, about to go into the basement.

"And how is Emma dealing with all of this?" asks Grandma Nelson, above the loud screeching of the kettle.

The sound stops, and so does Emma, cautiously walking near the kitchen, pressing her back against the wall.

"Emma's a fortress...very strong," sighs Spike. "Wish I could be that way. No, she's handling things when I'm at work. Liz stops by to help sometimes, but...but it was much easier with..."

Spike fails to say Snake's name, which Emma completely understands. Her friend from high school, Liz, took care of Jack when she could, but she had to rush to work at five, leaving Emma with the babysitting duties until Spike came in at seven.

"That's not good, Christine," insists Grandma Nelson. "She's almost seventeen, should have some fun. Next summer, she'll be too busy getting ready for university."

"Mom, I agree...what can I do, though?" says Spike, angrily. "Ideally, all of us would be in Mexico or New York this summer, or whatever other place he proposed because of his guilty conscience."

The kitchen remained silent, Emma hugging herself.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," sighs Grandma Nelson. "I...I just can't believe he'd do this to you and the kids."

Emma hears tea being poured, Spike pulling out a chair and sitting.

"Truth is...I am worried about Emma," says Spike, more softly. "She quit dance class, and she was really enjoying it. Maybe because of all this? It's like last year, the shooting, and this year, more stress? Hiding in her room...she looks so sad at times, Mom."

"How long has this been going on?" says Grandma Nelson.

"Months...since...since Snake left," replies Spike.

Grandma Nelson blows on her tea, provides one of her famous "hmmm"s. Whenever her "hmmms" were used, Emma could tell she was ready to provide some advice. She used it when she told Emma to beware of guys who wanted to move too fast, and then in her gentle recommendations for Emma to eat more. Jack received more "hmmms", with her grandmother sharing some tips on how to raise him, but since he was so young, her mother had to receive the advice for him. Lucky Jack.

"I was listening to this radio program on a rise in teenage depression...," begins Grandma Nelson.

"Mom!" whispers Spike urgently.

Emma runs a hand through her hair, mouth tensing up. Depression? She didn't think her behavior was that dire. She hangs her head.

"Christine, it could very well be a possibility," defends Grandma Nelson. "Emma has gone through some traumatic experiences in a short time period, like you mentioned. Maybe medication would..."

"No," interrupts Spike. "No. My daughter does not need to be medicated. She has dark moods, but they pass."

"You don't...," starts Grandma Nelson.

"I _do_ know my daughter," says Spike, forcefully, Emma hearing her stand. "Sorry, Mom, I do. When I was pregnant in school, yes, I was depressed because of the situation. But I made the most of it by keeping it together. Emma's the same."

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to have her meet with people, Christine," says Grandma Nelson, clearing her throat.

Emma bites her lip, enters the kitchen. She throws back her hair, puts on what she feels is a very fake smile, the best she can muster given the circumstances.

"There's my little crusader!" greets Grandma Nelson.

Because she's always done it, Emma kisses her grandmother on the cheek, still a little rattled by the content of their conversation.

"Mom, um, Spinner invited me to a party today," shares Emma. "One exam left, and I've studied, so can I..can I go?"

"Really?" says Spike, grinning, not bothering to cover her shock.

"Yeah," replies Emma.

Spike exchanges a small smile with her mother. Grandma Nelson nods approvingly at no one in particular. Emma's glad. She doesn't want anyone thinking anything's wrong with her, especially since her mom needs her so much. The thought of therapists and medications...no, not for her.

"Be home by ten," says Spike, squeezing Emma's shoulder. "It's a school night."

"Okay," promises Emma. "Bye Grandma."

"Have fun," says her grandmother, warmly.

Emma locates her gold jacket, loosens her hair, glances at her reflection in the hall mirror. Her face is sullen, with a deep frown, light bags under her eyes. She'll improve that, improve everything.

II.

Marco twirls a lei between his fingers, cha-cha-ing with the flowery loop. Ellie laughs, dons her own blue and black lei, sticks more tape on the banner. A can of pop snaps open. Joey takes a quick sip before helping Ellie attach the banner from one side of the garage door to the other. Spinner backs up, assessing the placement.

"Banner's set, man," he says.

"Excellent," sighs Joey. "Now's my cue to leave, I suppose?"

"Don't take it personal, Joey," says Marco. "This is...a band thing."

"I was in a band!" reminds Joey. "Zit Remedy. Just as driven as Craig. Once I worked as a janitor at this radio station, you know, like Ashley. Well, actually, Ashley wasn't a janitor, but you know, I was in the thick of things and worked at the station like her. Anyways, I..."

Spinner lets Joey jabber on, goes up to Marco. Before Joey can continue, however, an expensive black van rolls into the driveway. Spinner immediately grins. Car doors unlock, a ramp easing to the pavement. Jimmy, a large black bag in his lap, eases his chair off the ramp, Hazel jumping out of the front seat. They wave to his father, who pulls out a minute later.

Jogging over to Jimmy, Spinner still can't completely believe they are friends again. He was sure Jimmy's paralysis would be a bridge they couldn't cross, that the loss of the use of his legs meant the loss of their friendship. The quips Jimmy threw in the hallways nailed that likelihood in, with his former best friend nearly drowning him in the school carnival dunking booth due to all that anger. Every dip he took in that booth not only made him more cold, but more sorrowful. Opening his mouth, the lies of last year, cost him so much.

He had to earn it all back– the trust of his friends, his placement at Degrassi, faith in himself. They were won with fierce effort. Friendship Club, with Darcy's help, taught him to forgive himself. Then, Marco, naturally, forgave him first, perhaps showing Jimmy that Spinner was changing for the best after the shooting. The news that Jimmy had to stay behind another semester was like some sign, would buy him more opportunities to make things right. Jimmy complained to Marco one day, said he was meant to graduate with Hazel and the others, in clear earshot of Spinner. So he wrote a small note, struggled with the words as much as he did with his English assignments, though Kwan's class was easier the second time around. He ended up simply writing: _Who says you can't do it, man? Spin. _Taping it to the Degrassi mural, Jimmy's latest achievement, ensured Jimmy would find it. He did, and they talked. Jimmy listened hesitantly, calmly. They didn't hug that day, much to Spinner's disappointment, but several weeks later, Jimmy extended his hand, and they shook hands, leading to one of their boy hugs, a full smile breaking out on both their faces. Sticking by someone does pay off.

"What's in the bag, Jim?" calls over Marco, stuffing white orchids into two microphone stands near Ellie's drumkit.

"Hey!" complains Ellie.

"Rations!" calls Jimmy.

"Alcoholic rations," whispers Spinner, bending down to grab the bag. "Once Jeremiah's _arrive deli_, we're breaking these bad boys open."

"_Arrive derci_, Spin...and yeah," says Jimmy, sliding Spinner some skin.

"No imbibing for me," whispers Hazel. "Dance class at the center tomorrow. Final one this spring. I'll miss my kids."

Jimmy pulls her unto his lap, Hazel yelping in delight.

"That means I won't have to share you with them anymore," kids Jimmy, rolling with her to the garage.

Spinner grins, stalls when he someone yells his name. He turns to view Emma, shyly working her way to him. Seeing her always makes him feel taller, more at ease. Blonde hair bouncing off her gold jacket, he knows he won't find a prettier blonde in California. Well, okay, there'd be gorgeous blondes, but they wouldn't be as cool as her either.

"Dude!" cries Spinner, happily. "You showed! Good."

"Got tired of studying governments," she explains. "Room for one more person avoiding finals?"

"We're done!" boasts Marco, proudly. "Grade twelves take 'em early."

"Or else we don't get diplomas," adds Ellie.

"Emma Nelson, how's it going ?" yells Joey.

"I'm good," says Emma, softly. "Nice Hawaii theme. May I ask why?"

"Three years ago, the luau king and queen were?" says Marco.

"Oh," says Emma, nodding knowingly. "Craig and Ashley."

"Here's hoping for non-dramatic festivities then," says Jimmy, sarcastically.

Everyone laughs, including Joey, who sighs, then goes into his house, reluctantly. Emma offers Joey a sympathetic smile, as Ellie hits Jimmy's head with an orchid.

"Craig's driving Pop's van to go get some chips, then picking up Ash," says Marco, reading a text message. "They'll be so clueless."

"Sean and Alex better get their butts here then," mumbles Ellie.

Spinner glances at Emma immediately. Yeah, he was worried that Emma might feel uncomfortable with those two at the party, but recently she looked like she needed to have fun. Even at Toby's party, she remained closed off. He did his best moves too, though yeah, they didn't always work.

"If you ever want to split...that'd be cool," says Spinner.

"No, these are your friends," assures Emma. "I've always gotten along with Craig, Marco...no, the Squatch is cool, and you're the main reason I'm here."

"Um...cool," says Spinner, turning red. "Shall we...uh, _celebrate, good times, come on_?"

Emma laughs at the song lyrics, nods. "We shall."

III.

The printing press van lurches forward, rolled up posters shifting across the empty floor behind their seats. Ashley gasps, catches one poster before it jumps near the brake pedals. The car in front of them honks, obviously believing Craig is too close.

There's no way I'm too close, reasons Craig, rolling his eyes. Driving stick sucks. Why Marco desired these spicy nacho chips all of a sudden, he has no clue. Luckily, Ashley didn't mind the wait. She told him her car was to remain in her garage, based on Sean's instructions.

"We're almost at your house," comforts Ashley.

Truth be told, the stalling doesn't aggravate him as much as he's letting on, since this would be their last rehearsal. Ashley was flying out the day after graduation, and he'd join her in the middle of next month. He does trust her more after the events of these past months. The Squatch rehearsals were wonderful, singing in tandem with her, hearing her voice grow in depth and maturity. In his heart, he knows she's more than ready for the festival. With Dylan and Marco patching things up last month, another band member who elected to give their former partner another chance, they were all in healthy, loving relationships. Totally unique for a rock and roll band, thinks Craig, smirking, turning left.

Marco's father's van approaches the Jeremiah household, Craig spying a huge white banner. The banner reads:_ Bon Voyage, Craig and Ashley_. Ashley smiles at Craig, Craig chuckling. Inflatable palm trees stood near the drums, orchids seeming to flow out of the metal stands. The Christmas lights Craig arranged himself now also have tropical flower laurels covering them. A blow-up doll in a grass skirt and Ramones T-shirt is positioned where Ashley usually sang.

All the Squatch members appear amused. Clearly the outsiders, Sean keeps his arms firmly locked around Ellie's waist, while Alex waves, pops her gum. Spinner points at the doll, winking at Ashley. Craig's relieved to see the act doesn't upset her.

"Any guesses where they got the doll?" laughs Craig.

"Spin," they say at the same time.

Craig turns the van off, gets out, opens the passenger's side for Ashley. Everyone cheers as the two musicians approach, holding hands.

"Aloha!" says Marco, cheerfully.

"Righteous!" say Jimmy and Spinner, simultaneously.

"Bend," instructs Ellie.

Ashley and Craig stoop so Ellie can hang black leis around their necks.

"This screams Marco," says Craig, beaming. "But thanks everyone."

"Seriously," agrees Ashley. "Massively sweet."

They hug Marco from both sides, crushing him playfully. Marco manages to escape, turning red from laughter.

"Paige had to go to a Banting instructional meeting with her mother," says Hazel. "But she offers the best of tunes."

Hazel flips on the radio, putting her arms around Jimmy's shoulders.

"Play them," says Ashley. "Or Paige won't forgive me."

"Hey Emma," says Craig, just noticing her. "Nice to see you."

"Hi," says Emma, nervously. "Congratulations."

Emma usually didn't blend into the background, but he would probably feel weird too in her position, especially with everything going on in her home.

"Limbo extravaganza!" shouts Marco, picking up on the tension.

"Ugh, no," groans Ellie, leaning her head into Sean's.

Marco fetches a small pole, with floral-tipped ends.

"Dylan's idea, since he's cramming and can't come," confesses Marco. "But I do remember our pre-England duo limbo-ing at the semi-formal."

Ashley blushes. "Uh-uh."

"What are you guys? Shy?" demands Hazel. "Limbo's totally fun...sexy."

"For cheerleaders," mutters Sean, low enough so that she couldn't hear.

Craig scratches his head. Before he went off on Ashley that night, they did limbo, one of the few happier moments during that night. The promise of more happy moments in England leads him to try at least once.

"Raise the bar, Del Rossi," says Craig.

"Yes!" exclaims Marco. "Uh, Haze, hold the other end."

Hazel complies. Craig takes a deep breath. Figures his two shortest friends are holding the limbo bar, but they are enthusiastic, holding it at a length that's not too bad.

"Help him out, ya'll!" encourages Jimmy. "Help him out."

They all clap to the rhythm streaming out of the radio, Spinner dancing off-beat as Craig approaches the bar.

_Come Mr. DJ song pon de replay  
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up  
All the gyal pon the dancefloor _

_wantin some more what _

_Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up _

Craig dips low, letting his thigh pass under the bar, inching his knees, then his chest clear. His head follows, Craig rising, yelling in triumph. Ashley claps appreciatively.

He notices Jimmy popping open a beer, raises his eyebrows. Marco sees as well, but neglects to say anything.

"Come on!" says Marco. "If the tallest can rock this, anyone can rock it."

"Ash?" says Craig, beaming.

Ashley shakes her head, smiling. "Don't do this to me."

"Do it for me," begs Craig, innocently. "Total trust."

They stare at each other over the bar, Craig telling she's letting her reserve fall. She had a similar look before they played prom, after the Creed-loving guy laid into them. She didn't feel like playing, but yep, got her to play then, and limbo two years before.

"Ugh, total trust," says Ashley, covering her face. "Raise it."

"Raise that mother!" exclaims Jimmy, then drinking.

Hazel and Marco lift the bar, obviously pleased the game isn't a one-person show. Ashley pretends to measure the distance between the bar and the floor with her hands.

"Come on, Kerwin!" yells Sean.

"Ashley!" sing-songs Craig, motioning her to follow him to the other side.

_It goes 1 by 1 even 2 by 2  
Everybody on the floor let me show you how we do  
Lets go dip it low then you bring it up slow  
Wine it up 1 time, wine it back once more  
_

She plants her feet in the ground, leans back, reddish-brown hair falling off her shoulders. Her knees, legs, and waist sail under the bar easily, then her chest and head. They all clap, Ashley giggling.

"You've done this before," says Craig.

"With you," says Ashley, hugging him.

"Ellie, you're next!" calls over Marco.

"Psh, no," says Ellie.

"Me!" says Jimmy, wheeling to the bar.

Cheers follow Jimmy as Hazel and Marco lift the bar, and he wheels underneath. Spinner wrests the limbo bar from Hazel, pretends to tap dance with it, grabbing Emma in the process. Emma squeals, tries to keep up with him. They dance to the reggae beat, the sky darkening, Christmas lights and a stray lamp illuminating them.

"Spin has the right idea!" says Alex. "I'd rather dance than dip."

The group sections off, selecting partners. Sean puts his hands on Ellie's hips as she moves them, Alex grinding her butt against Marco's waist. Marco shoves her playfully, then dances next to her.

_Let the bass from the speakers run through ya sneakers  
Move both ya feet and run to the beat  
_

Jimmy wheels to Craig and Ashley, after going to his bag.

"Craig?" he says, offering him a beer.

"Um," says Craig.

He really didn't like the idea of drinking under Joey's roof. Then again, they are celebrating and he is usually careful. He and Jimmy had a couple beers after that Kid Elrick concert last year, and they knew when to stop. Mr. Brooks didn't detect any alcohol on their breath, and he was hard to fool.

"We'll share," replies Craig.

"Okay," says Jimmy.

Craig pops the tab of the beer, sips. Eh, weird taste. The cool liquid goes down his throat. Must be imported. He offers some to Ashley.

"None for me," says Ashley. "Knowing Mom, she'll check. Not a drinker, anyways."

"Then no more for me," says Craig. "We're a team, and I'd rather get drunk on love."

"You've said that before," laughs Ashley.

"With you," whispers Craig, holding her closer.

IV.

"This is all the booze I need tonight," sighs Marco, proudly holding the champagne bottle Jimmy retrieved for him from the Brooks' residence.

Ashley holds Craig's arms, wound around her waist. Jimmy hiccups, clearly buzzed. Other than that, most people had only taken a few sips of the beer like Craig. She's surprised Spinner didn't drink more, though he seemed more preoccupied with staring at Emma. They're a cute match, thinks Ashley, smiling as Emma giggles, bats away Spinner's foot trying to kick her knee.

"Craig, smash it soft," warns Marco, glancing at him nervously. "Pop will kill me if this even gets scratched."

"I hear ya, I hear ya," promises Craig, taking the bottle.

"Speech! Speech! Speech!" chant Alex and Ellie.

"Uh," says Craig, dropping his gaze, then finding Ashley. "Um, I usually cut on a lot of musicians for their sound or their lack of depth or whatever, but...Ashley Kerwin is..."

Ashley's eyes drop to the pavement. First, the lovey dovey limbo talk, and this? Craig, such the wordy heartthrob. Guess that's where those wonderful lyrics come from, she thinks.

"Ashley Kerwin is exceptional," finishes Craig. "Her music is exceptional. I am thrilled to be in her company. She's totally killing in England, and we're taking that city by storm."

"Woo!" cheers the group.

"_Party like a rock star!_" raps Jimmy, then holding his stomach, groaning.

Craig smashes the bottle gently, glass shattering, champagne spilling onto his fingers. He sucks his fingers a little. Blushing, Ashley puts her arms over his shoulders, kissing him, tasting traces of alcohol on his lips. The taste is light, dry, not horrible. Actually, nice and refined. She had champagne at her dad's wedding, hated it then. Eh, maybe the taste grows on you.

"Mmm," says Ashley.

"Gross?" asks Craig.

"No...not bad," admits Ashley.

"Want another taste?" whispers Craig.

"There's more than enough beer," offers Jimmy, forehead crinkling.

Ashley shakes her head resolutely. Judging by Jimmy's state, and the lack of beer being drunk, she'd pass.

"Probably tastes better off of Craig's mouth," says Marco, grinning.

"You have such a crush," says Ellie, winking at her best friend.

"El!" whispers Marco, throwing a startled look at Craig.

"What?" says Craig, blankly.

Marco moves his bang over his eyes, whistles in a distracted fashion as he moves back to the garage, while the others, particularly Ashley, smirk.

V.

Emma, seated on a large black amp, drinks some water out of a bottle Spinner located for her. No wonder Manny hung out with the Squatch so much last year when she dated Spin. They are all really nice, and even Alex, though ignoring her, hasn't made any cruel remarks. Perhaps dating Paige, someone just as vocal, made her less confrontational. Sean also avoided confrontation, tossing her the occasional friendly look. The only one she knows well is Craig, and thankfully, now, she can add Spinner to the list.

"Having fun?" asks Spinner, kneeling next to the amp.

"Yes," answers Emma, ruffling his close-cut, brown hair.

"Keep waiting for a slow song," admits Spinner. "Or we could go for a walk. We haven't done that since the ski trip."

Emma caps her water, stands, takes Spinner's hand. They start down the driveway, a sharp stuttering filling the neighborhood streets. A black motorcyle moves towards them, Emma instantly recognizing the lanky body, the small patch of red hair not covered by his helmet.

"Cool ride!" exclaims Alex, walking to Snake as he takes off the helmet.

"Must get good speed," adds Sean, assessing the front. "That's top of the line."

Grinning, Snake shrugs. "It's good. I have to talk to Joey. Didn't mean to ruin the party."

He bought the bike back? Where did he get the money? Must've sold the tickets he originally got for them to travel that summer. Great, another reckless, selfish decision.

"That bike should be good and gone!" exclaims Emma. "I cannot believe you bought that piece of junk back! What about Mexico? New York?"

"I got a second job, Emma," reveals Snake. "On weekends."

"Doing what?" yells Emma. "Teaching guys how to cheat on their wives?"

Spinner's jaw drops, along with the jaws of half the group. Most of them retreat, not wanting to be witness to this, but Spinner remains. Emma lets his hand go.

"You may not care, but this bike does get me from my new apartment to Degrassi faster," says Snake. "Your mom has the car so..."

"Don't try and blame her!" interrupts Emma.

"I wasn't!" defends Snake.

Snake strokes his forehead, stares at her lovingly. He can't stare at her like that, and not expect her to feel anything.

"I hope that bike makes up for all the things you left behind," says Emma, coldly, starting to cry.

She starts to run, Spinner's voice calling after her, "Emma!"

Emma runs as fast as her flat shoes can carry her, certain she's made a scene. She can only hope Spinner's friends wouldn't laugh at her after she left. The image of the bike, with its sharp edges and gleaming paint, insults her. All image and flash, like Hatzilakos. There's no way he could share a relationship of substance with her like the one Snake and her mother shared.

Part of her really doesn't care if they are talking. Bright fireflies fly in the front yard of her home, shining so bright, as if guiding her through the dark. Cool, gentle breezes blow open her jacket, as she lowers herself on her stoop. But she can't breathe. She can barely breathe, clutching her chest. Sweat covers her forehead, her heart beating rapidly. The dark is soothing, more open than her house, so she sits and waits to be soothed.

VI.

There is a blueish-black bruise present on his arm, and that's not the only thing he wishes would go away. Being built means ripped arms with no bruises, six-pack abs with no flab, a tight butt. At least, that's what all those Hollywood stars had. And Hollywood is exactly where she's going. Well, L.A., specifically. He stares into the mirror. Would she really want to see everything? His doughy stomach, messy hair, undefined chest?

Make love. Two words that are so easy to say, so hard to accept coming from her. Toby's sure when he takes off his shirt, let alone his pants, she'd change her mind. It's easy when she can't see it all. Okay, yes, she's seen him in shorts at Liberty's hot tub parties, but no, nothing else. Where did this idea of hers come from? He thought they were fine making out, not that he hasn't considered going past that. He just kept his hands where he thought he could put them.

"Toby!" yells his father from the living room.

"Man," mutters Toby, quickly throwing on his shirt.

He goes downstairs, sees his image in the foyer mirror. Gosh, his wardrobe is dorky too. Shaking his head, he sees a more disappointing sight– his father, sitting alone, obviously wanting to talk. Ugh, he hoped his father would forget him overhearing the phone call with his mom. Toby sits next to him, quickly comes up with some plan to curtail the discussion.

"Can Manny sit with you, Ash, Kate, and Bubbe during Confirmation?" questions Toby, sure the long list of names would get him thinking more.

"You mean, instead of your mom?" says Jeff, pointedly.

It never works, groans Toby, inwardly.

"Manny's there for me more than she is," mumbles Toby, playing with his watch.

"Toby!" says Jeff, in a warning tone.

"She is," says Toby, louder. "So, front row?"

"The synagogue already told me they'd prefer if only family sat up there," confesses Jeff. "Some of your fellow Confirmation students have larger families. I'm sure Manny won't care where she is. Have her sit with Emma and J.T."

"Fine," sighs Toby.

"Toby, you know your mom and I love you, despite not being...," begins Jeff.

"Married," inserts Toby. "Dad, I've heard the divorced kid spiel. I'm sorry, but you're saying the same stuff."

"I am," breathes Jeff. "I'm sick of it too, Tobes. Sick of her not being there for you, making excuses, being totally disrespectful..."

"Stop!" exclaims Toby.

Yes, his father has bad feelings towards his mom, but yeah, she's still his mom. He'd rather them not talk than hear this.

"I'm talking...talking out of turn," says Jeff. "I'm sorry. And I did...did call her. She assured me she'd be at the afterparty. I'll take her word for it...for you."

Toby's eyes bug out. She really is coming? The afterparty is better than nothing. Wow, she'd get to see this big step in his life, meet Manny. Toby grins.

"You guys can get along?" asks Toby.

"I will if she will," says Jeff, hesitantly.

"Good enough for me," says Toby.

"Toby, don't...don't think I don't appreciate the fact that Anne Marie is your mom," reassures Jeff. "She has a good heart, and loves you without a doubt."

Yeah, just waiting for her to prove it, he thinks. No, he'd humor his dad. If she didn't come, he'd suck it up. All his friends would be there, Manny too.

"Thanks, Dad," says Toby.

The two share a hug, Jeff patting his son's head.

"Proud of you," gushes Jeff. "Confirmation classes are hard, and the rabbi tells me you're one of his best students."

"I liked this class more than shop class," shrugs Toby.

"There's a message for you on the machine," shares Jeff. "Going to go shower."

Jeff yawns, unbuttoning his white dress shirt, revealing a lean chest. He had a lot of those as the lead violin player in the local orchestra. Great, my dad's skinnier than I am too, thinks Toby, rolling his eyes.

Toby presses the button, the red light on the machine blinking. He smiles as Manny's voice fills the room.

"Hey, Toby," she says, cheerfully. "Ergh, these variety show peeps are driving me up the wall, but I did want to make sure we're still on for our Wednesday drive-in usual. I mean, movie, Milk Duds and me. Does it get any better? Oh, I hope your dad doesn't hear that. My bad, Mr. Isaacs..Jeff, or Ms. Kerwin or whoever. Toby, if you turned your cell on right after Confirmation class, we wouldn't have to do this. So embarrassing. Oh yeah...better wrap this up. Anyway, call me. Um...so okay. Oh, this is Manny. Bye."

Laughing, Toby immediately goes to the kitchen, so he'd have some degree of privacy with his dad and Kate upstairs. Before he can pick up the phone, it rings.

"Hello?" he says, answering it after the second ring.

"Your voice sounds exactly the same," says a soft, female voice.

Wow, hers does too. Although, voices don't change in two years, unless you hit puberty, but that's for guys. Hmmm, he's thinking of the lamest things as she waits for him to speak.

"Ken...Kendra?" stammers Toby. "Hi."

"Nice to know you recognized mine," says Kendra. "How are you?"

"Good," says Toby. "You?"

This labored talk hadn't been used between them since they first started dating. Butterflies brought it about, a sweet awkwardness, and now, now it's a mix of confusion and warmth. No, he can stream a few more words together, talk to her as an old friend.

"The clinics," blurts out Toby, quickly. "Spinner said you were doing those."

"They're awesome, but...tough, very tough," replies Kendra. "I stay on the beach with my mom's mom. Santa Clara Beach Homes. Nice. Enough about me. Congrats on your presidency. I was proud when Spin told me the news."

"Thanks," says Toby, twirling the phone card.

"Well, thanks for replying to my email," says Kendra. "I thought...you wouldn't. But you're so nice so...I figured I would try."

"Sure...whatever," says Toby.

When he received the e-mail, he was so worried, and annoyed too. Actually hearing her voice is a different story. He likes knowing she's doing well. Or is she?

"You...you sound stressed," stutters Toby. "Like needing to talk?"

There's a long pause, and Toby wonders if Kendra hung up.

"I...I do," she finally says. "Spinner's coming out to California soon, but...I can't...can't tell him this. Or my parents."

"Tell him what?" says Toby.

"Never...never mind," says Kendra, sounding as if she's choking on tears. "Toby, I'm sorry I bothered you."

The line goes dead, Toby resting the phone on the hook. What couldn't she tell her own brother or her parents? Whatever it is, she's pretty distressed. He dials information, waits for someone to pick up.

"Hi," greets Toby. "I need the number for Santa Clara Beach Homes."


	5. My Baby Just Cares For Me

**V. My Baby Just Cares For Me**

_My baby don't care for shows  
My baby don't care for clothes  
My baby just cares for me  
My baby don't care for cars and races  
My baby don't care for high-tone places_

Liz Taylor is not his style  
And even Lana Turner's smile  
is somethin' he can't see

My baby don't care who knows it  
My baby just cares for me

My baby don't care for shows  
And he don't even care for clothes  
My baby just cares for me

My baby don't care for cars and races  
My baby don't care for  
he don't care for high-tone places

I wonder what's wrong with baby  
My baby just cares for  
Just says his prayers for  
My baby just cares for me 

**My Baby Just Cares For Me was written by Walter Donaldson, with lyrics by Gus Kahn for the musical **_**Whoopee. **_**;) It's a hit of Nina Simone's.**

**Snippet of Miriam's Song is the property of Debbie Friedman, and snippets from **_**Funny Face **_**are the property of Ira and George Gershwin.**

A dozen yearbooks with the Panthers insignia rest on the long, sturdy table, some students already flipping through theirs. Ellie beams proudly at Marco. She'd been hard at work on the books they held, collecting photographs, arranging the layout, staying up to argue with the printers about the pages having have to be blue. It all seemed so stressful in hindsight, yet she knows capturing the memories of her class has been noble in some way. Who else was going to do it?

"Oh my gosh!" cries a girl, slamming her yearbook on the ground. "My eyes are closed in the floor hockey picture! This book sucks!"

Ellie rolls her eyes, massages her temple.

"She's in the minority, babe," reassures Marco. "Total drama queen. Everyone else loves it."

Luckily, the girl does pick her yearbook back up, although she's still huffing in silent anger. Reaching for her own, Ellie touches the white insides of the cover. At this time, all her friends would be signing each other's yearbooks, and she was stuck here, the cost of total commitment to a publication. This commitment's probably what lead her to sign up for the journalism seminar at the University of Toronto, her future university. Sean, to their mutual disappointment, couldn't finagle time out of work until September, so their road trip plans were shelved until Thanksgiving break. How many places they could pack into a week Ellie isn't sure, but she did know Sean wanted to go badly. Filling the summer holiday wasn't too bad. She offered to work too, to help with the food, lodging, and gas. Sean wouldn't hear of it, a move even her mother admired. So she decided to do the seminar for the first half of the summer, and driver's ed for the next. Things worked out, though, because with Sean working, she has more opportunities to spend with her dad.

When Mr. Nash called to say he was coming home, Ellie honestly didn't get her hopes up too much. The military took him away without any notice, so she can't say she trusted that they'd return him out of blue. Her not seeing him was hard, though she can't say it was harder than any other kid in the same situation. She hated these thoughts, but she has imagined him not being there for her graduation, preparing herself mentally for it. Now, it's reality, and she has no idea how to react, besides clinging to him harder, hoping it will really happen. At the very least, she thinks, he'll get to see my graduate portrait, which turned out well. She got to be in the center of the yearbook and newspaper staff photographs, too. He'd be proud of that.

"How many times are you in there?" asks a voice behind her, putting a firm hand on her shoulder.

Ellie smiles up at Sean, shrugs.

"It's like Where's Ellie?" says Marco. "Her redhead pops up on every page. Eh, not red. More greyish since they're black and white."

Sean sits in a chair next to hers, takes off his bandanas, slips it in his jeans pocket.

"What are they? Twenty?" asks Sean.

"Thirty-nine ninety-five," provides Ellie.

Sean whistles. "Uh, yeah. Don't suppose I can negotiate a new price?"

"No brownie points for dating the editor," answers Ellie, kissing Sean's cheek.

The auditorium door parts, a cool breeze coming in as Paige enters, jewel-encrusted sunglasses on her face. She waves to Marco from afar, approaches the desk, hands Ellie a check.

"My pores better be perfect," says Paige, flipping through the book. "Um, ewww. I look like a pre-op Courtney Love in the Spirit Squad picture."

"Courtney's fairly cool," says Ellie, hesitantly.

"Must be the angle," says Marco, as Paige shows him.

"Hon, no, I naturally photograph well at every angle. A little gift I have," replies Paige, sweetly, starting to flip again. "Pageant picture...good. Graduate portrait...very good. Almost Ashley Tisdale-esque. Better her than Courtney. Not horrible on the whole, Ellie."

"Thanks," says Ellie, exchanging a knowing look with Sean.

The entrance opens again, Alex grasping a few sheets of paper, obviously upset. Ellie raises her eyebrows as Alex smirks at Paige.

"Banting!?" shouts Alex. "Banting!?"

"Yeah, it's...it's the Harvard of the North, don't you know?" stammers Paige, pocketing her sunglasses.

Alex thrusts the papers in front of Paige's eyes, lets them flutter to the floor.

"What were you thinking stuffing that in my locker?" exclaims Alex. "You go to some stupid meeting, love it, and expect me to want to go too?"

"Hello?" answers Paige. "Is it wrong to keep your options open?"

"Like I could afford it," says Alex, softly.

"Alex, you need a plan. We all do," says Paige. "Being stuck at the movie theater doesn't have to be yours."

"I'm going to do what I do, okay?" shoots back Alex. "Oh, and next time you're going around collecting brochures, pick some up on preppy universities that let in controlling blonde exes."

"What!" exclaims Paige.

"You're a Banting girl," says Alex over her shoulder as she walks away. "Figure it out!"

Paige flinches as the door slams loudly after Alex. Ellie, Marco, and Sean exchange looks, making a silent agreement to say nothing.

"Leave it to Alex to do an elaborate dumping," remarks Paige, her lip quivering a bit. "Eh, so I'm handing these out tomorrow, Nash?"

Ellie looks at her sympathetically, nods. After all the relationship troubles she's had this year, she more than felt bad for Paige, despite being annoyed with her for most of high school. Paige repositions her sunglasses over her eyes, strides shakily out of the door.

"Guess not all relationships stay towards the end of Degrassi," mutters Marco, standing. "Um, going to call Dylan...yeah."

Shivers run up Ellie's spine. Her and Sean were tight, right? Sleeping with him that first night, then of course, several times afterward, shows they're mature, serious, really going somewhere. Each time was beautiful, especially when he held her afterwards. In fact, the only reason she wasn't living with him instead of the dorms is because she didn't have the nerve to ask her mother, who was still wary of him. The only competition for Sean's attention was the shop, but otherwise, they were as strong as when they first dated.

Ellie squeezes Sean's knee. "Well, post-Degrassi, you are definitely part of my plans."

"Same," confesses Sean. "Lemme see that book."

"Let you see all this pathetic white space?" groans Ellie. "Uh..."

"If I sign, there will be less white space," says Sean. "Writers would get that."

"Touche," says Ellie, sliding it over.

Sean takes a deep breath, uncaps a pen he finds on the table. He writes, not too much, closes the book ceremoniously. Ellie opens it, and reads: Later tonight? Sean. That was code for doing what they did on Boxing Day, otherwise known as her first time.

"My parents are going to see that!" whispers Ellie, blushing. "Sean!"

Sean grins mischievously. "Fine."

He takes the book back, inserts the word "study."

"Study later tonight?" reads Ellie. "That's...more innocent. For how long?"

"Til we get tired," whispers Sean.

Ellie fans herself with the yearbook, can barely keep a straight face when a girl presents her with two twenty dollar bills.

"Are you alright?" asks the girl.

Sean and Ellie glance at each other.

"We're planning on studying," replies Sean.

Ellie hits him with her yearbook.

"But...but finals are over," reminds the girl. "You guys must be really smart then."

II.

"_And the women dancing with their timbrels_, _followed Miriam as she sang her song_, _sing a song to the One whom we've exalted_," sings Clara, writing on a piece of paper.

"_Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long_," finishes Rabbi Yosef Miller, drumming on Clara's desk playfully.

Toby traces the Hebrew letters of _emuwnah_, taps his eraser at the edge of his desk. He's seated right in the middle of Clara and Matthew Stern, probably the most eager religious student he's ever met. His eyes dart to the Seder candles on the table, a children's poster with the plagues that the younger kids made, Rabbi Miller's _kittel_, the white robe hanging on the outside of the closet. Focus has never been hard for him, as the class went through the stories of the prophets, the Judaic laws, talked about current events. And Rabbi Miller was a fun rabbi, always open to hearing about their problems, school work, how Matthew was doing in sports, the latest events at Degrassi. Still, he can't concentrate, mainly due to what _emuwnah _means.

Faithfulness. The word and its sentiment rests squarely on the top of the essay he's composing. He wrote it before he even knew he wrote it. Maybe he should've chosen a song like Clara, though he can't sing. Or maybe he should've done a recitation like Matthew, but he didn't want to be a copycat. Plus Rabbi Miller got so excited when Toby said he'd be writing an original essay on "What Does Being Jewish Mean To Me?" So rather than song or text, and being the shyest of the three, Toby went with it. Reading the speech aloud would come a little easier post-election.

He's worried now, watching Matthew mouth some Scripture, because has he honestly been faithful? Manny had no clue about Kendra calling him, making him an unfaithful boyfriend, and despite the operator doing her best, she couldn't locate Kendra's number for him, so he was an unfaithful friend too. He always prided himself on being faithful, helping Liberty and J.T. with the baby, especially when they weren't talking, and then Manny, who is in a league all her own with him. Why does he feel like such a fraud then, because he can't help once? Perhaps because the last friend who needed him, Rick, is gone. Toby shakes his head, slides the essay away from him in frustration.

"Can't be that bad," whispers Matthew to Toby. "I mean, none of us are Philip Roth."

Matthew, skinny with thick, brown hair, and the object of a lot of the girls in the synagogue's affections, offers him a smile. Too bad for them he had a girlfriend, a girl he met at an Interfaith Teen conference. His mother called him way too charming for his own good, and that's probably why Toby had no doubt he'd become the journalist he wanted to be. The oldest, Matthew was doing the class during twelfth grade. Clara, the youngest, traditionally took up the class during tenth grade, allowing her and Toby to reconnect after all the awkwardness with Manny. Toby would've done it earlier too, during tenth grade, if not for the shooting. He spent most of that year in private sessions with Rabbi Miller or Ms. Sauve. Things got a lot better, and he started having fun towards the end of the year, helping with the Kevin Smith movie and rejoining Computer Club. This Confirmation class was smaller, anyway, so that was good, and his mother sent the longest e-mail he'd ever received from her after she found out he was enrolling.

"I keep getting stuck," admits Toby.

In fact, he really does keep getting stuck, between his parents, between J.T. and Liberty, between Manny and Clara. Now with Manny and Kendra, he thinks, watching Matthew read the introduction. Rabbi Miller and Clara look on, having heard the conversation in the quiet classroom.

"Heh, _emuwnah_," says Matthew. "Call me crazy, but I've always thought the most important one was _emet. _You know, truth. How can you be faithful if you don't know what you should do?"

"Ah, but is law complete without all its parts?" asks Rabbi Miller, stroking his beard.

Clothed in a humble black suit, Rabbi Miller was nearing sixty, with white-haired whiskers starting to show in his light-brown beard. His speech always had a musical lilt to it, like an interested grandfather waiting for his grandchildren to say something inspired. Matthew did the best in that area, so Toby kind of wagered that he was screwed.

Toby's eyes drop to his paper. Ugh, he's really not up for a textual discussion which he knows is coming.

"The laws are all written in our text," says Matthew. "We know what _Adonai _wants us to do, or else we wouldn't have the Mosaic law, the commandments...I mean, come on, we just had Passover."

"Toby?" prompts Rabbi Miller.

"Um...I agree, but do words mean anything if they don't have some faith behind them?" says Toby. "If someone gives you responsibilities, it's because they have faith in you and I...I think it's more important."

"I agree with Toby this time," speaks up Clara. "Without faith, these laws mean nothing. I mean, if Uncle Christian doesn't have faith I'll clean my room, for instance, the rule wouldn't mean as much, and I could do anything I wanted."

"Good point," mumbles Matthew, his lips tightening.

"Both of you raise good points. What an excellent way to end our last class," praises Rabbi Miller. "Truth and faith must work together. I was disheartened by the number of students this year, what with the low number, but you three more than made up for it. Suppose that happens with this being a new synagogue, but.. I'm very proud."

Toby, Clara, and Matthew exchange smiles. They'd decided on a gift for him, after asking for one last class to finish their presentations for the ceremony. Unbeknownest to him, Clara dropped by the florist earlier with their collected money.

"Rabbi Miller," says Clara, standing and removing a tiny, potted plant from a white bag.

"What's this?" asks Rabbi Miller.

They all surround him, Clara presenting the small shrub. Rabbi Miller beams.

"Since it's almost shavout, and they planted trees in Israel back then, we thought it appropriate," explains Matthew. "The adults did the tree-planting ceremonies in the courtyard and we got inspired."

"It's a baby, and we know you'll look after it as much as you've looked after us, helping us grow...," continues Clara.

"Which, you know, was cool," adds Toby.

Rabbi Miller examines the plant, takes out a handkerchief to wipe his wet eyes.

"I will watch it," he promises. "Thank you...for this very cool gift."

They all laugh, starting to collect their belongings as a soft bell chimes, signaling the hour has come throughout the synagogue. Matthew and Clara exit, after saying good-bye to Rabbi Miller. Toby straightens some papers, puts them in his bookbag.

"Congratulations on your new political post," says Rabbi Miller, taking down his kittel.

"Uh...thanks," says Toby. "For everything."

"Writer's block is annoying isn't it?" complains Rabbi Miller.

Toby nods, shouldering his bag.

"I say pray and the words will flow," he offers.

As much as he's learned in the past weeks, he has no idea what he can say to get some clear answers. He's not sure why this is happening right now, so fast, all at once. The discomfort with his body, suddenly caring what his mother doesn't do after putting up a wall, questioning what he isn't able to do. Is it the e-mail? It all started with the e-mail, with Kendra.

"Toby, again, I want to tell you that I'm so glad you chose to do this class after such a hard year last year," says Rabbi Miller. "You're a lot more happy and secure, though getting you to speak up in class isn't always easy."

"Working on that," assures Toby, even if he's not one hundred percent confident in that statement.

What he is confident about is that Rabbi Miller has been a good listener for the past two years. He told him of nightmares with Rick in them, even a dream where Rick pointed the gun at Toby without any sign of recognition. The whole thing terrified him, and it oddly happened the night after he went to the visitation with Manny. It was as if Rick didn't know him, and maybe that's because Toby doesn't know himself.

"Rabbi Miller..." starts Toby, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Yes, Tobias?" says Rabbi Miller, setting the plant on a cabinet in a sunlit area.

"The essay...might not be the problem," says Toby. "The problem might be me."

Rabbi Miller moves, sits on his desk, folds his hands. The gesture is his usual way of saying, I'm here.

"I feel torn," says Toby, softly. "I got elected. My girlfriend, a relationship I never thought we'd have, is amazing. My dad and Kate and Ash...good. School's fine. So why...why am I doubting everything?"

"You're young," says Rabbi Miller. "Certain things are stationary, other things are not, particularly how you feel about yourself. Finding your identity is hard."

"Yeah!" exclaims Toby, more loudly than he expected.

Rabbi Miller chuckles. "No, no, it's all rather normal."

"I've always been reliable, though," says Toby. "I mean, people come to me for advice, like I'm this guy with all the answers, and people say I'm responsible..."

"To who?" interjects Rabbi Miller. "Sometimes we're so busy looking out for others that we forget to look out for ourselves, hmmm? Don't let others take advantage of your good nature, Toby. You must decide what's dear to you, develop that. Kindness can kill, right?"

Kindness can kill? Kill what? The rest of his speech sort of made sense, yet no one's taking advantage of him currently. Toby reluctantly nods, shakes Rabbi Miller's hand.

"Uh, thanks," says Toby. "I'm meeting someone..."

Strange advice, he thinks, going out the door, immediately bumping into Clara. She and Matthew stand on the synagogue steps, apparently still engaged in the truth versus faith discussion. They're interrupted by a voice coming from the parking lot.

"Stop bumping into people, Isaacs!" the voice yells. "Glasses don't work?"

Justin smirks, approaches the group, lighting a cigarette on the way. Toby feels like going back into the synagogue, hearing another speech he won't completely get. Clara's the only one smiling, and for good reason.

"Kytel keeping you _occupado_?" asks Justin. "Their stocks are falling for the record."

Clara shoots Justin a look. Blonde hair askew, he was about the same size as Toby, even slightly resembled him. He hated that.

"Justin!" she chastises. "And your asthma!"

"Relax, Clare-bear," says Justin, blowing some smoke in Toby's direction.

"You shouldn't smoke on the synagogue steps," reminds Matthew, rolling his eyes.

"There's a lot of things you shouldn't do," says Justin. "Like wear a tight crop top in a video store with the air conditioning on."

Justin waggles his eyebrows towards Toby. Manny, reasons Toby immediately. No way would he let him get away with those words, especially after all she had to put up with concerning Peter's video. Toby's cheeks burn as he goes down the steps hurriedly, Matthew stopping him in his tracks.

"Awww, I'm sorry," lies Justin. "It was just...you know, obvious she was cold. Tell her to bundle up, Isaacs."

"Stop it!" orders Clara, lightly shoving Justin. "I don't like it when you get like this."

Her words are met with a long silence, Justin and Toby staring each other down. Justin shrugs, stamps out his cigarette.

"I'll drive you home," says Justin, nodding to a really nice red Prius. "Mmm, can't believe people are taking Confirmation classes this late. I did mine last year. Tenth grade is tradition."

"Well aware of that, so let's go...now!" exclaims Clara.

Flustered, Clara brushes past Justin, gets into the passenger seat. Justin smiles coldly at the two boys.

"Confirmation gift," explains Justin, gesturing towards the car. "Mazel tov, slackers!"

Justin laughs spitefully, gets in his car, drives off. Toby narrows his eyes at the back of the car. Why Clara dated him has to be the eighth wonder of the world. He clinches his fist, unclinches it. No, he didn't want to meet Manny in this mood, and no, he's not violent. That's one quality that's never been in dispute.

"If there were ever a candidate to have a driedel thrown at his head...," says Matthew, his voice trailing off.

III.

Was that last answer capillaries or arteries? He should just stop debating. Sean goes through his textbook, sunshine beating down on his neck, then sighs. Capillaries. He got it wrong. Another thing he got wrong. He may've been joking with Ellie with the studying signature, but in all honesty, he really did have to study. Two more finals. Why couldn't the human body operate the same as a car? He knows those, and apparently so did Ellie's dad.

Standing in the middle of the street right in front of Degrassi, he hasn't been deaf to the fact that Ellie keeps dropping hints about Mr. Nash wanting to get to know him. Her dad even told her to invite him to a four-person, post-graduation dinner. More like three on one-person dinner, moans Sean inwardly. True, things have been better with her mom. Still, dads were very protective, especially with daughters. With a daughter like Ellie, maybe extra protective.

"Yo, S to the izzo, Cam to the er-on!" shouts Danny. "What's up, man?"

Danny positions his hand for a high-five, Sean looking at him curiously. Did he know this guy? Oh, yeah, Liberty's brother.

"Hey," greets Sean, starting to walk away.

"Got to give you some dat for being a working brah hitting up them books," says Danny. "I cram, go to the video store. Cram, video store. Heinous, man."

"Yeah?" says Sean, walking faster.

"Fast, dude, though I guess you're on your way to trick out some tight ride," laughs Danny.

Sean's moving so fast he's surprised when his knee hits the bumper of a car. A Civic? Jay's Civic. He sees the back of Jay's head, grateful he's in there.

"Friend's here so...," apologizes Sean.

"It's all good," waves off Danny. "Keep it real!"

Danny hits his chest, raises his fist, strolls to a bench full of cramming cheerleaders.

Sean shakes his head, taps on the window. Jay remains in his original position. Shrugging, Sean checks the car door, and it opens. He slides in, shuts the door.

"These younger kids...so not cool," says Sean, chuckling.

Jay laughs too, though it's a distracted laugh. Then again, this time the laugh more exaggerated, in a higher pitch.

"Okay, was it that funny?" questions Sean.

Jay claps his hands, turns around. His eyes are completely glazed over, red near the edges. Sean pretends to scratch his head, starts to look for what he's thinking he will find. Yep, a roach near the accelerator.

"How long you been high, man?" says Sean, tentatively.

Jay sniffles. "This morning...if it's still morning. I don't know."

"Oh," replies Sean.

"Ease up, Eminem," says Jay, leaning back in his car seat. "I'm happy. You can't let a bro be happy?"

Jay laughs, grabs Sean's biology textbook.

"This book has all the answers," says Jay in mock seriousness. "Where's the chapter on sex and hormones? We all know I need that."

Sean smiles weakly. What possessed Jay to score some drugs, not that Sean disliked him for it. But yeah, why did he need to get high? This could be recreational. Alex hinted she'd experimented with pot before, so it's not out of the blue that Jay might try it too.

"Preventive measures for STDs," reads Jay. "Too little, too late...and too fuzzy. You're a bit...non-you too, Sean."

"I'm blurry?" guesses Sean.

"Bingo...and you don't win anything," sighs Jay. "Yeah, you always win."

"Um...what?" says Sean.

"Apartment...hot girlfriend...a job," rattles off Jay. "A super... duper job."

Sean stops smiling, picking up the resentful tone in his friend's voice. True, Jay doesn't have his own place, meandering between his parent's, who later moved out without him, and Alex's, who he patched things up with. He thought Jay didn't mind not having a girlfriend, though, as he bragged about getting some to Sean, whenever Sean didn't feel like hearing it. The job? No, Jay was working in a very good garage downtown, earning more money than expected since he didn't go to school. In fact, Jay tried talking Sean into moving into their own apartment.

"Mr. Ehl wrote me a recommendation, or else I'd be unemployed. Now, _your _job's good," reminds Sean.

"Was good," corrects Jay. "No, fired yesterday."

"What?" exclaims Sean.

"Who cares?" says Jay. "My boss thought I was a punk. Him and his fat wife suck."

"Sucks, Jay," says Sean. "Sorry."

Jay starts drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, stares straight ahead at the school.

"Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I didn't get kicked out," says Jay, practically a whisper. "My dad would have a stroke if I brought home some ugly little diploma."

Yeah, awkward revealing moment, thinks Sean. Jay wipes his eyes, though Sean can't tell if they're the result of the pot or the other stuff he's feeling.

"Lemme drive," offers Sean.

Thankfully, Jay makes no objections, leaving the car and switching places with Sean. He clumsily put on his seatbelt, however.

"Chad can get me something maybe," speaks up Jay, rubbing his nose.

Chad? Sean didn't like that sound of that. Alex's mother's boyfriend had a pretty bad past from what Sean remembered.

"What if I ask around first?" says Sean.

Jay grins. "Alright, Cameron! Sweet!"

Sean takes Jay's keys from him, fires up the car, throwing glances at a distracted, sad Jay as they cruise down Degrassi Street.

IV.

"_Frankly, dear your modesty reveals to me, _

_Self-appraisal often makes us sad, _

_And if I add your funny face appeals to me, _

_Please don't think I've suddenly gone mad, _

_You have all the qualities of Peter Pan, _

_I'd go far before I'd fine, _

_A sweeter Pan..."_

Manny checks her reflection in the rear view mirror, and is very much satisfied. Her long, black hair is sleeked down, ends covering a flowy, pink, V-neck cotton dress. She wears sandals, so easy to slip off if it's getting too hot. She's hoping it'll be hot for more than one reason. Grazing her fingers, newly painted pink, over a pearl-drop earring, she spies Toby, arms laden with refreshments, coming back to his car.

As usual, whenever they come here, there aren't too many cars. The reason why is up on screen. Classic Movie Night. Undeniably the least popular night at the drive-in, sometimes the customers left before the movie was over. Manny thought that was rude, especially since some of these were her favorites. She encountered a couple at the video store, watching Fred and Ginger dance, Astaire twirl on his toes, lovers leaving or dying in _Casablanca _or _Gone With The Wind. _They were all up her alley, an age of golden romance and happy music. Christian bought her a box set of Audrey Hepburn musicals as a thank-you gift after she subbed for him so he could go to the Toronto Film Festival. Those were probably in her top ten list. Onscreen, Astaire leads Audrey to a chair, swirls her around as Toby reenters the car.

"Not too much butter, not too much salt," repeats Toby, handing her a small bag of popcorn.

"Thank you," returns Manny.

Toby also sweetly purchased some sour M&Ms and a diet pop, laying it in between them. Manny beams. Liberty's right...so attentive.

"No Milk Duds?" gasps Manny.

"Nah," answers Toby.

"That's your candy," says Manny. "Whenever you go the movies, you always get your candy. It's a movie-going rule."

"It is?" says Toby.

"One I just made up, but yes," answers Manny, then offering him some popcorn.

"No thanks," insists Toby.

Manny's forehead wrinkles as she smiles. "We always share...in the hope of hands touching."

He smiles, though the smile is forced. Manny moves the food tray to the backseat of his car, scooches over closer to him. Toby drums his fingers on his knee, gazes out the window.

"What's wrong?" whispers Manny.

"Nothing," replies Toby. "I...I just don't get this movie, that's all. Um, this guy looks so different from her...like older. He doesn't seem like he'd be the guy she's into, I guess."

_I love your funny face, _

_Your sunny, funny face, _

_For you're a cutie, _

_With more than beauty, _

_You've got a lot of personality for me..._

Astaire dances with Audrey for awhile, then puts her face on a projector screen, admiring it. There was so much to admire about Toby. His eyes really got to her, warm and inviting, glasses on and off. His hands held her better than her other boyfriends, caressed her in a way she didn't think possible. His smile makes her smile, usually all the time. There were things she enjoyed as his friend, appreciated as his girlfriend, some of which she's too shy to say.

"When you spend more time with someone, they...they might become more and more attractive to you," says Manny, grinning.

Her legs shift towards Toby, pink skirt rustling. Jazzy riffs fill her ears, and they're intoxicating, almost as intoxicating as the heat. Her heart speeds up.

"Toby, do you remember when you first fell in love with me?" asks Manny, blushing.

She's not the only one blushing, Toby facing her now. He looks very nice in a green polo T-shirt and black pants, the muted projector lights shining on his brown hair. Manny rests her elbow on the edge of his car seat, staring into his eyes.

"Um...well, the ski trip is when stuff started, but I was...definitely attracted to you at the video store," stammers Toby. "Then, we came home...and you needed me...and I fell in love...with you."

Manny lets out a deep breath, recalls every memory she can in this minute, pretty fruitless as her brain feels like it's floating.

"I fell in love with you so much," repeats Toby, tracing her chin.

Manny holds his hand against her cheek, lightly kissing his thumb. She's ready to melt into his arms if he'd let her, melt like this flat, imitation butter covering her popcorn. No, Toby hasn't come to a decision yet. What am I thinking? She should respect that, should wait. I should get out of here, because I can't take it anymore, she thinks quickly, going for the door handle.

"I need a straw!" announces Manny, stepping out with her purse.

"You need your purse?" asks Toby after her.

She jogs quickly to the concessions stand, opening her cell, dialing away. Hopefully, she's there. After three rings, she gets Emma's voice mail. Great, my best friend isn't there, thinks Manny. Knowing Liberty, she's studying like she's prepping for a bar exam. Darcy, virgin. Why didn't she have more female friends? Then, she thought of one.

"Watching a cute boy walk at Wilshire," says Lia after the second ring. "This better be good."

"Help me before I jump my boyfriend!" whispers Manny.

"No preliminary, cheery Manny greetings," observes Lia. "Someone's stressed."

Lia pretty much knew about her and Toby's relationship. Manny couldn't help but share, after Lia was the key person in orchestrating a plan to aid them in being together. Well, that and Manny liked gushing about him. Manny picked up that Lia got annoyed, but she never outright said it.

"He says these huge things, then expects me to not make a move?" says Manny.

"Toby's such a tease," laughs Lia. "I'm shocked he hasn't lost his V-card. You're hot, Santos."

"He doesn't think so," pouts Manny.

"Not true," insists Lia. "Look, strut back there and be more forward. I've been with shy guys and once you get the ball rolling, they won't want to stop."

"Maybe I should stay here and finish this popcorn," says Manny, nervously.

"That better be non-fat," says Lia. "No, ditch that artificial junk and take care of business. Toby will be moaning in satisfaction in no time, and you'll have me to thank. Gotta go. Good luck."

Lia hangs up, leaving Manny to ponder it all.

Be more forward? Lia was basically telling her the opposite of what she asked, though Lia only dated older men so it's not like she wasn't wise in this area. Toby never said no to the idea. Be aggressive, huh? That seemed somewhat doable. In fact, Spinner and Emma told her to be aggressive when Manny asked him out for their first date. That was a success, so yeah, this could go well. Manny paces in the darkness, notes that only Toby's car and another car, six spaces away, are left. Okay, okay, she thinks. Okay, this might do. She feels a tap on her shoulder. She shrieks, spilling her popcorn, shyly smiles at Toby.

"There goes your popcorn," sighs Toby. "Want another?"

"No...no," stutters Manny.

"You were gone a long time for a straw," says Toby. "I got worried."

Manny plucks a straw from a container on the concessions counter.

"Got it," she says, maybe a little too pluckily. "I'm heading...to the car. Can you buy some Skittles, please?"

"Yeah," agrees Toby.

Manny walks to the car, situates herself in the seat, starts to move anything that may get in the way. She'd just bought herself some time to speed it up a little.

V.

The cashier behind the concessions counter coughs loudly into a fist, failing to cover his mouth, then hands Toby the Skittles. Toby frowns. Yeah, this is why we used to go to the mall in the movie theater. Paige and Alex never did stuff like that.

"One dollar," informs the cashier.

Toby hands him the money, then starts to the car. While they were in the car, he did his best to avoid his true feelings. Milk Duds and popcorn were probably two reasons why he wasn't skinny. Worst is not sharing with Manny that he's been in contact with his ex-girlfriend. He's not sure when to do it. The night of the variety show would guarantee she'd be more relaxed, but she is relaxed tonight, or was before he told her he loved her. Him saying that never met with that kind of response. Or yeah, maybe she was really hurting to get a straw. It all seemed so strange.

Dialogue in high-surround surrounds him, pastel technicolor scenes filling the screen as Toby reaches the car. Audrey and Astaire were in Europe now, revealing what was in their hearts. He meant what he said earlier. While charming, Astaire was this behind-the-scenes, older fashion photographer, more of a Rabbi Miller than Harrison Ford. Except when he danced or talked, he found him gawky, resembling that peanut with the monocle and the top hat. People do love him, though. And Audrey? Everyone loved Audrey...Astaire, Christian, Manny. She was famous, iconic. Manny would be famous. It's odd the two characters would come together, and that Manny would love it, or perhaps it isn't.

"_You've made my life so glamorous,  
You can't blame me for feeling amorous!  
Oh 's wonderful, 's marvellous,  
That you should care for me!"  
_

Audrey and Astaire sing, as if they're in love, as if they don't care. Manny sings along, checking in the mirror once more. Toby grins. He'd miss her singing along when she was gone.

"The cashier coughed on the Skittles," says Toby, rejoining Manny.

"Again," groans Manny. "Toby, you shouldn't pay. You're too nice."

"I...um, caught you singing," confesses Toby. "You sounded nice."

Manny covers her face. "Ugh!"

"It was cute," assures Toby, smiling at her.

"So the movie's almost over," says Manny, after clearing her throat. "Then no more drive-ins for awhile."

"We...have one more date, though," reminds Toby. "After the variety show. Right?"

"Right...of course!" reassures Manny. "Confirmation on Friday, variety show and date on Saturday. Pretty busy weekend, but we both do busy well."

"Use what time you have left," agrees Toby, staring lovingly at her.

He really would miss her more than he can say. Hopefully, she's picking up on how much. Tough to say, though he can tell she's sweating a little. Another strange reaction, but she does stare back in a way that comforts him. Then, even more strange, she starts stroking his arm softly.

"Speaking of Confirmation, I'm loving this post-class outfit," says Manny. "It's no checkered pajamas like you had on the ski trip, but...very cute. Love it when you wear green."

"Good," says Toby, watching her arm go up and down his.

"And I appreciate you taking a study break to be here...with me," continues Manny, inching closer, her waist go slightly over his armrest.

"Anytime," whispers Toby.

Manny's hand travels from stroking his arm to his chest. She must really like this shirt, says Toby, as he shifts in his seat. He really does want to kiss her, acting on instinct, kissing her gently. Manny sighs, the bright lights from the end credits montage making her eyes shine, her skin shine. Toby moves his mouth against her cheek, feels a light tugging.

"Mmm, Manny?" says Toby, looking into her eyes.

She has untucked the front of his shirt.

"Sorry," breathes Manny, then kissing him again.

Toby's breath is also increasing, her perfume wafting up to his nose. The air streaming in through the windows is already soft, summery, but only Manny smells like flowers. Rose-scented, the scent she's worn ever since their first date. Manny catches her breath, again, then her hands travel as her lips move with his. He hears the light sound of metal, a short snap with a tiny ringing from below. His belt buckle's undone.

"Manny!" he breathes. "Wait...wait."

"Am I doing something wrong?" whispers Manny.

"No, you're definitely doing something right," groans Toby.

Both their gazes dip downward, Toby wishing he could cover it up. No, no way to cover it up. He was pretty much straining his pants. Clearly pleased, Manny laughs, runs a hand through his hair.

"Does this go back?" asks Manny, glancing around for the lever to move the seat down.

"Yeah...um...," begins Toby.

Manny manages to find the lever, lowers the seat in one swift movement. Toby wipes some sweat from his brow, can hardly grasp what is happening. This was all moving so fast. She's so intent, too. Manny slowly maneuvers herself into Toby's lap, knocking off Toby's glasses. Toby pats his face, blindly.

"Your glasses!" gasps Manny. "My bad...I'm... I'm screwing this all up."

"I can see you," reassures Toby.

"I am!" says Manny.

Manny's hands start to shake, lowering to the armrest. In the gold light of the emerging sunrise on the screen, she does appear scared, innocent, completely unsure.

"No...no," breathes Toby. "Are you...are you sure you want to do this in a car? Not somewhere more special?"

"Bubbe's car?" says Manny, apparently still out of it.

"Yeah," laughs Toby, anxiously. "And I...I don't have anything."

"That's a reason to stop," agrees Manny, seeming to calm down a bit.

Without much sound, or maybe because the loudness from the film is pounding in his ears, Manny settles into her own seat again. Well, at least I know she's as nervous as I am about the whole thing, thinks Toby. The sweating, awkward movements, confusion...they'd go through it together, if they ever were together. Hopefully she'd want to do it again, despite him being unprepared, in more ways than one. His heart still racing, he buckles his belt, glances out the window. After several minutes of silence, a horn honks, and he gains the nerve to look at Manny, biting her lip. He digs for his keys in his pocket, finds them.

"Are you...are you going to get something for next time?" speaks up Manny.

Toby drops the keys, his eyes feeling as though they've left his face.

A hundred questions run through his mind. Well, if she wasn't attracted to him, she would've stopped, wouldn't she? She did laugh when she stared down, didn't she? What happens when he takes all his clothes off? He has to respond, or else he'll look totally dumb.

"Never mind," says Manny, breaking the silence. "It's...it's cool, Toby."

Toby starts the car, pulls out as Manny leans her head against her window. They come to a red light, stalling.

**Off-Topic Author's Note: Okay, while you're reading this story, and hopefully enjoying it (eep!), I have to ask something or I'll regret it. I'm currently prepping a Tobanny appreciation package, which some of you know about. You can message me for all the details, but one thing everyone can do (and easily) is to sign a petition. It'd be so cool if you sign it to get Tobanny scenes period (friendship, romance, storylines that involve Jake and Cassie). I will be sending it off around the time of Jake's birthday, so that's early August. If you feel so compelled, the petition will be up until the first of August for you to sign. If not, cool beans. Putting the link in my profile would help so yeah, let me do that...**


	6. Put Me To The Test

**VI. Put Me To The Test**

_The days of the good old knights are gone  
But chivalry still carries on  
I wear no armor  
But to my charmer  
I hereby pledge my all  
In other words, I'm at your beck and call._

_  
Put me to the test  
And I'll climb you the highest mountain  
Or swim you radio city fountain.  
Put me to the test  
And I'll get you a queen's tiara  
Or a pyramid from the hot Sahara.  
You can dress in sables  
At nightclub front tables--  
If that is what my lady adores.  
Put me to the test, lady  
Just make your request  
And anything that you desire is yours!_

**Put Me To The Test was written by Jerome Kern and Ira Gershwin, and showcased in the movie **_**Cover Girl **_**with Gene Kelly and Rita Hayworth.**

A blur of white hair scurries across spread out construction paper, forcing pens and colored pencils to roll across the carpet. Janis begins sniffing a marker, bites cautiously on a cap. Ashley takes a deep breath, lifts the dog up, returns the marker to the artist.

"Shouldn't have got the scented ones," moans Ashley. "Strawberry."

"She's also gone after the grape and orange ones," says the artist.

The artist is someone she's known for the past five months, someone she wasn't even supposed to meet. That's often the case, isn't it? Heavily clothed, depressed, when she and Craig first talked to Meredith, she thought they'd only have a polite exchange of words, then go on their way. Yet, giving her Janis, the male-hating, loveable Janis, created some strange bond between them. Maybe because they each received the energetic little terrier as a gift? Ashley went to the center again, after the Christmas party, just to check on Janis. She was pleased to see that Meredith was taking excellent care of her, and by extension, better care of herself. Meredith's clothes got less baggy, and not only because summer was coming up. Watching over something else improved her attitude; somehow, she felt more important. Ashley could sympathize, being there for Craig the previous year in the hospital. You become better by looking out for someone other than yourself.

"A fruit lover," comments Ashley, as Janis attempts to lick her face.

"There," says Meredith, letting out a deep breath.

Ashley goes beside her, views a wonderful, landscape drawing Meredith conceived of a cabin on the beach. The markers she'd been using nicely highlighted the silhouettes of the building.

"Awww," sighs Ashley. "That's amazing, Mer."

"I went to the beach all the time before I was married," informs Meredith, her eyes going to the floor.

Whenever Meredith mentioned marriage, all the muscles in her face would tense. Ashley's sure Meredith doesn't want her to notice, but she does. The pain in her gaze couldn't be ignored. All Ashley knows is that her husband used to hit her whenever he got upset, and stole enough money from her that she wound up at the shelter. He stole her dog, too. His beatings left her with so many bruises when she first arrived, yet they started to fade. The emotional bruises took a bit longer. But to her happiness, Ashley learned that Meredith would be leaving the shelter soon, taking a job as a nanny with a wealthy family who knew her sister, and she'd be earning steady pay. They had a room for her and Janis, and she wouldn't be around too many people, mainly the two kids, which she'd like. Ashley hopes this family takes trips to the beach, and often.

"You'll go again," assures Ashley.

"Not as soon as you're going to England," points out Meredith. "Are you nervous? Excited?"

Ashley shrugs. "Still seems kinda far away."

She won't tell the truth, won't say that the festival schedule came off a bit intimidating, that riding on a strange tour bus is somewhat unnerving, that she is antsy about how the larger crowds will take her music. The largest gig she's played was the semi-formal last year, and she had Craig to look to throughout the set. It's strange because she's the only one unsure of herself. Her parents, Chris, and Jeff were so quick to announce to their friends and co-workers that their daughter, or step-daughter, would be playing in a city-wide musical festival, showcasing music she'd written. Craig and the Squatch showed their support with the party, a gesture she still found amazing given her less than stellar history with the band. Even Toby kept bugging to hear her play a couple songs before she got on the plane. There was so many things that could go wrong: bad tuning that might cause them to boo; off-key vocals due to anxiety; hecklers with accents, tossing drunken insults. Not to mention she was the youngest performer. She checked.

"I will give you the address to my new home," says Meredith, scribbling on a blank sheet of paper. "You have to come and show me pictures, or send me a postcard."

"Sure thing," promises Ashley.

"Above all, you have to say you'll keep doing what we agreed to do," whispers Meredith.

Ashley thinks for a minute, remembers what Meredith means. Yes, she recalls telling Meredith she'd take care of herself. Honestly, those words meant a lot to her. She had so much to confront with Craig coming back into her life, and the new steps they had to take together and separately. Feeling that lost again...well, she'd rather feel found. Like now, thinks Ashley, nodding her agreement.

The two girls hear a knock at the door, then view Dr. Reynolds and one of Meredith's suite mates standing in the door. The suite mate, who Ashley believes is named Paula, carries a bottle of champagne, while Dr. Reynolds holds three glasses.

"Guys!" cries Meredith, happily. "What is..."

"We wanted to congratulate you on your new job and home, of course!" interrupts Dr. Reynolds, beaming. "Can we come in?"

"Yeah...yeah," replies Meredith, with a shy smile. "Come in."

Paula flops down on Meredith's bed, startling Janis, who had been calmly settled in Ashley's lap. Janis yelps, bounds off the bed.

"That dog has a complex," says Paula. "I don't know which one, but she does."

They all laugh, including Ashley, who really didn't find it that funny.

"Nice to see you here, Ashley," speaks up Dr. Reynolds.

"I like coming," says Ashley, folding her hands together.

"Why can't more young people be like you?" sighs Paula. "I swear. Jeans hanging off their pants, visible thongs, snorting and popping who knows what."

"Not Ashley," agrees Meredith.

Better not mention the ecstasy, thinks Ashley, giving Paula a gracious smile. They sounded very much like Ms. Kwan all those years ago.

Paula shakes the bottle, pops the cork with some liquid spewing out. Dr. Reynolds and Meredith squeal, Paula quickly pouring champagne. A light fizzing sound fills the room, golden bubbles gliding to the top of the glasses. Paula hands one to Meredith, then one to Dr. Reynolds.

"Would offer you some, Ashley, but your age and all," says Dr. Reynolds, before sipping hers.

"Oh, come on!" protests Paula. "She's eighteen! And smart. She can handle a sip."

"Um...I'm fine," demurs Ashley.

"Perfect way to celebrate graduation," says Paula, pouring a third glass.

"She's also off on tour," says Meredith, proudly. "In London for a whole month."

"That's highly commendable, Ashley," congratulates Dr. Reynolds. "Just think...one of Toronto's own. I believe that's how a lot of young talent gets discovered nowadays. They actually go to sites rather than listen to demos?"

"KT Tunstall," offers Ashley. "She made it that way...one of my current favorites."

"See?" says Paula. "One sip...just to toast the graduate slash next Tori Amos."

Ashley hesitantly takes the glass, peers inside. Well, she has had champagne before, and it is only a sip. She wouldn't get plastered like Jimmy did at the party, and she couldn't very well miss out on her own toast. They all raises their glasses, including Paula holding an imaginary one, clink them.

"To Meredith and Ashley!" they say, all of them clapping lightly.

Tipping the glass to her mouth, Ashley lets the cool, slightly strong liquid fall, roll off her tongue, go down her throat. The taste is more strong than she expected, a little sweeter too, but yep, one sip will do. She shakes the remaining liquid in her glass, pats Meredith on the back.

"Going to toss the rest out," she informs.

"Lucky it was free!" laughs Paula, the rest of them joining in. "Bring me a flute back?"

A flute? A musical instrument? Oh yeah, a champagne flute. Ashley nods, leaving the suite.

On the way to the kitchen, she passes a few rooms, including one with an open door. Through the entrance of the room, she can hear light, lovely violin music, someone playing a very solid concerto. When she played piano in her junior high years, it was never that tight. She clumsily went through her exercises, until she got it right. Is it right enough currently, especially compared to this person? The notes just seem to loop together, a lyrical work of art. She works up the courage to go to the room, but the door slams before she's half way there. It's best to respect privacy, anyway. If any woman needed space, these women did. She's heard all she has to hear, though. No way can she live up to all these expectations when there are random strangers playing music better than her.

Flipping the light switch to the kitchen on, the soft whirring of the refrigerator and the gentle burr of the stove settling helps her relax. Having someone else here might add more stress, except for maybe Craig. He was so sweet the night of the party, especially his little speech, saying she was a great musician. Their kiss that night, also sweet. She could still taste the alcohol on his lips.

Raising the glass to her lips, she takes another swig, then another. Why waste it if it's free? Refreshing, relaxing, rewarding, she lists in her head. She relishes the light-headed sensation she feels, reaches for a cabinet door to get the flute. The flute is located behind a couple of cups she has to move to the right. Drinking some water might be a good idea, get a non-alcoholic drink into her system. Ashley opens the fridge door, curiously goes through the contents. Margarine, pickles, bottled water. And a wine cooler right behind the water, she discovers, taking it out. There may be even more on the next shelf.

The concerto returns, streaming in through the kitchen, following her. This time, it comes more confidently, more harrowing. The vibrato shakes as much as Ashley's hands untwisting the cap of the wine cooler, and when the rhythm quickens so does Ashley's heart.

II.

"_Make of our hands one hand,  
Make of our hearts one heart,  
Make of our vows one last vow:  
Only death will part us now."_

The man on the other end of the phone harrumphs. Toby mouths the lyrics to himself, grabbing his briefcase from the back of his car.

"Could you like...sing something else?" asks Toby into his cellphone.

"Dude...I'm not getting paid to sing _West Side Story_ to you!" exclaims the man.

"I just...just I think this is the musical she'd like most, but I don't remember the songs," confesses Toby.

When he dropped Manny home after the drive-in, she smiled briefly at him, said good-bye, and walked into Emma's. There was no good-night kiss, no anything. That was totally a first for them. She never left his car without a kiss. Then again, he'd never avoided saying he'd get protection before, and she'd never unbuckled his belt before, and...pretty much a night of firsts he was confused about. All he knows is he has to do something, make it up to her.

"Buy the soundtrack!" snaps the man, slamming down the phone.

Toby mutters something under his breath, sure Rabbi Miller would hit him upside the head if he heard.

He unlocks the front door of his house, immediately hears the TV blaring a comedy special. J.T. is on his couch, which he's not surprised about, seeing as he was coming over more in his post-Liberty loneliness. What he does find startling is that Danny and Derek are also there, different costumes spread amongst the boys.

"What is this, a quilting bee?" exclaims Toby.

J.T. digs his needle into the tails of a suit. "I'm locked out."

His best friend says this in the most nonchalant way possible that Toby doesn't see any point in arguing anymore. The night has been difficult enough.

"We're helping," informs Derek, measuring out some felt.

"I thought Chante...," starts Toby.

"Chante quit," interjects J.T. "And here I am, three days before the show, correcting her mistakes, which are many. My grandmother's back at ten-thirty, then I'll leave."

Toby throws up his arms. "Whatever. I'm...I'm tired."

"You know, you should pick up a thimble," suggests Danny. "Very relaxing. No wonder girls are always so calm when they sew."

All three guys raise their eyes in astonishment towards Danny.

"Hey, isn't this the size of J.T.'s ding-a-ling?" laughs Danny, holding up the thimble.

J.T. flings the coat at Danny, Danny rolling over with laughter. Toby takes Darcy's dress off one of the family room chairs, lays it on the couch so he can sit.

"How'd your date go?" asks J.T.

"Uhhh...okay," says Toby.

"Okay is not in the Toby vocabulary when it comes to Manny," says J.T., sitting up. "I usually hear amazing, wonderful, great at the very least."

"It's late," waves off Toby.

Danny and Derek exchange knowing looks, instantly drop the costumes they were working on to sit on either arm of Toby's chair.

"Hey!" protests J.T.

"You made a move and she turned you down, didn't she?" says Danny, grinning.

"It happens to the best of us, man," comforts Derek.

Toby shakes his head. He should've gone upstairs, headed straight to bed. Instead, he has to listen to this. Manny made the moves, not him. Yes, all the moves. So embarrassing, he thinks, his face heating up. Well, he won't speak. Sooner or later, he'd probably tell J.T., but not them. Never Danny or Derek. He crosses his arms resolutely.

"Whoa...nah!" exclaims Danny. "She jumped you?"

Toby's jaw drops. "How'd you..."

"The panicked face tells all," says Danny. "And Manny's not exactly shy."

"Weird, man," mutters Derek.

"No, hot...very hot!" compliments J.T., sliding down the couch. "How hot did it get, exactly?"

"Couldn't have been too hot," answers Danny. "I mean...it _is_ Toby."

"And he _is_ disappointed," adds Derek.

Toby rolls his eyes, tries to rise from the chair, but is pulled back by Derek and Danny. He struggles for a few seconds, realizing they have a firm grip on him. He didn't have to share the details if he didn't want to.

"We have the solution, O' fearless ex-computer leader," assures Danny, leading his side.

"Um...," starts Toby.

Danny flings a white and green Victorian bonnet over his shoulder as he searches for his backpack, Toby immediately reaching for it.

"This is Manny's," he scolds, recognizing part of the costume she showed him weeks ago. "Be careful."

"And this is mine," says Danny, finally retrieving the item he'd been searching for.

He proudly presents a thin, paperback book, the size of one of Toby's Kytel manuals. On the cover is a scantily clad woman in a tight, red bustier and G-string, kneeling seductively on a pillow. Flashes of those X-rated computer downloads he looked at with J.T. enters his mind.

"What...what... is this?" whispers Toby, flustered. "_How To Land The Perfect Wifey."_

Derek and Danny nod with amused smiles.

"I don't want a wife!" exclaims Toby.

"Dude, no, mkay?" laughs Danny, giving Toby a pitying look. "Wifey means your number one, your girlfriend, minus the ring. She's the girl that makes your heart thump like a trillion times in a row."

"This is stupid," mumbles J.T., who appears interested anyway.

"Your wifey is sexy, classy, different from the rest," continues Derek. "And this guide tells you how to step to her... satisfy her...know what I'm getting at?"

"No," replies Toby, staring cluelessly at the cover.

"Look, you're a nerd," says Derek. "Book smart. Just read chapter six and do what it says. Six as in change one letter, and you get sex."

Still a little confused, he slowly opens the book, casting a confused look in J.T.'s direction. J.T. shrugs, putting the garment he's been working on on the coffee table. Toby reads the table of contents, locates the first page of chapter six. There's a photograph next to the title of the chapter of a man in a leather jacket, tight jeans, and tennis shoes he thinks he's seen on Sully at least once.

"It's all about the swagger," reads Toby, righting his glasses. "Ladies love cool, confident men who know how to carry themselves, dress and spit game. Why do you think James Dean and Elvis got all the honeys? Follow these instructions and you'll be pimped out, sure to have your wifey prime for engaging in physical heaven."

"Swagger?" repeats Toby, stroking his chin.

"That cool walk, that I-don't-care attitude," supplies Danny.

"And physical heaven?" blurts out J.T., covering his mouth to keep in the laughter.

"Yeah, what you thought you were having with my sister, pump brain!" snaps Danny.

"Shove it!" shouts J.T.

"Guys, our wannabe stud is trying to read," interrupts Derek, turning the page for Toby.

"Step one," reads Toby. "Clothing makes an impression. Wifeys love clothes that suggest a hint of danger. The mysterious, aloof vibe works the best. Make them want to see what's hidden under all that reserve."

Toby's eyes reluctantly scan his clothes. Manny said she loved green at the drive-in and all that, but his clothes were pretty dorky. He got them in some store with a back-to-school sale. Man, he didn't even know the labels. Manny did love fashion design, or did, but not as much as acting.

"Sure," says J.T., sarcastically. "Alter your wardrobe and that increases your sexual appeal. Not superficial at all."

"Just because you're wearing a lame coat with tails and a top hat for the show...," points out Derek.

"It's not lame...it's reflective of the period!" explains J.T. "Show some respect for historical accuracy."

Toby closes the book, grips it hard in his hands. What if tonight changed everything? Manny could barely speak to him anymore. He can totally imagine her not wanting to be with him intimately, after avoiding her last question. Piquing her interest again might be exactly what Derek and Danny said, the solution.

"It's that time," announces J.T., breaking into Toby's thoughts. "Come on, guys. Jeff has been more than hospitable."

"Okay," sighs Danny. "I'll loan you that for a couple days, Isaacs, but I do need it back before the show. Trying to talk up this cute mammy I met in detention, invite her to the show's afterparty."

"Another Monday, another mammy," jokes J.T., eliciting a small laugh from Toby.

"For Toby, it may be another Monday, always Manny, but the rest of us are still looking," says Danny, angrily snatching up some costumes. "Get my pack, man."

Derek lifts the backpack, gags. "Still smells, dude."

The three boys wave bye, go through the front door, the garment and plastic bags covering the costumes making crumpling sounds with their exit. Toby swallows a lump in his throat, closes the door after them.

Hmmm, the one, huh? Well, he can't imagine another girl making him feel the way Manny does, but at the same time, he can't imagine being with her forever in these clothes, with this body. Toby picks up the book, mouths the word "wifey", resumes reading.

III.

Emma rubs both eyes with the back of her hands, stares blankly at the black ceiling of the room. The faucet drips; it always dripped. Normally, she'd put on one of her nature tapes to drown out the dripping. Nothing could cover up water loudly hitting the surface more than tropical bird mating calls. Manny asked her a couple times why the faucet noise bothered her more than bird whoops and squawking. Emma didn't say, but it was because this tape was a gift.

It wasn't a gift to herself, like the motorcycle was for Snake. The tape, however, did involve Snake. He gave it to her shortly after he married her mom, and she's played the same side of the tape ever since he's left. The sounds weren't always pleasant. There were larger animals, beside the birds, who enjoyed hooting and wailing cacophonously. Snake would ask her to lower the volume, and maybe some part of her wished he'd trot down the stairs as usual, ask her what species was currently hollering, turn down the dial, then go upstairs. At first, she did it to test his limits, as he went from being someone who didn't live with them to someone who did. But, like Manny, he was patient with her eccentricities. That counted for something, so she gave Snake a break, accepted his ways as he accepted hers. And boy, did he have some particular ways: alphabetizing his CDs, cassettes, and CD-Roms; reusing the same few plastic forks, a habit Emma encouraged; making sure all the electric equipment was unplugged during thunderstorms, except for the kitchen clock.

Now, there's no one here to test, or accept. Her mother was sleeping on the couch, alone, maybe crying to herself a second time. Jack is sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, looking way too much like Snake as he slept. And her, unable to answer Manny's cellphone as the images of her too quiet home keep popping up in her mind as if they were part of one of his prized Power Point presentations.

The most gross image is that of the bike, Emma picturing Snake and Hatzilakos sharing the seat, her pretty manicured hands gripping his gut as they sped off. She shudders in disgust, erasing the picture forming in her brain. The heavy breathing when she came home fails to appear now, and she's glad. The fact that it happened didn't bother her so much, as her breathing returned to normal not too long after. However, she did throw a fit in front of Spinner and his friends. That bothered her, especially in front of Craig, who might tell Joey, who might tell her mother. What if that one moment of sadness made her end up on a psychiatrist's couch discussing medications and sessions and worst, sharing why she's there in the first place?

Other personal reasons accompanied these concerns. Spinner, whenever she spent any time at length with him, made her feel good. He barely mentioned Snake, invited her to activities with genuine interest, tried not to act too disappointed when she said no to almost all of them. She's not sure why, but maybe since he dated Paige, who taught him manners, and then Manny, who he was pretty care-free with, and then Darcy, who helped him forgive himself, Emma was reaping the benefits of a more mature Spinner. Their first kiss, on New Year's, suggested they could be mature from that moment on, the memory springing to life when she closes her eyes.

"_I don't see why they can't use solar energy during the daytime," muttered Emma, setting a fussy Jack on her lap._

"_Solar power is still one of the most expensive methods to produce electricity, Emma," remarked Snake, handing Spinner a party horn. "Lighting Times Square would cost a bundle."_

_Emma pursed her lips, remained quiet. The financial cost may aid in the future human cost, she thinks. That's a thought that always returns to her, though. Tonight, she was keeping her focus on her parents watching the ball drop with her, Spinner, and Jack. Manny was in the basement, weeping over some Lifetime movie. Lifetime had been on her TV ever since Toby left for Kytel, Manny awaiting his return. Some of those movies didn't end too happily, but Manny didn't seem to care, enjoying any excuse to cry._

"_Sun's cool, though," spoke up Spinner. "I'm so jealous of Kendra, relocating to Cali for the semester. Best weather ever in Santa Clara, she tells me. She doesn't tell me much else, but she's busy, I guess."_

"_Wow, California," sighed Spike, sliding into Snake's lap. "Movie stars. Hanging ten. All those beach blondes."_

"_Who can't compare to you," said Snake, gently caressing her shoulder._

_Emma bunched up her face, somewhat aghast that they'd be acting like that in front of her boyfriend. Well, actually, Spinner wasn't her boyfriend. He was more than a friend, and they hung out, flirted, and their conversations and private time were getting longer. Spinner confessed it was more than him and Manny did in their relationship last year, despite never having taken her out on a formal date by themselves. She could rectify that._

"_Spinner, do you think you could fix my bike tire?" asked Emma, rising._

_Spike stood, collected Jack in her arms._

"_Oh, you're riding the bike again?" asked Snake, hopefully. "Hey, we should go for a ride sometime."_

"_Just...just what I was thinking," lied Emma, grinning._

_A doubtful expression crossed Spinner's face as he joined Emma, and they headed out to the garage where Spike's car, Snake's reliable bicycle, and some of Jack's no longer needed baby belongings took up most of the space. The smell of car oil didn't make this the most attractive spot for being by themselves. Then she got an idea, a sudden burst of inspiration. Fumbling in an open cardboard box, she retrieved a lamp shaped like a small Japanese lattern with a pink shade covering the bulb. When she plugged it in, it produced an orange-pinkish glow shining on her and Spinner._

"_Uh...uh, I can't change the tire in this light," stammered Spinner, nervously cracking his knuckles._

"_Um, haven't used that bike since grade nine really," confessed Emma. "There's a purple basket with a huge sunflower on it. Pretty dorky."_

"_My first skateboard had Pokemon stickers on it," said Spinner. "So you're...like relieved of your dorkiness."_

_Emma and Spinner traded shy smiles, Emma letting her hands sway back and forth. Her plan to get them out here worked, but other than that, she had no clue what else to do, especially since she had no idea how Spinner felt. Was he anticipating a kiss? It was nearing midnight on New Year's, after all. Spending all those nights, cooped up in the ski lodge, was amazing. With the fresh snow, closed quarters, and sweet conversation, how could romance not come? Look at Toby and Manny. True, Spinner and Emma never shared a room like them, but all their interactions were sweet, understated, got her heart twisting, similar to tonight, nearly a month later. That had to mean something._

"_Thought you wanted to see the ball drop," said Spinner, checking his watch._

"_I...I do," stuttered Emma. "Uh...if only there was a way to be alone for it, or is it too early...you...you think?"_

_Spinner grinned, his cheeks scarlet. "A month is a pretty big wait."_

"_Agreed," said Emma, softly._

"_Then no more waiting," said Spinner, smirking as he clicks the small grey buttons on his watch. _

_Emma raised her eyebrows in confusion, then figures out he's speeding up time with all the clicking._

"_Digital dude," explained Spinner. "Erm, consider it...action for a good cause."_

"_Alright," laughed Emma._

_The watch read one minute to midnight, to the new year, when Spinner finished clicking. He told her the watch would beep on the hour, so they waited. For her, the wait was odd. She was standing so close to the guy she passed in the hallways for five years, barely acknowledging him, except for pestering him for her science project. Some of the acts he did were downright disgusting: teasing her and Manny; mooning the auditorium during the basketball game; chowing down bananas so fast he could hardly breathe with the first bite._

_But when the beeps rang from his watch, and their lips met, it wasn't disgusting. No, pretty soon her lips were following his, with surety that shocked both of them. He tenderly held the backof her head, which she liked, patient and gentle with all his movements. In fact, he only messed up her hair pretty badly, which Snake mentioned as soon as they came in from the garage. She made up some excuse involving hunting for the spare bike tire, mussing up her hair and clothes, even though her clothes were spotless._

There are no excuses now, none to explain why she shirks back at Spinner's touch, or hasn't answered his question about being his girlfriend. It just all seemed so daunting, already so many changes. When she dated Sean, change came too, in the form of Snake's cancer, and the relationship didn't survive. The same thing occurred with Chris, when she went away with her parents the following summer on a trip. She broke that off without hesitation, even though Chris got really upset since she offered no insight as to why. Honestly, she had no insight. The feelings weren't strong for her, which isn't the case with Spinner.

Yet, she can't tell him this, out of fear she can't identify. A fear of commitment or a fear of hurting him or another fear she can't see?

Emma sinks her head further into the pillow, hears the basement door open and close softly. Manny comes downstairs, stares helplessly at Emma. Emma flicks on the light, mouth parting when she views Manny's tear-stained cheeks.

"What happened, Manny?" asks Emma, jumping up.

"I made a total fool of myself," sobs Manny, wiping her eyes.

"I thought you had a date with Toby."

"Yeah...that's where."

Manny's chest heaved up and down, Emma instantly going to her and leading her to Manny's bed. Pretty soon, they wouldn't be able to offer each other comfort like this, what with Manny moving. Well, she can help her now, or at least try.

"I practically mauled him," breathes Manny, crying.

Emma shakes her head. "Don't understand."

"Called Lia...told me to go for it...I went for it...and he'll...he'll think I'm some easy tramp," sputters out Manny.

Wow, thinks Emma. This is a lot to take in. Eh, but it all sounded so believable, that Lia, who seemed to live on the fast track, was counselling Manny to go for what, or rather who, she wanted.

"Lia...it's her fault," says Emma, calmly.

"What?" whispers Manny. "Emma, you barely know her."

"And she barely knows you, telling you to do stuff that you normally wouldn't," says Emma. "Come on, Manny. You're the one that's dating him. He'd want it to be extra special for you, and since it's his first time too, you shouldn't move too fast."

"That...that may be true," replies Manny. "But you...you don't have to put it all on Lia. I didn't have to listen."

"Fine," says Emma, folding her arms.

How could Manny side with a girl she's known for months, take her advice so blindly, but with her advice, Manny questioned it? Has she not known Manny since the sandbox? Lia hasn't met Toby either. These thoughts make her feverish, upset, as much as seeing Snake on the bike. She can only get accustomed to so many changes, especially if they take away people she loves.

"Let's go to bed," says Emma, leaving Manny for her own bed.

"Um...okay," says Manny, shakily. "I...I really blew it with Toby."

"No, you haven't," assures Emma, turning off the lights.

In her head, as Manny settles in, she adds a reply she's terrified to say. Manny hasn't blown it with everyone, she thinks. I have.

IV.

The book had to have every come-on line in creation. Toby wagered it wasn't as spiritual as the Torah, or as necessary as the Degrassi Code of Conduct, but whoa, if it wasn't engaging. J.T. probably would've gotten a kick on how to "Wax Sentimental with Wifey", a chapter on breaking the awkwardness of the relationship after turbulent times, like one person cheating or finding out the guy isn't your baby daddy. They didn't even punctuate it correctly, with baby's daddy. Baby daddy. Must be a typo, guessed Toby, glancing up alertly when he heard a loud thud against the door of his house.

Looking through the peephole, he views a mauve-colored mouth, and a small nose. Toby narrows his eyes in confusion, opens the door, a figure falling into his arms. She's really too hard to hold. Ashley is way too tall.

"Ashley!" he groans, trying his best to prop her up.

Ashley burped, and he smelled traces of alcohol on her breath. Luckily, Kate was already upstairs with his dad. He managed the hide the book whenever they came into the room, though his dad tried negotiating some quality time by suggesting they watch the Leafs on television. Toby rightfully stared at his dad as if he were crazy; he didn't follow hockey. Wrestling, yeah, but not hockey. Eh, with Confirmation on the horizon, Toby pretty much knows it was a desperate attempt of his father to remind Toby who the ever-present parent was and would be. Toby saw through it, told Jeff he was studying, which got him to leave.

Toby lowered her to the couch, Ashley fumbling to sit upright.

"Party?" he asked.

Ashley held her head. "Throbbing."

"Kate and Dad are upstairs," informs Toby. "You better stay."

"I laid down at the center, thinking this headache would go away, but no...," says Ashley, her voice nearly a whisper. "Then laid in the cab...no. Mer's probably wondering where I am...never went back with the flute..."

Toby helped Ashley lay flat on the couch, reminded of the last time he did this for a girl. Manny, after the fight with her dad. She needed him more then, but what if she doesn't need him now? What if Sully was right, and she got bored? There were all types of exciting guys in Hollywood, and drama camp? Actors were exciting, and they loved the profession as much as her.

"How much did you drink?" prods Toby.

"One glass of champagne and a couple wine coolers," says Ashley. "Or maybe the second wasn't a wine cooler. I must be a lightweight. Jimmy and Spin...can totally kick back a few."

"Why were you drinking?" asks Toby. "At most, you've had like champagne at your dad's wedding, right?"

Ashley remains quiet, apparently refusing to answer.

"Don't tell," pleads Ashley. "I'm finally on Mom's good side, and she's gotta trust me."

Toby really doesn't feel like keeping secrets. "Ash..."

"Please," moans Ashley. "I'm going to call Mer...as soon as I remember the number. Only tipsy...I swear. Tipsy and tired."

"I don't...," starts Toby.

"Come on, Toby. We were celebrating," explains Ashley, then hiccuping. "I'm home, ready to sleep it off. Everything's cool."

Toby nods reluctantly, not eager to be keeping this from their parents. She will sleep it off, however, and she had enough sense to say when and find her way home. Ashley is smart most of the time. He throws a cover over her waist, and she drags the edges of the blanket to her feet.

"Thanks, Toby," she says, smiling at him.

V.

"They had a chapter on baby's daddies," says Toby, crumpling up his exam schedule, throwing it in the trash.

"Because that makes the book gospel," sighs J.T., narrowing his eyes in contempt. "Toby, this is ridiculous. And correction, it's baby daddy."

He had hoped J.T. wouldn't say that. Some of the book actually seemed decent to him, so decent that he'd gone shopping at the same mall where he got that horrible bottle of perfume. He figured the store couldn't disappoint him twice, so he went after his last exam, and sure enough, he found a really cool leather jacket for sale since it was almost summer. It was sort of like the jacket was waiting for him. His jeans would set it off nicely too.

"You could try some of the tips with Liberty," suggests Toby. "Rekindle the phat flame is what the book called it."

"Not everything can be found in a book, Toby," warns J.T. "I suggest having a conversation. I know, I know. Weird concept."

"I...I can't talk to her about this," sputters Toby.

"Why not?"

Toby wrests open his locker, retrieves the leather jacket, neatly hanging up in there. Ugh, what rebel hangs up his locker on a wire hanger? I'm getting this wrong already. No, he'd toss the hanger, sliding the jacket on. Toby stares at himself in the small mirror, near a Fruits Basket poster, plastered to the wall of his locker. Fruits Basket used to be one of Kendra's favorite anime, but he keeps his eyes focused on the mirror, what his current girlfriend will like. Craig wore a leather jacket, and zipping open his backpack, he finds the item that will complete the package, sunglasses. They weren't designer like Sully's, but they'd do in a pinch, black with that aura of aloofness.

"I...I got kinda excited," whispers Toby in J.T.'s ear, feeling pressure weigh on his chest.

Despite last night's round of questions, he did manage to avoid revealing the most embarrassing part of last night's date. J.T. appears confused for a second, then smiles widely.

"Lil' Toby was at attention?" whispers J.T., failing to hold back a quiet laugh.

"She saw...and yeah," replies Toby. "So no...I am not bringing that up again."

"No prob, man," says J.T., quietly. "It could be worse. Okay, when me and Liberty were about to you know for the first time, I got excited early...and uh...Liberty saw so I released early and..."

"Gross," cries Toby. "Never mind. I only want Manny not to lose interest."

"And you're sure this'll make her interested again," supplies J.T.

"Judging by the way she drooled over Sully and Craig, that's all the evidence there," says Toby, slipping on the glasses.

"Eh, part of me doesn't want to see you crash and burn," moans J.T. "A larger part of me is just...hmmm, terribly wanting to watch. Let's go."

Toby and J.T. head for the auditorium, where Manny is set to begin the show's first dress rehearsal. On the way, Toby stared in the eyes of students passing by, confident behind the tinted lenses. Already, he feels more cool, more fashionable. A couple girls giggle, staring at him. See, he'd tell J.T. His instincts were right. All he had to do was make a little change. Oh, here's a real challenge. Paige and Hazel's eyes washed over Toby, both girls stopping in their tracks.

"Sartorial meltdown, Toby?" says Paige, her and Hazel laughing.

"Ladies, are you from Tennessee?" asks Toby, popping the collar of his jacket.

"No, Toronto, and you know that," responds Hazel. "Why?"

"Because you guys are the only tens-I-see," says Toby, lowering the shades, winking at them.

Paige and Hazel trade amused glances, raises their hands to their mouths as they bust out in hysterical fits of laughter. They leave, trying to catch their breath. Toby quickly repositions his shades, J.T. running a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"Not a word, J.T.," groans Toby.

"That book has some real prizes," laughs J.T.

The pointing and jeering, including someone whistling Born to Be Wild, continued as Toby walked into the auditorium. Spinner, carrying a microphone stand, nearly drops it, taking in the sight of Toby. Darcy gasps in shock, narrowed her eyes with a puzzled expression. Chante snickers behind one of her pom-poms. Most simply stared in shock.

Who cares, thinks Toby. This is all for Manny, so he'd find her, show her, and it all would go smoothly. She'd find him sexy again, sexier actually.

"Yo," says Toby. "Where's Santos?"

"You mean Manny?" says Darcy. "Backstage dressing room."

"Thanks," he says, nervously grinning.

Too bad he's certain not many rebels say thanks, or say thanks regularly anyways. J.T. moves to follow, but Toby motions for him to stay put. J.T. frowns, but Toby wanted an honest response, with no one around except her. Plus if she didn't like it, he didn't want others to know.

He parts the door that leads to the backstage area, knocks tentatively on the door. Hmmm, rebels probably didn't knock either, just enter unannounced. He knows how to fix it. Swinging the door open, he rests his elbow on the edge of the doorway, leaning casually. Liberty gazes back at him.

"Liberty!" he exclaims.

"Hi...Toby?" she says, clearly puzzled. "What are you..."

"Okay, bye," says Toby, softly brushing her out of the room.

His gaze finds Manny, half-dressed in her Victorian outfit, a pink T-shirt over a long, puffy greyish black skirt. She's desperately trying to pin her luminous hair into a bun, muttering as she takes a pin from her mouth. So pretty, gushes Toby inwardly, watching her fumble, then make another attempt.

"Hey," says Toby, softly.

Manny stares back at him, mouth dropping, all the pins falling to the floor.

"What say you and me blow this popsicle stand?" says Toby, remembering the last come-on line in the back.

They said it was a classic, but still heavily used. The fact that it may've come from a movie might impress her more.

"Toby!" exclaims Manny. "Um...what's this?"

"Let's go out of here, see where the night takes us," replies Toby, flinging his glasses, accidentally hitting the wig off a mannequin head on a counter. "Oops."

"I've got rehearsal," says Manny, shaking her head at him.

"Right," says Toby, suddenly aware of the flaw in his plan. "Okay, after?"

Manny smiles timidly at him, walks forward. Yes, she did like it! Finally someone did. As long as he passed Manny's test, it was all worth it. Toby grins proudly.

"Where do you wanna go?" asks Manny, wrapping her hands around his neck.

Toby's hands start to sweat. Ugh, not the sweaty palms again. Truth be told, he thought she'd suggest somewhere once they left. He can only be so care-free, spontaneous. Most of this had been planned, including where to meet her.

"I...I hadn't thought about it," admits Toby.

Manny blushes. "Toby, you're so adorable."

"What?" sighs Toby in disappointment.

"Who lent you this?" asks Manny, pulling at his jacket. "J.T.?"

"It's mine," says Toby, looking away from her.

He slouches his shoulders, confidence totally flying out the window, drops into the chair near the dressing room. Manny kneels next to him, appearing a bit uncomfortable since her skirt was so puffy.

"You...you don't like it?" asks Toby.

"I like it more when we're honest," replies Manny, examining the sunglasses, handing them back to him. "So?"

Toby wonders how useful putting up a front would be, because Manny really did read him well, with the Rick situation, and the Clara situation. The outfit failed to work, regardless.

"I want to be the man, I guess," says Toby, shrugging. "A more confident...sexy...guy. Stupid, right?"

"No," says Manny, squeezing his knee. "Toby, ever heard the expression clothes don't make the man?"

"Think I've seen it in an email once," says Toby.

"Toby, I've been impressed with you for months," says Manny, beaming at him. "Sure, I like picking stuff out for you, but overall, your clothes totally work for you."

"I work for you?" whispers Toby.

"Totally," says Manny.

Toby peers at his jacket, which feels so foreign in this moment, and at the fallen sunglasses, lenses shining in the florescent light. They just seemed like clothes J.T. or Chante would've rustled up or got from the props department.

"So...you'll be my wifey?" asks Toby, sure Manny is likely more aware of the word than he was.

Manny chuckles quietly, then grabs for his hand, taking a deep breath. She stands, her nose inches from his.

"I better be," says Manny, kissing him as Toby drops the sunglasses.


	7. Hungry Eyes

**VII. Hungry Eyes**

_I've been meaning to tell you  
I've got this feelin' that won't subside  
I look at you and I fantasize  
Darlin' tonight  
Now I've got you in my sights_

_With these hungry eyes  
One look at you and I can't disguise  
I've got hungry eyes  
I feel the magic between you and I_

_I want to hold you so hear me out  
I want to show you what love's all about  
Darlin' tonight  
Now I've got you in my sights_

_Now I've got you in my sights  
With these hungry eyes  
Now did I take you by surprise  
I need you to see  
This love was meant to be_

**Hungry Eyes is the property of Eric Carmen, and appears in the film **_**Dirty Dancing**_.

"You can stop looking at it," assures Ellie, beaming. "It's not going anywhere."

Sean grins, switching his backpack from one shoulder to the other, already hearing the sound of tools clicking pipes, car engines roaring before they go into the garage. He gazes down at what's in his hands, can't believe what's in his hands.

"B," says Sean. "A solid B."

Ellie grabs the paper, holds it up proudly. "All we need is a gold star, flash this around the other mechanics."

"Not even," laughs Sean, snatching it from her.

People thought he'd be a natural in physics, what with his job and all, but no, he struggled for most of the semester. Working a steady job didn't open up many opportunities to study either. Ellie offered to help him with his studies at the beginning of the semester, but with her roles with the yearbook, newspaper, and her own examinations, he couldn't say yes. So he started staying late at the shop on weekends, just to crack the books. That wasn't easy either, what with Dale being his co-worker during those hours. Dale was supposed to fix the carburetors of cars that needed it, and since he was the boss' son, he took forever and knew that he'd get away with it if Sean squealed. When Ashley came in with her Acura, he'd been working on that same carburetor for a straight week, and Sean repaired the rest later that night while Dale went out for a smoke break. What Dale smoked he didn't know. He didn't want to shortchange the customer, so he made sure it was all tight, though he did murmur Newton's Laws under his breath. Hmmm, might be on to something, for next year. He'd try mumbling the parts of a cell while fixing the gear shifts next semester; his science grades were still pretty pathetic.

"For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction," kids Ellie, trying to get the marked exam.

"Yeah...yeah," says Sean, chuckling, then stopping when he sees Mr. Hill smiling at his son, patting Dale's head through his baseball cap.

"Mechanic's pet?" guesses Ellie.

"Mechanic's son," sighs Sean. "That's the one I told you about."

"The one with the set job for life," whispers Ellie, rolling her eyes. "Honors diploma in education, yet spends all his time doing absolutely nothing?"

"Whatever," says Sean. "Yeah, he's spoiled, but as long as he stays out of my way..."

"He will," interjects Ellie. "Oh, he's coming over."

Dale throws a pair of fuzzy dice in the air, walks to Sean and Ellie, smirking. He wasn't wearing the typical dark blue uniform, or a nametag, or any item of clothing to represent he worked there. His black hair was tied with a rubber band in a ratty ponytail, and he had a beard that had never fully grown in. Still, thinks Sean, you can tell his dad owns the place, based on the way he walks, with that secure smile on his face.

"Not showing up for work tomorrow," he says, brushing past Sean. "I got...exams."

"You graduated, man," says Sean, shaking his head.

"Did I?" replies Dale, glancing at Ellie, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I don't see my diploma anywhere around here."

"Jerk," mumbles Sean.

"What...what'd you say?" asked Dale, cupping his ear, glaring at Sean. "I know...know you just didn't insult me. Piece of trailer trash talking about..."

Sean's insides grow warm, eyes shaking as his furls his fists. He lurches forward, Ellie grabbing a hold of his arm. Trailer trash? This guy would get it more than Tyler.

"Sean...no," whispers Ellie.

Sean unfurls his fist, glares at Dale, laughing quietly.

"Everything alright over there?" calls Mr. Hill, handing keys to a customer.

"Yes, sir," replies Sean.

"Good," says Mr. Hill. "And yesterday, you were late, Sean. Don't let that happen again. I'm aware that you're working on that Acura, but your client said she'd wait, while other people can't wait."

"Yeah!" shouts Sean, walking to the side to retrieve his uniform.

Ellie quietly follows, rubs Sean's back. Dale didn't know the beating he was about to get, thinks Sean, his skin starting to cool. He didn't like having his background thrown in his face, especially by someone who didn't know all the good stuff he'd been doing lately, with school, the job. That's why he went to Mr. Ehl in the first place; certain people thought he could do well.

"I have to go...graduation rehearsal," says Ellie, staring at him sadly. "You okay?"

"Fine," answers Sean, in the most unconvincing tone his voice has ever spoken.

Ellie heard it too, but to his relief, said nothing else, wouldn't pry. That was the great thing about her. She gave him space to get himself together, time to cool down and comes to his senses, especially when he was stealing with Jay a couple years ago. Wow, that was a lifetime ago, wasn't it?

"Jay'll be here soon," says Sean. "Um...he'll keep me in check."

"He's good with that," says Ellie. "Alright."

Ellie kisses him on the cheek, scurries out of the garage.

Sean failed to tell Ellie why Jay was showing up. He thought a good place for Jay to start the job search would be another garage, and he believed Mr. Hill liked Sean enough to consider it. Plus Jay could be charming when he wanted to be, so the interview might go well, and Jay was more than capable of doing what Dale did at the very least.

"Where is he?" whispers Sean, taking off his jeans, slipping into the uniform.

"Boxers or briefs?" exclaims Jay. "The eternal question of Cameron admirers has been answered. It's...boxers. Pull up the pants, pervert."

Still too upset to turn red, Sean darts his eyes, zips up his uniform. Jay strolls casually to where his friends stand, and Sean's thankful that he's sober, looking half-way presentable in a black T-shirt, a backwards cap, and baggy, but clean black jeans.

"We'll talk to Hill in a few," promises Sean. "Don't talk too much. He's kinda old school, feels like you should talk only when spoken to."

"Like my old man," says Jay, nodding. "This will be a treat."

Sean removes a brake kit from under a cabinet, starts taking out calipers, Jay whistling. Doing anything mundane, away from Dale, is the ideal for him right now. When five minutes pass, with Mr. Hill picking up an inventory list, Sean sees a window where they can all talk. He indicates for Jay to move too.

Mr. Hill rubbed the hairs of his walrus-like moustache with a pen, smearing some ink right under his nose. Jay covers his mouth to keep from laughing.

"Uh, Mr. Hill?" starts Sean, taking off his bandanna. "Hi."

"Hey, Sean," says Mr. Hill, his expression softening. "Look, about before, I gotta be hard on you for coming in late. But...I've been real impressed by your work lately. Real impressed."

"Oh...thanks," says Sean, nodding his appreciation. "Um...this is my friend, Jay. We were wondering if you needed some extra help in the garage?"

Mr. Hill's ink-topped lights tightened. "Not sure. All my guys come with recommendations, you included, Sean."

But Jay didn't have Mr. Ehl, and his former boss thought he was bad news, too. Eh, maybe he could put it on the line for Jay, just this once.

"If he has my...my recommendation?" prompts Sean. "He's a great mechanic."

Mr. Hill gives Jay the once over. Jay turns around in a circle, happy to be appraised.

"Get him to work on those calipers," sighs Mr. Hill, staring at Jay. "Let's see how you make out by close, kid."

"Thanks, sir," says Jay, shaking hands with Mr. Hill.

"Your word better be gold, Sean," remarks Mr. Hill, then heading back to find his list.

Sean and Jay slide some skin, stand in front of the calipers, as an alarm clock sounds after them. Dale claps excitedly, jumps up from his stool, where he'd been tossing the fuzzy dice in the air.

"Smoke break," announces Dale.

"We gotta have that other carburetor done," reminds Sean. "Lady's coming for hers tonight."

"Do it, then," orders Dale. "My dad's real impressed with _you_, anyways. Using that trailer park edumucation sure do help, eh, buddy?"

"Dale...you're practically done," says Sean, as calmly as he can. "A few more tweaks, then I'll re-install. I'd be doing most of the work, but I could use some help."

"Your girlfriend's the one who looks she needs some help," says Dale, chuckling.

Jay and Sean exchange frustrated looks. Sean throws his bandanna at Dale's feet.

"What?" demands Sean, standing in front of Dale.

"She's fugly," says Dale, Sean feeling his hot breath on his face. "No rack, no nothing. A virgin, right?"

"Cool it, guys!" warns Jay, the other employees gathering around Sean and Dale.

Sean feels his ears burning. It's one thing to insult him, but Ellie? He cracks his knuckles, trying to keep some cool, some composure. He can't throttle the boss' son.

"Go do your job," says Sean, dismissively, starting to head to his station.

"She a natural redhead?" says Dale, softly, though making Sean can hear. "Guess I can pry open those skinny legs and see for myself. Something tells me I wouldn't have to work as hard as I do here when it comes to that."

Sean's hands fly before he can even stop them, pounding Dale's thin chest. Dale, grimacing, hurtles back in shock, lands a heavy elbow in Sean's gut. Jeers and yells surround them, Sean fighting, Dale merely a shadow in his vision. He'd hit until he couldn't hit anymore. Dale's hands only box him a couple times, Sean throwing more punches, body pulsating, skin hot.

"Sean...stop!" yells Jay over the noise.

Sean doesn't have to, a heavy arm yanking him out of the circle. He stands in front of a fuming Mr. Hill.

"Get off my son!" he roars. "What...you gone psycho?"

Sean spat on the floor, a mix of blood and saliva, eyes getting less blurry. His heart beat quickly, starts to slow down as he comes up with some response. He insulted him, his girlfriend, takes advantage of him...all things he can say. So how come he's not doing it?

"He deserved it," says Sean, the words tumbling out without him knowing it.

"My kid deserves to be punched by some hothead?" exclaims Mr. Hill. "No...get out of here! Just...get out of here! You're fired!"

Dale smiles, red blood covering his front teeth, and half of his bottom lip. The other employees throw sympathetic looks at Sean. Well, at least they were offering some silent support, not that it'd do any good. Jay shrugs, reaches for his jacket, but Sean shakes his head. No use bringing Jay into this mess.

"Good!" snaps Sean, grabbing his bag, tossing the wrench on a table.

"Thanks, Dad," he hears Dale say to his father.

"Don't you thanks, Dad, me," scolds Mr. Hill. "I told you not to pick any more fights with anybody, and I lost a good mechanic..."

Those are the last words he hears before going to the side of the street. He can't hate Mr. Hill as much as he'd like to. Sometimes adults do stupid things over their kids, and Sean did land the first blow. Now he's out of the job, after setting up Jay with a job. Funny how that works.

He glances into the side mirror of a parked car, a habit he picked up while working in the garage. Well, he wouldn't be able to do that anymore. His face looks alright, only a split lip. Dale looked much worse, although that's really no comfort. Suddenly, the solid B seems like some fluke, just some letter on a paper someone could easily throw away.

II.

Emma removes the pink Post-Its from the wall in her locker, edging over the recycling bin with her foot. History exam, done. English, done. Geography, done. Math, done. Biology, done. Last but no least, she has the take-home Media Immersion exam from study hall. Retrieving it from a manila folder, her fingers fly through its pages. She realizes it's so much more technical, exceptionally more dull. Oh well, it's what she signed up for, right?

Sticking her head further in her locker, she has to make sure to bring home the order form for a yearbook. Spike had asked her for a little more time to get her one, insisted on paying, especially since Emma's pageant picture would be in the features section. Paige told her she could put a yearbook on hold for her and a couple other eleventh graders.

Her head in the darkness, she hears something heavy drop next to her, then a small jangle, then a shuffling of feet. Getting out, she views a small cardboard box in the recycling bin.

"This isn't a trash can!" she huffs, lifting the box.

Her forehead crinkles as she reads her name on the box. Emma. Only Emma, not her full name. She tears the tape off, opens the box, grins at its contents: a green Slinky, a squeezable frog that croaks when she touches it, a crossword puzzle book, and gummy fish. Cradling the box under her arms, she peers around the corner, sees his sweet brown eyes immediately.

"Hey!" she exclaims, startling him.

"Dude, I'm a bad hider!" complains Spinner, walking to her side. "Always have been. Kendra killed me in hide and seek. But it's...it's for a break in the home stretch of exams."

"Thanks, Spin," says Emma. "A singing fish...and now gummy fish?"

"Yeah, you liked both, right?" asks Spinner.

Eh, the singing fish, she'd put in her closet, so it would never see the light of day, but the gummy fish, very cute.

"I love this package," says Emma, deciding to tell the truth rather than lie.

"Um, more of an icebreaker...actually," says Spinner, glancing at the ground. "Last time I saw you you were...uh, on edge maybe?"

Emma averts her eyes, her sight returning to the Media Immersion exam. Snake's exam would be so much more challenging, interesting.

"How was your MI exam?" questions Emma, doing her best to sound nonchalant.

"One of my okay ones," answers Spinner. "Uh...we took it on the computer. Some of the material we covered was pretty cool. We were learning how to make screensavers a couple weeks ago. Oh, that was great. I mean, Toby had to help me a little, but I did a surfing one and..."

Emma continues listening as Spinner speaks. He sounds so excited, and he got to see Snake pretty much everyday. The more days that go by, the more she wishes she was in his place too. All the nature tapes and nights with Jack can't make up for the lack of him.

"I...I gotta go," says Emma, when Spinner finishes. "Call me?"

Spinner's mouth hangs open.

"Call you?" exclaims Spinner. "Like you want me to call you on the phone...like a call?"

"You don't know how to use the phone?" teases Emma.

"No...yeah, I mean, yeah!" stammers Spinner. "I'll...I'll call tonight!"

Emma checks her watch, guesses he hasn't left for his apartment yet. His apartment? Ugh, so awkward to picture him living alone. She rarely does, concentrating on Mom and Jack. He has no one, while she has two other people, and Manny, for the time being.

The Media Immersion lab is completely empty, except for her stepfather, tapping vigorously away on a computer. His red hair is full. She can remember when he went bald, before all the cancer treatments, how painful it was to watch Sheila cut it, and then wait for the news. Snake kept trying to hide things from her after that, but like Spinner, he was a bad hider. She was glad he stopped hiding, so they could share in the moment when the doctor told them Snake was in remission. Honestly, she thought that'd be the worst situation they would face as a family, at least in the beginning of her mom's marriage. If they can deal with a matter of life and death, who says they can't deal with a kiss that shouldn't have happened?

"Snake," says Emma, standing awkwardly in the door frame.

Snake stops typing, takes a deep breath.

"Dad?" she whispers.

"Em?" he says, standing.

Emma swallows a lump in her throat. She hates being inarticulate. Most of time, it feels like she always has words. They just come when you're strong, and even when she's confused, they usually come. A couple tears slide on her cheeks, her shoulders rocking back and forth.

"I really miss your class," she chokes out.

Snake goes quickly to her, taking her into his arms. Emma watches his shirt collar grow wet because of her tears. Wiping her cheeks, she separates from him.

"How's your mom?" asks Snake.

"Ask her yourself," says Emma.

"She...she'd like to talk to me?" asks Snake, tentatively.

No, thinks Emma. But if they don't talk, they can't work anything out.

"Yes," says Emma, dropping her eyes. "Uh...we're...we're eating out tonight...a barbeque in the backyard like we used to. Veggie burgers. Come...come over."

"You're cooking?" jokes Snake, his eyes widening.

"Yeah!" replies Emma, playfully hitting him with her folder. "I'm no Wolfgang Puck, but I'm not terrible."

"Guess I'll have to see for myself," says Snake, sitting on his desk. "I am hungry."

"Speaking of seeing for yourself...," begins Emma.

She takes the MI exam from her folder, joins Snake on the desk.

"This is...this is pedestrian!" condemns Snake. "Who wrote this garbage?"

Emma doesn't respond, merely shares a smile with her father.

III.

Manny makes sure the book is squarely on her head, stretches her arms as if she's out on a tightrope. Nothing happens for a few paces, then the book drops downward, and she catches it. Toby laughs.

"This is the only use for that book!" says Manny, waving _How To Land the Perfect Wifey _in his face. "Eh, I dropped it. And to think, I used to be a beauty queen."

"Technically, you still are," reminds Toby.

"Technically," mocks Manny, walking in front of him, taking his hands.

As Manny walks backwards, she watches him closely. She's glad he took off the jacket, and the sunglasses, his own glasses resting firmly on his nose. Whatever inspired that change made her a bit nervous. She probably looked dumb, staring at him in shock, but that was her first gut reaction. Toby always came across so comfortable with who he was, where he was going. The Kytel internship essentially guaranteed him a bright future, and he'd just won the election, and tomorrow, his Confirmation would show his dedication to his faith for life. So why switch his clothes up all of a sudden? There's deeper stuff going on than wanting to be "the man." She's certainly not going to dig too deep. After all, two years ago, wasn't it her that changed to get a boy's attention? That ended horribly. No, she'd keep an eye on him, though, as much as possible before she goes. Then, after that, maybe J.T.?

"How's your essay coming?" asks Manny, their feet going over a pink hopscoth drawing.

"Still stuck," confesses Toby. "Had to concentrate on finals, and you know, acting like a fake James Dean. I'm going to hammer it out tonight."

They stall in front of Emma's house, Manny gazing at the parted front door in confusion.

"I couldn't write something like that," says Manny. "I gotta say...haven't studied much about Filipina culture. That's pretty bad. I'm proud of where I come from, though."

"That's what matters most, I think," consoles Toby.

"You matter most," says Manny, smiling.

Toby grins, wraps his arms around her waist, leans in to kiss her.

"Hey, guys!" greets Emma, coming out of the front door.

Toby drops his arms, Manny putting her hands on her hips.

"Um...I thought we agreed the interruptions would stop once Toby and I started dating, Emma," complains Manny.

"Don't be upset with me," says Emma. "I'm feeding you tonight, boost your energy after what I'm sure was a heinous dress rehearsal."

"Did you just say heinous?" says Manny. "Spinner teaching you words again?"

"Well, Spinner'll be here," informs Emma. "Toby is of course welcome to join us."

"I...," begins Toby.

"He's got an essay," interrupts Manny.

"I wish you'd change your mind," sighs Emma. "I bought meat."

"You bought meat?" say Toby and Manny at the same time.

"For Spinner and you guys and...Snake," says Emma, practically whispering the last name.

Manny and Toby raise their eyebrows at each other, Manny clearing her throat. Apparently oblivious, Emma smiles at the two of them.

"I'm assuming your mom's clueless," says Manny, giving her a lopsided grin.

"Wow," whispers Toby.

"Excuse us, Tobes?" requests Manny.

"Yeah, I'll go say hi to Ms. Nelson," says Toby.

He enters the door, leaving the girls alone. Manny shakes Emma lightly.

"Hey!" cries Emma.

"Must I shake some sense into you?" exclaims Manny. "The last time you came between your parents...huge fight, nearly stopped the wedding. I'm...I'm flabbergasted you would try after that."

"I miss him, Manny," says Emma, sadly. "Mom does too. Only she can't...can't say it. And...imagine Jack without a dad!"

"Imagine you without a head!" replies Manny. "Your mom will go mental if Snake suddenly shows up."

"Not if she's around a bunch of happy teenagers," says Emma. "Emphasis on happy. Bonus points if they're in love."

"You want me and Toby to be your pawns?" says Manny, tilting her head in astonishment.

"What? He likes chess," jokes Emma, winking. "Come on. You know Mom thinks you and Toby remind her of a younger version of Snake and herself."

Manny exhales loudly. "You have a sick, twisted mind, Emma Nelson."

"Forget me," waves off Emma. "Matchmaker Manny says..."

"Matchmaker Manny says she will ask Toby to stay...for a bit," says Manny.

Emma squeals, immediately hugs Manny. She hopes she can convince Toby to stay, and well, the more time with him, the better.

IV.

"Don't burn your nose off!" warns Spike, settling Jack into a high chair.

"Burn!" echoes Jack, fidgeting.

Emma nods at her mother, bends to see the charcoal simmering. The heat's intense, and the smell...gross. Emma sneezes.

"Alright there, sweetie?" calls over Grandma Nelson.

"I'm okay, Grandma," assures Emma. "It's...this meat...so ewww."

Her grandmother, the party crasher. It's odd to think of her that way, yet she is ruining Emma's plans. Once Emma made the suggestion to eat outside, the doorbell rang, and Grandma Nelson thought it was a "lovely idea", insisted on eating with them.

"Well, I'm sure Toby and Manny will appreciate it," comforts Grandma Nelson.

Right now, Toby and Manny were appreciating the hammock, Emma frowning as she poked at the meat with a skewer. They were gazing at and whispering to each other, Manny's head settled on his chest. She really regrets putting that thing up. The two lovebirds were supposed to be over here. Plan's going totally wrong, sighs Emma inwardly.

"You put four regular burgers on," notes Spike. "Grandma and I eat veggie. We have more guests?"

Emma shifts her eyes, sets the skewer down. She starts pouring fruit punch for her grandmother, Spike, and then Jack in a sippy cup.

"Em, you don't have to do everything," says Spike.

"It's my dinner," says Emma. "Cook reporting for duty."

"So where's your chef's hat?" jokes a voice behind her.

Spinner waves to everyone, shouts a quick hello to Toby and Manny, who lazily wave back. His outfit is casual, although a little dressy too. He wears tan slacks, and a short-sleeved, light blue shirt. Color me impressed, she thinks, assessing him. And was he wearing cologne? He then kisses Emma on the cheek, making her as red as the raw meat she bought.

"This must be Spinner," says Grandma Nelson, clearly interested.

Emma runs her tongue over her teeth. They weren't a couple, so she really didn't want her grandmother badgering him with questions.

"That's me," replies Spinner. "Emma, need any help?"

"No, I got it," answers Emma, heading over anxiously. "Burgers should be done by now."

Checking them, they are indeed done. She puts the appropriate burger on each plate, starts setting them in front of the group. Earlier that day, she made some chicken strips for Jack, a dish he loved.

"Manuella! Toby!" calls Emma toward the hammock.

Oh great, they're tickling each other now, she thinks. A red-faced Toby attempts to stop Manny's tickling assault.

"We're not hungry!" shouts Manny, then squirming as Toby tickles her waist.

Emma rolls her eyes, bites her tongue.

"More for me," whispers Spinner, taking Manny's burger.

Emma grins, places Toby's burger where Snake would be.

"Those two are so cute," comments Grandma Nelson.

"You know, they started off as friends, right, Mom?" says Emma, taking a seat.

"Yep," says Spike, chewing her burger.

"Complete opposites," continues Emma. "Still, sometimes friendships develop into deeper relationships. Leading to love, or marriage, you know."

Spinner stops chewing, throwing Emma a confused look.

"Awww," gushes Spike. "I'd love it if Toby and Manny got married someday. Two of your closest friends heading down the aisle. They're very young, though. Probably not ready."

"Yeah, I agree," says Emma. "But I think they're in it for the long haul, don't you? They barely fight."

"Hasn't it been like five months, though?" chimes in Spinner. "He and Kendra were like..a couple years."

Emma kicks Spinner's foot.

"Oww," moans Spinner, softly.

"He and Kendra were puppy love. No offense to Kendra," says Emma, quickly.

"Eh, whatever," says Spinner, staring at his foot.

"Now, Toby and Manny, they act like two mature individuals in love," says Emma, staring at her mother. "They don't let fighting destroy what's there. They believe love is worth fighting for."

Spike lowers her burger, ketchup dripping on her plate.

"Emma...," she begins, pointedly.

There is a rustling of grass, a voice forcing everyone to lift their heads. Even Toby and Manny stop tickling long enough to see Snake cautiously go towards the picnic table.

"Hopefully, there's food left," shouts Snake, holding up a package of buns.

"Hey, Mr. Simpson!" greets Spinner, smiling.

He stands to shake his hand, then sits next to Jack again, as the awkward silence goes on. Spike shoots Emma a chilling look, gives that same look to Snake. Emma rises, takes and opens the buns, the only sound in the backyard Emma undoing the twisty tie. She sets them in front of Jack, goes next to Snake.

Jack grabs a bun, tosses one at Spinner's shirt.

"You got bad smell!" exclaims Jack.

"Jack!" scolds Spike, going over to Jack, doing her best to get him out of the high chair hurriedly.

"My Triple Soul dress shirt!" groans Spinner.

"Christine...," begins Snake.

"I have nothing to say to you," says Spike, lifting a crying Jack, walking to the house.

Snake glares at Emma, the same expression he had on his face when he found out Spike was keeping her pregnancy a secret all those years ago, except this time she can see more sadness under the anger.

"I'm talking to her," says Snake.

"You've done enough," condemns Grandma Nelson. "Archie, go home."

"No," says Snake, softly, going into the house.

Emma clasps her hands together, cheeks flushed. They'd talk, so why isn't she pleased? Maybe because Manny's warning has stuck in her mind ever since she said it. She wanted her dad back, like Manny's family was finally together, Toby's dad had Kate, Spinner's parents were happily married. Should she feel ashamed for craving what everyone else had?

Receiving a stern look from her grandmother, she goes to the side of the house, Spinner in tow.

"Emma, your mom didn't know?" asks Spinner.

"No," says Emma, starting to cry. "I thought we'd...I thought we'd..."

She can't talk, collapsing into Spinner's arms. It should feel more wrong than it does.

V.

"Got very Melrose Place a while ago," says Manny. "Think I should check on Emma?"

"Spinner went after her, I think," shrugs Toby. "You can if you want."

Manny lays her head against Toby's chest once more, eyes on the center button of his shirt, the gentle wind rocking the hammock to the side. The late spring sun is dizzying, and she can't feel any lighter. She shuts her eyes.

"Nah," she says, grinning.

Toby rubs her back, kisses her forehead.

"He reminds me of you," says Manny.

"Spinner?" laughs Toby.

"Saving damsels in distress," says Manny, opening her eyes, raising her head. "Looking out for others. Going off alone with some girl..."

"Huh to the last one?" says Toby.

"You want to come to my room?" whispers Manny.

Toby gulps, slowly smiles. Asking him sort of tumbled out, but he is smiling. Keeping an eye on the screen door where Spike and Snake disappeared, she gets up, helps Toby up as well. Emma's plan removed everyone from the backyard. She's sure they're all off somewhere, either arguing or crying. Manny holds hands with Toby, slides open the screen door.

"Am I allowed?" asks Toby.

"Shhh," replies Manny, putting a finger to her lips.

She can hear Snake and Spike talking loudly upstairs, mentioning keys for some reason. Oh yeah, the bike? Not bothering to listen anymore, she pries open the door to the basement, flicks on the light. Unfortunately, the door's lock was broken, but it's not like she and Toby would be doing much anyway. He had to leave soon.

The stairs creak as they reach the room, Toby glancing around. Manny pulls her hair out of its ponytail, situates the Scrunchie over her wrist.

"I've never been down here," says Toby, chuckling gently.

"Yeah?" says Manny. "Not even with J.T.?"

"Nope," answers Toby.

Now that she looks around, the room is pretty girly. Her bedspread was pink, and Emma's was light green. Come to think of it, there was pink, lavender, light green everywhere. Jack's stuffed animals were piled near the washing machine and dryer. At least there's no visible panties or bras, she thinks, going over to close Emma's underwear drawer. Ought to check mine, thinks Manny, but to her dismay, Toby's already over there. He holds up a silver picture frame with jeweled beads around the place where the photograph went.

"Two month anniversary," he says. "I gave this to you?"

"Yeah," says Manny. "Um, me and Alyssa at the center a day before she moved away."

Toby returns the picture. "You miss her?"

"I do," admits Manny. "But her mom got transferred so she had no choice. She sends me these cute little postcards from British Columbia, asks how you are."

Toby walks over, spies the picture on the nightstand of them on the ski trip.

"That's what I wake up to every morning," says Manny, shyly. "Um...I'm taking it with me to camp. I wish...wish I could take you with me."

That was a pretty huge thing to say, but she meant all of it. Toby seems to have believed her, immediately going to her, kissing her intensely, so intensely she nearly loses her balance. Manny's stomach turns inside and out.

"Manny," he sighs, resting his forehead against hers.

She feels like she doesn't want to move, fumbles awkwardly for her bed. Finding it, she sits, smiles demurely at Toby. Toby stuffs his hands in his pockets.

"There's...there's room for two," stammers Manny, patting the space beside her. "Like...like the hammock?"

Toby takes his hands from his pockets, sits next to her.

"Bouncy," he comments.

"Springy mattress," jokes Manny. "That's why I have a lot of pep in my step."

Worst joke ever, she thinks, rolling her eyes. Toby stares at his lap. She knows they shouldn't be joking around, should actually talk about what happened at the drive-in. Sex was a very difficult topic. Funny because it never seemed that way with Craig, or Spinner, and with J.T., she wasn't going to go there. Where to start?

"So you're...anti-Milk Duds now?" asks Manny, realizing that was just as lame as her bed joke.

Shut up, Manny, she scolds herself. But no, Toby was replying to this one.

"Can't," says Toby.

"Why?"

"It's not obvious?" replies Toby. "I'm...fat."

Manny scooches closer to Toby, scratching her head.

"Toby, you are not fat!" protests Manny. "Why would you..."

She stops mid-sentence, the image of the leather jacket in her mind. Craig, lean. Sully, skinny. Oh, she thinks, shaking her head.

"Tell you a secret," says Manny, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

"What?"

"Earlier this year, I was going to get implants," shares Manny. "Breast implants."

"But...you're perfect," says Toby.

Manny shrugs. "I didn't feel perfect."

Toby puts an arm around her. Whoa, she hasn't told anyone this, except for Emma. What with Toby think of her now? Her dad, who used to respect her, thought it made her a slut. Her mother was disappointed.

"Then half the school saw my boobs," says Manny, fiddling with her charm bracelet.

"I didn't," consoles Toby, meekly. "I didn't want to see either."

Manny manages a smile. "Didn't want to?"

"Not that way!" exclaims Toby, blushing. "I mean..."

"You'd rather watch a monkey pick his butt," fills in Manny.

"J.T.'s video, not mine," he tries to cover.

They both laugh, Manny relaxing a little. She shouldn't have suspected that he might hate her for that. He was a friend before they dated, so yeah, he'd be understanding. Now he's my boyfriend, she thinks, happily.

"I shouldn't have jumped you last night," says Manny, amazed she can stare at him while saying this. "We can go slow...or wait. Whatever."

"I'm all confused, Manny," confesses Toby, removing his arm. "The hickey's one thing and this...this is something else."

"Well, I think you're something else," praises Manny, brushing back his hair.

Toby stares at her, eyes shining under his glasses.

"You've been wonderful for me, to me," breathes Manny. "I'd be honored if I was your first."

An entire, big grin breaks across Toby's face. Finally, I said something right, she thinks, matching his grin.

Toby takes a deep breath, raises his hand to stroke her cheek, moves some hair behind her ear. Manny blushes, lets his lips wander across the nape of her neck. His lips momentarily brush the top of the white, peasant blouse she's wearing, and he stops, opening his eyes, shyly gazing at her chest.

"Boyfriend privileges," she whispers. "You can touch wherever you want."

He raises his eyes anyway, shakes his head.

"Here," says Manny.

Manny undoes the top two buttons of her blouse, a small hint of her white bra visible. Toby's cheeks automatically go crimson, but at least his breath's steady. He was always so sweet to stop, a little too sweet. She reaches for his hand, tenderly kisses his index and middle finger, places them on her chest in the middle of the two buttons, inside her blouse.

"You're so soft," whispers Toby, returning her gaze. "Like...a flower."

Manny lets her head drop, speechless.

"Thank you," she says finally, weaker than she expected.

"Manny, I love you," says Toby, inching closer to her.

Manny sighs softly. Her heart begins to pound faster, prouder. Or was that the steps? A steady, drumming pounding. She gasps.

"Toby! Manny!" shouts Snake. "What...what are you two..."

Snake runs a hand over his hair, gripping the banister tight as he stands near the basement stairs. Toby hops up, refusing to look at Snake. Feeling paralyzed, Manny simply freezes. She feels like she's in a bathtub full of ice cubes.

"Button it up, Manny!" says Snake, looking away from Manny himself.

Her fingers unfreeze, buttoning her blouse, rising from the bed. Toby awkwardly stands next to her.

"Came to get one of Jack's animals," says Snake, staring at them in disbelief. "Manny...this is really uncalled for."

"Snake!" cries Manny. "We..."

She's interrupted by another steady drumming, this sound courtesy of Emma.

"Mom wants you out...now!" exclaims Emma.

"Emma, your friends were...well, they were...," stutters Snake.

"Toby and Manny can do whatever they want, okay?" barks Emma.

"Not under my roof," argues Snake.

"This isn't your home anymore, which you made perfectly clear upstairs," says Emma, tears in her eyes. "This is Manny's room, my room. My mom's house. You moved in when you married her, and now you've moved out!"

Snake folds his arms. "Meanwhile, there's no rules...chaos..."

"Go home, Snake!" says Emma, pointing upstairs.

"Take the key, Emma," he says, pitifully.

Despite Snake interrupting them, her heart really is breaking for him. Whatever is happening Emma didn't want any part of, and she seemed so optimistic before.

"The only key I need is to this house," says Emma through gritted teeth. "Jack can go with you for the weekend, but I'm not. This is our house!"

Wordlessly, Snake throws up his hands, looks shamefully at Toby and Manny, jogs up the stairs. Manny slowly goes to her friend, lets Emma rest her head in the crook of her neck.

"Mom said no," whispers Emma.

Toby comes over, squeezes Manny's waist to let her know he's going, Manny nodding her understanding to him.

"It'll be fine, babe," reassures Manny. "It'll be fine."


	8. Weapon of Choice

**VIII. Weapon of Choice**

_Listen to the sound of my voice  
You can check it on out,  
it's the weapon of choice  
yeah  
Don't be shocked by the tone of my voice  
(aah...)  
It's the new weapon,  
the weapon of choice  
yeah_

_You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
Or you can go wit' us_

_You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
You can go wit'..._

_Walk without rhythm, it won't attract the worm  
Walk without rhythm, and it won't attract the worm  
Walk without rhythm, and it won't attract the worm  
if you walk without rhythm, you'll never learn_

_Don't be shocked by the tone of my voice,  
Check out my new weapon, weapon of choice,  
Don't be shocked by the tone of my voice,  
Check out my new weapon, weapon of choice,_

_Be careful, we don't know them  
Be careful, we don't know them  
Be careful, we don't know them  
Be careful, we don't know them_

_You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
You can go wit' thisOr you can go wit' that  
You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
Or you can go wit' us_

_You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
You can go wit' this  
Or you can go wit' that  
You can go wit'..._

_Organically grown  
Through the hemisphere I roam  
To make love to the angels of life, yeah  
and my girl  
I guess you just don't understand  
It's gone beyond being a man  
As I drift off into the night  
I'm in flight  
She's a boy scout, no doubt  
But I'm gonna hold my cool  
Cause the music rules, yeah  
so groove on baby  
Check it out_

_Halfway between the gutter and the stars, yeah  
Halfway between the gutter and the stars  
Yeah_

**If We Were A Movie is the property of Hannah Montana. Don't actually watch the show, but I have relatives that do. I thought this song was cute, though.**

**Weapon of Choice is the property of Fatboy Slim, and was used in the film _Night at the Museum. _I love that Ben Stiller. :) It also accompanies one of the best music videos ever, with actor Christopher Walken.**

Loud, boisterous laughter comes from the two eager teenagers seated on the deep purple carpet of her room. Ashley brushes her teeth furiously, so hard her gums hurt. The pain can't be worse than listening to them.

"_If we were a movie, you'd be the right guy, and I'd be the best friend that you'd fall in love with_," sings Amber.

Ashley peers through the slit of the door, rests her throbbing forehead against the back of the half-closed door.

"_In the end, we'd be laughing, watching the sunset, fade to black, show the names, play the happy song...," _continues Jennifer. "I love this song!"

"Me too!" exclaims Amber.

Not me, thinks Ashley, quickly opening the door, making the girls jump.

"You are soooooo quiet!" gasps Jennifer.

"We forgot you were here!" adds Amber. "Is that skin cream? You'd be the last person I'd guess needed a facial."

Ashley glances behind her into her medicine cabinet's mirror.

"Toothpaste," she explains, grabbing a piece of toilet paper to wipe it off.

"Ewww," moan Jennifer and Amber, quietly.

Ugh, why did these girls insist on staying here, rather than being with their parents at a hotel? Toby's Confirmation was going to kill her, with all his relatives calling all night, and the twins wiggling their way into staying in her room. She usually managed to escape them, and now she's stuck with them. One night, she comforts herself. One night.

At least she's not suffering from a massive hangover anymore. This morning, she felt like jackhammers were at work in her head, awkwardly rising from the couch in their living room, throwing off the blanket Toby put over her. She attempted to read her lyrics, ended up frowning at the table, drinking coffee, making some excuse during lunch so no one could see her in that condition. That was her thinking at the center too. Clumsily finding her footing, she trotted out of the center into the cool night air, feeling as though someone was knocking on her head, saw a taxi. Or really, a mix of metal and lights. The cabbie was nice enough to make sure someone answered the door, or she believes he was.

No, no, she won't put herself in that position again. Her nerves wouldn't get the best of her, and she'd get through this tour. She's lucky Toby didn't squeal, and that's most likely why she didn't make too much fuss when the twins made their request.

"So what are we doing tonight?" says Jennifer, cheerfully. "Makeover?"

"I hope there are some hot guys at the afterparty!" cries Amber, clapping her hands.

Leave it to these two to seek out guys at a celebration commemorating a religious event, she groans inwardly, raising her eyes. Jennifer pulls out a lime-green make-up case, retrieves some eyeliner.

"We could make you glamorous, Ashley," offers Amber. "You're a little...dull. Gorgeous, but dull, you know?"

"I'm fine...thanks," says Ashley, smirking.

"Don't you have a different look every year?" asks Jennifer. "That's such a commitment."

"Committed to my music currently," explains Ashley.

"How...responsible," notes Jennifer, exchanging a grin with her sister.

Ashley sighs, grabs a pillow from her bed.

"Sleeping downstairs," she announces. "Room's yours."

Hearing one of the sisters mutter "Sweet!", she trudges downstairs, walks into the dark kitchen. Her stomach rumbles, reminding her she hasn't eaten that much today. She tugs open the refrigerator, stares blankly at the shelves. Certain things she can't touch, such as a cake her mother made for the party, and a few dishes Bubbe made and Jeff was storing. The old standards will do, Ashley taking out some turkey, cheese, mayonnaise, and slices of bread.

After fixing a sandwich, she hears some light tapping against the kitchen window pane. It almost sounds as if it's being produced by a hand, and not a branch.

"Must be hearing things," murmurs Ashley.

At least this sound doesn't make her want to reach for a drink.

"Ashley," she hears faintly from outside.

She goes to the window, sees Craig from behind a hedge, waving hesitantly. What was he here during this? If her mother caught him doing this, she'd kill the both of them. Hiking up the window, no easy chore since it liked to stick, she stares at him in confusion.

"Craig...what are you doing?" she asks.

"I won't be seeing you at all tomorrow," replies Craig, shivering. "Barely saw you today."

Ashley smiles, shaking her head. "You are too much."

"You look tired," says Craig.

Tired? Oh boy, maybe one of the twins' facials could've covered up her hangover.

"Suppose it's hard to sleep when you've got a tour coming up, though," guesses Craig.

"I'll try to get more sleep," promises Ashley, staring at the top of the hedge instead of him.

"So...you're not coming out here?" says Craig.

Ashley laughs, then grows silent. Kate might come thundering down the stairs, annoy her, yell at him. Kate wouldn't even care that Craig cared about her well-being, or her career. The tension between them was still pretty huge, and it just seemed to grow when Craig chose to go with her on tour. There might be some jealousy there, that Craig, Robert, and Chris would be experiencing this huge event in her life more than Kate. That can't be helped, however. Kate had a job and family here. And don't I deserve some independence after doing so well in school, independence that includes choosing who I want to spend time with? Yes, she tells herself, and there is no debate in her head.

"Responsible Ashley," answers Craig for himself. "Well, I will be going then..."

"Wait," interrupts Ashley.

She undoes the latch on the back door of the kitchen, bare feet on the cool grass as she joins Craig outside. Ashley glances at her pajama pants, and T-shirt, wishes she had on some decent jeans and a prettier top.

"Surprised?" whispers Ashley.

"No," says Craig, confidently. "I knew my milkshake would bring you to the yard."

Craig chuckles, as Ashley pretends to punch him.

"Been hanging out with Spinner and Jimmy too long, I see," says Ashley.

"Who am I going to hang out with once you're gone?" sighs Craig. "Ellie's doing that journalism thing. Spinner's working. Marco will be with Dylan twenty-four seven since they're on summer break..."

"It's only a few weeks you have to fill," comforts Ashley. "Work on your own tunes."

"Good idea," agrees Craig. "Well's been dry lately."

"Awwww."

"The muse will come back," says Craig. "Maybe London will be good for both of us. I should be looking out for you anyways. Save you from all the pickpockets."

"Hey, I can take care of myself," assures Ashley. "So what are you doing tomorrow while I'm hearing tons of Hebrew?"

"Seriously? I'm going to visit Mom's grave," answers Craig.

"Really?" says Ashley, winding an arm around his waist.

"Yeah," says Craig. "What with me graduating and all that, seems right, you know? I couldn't...couldn't help her when she was sick, but...but I can make her proud of me."

Craig's eyes grow wet, and Ashley embraces him, the black street shining in her sight. Almost all of their friends would have two parents at graduation, including Ellie, whose father wasn't expected to show. Still, Craig had to know that Joey and Angie were just as important, and that Julia Jeremiah cared in spirit as much as she cared then.

"Feel like some company?" offers Ashley. "I can sneak away sometime during set-up for the party."

"That's okay. Me, Joey, and Ang...that's who I think should be there," says Craig.

"I think so too," says Ashley. "Well, I'll see you Saturday."

"This bites," complains Craig. "Okay, congratulate Toby for me and all that. And Saturday is ours, remember? Before you hop on the plane?"

"I remember," says Ashley.

Craig lets his mouth brush against hers, for a second, then a minute, then she's no longer counting. Her mom would kill her if she saw, but it'd be a pretty sweet death.

II.

Toby rolls his pencil side to side on his desk, blows it up and down with his lips. Yes, anything to avoid finishing this essay. Looking at the clock, it's eight o' clock. Being at the barbecue seemed to last forever, or maybe he wanted it to. He smiles at the memory. The hammock, going to her room, everything...well, before Snake came and saw them, or rather him touching her.

When he touched Manny, flashes of heat washed over his entire body, and for once, he wasn't thinking of where he should put his hands, but how much he wanted to touch her. All of this is strange. What's more strange is that he can't come up with a page-long essay on what being Jewish means to him. It has always been part of his life, and he's liked it. Manny said she was proud to be Filipino, and the same can be said for him and his culture, so why can't he get motivated? He wants to impress the rabbi, his synagogue, his friends, Manny. His mom wouldn't be there to impress. Toby massages his temple. This reminds him of when he was slacking off his first two years of Degrassi. He thought he'd gotten so much better since then.

It certainly doesn't help that he's sleepy. His eyelids starting to droop, the phone next to Toby rings.

"Don't answer that!" yells Jeff from his bedroom.

That was Toby's other task for the evening. His relatives had been calling all night, for directions to the party. Jeff was trying to keep some degree of secrecy, despite Manny spilling the beans and Toby overhearing the phone call between his parents. One call he's sure isn't coming is one from his mother, unless she's calling to cancel. Maybe it's best she doesn't call.

Out of breath, Jeff jogs to the doorway of Toby's room, clutching a phone.

"Mom?" asks Toby, gloomily.

"No?" replies Jeff, his forehead creasing in confusion. "Girl...girl...friend."

Manny. She probably wants to talk about what happened at Emma's, though he'd thought she'd be too busy consoling Emma.

"Thanks," says Toby, picking up his own phone, as Jeff closes the door. "Hello?"

"Toby?" says a hesitant voice.

"Kendra!" exclaims Toby. "I...I was worried. What...what are...are you okay?"

"I'm fine," replies Kendra. "Just...embarrassed. I call you, and get out of the conversation...bad Kendra."

"I dialed information, to see if I could reach you," confesses Toby, immediately covering his mouth.

He really shouldn't have said that. It made him look too eager.

"You would do that," sighs Kendra, a hint of being pleased in her voice. "Toby, you're...you're amazing."

"Uhhh," says Toby, suddenly losing his words.

"Coming home for a couple of days," says Kendra.

Toby almost drops the phone. "You are?"

"Nadia's receiving some fancy schmancy award for one of her environmental essays," explains Kendra. "She's getting a huge cash prize, trip, everything."

Toby's tempted to hang up. Kendra can keep in contact with one of her friends from Degrassi, but not him? Sure, it is probably easier to keep in touch with her best friend than an ex-boyfriend. That doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Oh...she was always very smart," says Toby, softly.

"Like you," insists Kendra.

Toby grins. He's glad she still thought so.

"Working on an essay too," shares Toby. "For Confirmation...it's due tomorrow."

"You better not be slacking off, Isaacs!" reprimands Kendra, playfully. "What's the topic?"

"What being Jewish means to me."

"Whoa...heavy. Hmm, why not think back on your bar mitzvah?"

Toby glances up at the ceiling. "Feels too far away kinda."

"Yeah, true," agrees Kendra. "Well, what big event happened? Personal experience? That's how I think before I write all my social studies essays."

A big event? That's not such a bad idea. The fact that the event immediately comes to him makes the suggestion all the more appropriate. Will he have the courage to write about it, though?

"I'm getting a Toby knows what he's going to do vibe, based on the silence," speaks up Kendra, bringing him back to the conversation.

"Yeah...yeah!" exclaims Toby. "Better write it down before I lose it. So...uh..."

"Are you going to the variety show?" interrupts Kendra.

Of course, my girlfriend's organizing it, he thinks. He should tell her about Manny, or should she know? Eh, he didn't like finding out about Sam the way he did, so yes, it'd be better to tell her.

"Yes. Listen, Kendra, I...," begins Toby.

"Toby, I know what you're going to say," interjects Kendra. "I'm fine. The secret...not so big once I...I'll take care of it. Didn't mean to bother you. See you soon."

Kendra clicks off, Toby staring at the phone. She's coming? To Toronto? To the show no less? No, things are fine. She'd spend the majority of time with Nadia, perhaps have a quick talk with him. Toby releases a deep breath, rests the phone in its cradle. Why is the phone sweaty?

He shakes himself, starts to write. The shaking fails to work. He can't shake off the tiredness. Resting his chin against the desk, his head slowly lowers itself to the cool surface. The red light of the computer mouse is the last thing he sees as dreams overtake him.

_The lockers are blue and grey, with a weird sheen as if someone polished them. In fact, the majority of things are clearer, sharper, only one person at the end of the hallway so fuzzy he can't make them out. Toby walks onward, feeling something soft brush each of his sides. The bottom of Sean's light grey hoodie hits his shirt on the right, Emma's elbow, traces of paint on her sweater, touches his arm on the left. He's been in this position, can't place when._

_There's no one in the halls, he notices. Quiet is more present than anything. Honestly, he wasn't sure he was moving until the vision through his glasses became less far away as they head to the figure. Sean and Emma don't speak, walk purposely forward. Toby can't help but follow. The florescent light stings his eyes, the Degrassi panther emblem on a bulletin board they pass. Going through a pair of glass doors, Toby still is unable to make out the figure. _

_No, no, he knows where he is, what day this is. He and Sean rarely hung out, so that had to tell him something. He looks around, for him, for Rick. Toby doesn't have to look long. Crouched in a corner, messy long, brown hair covering his face, he whimpers, gun clutched tightly in his grip. In their last meeting, Rick was like that, a depressing sight of a lost guy, with paint-splattered glasses and clear, angry eyes. Then, Rick pointed the gun directly at Toby, fired a shot, and Toby woke up. Would he point the gun at him again, instead of Emma, or even Sean? Toby can barely stand upright, moving to him._

"_Rick?" he says, softly._

_Rick returns Toby's stare, lips tightening, eyes narrowed. Then, his sight falls on the shadowy figure Toby never identified. Maybe Rick wants Toby to get rid of this person, so they can talk? It's worth a shot, and...better than getting shot. Toby drops his backpack, mighty heavy in this moment, approaches the blurry person._

_As he grows closer, a great wave of warmth surrounds him, making him feel taller, happier, so odd since this was anything but a happy memory. It becomes less odd when he sees who's actually there._

"_Manny," he whispers. _

_Manny is shuffling through her locker, charm bracelet visible, wearing the black dress she'd worn on their first date. He couldn't forget that dress, he thinks, smiling. She isn't smiling, a totally blank expression on her face. _

"_Manny?" he repeats._

_She doesn't recognize him for a second. Toby reaches out to her, turns her around, gasps. Deep blue tears stream down her face, as blue as the lockers. They're not falling the way they do when you usually cry. No, they simply fall in torrents, like they can't stop. The warmth is gone, replaced by a chilly fear._

"_Come on," he says, attempting to drag her from that spot._

_She won't move, won't budge. _

"_Emma? Sean?" he calls to them._

_They stare blankly at Rick, the two would-be victims apparently frozen._

"_No one can help you, Toby," speaks up Rick, shaking his head. "That's what friends do. They bail on you."_

"_What?" exclaims Toby._

_Rick stands, caresses his gun. Toby shudders at the sickness of the gesture. _

"_Doing awful things to you," shouts Rick. "But no, the words...words hurt more. Jimmy...traitor. It hurt when they did the paint and feathers, hurt more when Jimmy...lied to me. Emma...lied to me. You...you lied to me!"_

"_I never...never lied to you!" says Toby, standing in front of Manny._

"_Why should I trust you, huh?" continues Rick. "You've known them longer...you're on the Academic team, same as Jimmy and Emma."_

"_No, I hung out with you more, went over your house," argues Toby._

_Rick laughs coldly, comes closer to Toby and Manny. Toby's eyes dart to the gun, glistening in the same way as he glasses. There's a pause, as if the scene is separating. How can that be? He's in it! This reminded him of some tragic anime, comes off just as immediate, like he's watching_ _the event unfold. _

"_This your girlfriend?" asks Rick. "Gorgeous little Manny?"_

_Toby stares pathetically at Manny, blue tears rolling off her chin._

"_No," lies Toby._

"_I think you're lying," whispers Rick in Toby's ear, then yelling. "It's what you do so well!"_

_Not sure how to react, he grabs Manny's hand protectively._

"_She was on my list," reminds Rick. "Same as Emma."_

_That remark quickens Toby's heart. No, he knows what's coming, what Rick plans to do. After all, before he brought a gun to school, they were a lot alike, Toby understanding certain emotions Rick dealt with-- the teasing, the loneliness. But no, could never pull what Rick had done, or is doing now._

_Rick roughly pushes Toby to the side, zeroes in on his target. Shoot me, begs Toby inwardly. Shoot me._

"_A little lower down, yet on my list," says Rick, grinning, pointing the gun at Manny. "Can't protect her forever, Toby!"_

"_Stop!" yells Toby, the same cry that echoed through that hall before, the same plea before someone close to him, Rick, died._

_Rick pulls the trigger, a quiet bullet, free of noise, hits Manny squarely in the heart. It's the heart that loved him, led her to accompany him at Rick's visitation, pay for Kytel, throw him the presidential party. Manny crumples to the floor, blood seeping through the open wound, traces of red over the dress' black fabric._

"_No!" cries Toby, finally feeling real again. _

_He cradles her, lifting her body to his chest, his clothes soaked in Manny's blood. This must be how Sean felt, covered in Rick's. He can't describe the pain ripping through his heart, knows Manny's experiencing the same. Manny takes a final breath, eyes going flat, face streaked with blue tears and frozen sadness._

"_I hate you!" shouts Toby, glaring at Rick as Manny's head lays on his chest. "I hate you!"_

"_Everyone hates me," returns Rick, shrugging._

_Rick starts to cry again, walks down the hall. Toby focuses his sight on Rick's shrinking backside._

Someone touches his own back, Jeff ruffling Toby's hair. Toby jerks up, breathing heavily. No blood. The only red he can see are his curtains, the red light of his mouse.

"Kate brought Chinese home," informs Jeff. "Come down. Get a fortune cookie?"

"Yeah...yeah," says Toby, wiping his brow.

"Alright there?" asks Jeff. "The essay can't be giving you this much grief?"

You have no idea, thinks Toby, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"It isn't," replies Toby. "Be down in a sec."

Jeff gives him the thumps up, something he would've found way dorky if he wasn't so troubled. After his father leaves, the image of a dead Manny reenters his brain. She felt so frail against him, and he couldn't save her. Rick kept saying it. _Words hurt. Words hurt. _His lie killed Manny in the dream, so yes, that's one connection.

"Have to finish," he mumbles.

Toby would skip Chinese, pay attention to this. Words hurt, but they're flowing now. He writes what he hopes will be totally original, a peaceful weapon, and writes something he hopes that will make Manny feel totally alive.

III.

"You work at a mall and didn't get him a present?" chastises Manny.

J.T. gives her an innocent look, one she saw quite a few times when they were dating. Truly, she has little sympathy for him, what with Emma asleep at home, after all the drama of the day. Manny put her cell on vibrate so Emma could sleep, staring at her friend, frowning deeply with shut eyes. When the vibrations sounded, she was a bit thankful, however. Spike and Emma's grandmother were still upstairs, whispering, upset looks on their faces. Any reason to get out for a bit was welcome, especially the reason she was reminded of when checking to see who called.

"Variety show madness," defends J.T. "Then, job and school."

"I have the same commitments," says Manny. "You're just lazy."

"Fine!" admits J.T. "I got his bar mitzvah gift the night before too, okay? Toby's not too hard to shop for."

They were in Gizmo and Things, a store that Toby would spend all the day in if he got the chance. It stood not too far down from the restaurant where Toby told her he loved her, and Manny found that cute, though she didn't want to share that with him. There's only so much mush a boy can take.

Stopping in front of some graphing calculators, J.T. holds up a foreign device neither of them can identify. It rattles in J.T.'s hands. J.T. and Manny shrug at the same time.

"Aren't you at least moved that I think highly of your shopping advice?" questions J.T.

"Um, I'm here to meet my mom," answers Manny. "That's why it was easy to convince me."

J.T. rolls his eyes. "You would've left me to decide on a gift by myself?"

"Would've consulted you on the cell, probably," replies Manny.

"Oh," says J.T. "I see. First, Liberty ignores me. Emma's too busy to do anything..."

"J.T., we're not deserting you," comforts Manny. "Especially me and Toby."

"Good!" whispers J.T. "I don't wanna pal around with Derek and Danny. They're dorky."

"And you're not?" teases Manny. "Speaking of Toby...I assume you're aware of his costume change earlier today?"

"I assume you know I tried to talk him out of it," shares J.T., grabbing a set of earphones.

Manny shakes her head. "Made me nervous."

"He's cool," reassures J.T.

"Yeah, for now, at least," says Manny. "Can you...can you keep an eye on him while I'm gone?"

The earphones fall out of J.T.'s hands. "Why?"

"One, I trust you," replies Manny. "Two, you're close with him too. Three, I don't want him pulling a Manny by changing himself and getting all moody later, being by himself."

J.T. raises his eyebrows. "I don't know, Manny..."

"Please," begs Manny. "We both know Toby can get isolated when he wants to. Drag him away from the monitor every once in a while, live it up Toronto style."

"Cause I'm such a party animal?" laughs J.T., then turning serious. "Alright. I'll make sure Toby's social while you get all emotional...in your acting classes."

"You so wanted to rhyme there," says Manny, giggling.

"Shut up," says J.T.

"That's not how you should talk to your ex-girlfriend," teases Ms. Santos, walking down the aisle towards them. "Now, I see why you two broke up."

"Sorry, Ms. Santos," says J.T., nervously.

"It's fine, J.T.," says Ms. Santos, patting his shoulder. "Manuella, I've got it."

J.T. excuses himself, wanders off to shelves holding video games. Manny's certain that section will occupy him for a while.

"Had to sneak in this under Papa's nose," whispers Maria, presenting a square-shaped box to her daughter.

Manny gently opens it, smiles widely. The two gold-plated star of David pendant necklaces shine against the velvet. She ordered this two weeks ago, right after Jeff told her about the Confirmation ceremony. The description said it was an important sign of Jewish faith, gave protection from evil spirits. Her mother thought the idea was sweet, agreeing to pay for Manny's since Manny was running low on cash after the presidential party. One for Toby, and praying that her father never finds out, one for her.

"Perfect," gushes Manny. "Thanks for holding these. Was it hard?"

"A little," admits Maria. "I don't buy much jewelry, and your father asked. I told him I was holding them for a friend, which isn't a lie. Toby's very special to us."

"Mom, this means so much," says Manny, hugging her mother. "And I completely understand why you guys aren't going, but yeah...I'll tell him you guys are supportive."

Maria's eyes glaze over. "I remember my Confirmation. It...it wasn't so supportive."

"Grandma and Grandpa didn't support you?" whispers Manny. "They...they're so religious..."

"Oh, not them," interrupts Maria. "No...the community...our church in Manila was vandalized the night before my Confirmation. Dirty words spray-painted on the outside wall."

"Mom...," sighs Manny, her voice trailing off.

"That doesn't stop the spirit of anything, Manuella," says Maria, putting an arm around Manny. "And things are different nowadays. Well, for the most part."

Her mother barely spoke of her past, because in general, she was shy. Manny hates the image of her mother and her grandparents seeing horrible things on what was to be a beautiful day, a proud day, especially since Maria's Catholic faith meant so much to her. She'd be so infuriated if that happened to Toby too.

"You know what?" speaks up Manny. "We need Confirmation experience."

"Huh?" says Maria, half-grinning.

"J.T.!" yells Manny.

J.T., dreamily reading the back of a skateboarding game, returns to them, game in hand.

"Put that down," instructs Manny. "My mother's helping you shop."

"Cool!" says J.T., letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"I only received gifts, Manny...," starts Maria.

"So you know what gifts made you happy," interrupts Manny. "I'm sure we can find a neutral gift that worked for you, and will work for a boy."

Maria kisses Manny on the top of the head. "I'm sure you're right."

J.T. raises his hand. "Can I get a pretzel first?"

IV.

One of the overhead monitors flashes Shia LaBeouf running from a gargantuan robot, Clara giggling at the sight.

"Transformers!" she cries, happily. "So seeing that."

"Production quality looks cheap," remarks Justin, flipping through a copy of _Technology Today_.

Manny pays them no mind, scanning the new releases. If she knew Emma, she'd be awake by now, staring off into space, having no clue what to do. It may be like last night, when she came in from the drive-in, or it may be worse. After leaving the mall, she tried to think of a way to cheer her friend up, temporarily at least. A movie might do the trick.

"The effects are awesome," comments Clara.

"If you say so," mutters Justin.

Manny goes through a row of DVDs, spies a DVD Emma will love.

"_Happy Feet_!" exclaims Manny, making Justin and Clara stare at her.

"Okay?" says Clara.

"No, environmental message, talking animals, catchy songs," explains Manny. "An Emma flick if ever I saw one."

"She's not one of those chicks that think you should only use one sheet of toilet paper?" says Justin, grimacing. "Like Sheryl Crow?"

"Ummm," says Manny, pretty certain she isn't. "No."

"_Happy Feet _is substandard, anyway," says Justin, shrugging. "Once I get my gig at Disney, we'll cream them _and _Dreamworks."

"Justin has issues with _Shrek_," whispers Clara, taking the DVD case from Manny.

As Clara goes to get the tape, Manny takes in the sight of the store. She still can't get over that she used to work here, spent time with Toby here, starting falling in love with him here. To everyone else, this was just a place to pick up and drop off tapes. To her, so much more. She regrets Christian isn't here, but he'd be at the service tomorrow.

"How are you wearing your hair tomorrow?" asks Manny, smiling when Clara returns.

"Flowers and braids," replies Clara. "For shavuot."

"That sounds pretty," says Manny. "Uh, what's shavuot?"

Justin snickers as he reads his magazine, Manny turning red. Clara gives her a sympathetic smile.

"A festival," shares Clara. "To celebrate the harvest season. The holiday's Sunday. It's also when we celebrate Moses giving us the Torah."

"You do know what the Torah is, don't you?" says Justin, staring at Manny.

Ugh, whenever his eyes found her, it made her uncomfortable, feeling like a penguin scared of those evil sea lions in the movie she takes from Clara.

"Of course," says Manny, politely smiling. "I'll leave my hair down."

"And you'd have to dress modestly," says Justin, returning her smile.

"Justin!" whispers Clara, sternly.

"A black dress," informs Manny. "Found one at Pretty Pretty. Should be okay. Wore it to Mom's church."

"I have a picture of me and Uncle Christian at a synagogue service," says Clara. "I'm in black too. Wanna see?"

Eh, it couldn't hurt. Honestly, she was afraid the dress might be too short, what with it cutting off right under her knees and all. She wore it to her family's church, but maybe the synagogue called for more demure attire, like ankle-length?

"Sure," says Manny, meekly.

"Let me get it," says Clara. "Justin, call me if there are any customers."

"Will do, Clare-bear," he promises.

Clara ducks into the backroom, Manny shifting anxiously. She's a little surprised that Clara's being so nice. Then again, maybe she thought it'd take the sting off her boyfriend. Did this guy ever shut his mouth?

Oh no, he's standing, thinks Manny, pretending to read the summary of the movie, though she knows exactly what the plot is.

"So what's your mom?" questions Justin, standing close to her.

She turns, faces him. Wow, he does resemble Toby...physically. The hair was the color of straw, and the mouth is a tad smaller, but other than that, a perfect match.

"Filipino," says Manny.

"No, no, I mean, her religion?" laughs Justin.

"Catholic," replies Manny.

Justin beams. "And you're not, right?"

"I...I am too, I guess," says Manny. "Don't go to church or anything."

Justin nods, reaches out to her neck. Manny feels ready to vomit. He gently takes the Star of David pendant her mother helped hang around her neck. Manny looks away, her skin prickling.

"Do you know what this means?" says Justin, his tone growing more cold.

"Protection against evil spirits?" replies Manny.

"You shouldn't wear it if you don't know everything it represents," whispers Justin. "You can't fake what you aren't."

His hot breath is all over her neck, her cheek. She grimaces.

"Such a waste," sighs Justin, letting the necklace go.

A waste? A waste of what? Manny backs up, into the magazine rack, staring at Justin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" breathes Manny.

"Never mind. You wouldn't get it," waves off Justin, staring at her chest.

That particular stare, she can't tell if he's looking at the necklace, or her breasts. The look makes her feel ugly, and she covers half her face. Manny tucks the DVD case under her arm, throws some money on the counter.

"Tell Clara I left," she says, walking briskly out the door.


	9. Sunrise, Sunset

**IX. Sunrise, Sunset**

_Is this the little girl I carried?  
Is this the little boy at play?  
I don't remember growing older  
When did they?  
When did she get to be a beauty?  
When did he get to be so tall?  
Wasn't it yesterday when they  
Were small?  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Swiftly flow the days  
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers  
Blossoming even as we gaze  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Swiftly fly the years  
One season following another  
Laden with happiness and tears  
What words of wisdom can I give them?  
How can I help to ease their ways?  
Now they must learn from one another  
Day by day  
They look so natural together  
Just like two newleyweds should be  
Is there a canopy in store  
For me?  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Swiftly fly the years  
One season following another  
Laden with happiness and tears_

_**Author's Note: To those who signed the petition or helped shape the Tobanny project, thanks for your participation and encouragement. It meant a lot. This is completely a Toby/Manny chapter, and it's dedicated to you.**_

_**I'll be out of town most of next week, so I sent the appreciation package this past weekend. **_

_**So you may've been wondering what Confirmation is. It's a ceremony that was started by Reformed Jews who didn't feel that Jewish children were adults at 13 (when they have their bar mitzvah/bat mitzvah). So their religious education keeps going, with a class at the temple/synagogue every week for a school year, until they graduate, their Confirmation, a ceremony that highlights their commitment to Judaism, and represents their first steps into adulthood. The practice has waned in popularity, but it's still done in some congregations along with giving the child a bar mitzvah. There's been a push to do it more too, since religious leaders would like to see students still involved in religious education. The Confirmation class is mixed, with both boys and girls. Any other facts I try to shape into the story, because I think you'd rather read a story than a history lesson. :) **_

**Sunrise, Sunset appears in the film **_**Fiddler on the Roof.**_

_**Esa einai **_**(I Will Lift Up My Eyes) is a Hebrew hymn, written by Rabbi Schlomo Carlebach.**

"How much is a teaspoon?" asks Manny, taking out a mixing bowl. "Big?"

"No, teaspoon's smaller than a tablespoon," replies Emma, brushing flour off her apron.

Manny raises her eyebrows in frustration, selects a smaller bowl. She sets it down next to cups of sugar, margarine, orange juice, and two pounds of mohn filling. After last night, she can barely concentrate on the ingredients Emma fetched from the market, had to be reminded what they were cooking. Lucky for her, Emma's the better cook, anyway. Utensils litter the table, an open recipe book near a spatula.

"You're not eating as we go along," notes Emma. "Something wrong?"

"No," insists Manny. "This...this is for Toby, and...I don't really like the ingredients...yeah."

Emma shrugs, puts half a teaspoon of filling into each circle of dough. Careful as always, Manny leaves Emma to the task. This was Emma's present to him, and Manny had her own, though she is nervous about it. The way Justin reacted to the pendant made her think twice about presenting it to Toby. She really believed he'd like the gift, but now, maybe he'd find it offensive, or offensive if she wore the sign.

"Hebrew treats are cute, aren't they?" asks Emma, giving Manny a slight smile.

"Yep," replies Manny. "Hamantaschen Tobes is a big fan of them."

"Making stuff is so much more personal...except for your gift," says Emma. "He's going to love that, Manny."

I'm not so sure, she moans inwardly, picking up a bowl, stirring some flour.

"I can't believe I'm leaving in two days," sighs Manny, desperate to change topics.

Emma says nothing, frowns as she folds the dough.

"Hope I find everything I'm looking for at this camp," continues Manny. "Don't want to waste my summer."

"You'll do great," speaks up Emma. "Are you...are you going to call?"

"Everyday," assures Manny, walking over, hugging Emma from the side.

"And I'm not talking hi-bye-two-second conversations either," scolds Emma. "Legitimate discussions, sharing all details."

Manny nods vigorously. "I swear."

"If you can talk to Lia while you're here, then...," begins Emma, then dropping her gaze.

Manny places the bowl near a carton of orange juice. She had a feeling Emma resented Lia for some reason, but it just got confirmed. Emma couldn't think Lia was more important than her. Sure, they got along wonderfully, and all that, yet she didn't know her half as long as she knew her best friend.

"I'm going to try to come up with some idea to get you in Cali," says Manny, glad to finally smile today. "We'll stuff you in Spinner's very large suitcase."

Emma laughs. "Next to your pink p.j. s and drama exercise books."

Finishing the last of the folding, Emma lays the hamantaschen on a tray, places it in the oven, turns it on. Manny notices her lips are sliding back into a frown, a lonely one pretty much. She hates that Emma has barely spoken to her regarding the barbecue. Manny basically had to come to her own conclusion that Snake had chosen to move into his apartment for longer than Emma expected, and that he wanted her to come and visit him regularly. Jack was still gone, and would be driven back later that evening. How many strong fronts would her friend have to put up? She'd spend so much time collecting all this pain, and pretty soon it'd burst and she'd crack. Spinner might be a good distraction since I'll be gone, thinks Manny.

"Spinner looked so fresh in his barbecue wear," compliments Manny, playfully tugging Emma's apron string.

"Hadn't noticed," says Emma, smirking.

"Liar, liar, hamantaschen on fire," teases Manny.

"Don't jinx the food," says Emma, rolling her eyes and smiling.

"Why aren't we on official status yet?"

"Because, like you and your boyfriend, we're going slow," explains Emma. "We've both got a lot going on, okay?"

"Okay," says Manny. "But just so you know, Spin's big on the whole relationship thing. Dates, baby talk, the whole shebang."

"Baby talk we've done, remember?" points out Emma. "Besides, you and him weren't that serious, if I recall. It's not like you two...you know...well, what you want to do with Toby."

Manny darts her eyes. Oh boy. Alright, honestly, the two times she and Spinner slept together were awkward. Not horrible, a little enjoyable, but only on the physical level. However, she ultimately decided that not telling Emma was the way to go. It was never a big deal to either of them, so why mention it?

"I'm amazed you aren't jumping at the chance to be Spinner's girl," jokes Manny. "Free french fries, him rapping anthems of love to you, going to hockey games. What's not to love?"

"I'm amazed you and Toby haven't left your lovey dovey period," returns Emma, sincerely. "Seriously, it's like perma-honeymoon stage with you two. Totally rooting for a long run."

"Aww, Emma," says Manny.

Manny wraps her arms around Emma, Emma's butt hitting the oven door.

"Owww," groans Emma, opening the door, peering inside. "They're getting brown and chewy. Half margarine and half sugar...the perfect team."

"Let no man put asunder," agrees Manny, shutting the door.

II.

His dark blue, velvet _kippah_ rests near decorated china, birds chirping proudly outside the vestibule window. Toby's eyes dart to the wooden clock on the mantle. The clock is nearing seven-thirty, Matthew gently taking up a photocopy with the passage he'd be reading. Pinkish-white lilies are interweaved in Clara's blonde, streaked-red hair, her small hands clutching a white and orange bouquet. It seems like they're both ready, after such a long wait, a long year.

"One more hour," moans Clara. "I'm so nervous. Why did we choose to start off this program singing? Going to get laryngitis right before. I just know it!"

Matthew and Toby look nervously down at their robes, not sure what comfort to offer Clara, who'd been vocalizing everyone's anxiety for the past fifteen minutes. The satin, white robes hang all the way past their knees, over their black pants. If someone could wear a cloud, it'd feel about the same, wagers Toby, the soft sleeves grazing his knuckles. At least it's more loose-fitting than the _tallit_ he wore for his bar mitzvah, or the suit he wore for Ashley's dad's wedding.

There's a tentative knock at the door, the three of them facing front.

"Everyone decent?" calls J.T., parting the door slightly.

"Yeah," replies Toby.

J.T. enters, dressed in a dark suit with a thin, green tie, eagerly loosening it.

"I need water," sighs Clara, brushing past J.T.

"So do I," says Matthew, following Clara.

J.T. shrugs at Toby. "Was it something I said?"

"No, we're all...jittery," answers Toby, as Matthew shuts the door. "We planned this entire program. Hopefully, it won't flop. Rabbi Miller liked the itinerary."

"Are we doing Hava Nagila tonight?" asks J.T., smiling mischievously. "That was so much fun at your mitzvah."

"No...this is much more serious," replies Toby. "The party too. More grown-up."

J.T. crosses his arms. "Who am I going to use all my best rabbi jokes on, then?"

Toby grins, affixes a larkspur boutonniere to the front of his robe. The purplish-blue flower is jarring against the white, but he knows it's supposed to stick out. He stares in a nearby mirror to make sure it's on correctly, J.T. next to his side.

"I think we're ready for more grown-up ceremonies anyway," says J.T., putting an arm around Toby.

"Yeah," says Toby, high-fiving J.T.

The door creaks again, J.T. letting out a low whistle, then heading over. Toby offers him a puzzled look, quickly pinning on his kippah.

"Oh yeah, came in to tell you Manny wanted to see you," admits J.T. "Forgot."

"Thanks a lot, J.T.," says Manny from behind the door.

Toby smiles, sits on a cushioned stool. After last night's violent dream, he wrote all the way up until two o' clock at night, envisioning Manny listening to his speech. He basically told himself that the dream was only a dream, as much as the image of Manny being shot makes his blood run cold every time it comes into his mind. The last nightmare where Rick shot him, nothing happened afterwards. In fact, that's when he started getting over the whole thing. Is he completely over everything? No, but he's fairly certain Emma and Sean would remember that day too, and they're moving forward. He has to as well.

"Is it okay?" he hears Manny whisper to J.T.

"Toby's undressed. You can't come inside," kids J.T.

"All the more reason for me to go in," replies Manny, giggling as she heads into the vestibule.

Toby stands reluctantly to greet her. Ugh, he hopes he doesn't look too geeky in this get-up. In comparison, Manny looked gorgeous in a simple, long black dress, low heels, and some piece of jewelry glittering around her neck. At least she's not in the same dress she wore in his dream. That would be too much to take.

"I...," begins Toby.

He's relieved to see that she's smiling, radiantly, eyes glowing in the soft, late afternoon light. He's not so relieved that there are tears at the edges of her eyes, though they weren't running as fervently as they were when Rick shot her.

"Toby, you look so gorgeous," sighs Manny happily, sniffling.

"Really?" says Toby, cheeks reddening.

Manny nods vigorously, goes to straighten the collar of his robe, tears on her cheeks. Toby's glad that she's refusing to look at him directly, because he knows that's an indication that she means it.

"Sorry you couldn't sit up front," says Toby, stopping her hands. "I tried."

"That's fine," says Manny, blushing. "Family should be up there, right? Besides..."

Toby holds up a finger, silences her. He opens up a cabinet drawer, pulls out what he snuck in under his father's nose. Tenderly taking her wrist, he slides on a corsage with larkspur, deep blue petals fully blossomed.

"It's my birth flower," explains Toby. "All my family members are wearing them. My mom's not showing 'til the party, so you can wear it. Clara's got lilies, and Matt's got carnations."

"Helps that they're blue," laughs Manny. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," says Toby. "They're unique, represent laughter and a pure heart. Shakespeare wrote about them, so they're used in a play. It totally fits you more than me."

Manny stares at the floor, grinning. Toby attempts to press his lips against hers, Manny shrinking back.

"No!" whispers Manny, forcefully. "Not 'til later. I want...want to be modest."

Toby lets out a disappointed sigh. "No one's here."

"I have something to give you, anyways," shares Manny, digging in her purse.

"Better than a kiss?" says Toby in disbelief.

"We'll see," teases Manny.

It takes her awhile to find whatever she's looking for. Toby looks at her in amazement. Wow, he never thought Manny would be with him, as his girlfriend, on one of the biggest moments of his life. Sure, she was at his bar mitzvah, briefly, returning home when she was still under her father's strict curfew, but she didn't stay all night like J.T. and Kendra, or even his mom. Still, a year ago, if Manny did come to this event, he figured she'd only come as a supportive friend. What a difference a kiss makes.

"Ah ha!" exclaims Manny, opening a velvet box.

Toby raises his eyebrows, after taking the box from Manny. He opens it, smiles, shakes his head.

"Only you, Manny," praises Toby. "Star of David. I love it."

Manny claps her hands, then stops, frowning. He's never seen a more sorrowful expression covering her face, except for when her father found out about her past.

"What's wrong?" prompts Toby.

She touches her own pendant. "Do you want me to wear this or..."

Her voice fades, making it clear to Toby that she's struggling for the words. The gift was so sweet so he doesn't know why she's upset.

"Of course," answers Toby, taking her hand in his. "I won't wear mine if you don't wear yours."

"I don't know about...like, Jewish history or anything..."

"Manny, I'm still learning too," interrupts Toby. "Please. Wear it. It...it makes me happy."

"Okay," whispers Manny, letting her head fall into Toby's chest. "Mmmm, soft robe."

Toby chuckles softly. "Pretty soon, we'll both have robes."

Manny gasps in fake shock. "Graduation!"

"Yep, another big stepping stone," says Toby. "I...I hope it's the same. You, with me."

"It'll be the same if I have anything to say about it," replies Manny, raising her face to his.

"Say no to this kissing ban, then?" encourages Toby, trying to kiss her again.

Manny gently pushes him away, clears her throat. "No."

"What can I do to persuade you?" asks Toby, standing closer to her.

"Nothing," answers Manny, weakly. "No...Toby. Uh-uh. Go practice your speech...or whatever. It's not...not working."

"I'm kissing you before the service is through," promises Toby, whispering in her ear. "I think you'll like it too. The service...and hopefully, the kiss too."

He hopes that didn't sound too forward, but he is overwhelmed by the affection she's giving him. Eh, he'd show her some type of waiting. Thankfully, Manny falls into his arms, hugging him, finally losing her restraint.

III.

A long, tan-colored, carpeted aisle stretches to the center of the temple, four sections of mahogany pews filling up the congregation area. The simple brick building, with stone grey steps and columns, betrayed the elaborate interior within. Inside, there are so many colors: stained glass windows with peach-colored prophets and blue jewel-tinted rivers; gold candles with tiny flames dancing; wall paintings with earth tones in full display.

The overhead lights darken as Manny and Emma enter the temple. J.T.'s already seated to the left, green kippah on his shaggy brown hair. Other congregants have already arrived, seating themselves throughout the temple, Matthew handing them each a program of tonight's festivities.

"So pretty," compliments Manny, heading for J.T.

"So dark," comments Emma, dressed in a long-sleeved, brown dress.

To her dismay, Emma's dress was a little longer than hers. Toby didn't seem to mind, she thinks, sitting next to J.T.

"Hey, Manny," greets Matthew, grinning, handing her a program. "Nice to see you."

He gives one to J.T. and Emma, goes outside the temple.

"Aren't you special, Miss Girlfriend?" says Emma, elbowing Manny.

Manny blushes, gazes around the room. She spies Jeff, Kate, Bubbe, and Ashley in the front. When they were setting up for the party, she chatted the most with Jeff and Bubbe, careful not to be around Ashley. It was still weird and she believes Ashley preferred her to be away from her. Jeff and Kate were the opposite, and they kindly asked her for her event planning expertise, including where to set down Emma's hamantaschen. The pastries turned out really good. She can't help but think that there was someone missing, especially after Toby mentioned his mom. Well, she just had to make sure he could see her from here, so the place would appear less empty. She's wearing the larkspur, same as the rest of them.

The room grows quiet, casting shadows over the three of them and the rest of the congregation. Manny spots Christian, offers a quick wave, which he returns. The other family, Matthew's, was pretty huge. Based on their small amount of interactions, she knows Matt has a bunch of brothers and one lonely sister, who took up their bathroom. She was grateful for only having one brother after hearing that.

Everyone glances to the rear of the sanctuary, seeing soft candlelight glowing from the doors of the entrance. A clear, beautiful soprano sings:

"_Esa einai el heharim,  
me'ayin me'ayin yavo ezri  
Esa einai el heharim,  
me'ayin me'ayin yavo ezri..."_

That voice, thinks Manny. Wow, Clara's voice gives her chills. Christian looks ready to cry, Manny throwing him a small smile. Two unsure, but competent voices join hers:

_I will lift up my eyes to the mountains.  
From where does my help come?  
I will lift up my eyes to the mountains.  
From where does my help come? _

Toby and Matthew's voices ring out, nicely supporting Clara's. Clara appears in the doorway, resembling an angel wandering into the room, the candle illuminating her hair, a mix of blonde and red whisps, with flowers tucked in the tendrils. Manny supposes her own mother looked just as beautiful on her day. Clara carries a bouquet of roses, walks slowly beside Toby and Matthew, each armed with lilies and carrying their own candle. Clara continues:

_Ezri me'im Hashem,  
Oseh shamayim va'aretz  
Ezri me'im Hashem,  
Oseh shamayim va'aretz _

They reach the halfway point, Clara interlocking arms with the two boys. Rabbi Miller rises from the first pew, stares at them with warmth. All three sing:

_My help comes from the Lord,  
who made heaven and earth.  
My help comes from the Lord,  
who made heaven and earth._

Matthew takes Clara's candle, as Clara retrieves all the flowers, lays them against the corner of the ark, head bowed. The congregants do the same, Manny shutting her eyes.

"_Baruch atah Adonai elohaynu melech ha'olam asher kidshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat," _prays Clara.

Manny guesses that's the end of the prayer, cautiously opening her eyes, seeing Toby, Clara, and Matthew do the same, then circle their hands around the candle several times, finally blowing them out.

She watches Matthew take a deep breath, approach a raised platform, Rabbi Miller following. In the couple minutes they take to open a pretty blue curtain of the Ark, Manny seeks to meet Toby's gaze. Toby stands in front of the Ark, an elaborate work of art, set in gold relief with hints of color in the back. No, he was focused, which she should've been expecting. After a few prayers said by Rabbi Miller and Matthew, Matthew has the scroll in hand, places it on the raised platform of the bimah, unfurls it.

"This is a reading from the Torah," announces Matthew, voice echoing through a microphone on the podium. "With the celebration of Passover recently, and the day before the eve of Shavuot, it is our pleasure to offer these firstfruits during our Bikkurum. We find it necessary to remind others of not only this great celebration, but the duties our ancestors received. Thus, it is my pleasure to read the Ten Commandments tonight, and the book of Ruth tomorrow night during First Eve Shavuot. I love our texts, and have learned so many things to root me in our traditions. It is my intention to keep it going, and learn everyday, because the quest for knowledge is always that, a quest."

A lot of foreign, beautiful words Manny can't understand flow from his mouth. Gosh, she feels so inadequate, with each verse read. Justin, sitting smugly a few rows down frm Manny, mouths the words along with Matthew. She wonders if Toby's speech is in Hebrew.

The congregation claps loudly as Matthew finishes, smiling from ear to ear. Clara pats Matthew on the back, rubs her throat. Toby and Matthew sit in two chairs, behind the bimah, kippahs still securely on their heads. Manny glances at Toby shyly, forcing her sight to return to Clara.

"Hi," says Clara, cheerfully. "I'm not good with words like Matthew, or Toby. In fact, that's been my problem all year. Not saying how I feel until it's too late."

Emma and Manny exchange knowing looks, not at all wanting to say what they're really thinking either, that Clara's inability to tell Toby she loved him last semester before Manny came along is probably what is fueling this speech.

"Then," says Clara. "I realized I should express myself in ways that fit me. Songs. It's gotten me through a lot."

Ashley nods appreciatively, Clara smiling at the audience.

"I've grown up a lot this year," confesses Clara. "This ceremony reminds me of how fast youth really is, how we should appreciate both innocence and change, how we should welcome adulthood. So I offer this song from _Fiddler on the Roof, _a song I loved as in elementary school, and a song my mom loved before she passed. This is for my Uncle Christian. Thanks."

Clara swallows a lump in her throat, singles out her uncle, who's on the verge of bursting into tears. She sings beautifully:

_Is this the little girl I carried?  
Is this the little boy at play?  
I don't remember growing older  
When did they? _

Christian takes out a handkerchief, dots his eyes. Manny folds her hands in her lap. She's glad to have witnessed their relationship while working at the video store. You'd never detect he wasn't her father. Manny never did find out where Clara's parents actually were, but that was private, and she'd rather listen to the song. With the elegance of her tone and the weight she gives the lyrics, Manny can tell Clara loves this song. Almost as much as I love Toby, thinks Manny, raising her eyes to stare at him. She nearly jumps when she sees him gazing at her, intensely.

_When did she get to be a beauty?  
When did he get to be so tall?Wasn't it yesterday when they  
Were small?  
_

Manny can't recall when she and Toby were small, blurry memories trying to form in her mind: shooting each other with water guns; helping him with the robot costume during the science fair; joking around and pretending to sleep during the Mama Onu turtle documentary; the two of them asking Emma if she "will eat this for a dollar" during lunch on days the vegetarian menu stank; Toby and J.T. making fun of the Craig doodles on her textbook, though Toby at least did look apologetic afterwards. Something must've clicked, a moment where he found her beautiful, singular, enticing. He said it was when they came home, not exactly when. She'd love to know when it happened. Maybe it matched hers, where it wasn't only one moment, but a mix of moments, where suddenly she couldn't stop thinking about him.

As if on cue, Toby offers her a shy grin, gaze highlighted by the lit candles.

_Sunrise, Sunset  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Swiftly flow the days  
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers  
Blossoming even as we gaze  
_

What made her imagine all these things? The maturity in Clara's voice? The importance of this event? The sweet scene of larkspur filling her nose? She grips the program tightly, releases a satisfied sigh. Clara finishes:

_Sunrise, Sunset  
Sunrise, Sunset  
Swiftly fly the years  
One season following another  
Laden with happiness and tears  
_

The temple dwellers stand, applauding vibrantly. Emma, J.T., and Manny exchange pleased looks before they're asked to be seated by Clara. Unlike Matthew, Clara was their classmate, so they knew her pretty well, although not as well as the next student approaching the podium. Toby rights his glasses, gazes across the crowd, though to Manny's regret, not at her.

"Good evening," says Toby. "I've gone through many drafts of what I will present tonight, finally arriving at a finished product...at three o' clock last night."

Everyone laughs, including Rabbi Miller, shaking his head.

"However, anyone that knows me is aware that when I'm behind a computer, miracles can happen," jokes Toby.

They all laugh, Jeff chuckling. That's my Toby, thinks Manny. Always open with a joke.

Toby's expression grows more serious, putting his essay on the podium. In a confident voice, he straightens his robe, begins to speak:

"Throughout the school year, we've studied words, both secular and holy. Yet, there are words out there that threaten us, challenge us. The Hebrews, past and present, have confronted situation where words are liable to tear them down. Before the exodus from Egypt, during the Holocaust, in today's turbulent times, we know how much words can hurt."

Manny tilts her head, her Star of David pendant sliding across her skin.

"What, then, do we do to stand against the pain, this verbal violence? We also remember that love is a word. As outdated or sentimental as it seems, I can't remember a single battle where love and peace weren't the ultimate aim. Tolerance, and patience, and forgiveness, are all characteristics of the people I prize in my life. I love and respect people with these attributes."

Manny beams at him. He may not be talking about only her, but boy, did it feel like it. No, he's talking generally, and intelligently, as always, like his presidential speech. That isn't stopping the tears from flowing, Manny drying them with her black sleeve.

"Stand by people who need you most, especially those who are lost and afraid. Be unflinchingly kind to those who have wronged you. Extend compassion and wisdom to youth, who require direction. These tasks may seem daunting, but I know one individual that has done them for years. I offer her to you as an example, because what being Jewish means to me is taking up the cause, being responsible to everyone. Love without labels. The horrible events I've seen in my sixteen years could've been prevented had someone lowered the bars, revealed caring hearts. As I continue to learn, for the rest of my life, I will honor our history by learning much, loving more, judging less. Thank you for your instruction, and above all, your support. Shalom."

Toby bows his head to the crowd, quickly making his way back to his chair, but they're already on their feet. Manny's proud that he's receiving the loudest applause. Clara and Matthew sit on either side of Toby.

"Beautiful," compliments Rabbi Miller, taking in his three students. "All exquisite. You know, they grow up so fast. All equally gifted. Future journalists and engineers, and voices of angels. I...I can't believe it."

Rabbi Miller walks purposefully to the Ark, allows each confirmand to place their candle in the holder.

"I will now offer personal blessings to our young scholars," he says. "Matthew."

Matthew joins Rabbi Miller, takes the candle from its holder.

"With care and dedication, you will acquire knowledge, this much is true," says Rabbi Miller, raising a hand over Matthew as he bows slightly. "But lean on faith when you need it, as it can never be truly destroyed like a book."

"Blessings to Adonai and to you," says Matthew.

He smiles, holding the lit candle, shakes hands with his father on the way down the aisle. The light stays lit until he leaves the sanctuary.

"Clara," says Rabbi Miller.

Clara rises, takes her candle, grins at Rabbi Miller.

"We all struggle with what we should say, but you've found a gift worthy of praise," says Rabbi Miller, hands over Clara. "Sing with supplication, then lift your voice in triumph."

"Blessings to Adonai and to you," returns Clara.

She takes her candle, hugs Christian, who kisses her forehead. Holding the candle protectively, she goes down the aisle, leaving.

"Tobias," says Rabbi Miller.

Toby goes next to the Ark, essay clutched in his grip. He folds the essay, puts it under his arm, then takes the candle, Manny grinning. Her grin can't match Jeff's. Jeff exhales proudly, as Kate and Ashley look on curiously. Rabbi Miller puts his hands over Toby.

"A nurturing spirit and unfailing compassion was found in the heart of some of the greatest men, I've seen," says Rabbi Miller. "Do not be afraid of this character you possess. Yet, it comes with a heavy cost if you don't protect yourself. Let the love of others nurture you as well."

Manny watches Toby's brow furrow in confusion, then a sign of recognition. J.T. taps Manny on the knee. Manny simply shrugs at him, turns back to Toby.

"Blessings to Adonai and to you," speaks up Toby, after an awkward pause.

He walks, first receiving a tight hug from Jeff, and two kisses on the cheek from Kate and Ashley. Toby kisses Bubbe on the cheek, too. Their larkspur flowers glow against the candlelight. Manny shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She wonders who that girl in the speech is. Bubbe? Kendra?

Toby goes slowly down the aisle, searching the rows of seats. All the congregants stare after him, puzzled. He wasn't going straight out like the others. Emma waves at Toby, J.T. doing the same. A buoyant smile appears on Toby's face, his cheeks turning pink. Ugh, they were embarrassing him. Why couldn't they be modest, like her?

"You guys can't...," whispers Manny.

She's interrupted by Toby excusing himself, leaning over Emma, planting his mouth on hers. Manny lets out a joyful murmur, enjoying the softness of his seeking lips. If she wasn't the girl in that essay, he was totally giving off the wrong impression. She hears a chorus of "awws" and delighted squeals fill the sanctuary, when Toby's mouth leaves hers. Yeah, modest alright.

Toby winks at her, starts down the aisle again, leaves her breathless.

"I need to get a boyfriend...fast," mutters Emma, leaning back.

J.T. laughs, as they wait for the final benediction. Rabbi Miller strokes his beard, tells them all to bow their heads in prayer. Over the countless heads, Manny peers up to the front, cheeks flustered. Toby sure knew how to make an exit. Her smile fades as her gaze meets Justin's, cold and burning. He narrows his eyes at her, closes them, making her shiver.

IV.

"It's got Hebrew in there," assures J.T. "We...I mean, I checked."

Toby reads the back of the package for the talking electronic dictionary. He really wanted one of these too, although something tells him J.T. had a little help picking out such an educational gift. Liberty basically had to tell him what to get her for her birthdays, or else she'd have a stack of video games and joke shop items in her closet.

"Thanks," says Toby, placing it next to several books Rabbi Miller gave him.

Jeff did a great job of hiding where the site of the party was, and how many people were actually in attendance. His aunts, uncles, cousins, and other relatives were walking around the Culver room, a meeting place of top business professionals. Jeff told him his orchestra played here a couple times, so he got a good deal for the party. The lighting is subdued, and so were the decorations, the typical Confirmation bash. That didn't mean Toby, Matthew, and Clara didn't feel the love. Their favorite foods were on the buffet table, their gifts were all necessary and thoughtful, and he'd gotten so many people requesting to hear his speech or thanking him for his speech. Kate wanted a framed copy of it to hang in her real estate office. To him, the best part of the night was after the speech, when he kissed his muse for those words. It felt as natural as breathing.

Manny was across the room, helping Emma serve food. He guessed the speech made her antsy, maybe, yet she is making eye contact with him whenever she can. She glances at him for a second, lowers her head, smiling. Two more stares and he was definitely going over.

White, blue, and gold balloons hung on the back of the three of their chairs, and only their chairs. Clara was gushing over a book she received from Christian about Israelis in Japan, and Matthew tried in vain to feed his baby brother matzo ball soup.

"Your class is so talented," compliments Ashley. "Aren't classes usually bigger, though?"

"It's a new synagogue," interjects Jeff. "They'll find their footing in the next two years or so."

"Especially when you've got students like this," says Kate, nodding towards Toby.

"Well...uhhhh," stammers Toby. "Going to get some air. Warm in here."

"Alright, Tobes?" asks Jeff.

"Yeah, fine," replies Toby.

Honestly, he didn't want to be the center of attention for too much longer. He goes into the hall, glad to be rid of people cornering him. Maybe he should've asked Manny to meet him. Another wasted opportunity, he moans inwardly, going to the water fountain. He bends to drink, swallows a couple moutfuls.

"Mazel tov, Tobemeister!" shouts a familiar voice.

Toby nearly sputters out the water. The voice is all too familiar, easing his fears when he was younger, barely there as he got older. By all right, he shouldn't know it as well as he does. He raises his head, finds the courage to smile.

"Mom!" he says, more pleasant than he feels.

Anne Marie Isaacs beams, walks hurriedly to embrace her son. Pulling back briefly, he can see that her fiery, full red hair is past her shoulders now, green eyes twinkling despite the darkness of the hall. She looked proud, but should she feel proud? Toby shouldn't think that way.

"You...you came," blurts out Toby, any other coherent words lost.

"Of course!" exclaims Anne Marie. "Wouldn't have missed your big day. I'm only sad I missed the ceremony."

"It went will," shares Toby. "Uh...how was your flight?"

"Brutal," laughs Anne Marie. "International transit...costly, not at all enjoyable. It's all worth it."

Anne Marie places her arm around Toby, shaking a little as she does so. Toby lets it hang, not sure when she did that last.

"Tell me you took pictures," says Anne Marie.

"Uh, not in the synagogue...not allowed," says Toby.

"Of course...of course! Afterwards?"

"Yeah, a few. Dad can give you copies."

At the mention of his father, Anne Marie's mouth grows tense, though she tries her best to hide it. Toby hopes that isn't a sign for what's to come.

"Where is your father?" asks Anne Marie. "Hmmm?"

Refusing to speak anymore, he leads her into the business room, Anne Marie evaluating the party. He hates when she does this, sure she's listing the flaws in her head.

"Substandard lighting," she sighs. "Jeff was never one for details..."

"I like it," mumbles Toby.

Anne Marie grins, waves at J.T.

"J.T.!" she calls.

Thank goodness for the distraction, thinks Toby, looking guiltily at his best friend.

"Mrs. Isaacs?" exclaims J.T., walking to her. "It is still Mrs. Isaacs, right?"

"Yes, professionally," replies Anne Marie. "Don't believe in deserting a name due to circumstances out of my control."

"Uh...uh, neither do I," says J.T., nervously.

The three of them approach the table that houses Jeff, Kate, and Ashley. Toby wishes for some music, to cover up some of the conversation. Before his mother came, he liked the quiet, but now, wishing for heavy, throbbing tunes. Jeff, drinking some punch, actually does spit some of it out upon seeing his former wife.

"Jeff," greets Anne Marie, extending her hand.

Wiping his chin with a napkin, Jeff smiles tentatively.

"Anne Marie," he returns. "You're looking well."

"So is Toby," says Anne Marie, ruffling her son's hair. "Good job."

"Thanks, but Kate has to take credit for the suit," says Jeff, rubbing Kate's shoulder.

"Is it tailored?" questions Anne Marie, appraising Toby's outfit.

Toby liked the outfit himself, a dark blue suit with a silk, white tie. Ashley selected the tie, and he let her, after she picked the tie for his first successful date with Manny.

"No," replies Kate, stroking her temple.

"It's best to have it tailored," suggests Anne Marie, barely glancing at Kate with her response. "Jeff, I assume you selected the setting. Very nice."

Jeff doesn't say thanks that time, clearly agitated. Toby feels like hiding under the buffet table. If they started to fight in front of everyone, he'd die. Well, not die, but he'd be the walking embodiment of shame.

"So I'd like to meet all your friends," says Anne Marie, pulling Toby to the side. "Besides J.T."

"Oh, um, sure," says Toby. "Then, when you're done with that, you can...you can meet my girlfriend."

A smile crosses his mother's face. "Girlfriend? You're still with Kendra? I always liked..."

"No," interrupts Toby, annoyed. "Her name's Manny."

"I got ya," whispers Anne Marie. "Sorry. Manny...that's pretty. Is it short for something?"

"Yeah," says Toby, glancing around for her.

It's tough to spot her as Matthew's large family has circled the buffet table, but he's pretty certain he can see her in between two of Matthew's brothers.

"Near the buffet table," says Toby. "I'll walk you..."

"No, continue celebrating," assures Anne Marie. "I know your type. How serious is it?"

"I'm...I'm in love," stammers Toby, avoiding her gaze.

"Whoa, Tobemeister," sighs Anne Marie. "Had no idea. Can't wait to meet her then."

"Don't refer to me as Tobemeister, alright?" begs Toby.

"No problem," says AnneMarie, kissing him on the cheek.

Anne Marie leaves him, black designer purse bouncing against her waist. He can't believe he's seeing her in the flesh, after so many days apart, barely talking to her. Whenever she touches him, it feels weird, a combination of a stranger and a mother. Glancing at Christian hugging Clara, he can't help but wonder if that's more sad than he realizes.

"Toby," speaks up a voice behind him.

Matthew, red-faced, stands next to Toby.

"Yeah?"

"My little brother...spit up. You wouldn't happen to know where the washroom is?"

Yeah, he did. In his boastful discussion of the building, Jeff told him where they were. Toby nods, gestures for Matthew to follow. Halfway down the hall, they spy a figure, Toby immediately wanting to turn around. Justin leans against a wall, playing with his red tie.

"No other washroom?" sighs Matthew, glaring at Justin.

"No," whispers Toby. "Come on."

Luckily, Justin pays them no mind as they go in, grab some paper towels. Too bad that isn't the same case as they head to the party room.

"Isaacs," speaks up Justin, his body leaving the wall.

Toby is tempted to keep walking. Matthew is, rolling his eyes when Justin talks.

"Yeah?" replies Toby.

"Clara wants us to get along," reveals Justin.

Toby shoots Matthew a look, unable to comprehend Justin at first. In essence, it made sense since he and Clara were close. Eh, he should probably hear him out.

"Okay?" replies Toby.

"That's why I find it in your best interest that you learn what's good for you," says Justin, approaching the two other boys. "What's good for all of us."

"You make no sense," mumbles Matthew.

"Shut up!" barks Justin. "I'm talking to Isaacs."

Matthew holds up his hands in surrender.

"And what is that?" asks Toby, staring at Justin.

"That was some show in the synagogue," says Justin, smirking. "The kiss that spoke volumes."

"Volumes?" exclaims Toby.

"She's not even Jewish, man," cries Justin. "You know what the community says about it."

Toby frowns, eyes glazing over. He should've figured Justin was just going to spew some more mess.

"I date who I want," argues Toby, standing in front of Justin.

"Tell that to your kids when they get shunned," whispers Justin, coldly.

"My girlfriend's black," says Matthew. "Nobody cares but you. Get a life."

"The girl you met at that Interfaith Conference?" laughs Justin. "Please. I'm only concerned with Isaacs because he picked that girl over Clara. The only reason any guy could do that is if they're not attracted. What's the matter, Toby? Jewish girls ain't good enough for you?"

Toby feels every part of his body lurch, especially his heart. This was probably the most ugly thing he'd heard in his sixteen years. I can't act, thinks Toby. I can't. That's what he wants. Kendra and Manny, they weren't different to him, at least not in that way.

"Clara's like my sister, man," replies Toby, starting to the room.

"Whatever!" shouts Justin.

"Yeah, whatever," groans Matthew, following Toby.

Justin quickly catches up to them, makes Toby face him.

"Leave me alone!" shouts Toby.

"Your speech...so full of it!" exclaims Justin.

"It's my speech, my relationship...," starts Toby.

"Your filthy goy girl!" barks Justin.

Toby's eyes shoot up, shaking his head as he tries to catch his breath. What world could be worse than that? Justin shakes after he says it, sweating pouring down his forehead. Matthew glances at Toby, covering his mouth.

"You need help," whispers Toby, backing away, then biting his lip.

"No, I don't!" snaps Justin. "I...I...you made me do it! Jerk!"

Before Toby can react, Justin lunges at him, pushing him through the double doors, right into the party. A dozen shrieks accompany Toby falling to the floor, plates of food clattering to the floor. Clara stares at them, dumbfounded, trying to head over to Justin. Christian holds her to him. Toby blinks up in surprise, Jeff and Anne Marie running to their son.

"Toby...Toby!" breathes Anne Marie, glaring at Justin.

Justin, huffing, stares awkwardly around the room, crying a bit. He throws Manny a look, runs off. The party is silent in his descent.

"Toby?" says Jeff, gently. "What happened?"

Toby moves his mouth, no words at the ready. He said the most awful term for Manny, he thinks, cautiously getting up. He swears if she ever heard it, it'd break him in half. Instead of responding, he lets his shoulders tense, keeps his lips shut.

Matthew, taking some initiative, grabs Jeff's arm, leads him to the corner. He tries to keep the word underwraps, but Jeff bristles, repeats the word louder in anger. Cries of astonishment cross the room, Toby throwing a look at Manny, confusion written all over her face.

"Toby, come on," nudges Anne Marie.

"I think it's best he stay here," says Kate, gently.

Toby stands, a little off-balance, body and mouth still paralyzed.

"Do you?" snaps Anne Marie. "What if that kid comes back, lays a hand on my son? What sense does that make, Kate?"

"They may need to ask what...," starts Kate.

"He's in shock, can't speak," says Anne Marie, forcefully. "There must be some office somewhere. This is a business office, for crying out loud!"

"Here," says Jeff, leading Toby into a separate room.

Kate stares on as Jeff accompanies them out of the room. Toby glances at Manny, starting to follow him. Tears slide down his cheek, blurring her in his vision on the way.

V.

"I have to go!" chokes out Manny, her shoulders shaking as she cries on Emma's shoulder. "I have to go to him!"

Emma leads her to a corner, J.T. immediately joining the huddle. Neither of them understood. The horror of watching Toby fall to the floor, and not knowing why made her inconsolable. She hated Justin, hated him. Every part of her body quakes, as J.T. hugs her.

"What's that word mean?" demands Manny. "Emma?"

"I...I don't know," stammers Emma. "J.T."

J.T. shakes his head, sadly.

The Star of David pendant, which brought Toby so much happiness before, digs into her skin, and she yanks at the emblem. Toby isn't happy now, and she isn't either.

A kind, soft hello breaks the group up.

"Bubbe?" whispers Manny.

Bubbe smiles sweetly at the trio, takes Manny's hand. They walk past gawking relatives, who were so excited a few moments ago. The walk is slow, considering Bubbe's using a cane, though Manny suspects she can get along without it if she wanted. Why were they staring at her? It's all so horrible, groans Manny inwardly, wiping her eyes.

They reach the hallway, Manny's eyes less wet.

"Where's Toby?" demands Manny.

"He's busy right now," replies Bubbe. "Are you hungry?"

Is she hungry? No, she's definitely not hungry. She wants some answers, any answers.

"No," sighs Manny. "Please...what does that word mean? Why are we here?"

Bubbe bites her lip, silver hair touching the black shawl around her tiny frame. Manny suddenly feels bad, that she hasn't offered to get Bubbe a seat. She finds two leather chairs near the washroom, leading Bubbe to the seats. Bubbe pauses, however.

"Little ears shouldn't hear such words," she says, patting Manny's hand.

"Is it dirty?" prompts Manny. "Does Toby say it?"

"Toby would never say that, not my Toby," insists Bubbe. "You shouldn't say it. There are certain meanings associated with it."

"What?" whispers Manny.

"Manny, you mustn't let it discourage you," cautions Bubbe.

"Tell me...please," says Manny.

"Goy or goyim...not a good word for someone who's not Jewish," says Bubbe softly, hugging Manny to her.

Manny's lips part, her skin cold, her heart thumping wildly against her chest. Justin said that about her? In front of Toby? Manny starts to cry again, Bubbe's shawl catching her tears. She should've never worn that pendant, never came, even if Toby encouraged her. Her ears burn, lips tightening.

"Not all of us feel this way," whispers Bubbe, stroking her hair. "In fact, I've been called far worse things."

"I...I ruined this for him," chokes out Manny.

"This boy did," corrects Bubbe, kissing her forehead. "Manny, I need you to be strong. Promise me."

Bubbe releases Manny, touches her tear-stained cheeks.

"I...I promise," stammers Manny.

"You love who you love," says Bubbe, giving her the warmest grin her mouth can manage.

Manny sighs into the shawl, black wool over her eyes.

_Author's Note: Okay, well, I was nervous to post this chapter, not only because I needed to know quite a few things for the ceremony, but also because Justin utters this word near the end. Just wanted to say I don't condone the use of this word_, _but it is crucial for Manny's storyline, which you'll see. Thanks for reading. Read and review. :)_

einai– Jewish hymn

Esa einai el heharim,  
me'ayin me'ayin yavo ezri  
Esa einai el heharim,  
me'ayin me'ayin yavo ezri

Ezri me'im Hashem,  
Oseh shamayim va'aretz  
Ezri me'im Hashem,  
Oseh shamayim va'aretz

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains.  
From where does my help come?  
I will lift up my eyes to the mountains.  
From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,  
who made heaven and earth.  
My help comes from the Lord,  
who made heaven and earth.


	10. Holding Out For A Hero

**X. Holding Out For A Hero**

_ I need a hero  
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night  
He's gotta be strong  
And he's gotta be fast  
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight  
I need a hero  
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light  
He's gotta be sure  
And it's gotta be soon  
And he's gotta be larger than lifeSomewhere after midnight  
In my wildest fantasy  
Somewhere just beyond my reach  
There's someone reaching back for me  
Racing on the thunder end rising with the heat  
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet_

_Up where the mountains meet the heavens above  
Out where the lightning splits the sea  
I would swear that there's someone somewhere  
Watching me_

_Through the wind end the chill and the rain  
And the storm and the flood  
I can feel his approach  
Like the fire in my blood_

Holding Out For A Hero is the property of Bonnie Tyler, and appears in the film

When he first came here, he was surprised they weren't alphabetical. He thought, for some reason, there would be some order, an easier way to find her. Instead, she's located in the back. Donald McCallister, Gary Limon, Todd Zuchinich, Julia Jeremiah. The white rocks placed in front of her gravestone glimmer in the dusk, grass blowing under the pinkish-orange sky. His car keys jangle as he moves through the yard.

The setting sun shines on Joey's bald head, Angie carrying a bouquet of yellow roses, as they follow Craig. Angie always brought yellow flowers, but Craig's been here more than her. If he's been there more than Joey, that's not a surety. The first early-bird lightning bugs fly near her name. It makes since, given that the graveyard's near the woods. Craig believes Julia loved that; she always did love to garden.

"Joey!" calls over Craig.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" assures Joey, guiding Angie to the spot.

Angie and Joey stand on either side of Craig, reading her name, date of birth and death. That's when it always seemed to sink in for Craig that her life was pretty short. She never lived it that way. Her motto was: what can we do today? No matter how small, she tried to do something different everyday, even if it was simply trying a new ingredient while cooking or telling him about a new, interesting thing she saw on the way home that he could photograph. While his father bought the equipment and helped arrange the darkroom, once Craig made it a serious hobby, Julia was more interested in the pictures themselves. She kept asking him questions about it, all throughout chemo. He took to hanging them up in her hospital room when she got too sick to ask. Now, she can't see them at all.

She always saw him, protected him. Despite Albert's controlling ways, she started standing up for herself and Craig. One night, the pressure hit, and so did Albert. He nearly hit Julia right in the mouth, after she announced she was leaving him for Joey. Albert might've hit Craig, if Julia didn't throw her arms around him, putting her face right in line with his fist. Her chin was hurt. Craig never forgot the look Albert had, a mix of misery and anger, running from the room. Julia won, in such a sad fight, a sad fight he wishes never took place. He can't hurt either of them anymore.

"I think my flowers are the best," says Angie, confidently, laying them against the grave.

"Me too," agrees Joey, ruffling Angie's curly dark hair.

His sister is starting to resemble Julia, especially as her face changes with growing older. People always told him they saw Julia in him, but Craig thinks Angie's going to be the spitting image of their mother once she hits her late teens. The three of them stand silently, awkwardly, until Joey speaks.

"Glad we're here," sighs Joey. "Haven't been...in nine months."

Longer for him, admits Craig to himself. It just got so hard after his father died, so the trips became less frequent. He'd been coming on her last two birthdays at least.

"I bet Mommy's bowling in heaven," guesses Angie. "She always did that on Fridays when she didn't have to take me home. Mommy never liked the shoes, though."

They all laugh, grateful for Angie's happy memory. Man, he had hoped that they'd all be sharing in one of the happiest moments he'd ever have, his high school graduation. College was no guarantee either. He got into the same school as Ellie, Marco, and Dylan, yet his heart wasn't set on that plan. In all honesty, he'd rather be doing what Ashley's doing...touring across a country, making music, not letting all his potential go down the drain. University was more an Ellie and Marco thing, but yeah, he'd go if nothing else panned out. The deposit for his dorm room was already sent, thanks to Joey's constant reminders. Knowing Ashley was continuing her education too gave him some hope he could eventually do both.

"We miss you, Mommy," says Angie, after taking a deep breath.

Joey clears his throat, Craig telling he's trying his best not to cry.

"Yeah," speaks up Craig, his eyes locked on her engraved name.

Julia Jeremiah. What he wouldn't give to have her in that seat next to Joey, dotting her eyes with a handkerchief. Unlike Joey, she'd have no shame in showing tears. He'd look at her from under his cap, be her first child to graduate, with decent marks at that. They would take the special photograph, the one where the graduate is in between his parents, Angie smiling while holding Craig's waist. It might've been the perfect portrait, the perfect family picture he had to create by imagination when he lived with Albert. Well, it's not like pictures weren't capable of being ruined.

Craig wanders to another grave, head down. He hears Angie whistling in the background, knowing she's rearranging the flowers, a task that kept her from being sad presumably. Joey goes to Craig, pats him on the back.

"She'd be so proud of you," says Joey, nodding.

"Mom got sick...like all of a sudden," remembers Craig aloud. "She was always so...full of life. Makes no sense."

"I don't think stuff like this ever does," says Joey.

"At least she had you," whispers Craig, throwing Joey a grateful smile. "I'm positive Dad wouldn't have done what you did, visited her everyday, especially because...she left him."

Joey guiltily glances at Julia's grave. Yeah, real smart, Craig, he thinks. Bring up that Joey contributed to the end of your parents' marriage. It started off as a compliment, though.

"Who can say what anyone would do...especially after the fact," shrugs Joey.

"I would've found...found a way to help her, before she got sick," stammers Craig. "She used...used to get these headaches..."

"Craig, no one could've known," interrupts Joey. "Besides, that's not where the cancer was."

"Could've been a sign," insists Craig. "No...I left her to live with Dad."

"That was your parents' decision, Craig. Albert _and _Julia."

"Went along with it, didn't I?" says Craig.

Joey's lips become tense as he stares at Craig sympathetically. Since he's so quiet, he has to know I'm right, reasons Craig. He very well could've stayed with Joey, Julia, and Angie, should've since Albert felt compelled to beat him whenever he wanted to. While he got beat, Julia got sick. They suffered at the same time, but his pain was far less than hers, he guesses.

"I've screwed up so much," sighs Craig. "Running away, cheating, disappointing everyone...but graduation means a new start, a new day. That's how Mom looked at things."

"Yes, she did," says Joey. "But Craig, don't be so hard on yourself. No one expects you to have a big S on your chest, leaping tall buildings, forever being a hero."

"Joey...Joey, I want to be the good guy for once," whispers Craig intensely, watching Angie blow off a bug that landed on Julia's stone.

Joey scratches his head, breathes deeply.

"It's...it's not just getting the diploma," continues Craig. "It's...getting people to think I'm more than a two-timing, spontaneous idiot who happens to play guitar."

"This is about Kate, isn't it?" asks Joey.

"No!" protests Craig. "Alright...maybe...a little. Okay, her first. And others."

"Right," mumbles Joey.

"Joey..."

"Alright!" says Joey. "I have no problem with you becoming a better man. That's what all fathers want. But...you have to be careful. Don't expect to make headway too soon, and don't expect to be perfect. We're all human."

That final statement causes the two men to shift to the sight of Julia's grave, more grey as the sun retreats to the dark, blue night sky. Angie skips to Joey, having left the flowers nicely arranged in her wake.

"Ready," says Angie, grabbing her father's hand.

"Fine," says Joey. "Craig?"

"In a minute," replies Craig.

Joey and Angie start toward the car. Hands in his jeans, Craig stands in front of Julia's grave, then touches the smooth, cold surface. He's taken so many photos of this, of her, where he can't see her face.

"Hope I make you proud, Mom," he whispers to her. "I got little traces of you somewhere. Just gotta find them."

II.

"In here," orders Jeff, quickly tugging the doorknob of the office.

The muted, weighty silence of the party room fills Toby's ears, his father's voice barely audible. With more strength than he thought his mother had, Anne Marie helps Jeff lift Toby to a desk in the center of the office. His legs are barely working. Jeff shuts the door, then scans the office.

It's a regular business office, with a couple plush chairs, plaques and pictures on the wall, but the desk is empty. Toby massages his brow, blood starting to return to his veins so he can move more freely.

Manny. Her name keeps running through his mind, then that terrible term echoes right after it. She must've heard it, though he really hopes she didn't understand it.

"Manny," he groans, trying to stand.

"No you don't," commands Anne Marie softly, easing him back down.

"She's fine," reassures Jeff. "How are you doing?"

Toby shakes his head. How is he doing? What was supposed to be a special day for all of them turned into one giant nightmare. Nightmare. Ugh, when Rick shot Manny in the dream, he didn't think it meant anything and now...

"I couldn't protect her," whispers Toby.

"More worried about you right now, frankly," says Anne Marie. "Any bruises? Cuts?"

He doesn't reply, merely lets his mother take off his jacket and shirt. Jeff paces in front of the desk, clinching his fists.

"That kid...that kid!" says Jeff through gritted teeth.

"Toby!" cries Anne Marie.

Still a bit disoriented, Toby stares at her blankly. Under his white undershirt, there weren't any bruises, so why the reaction? The force from the push was subsiding too. Then, he notices where Anne Marie is staring, because the bruise, courtesy of Sully's locker room antics, has remained, smaller in size. Pretty much all of Toby's body goes red.

"What?" says Jeff, immediately going over.

"He's got this giant bruise!" says Anne Marie. "On his arm. I'm suing that kid for assault! Justin...what's his last name, sweetie?"

How about we never interact with Justin again, he feels like yelling. No, if he could never be in his presence, hear that ugly voice again, he'd be fine, great, excellent.

"It's...it's not from him," confesses Toby.

"Who did this to you?" demands Anne Marie, her cheeks flustered. "Tobias Benjamin...you tell me!"

And admit he's a wimp? No thanks, but the piercing stare he's receiving causes him to relent. That stare is probably what she uses to intimidate all of her clients when they do poorly.

"Some kid at school," mumbles Toby.

"Some kid at school?" repeats Anne Marie. "Jeff, what's going on here? You're obviously not watching my son closely enough if he's getting manhandled by hoodlums!"

"Hoodlums?" cries Jeff in disbelief. "They're school kids. I'm supposed to know they're going after Toby?"

"You told me he had a split lip not too long before the shooting," reminds Anne Marie, standing. "Too busy playing your violin to protect your son?"

"I let Toby deal with his own battles, Anne Marie," argues Jeff. "Excuse me for trusting a seventeen-year old to make smart decisions, which he's done. And you have some nerve getting on me for my parenting skills, when yours are basically non-existent."

"He's sixteen, not seventeen!" reminds Anne Marie. "A child."

Anne Marie folds her arms, coldly smiles.

"Who paid for the counseling?" exclaims Anne Marie. " The bar mitzvah? Because what was it, you 'were running a little low'? Kate certainly didn't chip in. Apparently, real estate agents don't make that much money? I check in as much as I can. Don't you dare say different!"

Toby rolls his eyes. Silly him for believing they'd get along for five minutes, never mind for the whole party. They were saying things they'd said for years. It never got old?

"Guys...," begins Toby.

"Leave Kate out of this!" snaps Jeff. "She has a daughter to support. I love how you think money's so important. Suing this kid? Of course, that immediately popped into your competition-obsessed mind. Things never change, do they? Always the career with you! That's why you're never there for Toby, why you weren't there during our marriage..."

They didn't hear him, as per usual.

"Sure...fault me for being a successful business woman with ambition, and not playing homemaker!" shouts Anne Marie. "Meanwhile, you're the perfect dad who sends our son to a school where who knows what is happening!"

"So why don't you offer a solution then?" yells Jeff.

"California...he'll go to school there!" replies Anne Marie, then taking a deep breath.

"California?" cries Toby, face getting pale.

"In his last year of school?" laughs Jeff, then glaring at his former wife. "After they elected him president? He's not going anywhere with you. I've got primary custody, he knows me better than he knows you, and his life, whether you like it or not, is right here. Pardon me while I get the rabbi!"

He's never heard his father raise his voice like that, shakes when Jeff throws Anne Marie a final angry look, exits the office. Instinctively, Toby glances at his mother, also shivering like a leaf. Jeff was usually so gentle, though Toby can see why his father is rattled.

"Mom?" says Toby.

"Your father's...so sensitive," says Anne Marie, avoiding his gaze. "Always has been."

Anne Marie rearranges the skirt of her business suit, then sits next to Toby. He really didn't want to be alone with her, especially after all the things she said. Sometimes he wishes his parents were more like Robert and Kate; their divorce didn't lead to a long string of arguments every time they said hello. He's sort of glad Kate hadn't come with them, after all of his mother's attacks.

"Maybe he wouldn't be sensitive if you watched what you said," moans Toby. "The fighting's...getting a little boring."

"Toby, I have to defend myself," remarks Anne Marie. "Just like you."

"I'm okay," insists Toby. "Can't...can't you guys be civil for the rest of the day?"

Anne Marie looks taken aback, reluctantly smiles. "You're right...sorry."

"Thanks," says Toby.

Another awkward pause, and Toby's not surprised. None of their discussions today were normal, or rather, none of the start of their discussions were normal. What do you say to a person that should be there more, but keeps tabs on you as if you were penciled in their day planner?

"Did...did you meet Manny?" asks Toby.

He doubts she did since the fight with Justin basically put the party at a standstill.

"As a matter of fact, I did," says Anne Marie. "Thought she was lovely."

"Yeah?" says Toby, smiling slowly.

"Oh yes," replies Anne Marie. "Knew she was your girl from the first view. Clean palate, flawless features, classic beauty...could give most of my clients a run for their money."

"She's going to be an actress," informs Toby. "One movie already."

"I can see that working out," says Anne Marie. "She's got this sun-kissed California look. Tall, carries herself nicely..."

"Tall?"

"Yes, with the blonde hair and long legs. Smart too."

Toby hangs his head, resisting the urge to fall right off the desk.

"Mom, that's Emma!" says Toby, not bothering to be polite that time.

Of course, she got it wrong. She knew his type? She barely knows him.

"Oh, she was by the buffet table," says Anne Marie, blushing. "You said Manny was short for something...I thought her name was Amanda or something. The buffet table was pretty loud."

"Manuella," corrects Toby. "Manny's short for Manuella. You'd know that if..."

Toby stops mid-sentence, puts on his dress shirt, crosses to the other side of the room. How many allowances would he give her, and how many seconds would pass before he refused to pretend anymore that he didn't care she barely kept in contact? Luckily, that's answered for him by Rabbi Miller and Jeff coming into the room.

"Toby, are you well?" asks Rabbi Miller.

Rabbi Miller appeared downtrodden, no doubt disappointed this happened among his congregation. But he had to have some small comfort that Justin wasn't a member of their synagogue.

"Yes, sir," answers Toby.

"Mrs. Isaacs, I don't believe we've had the pleasure," says Rabbi Miller, shaking hands with Anne Marie.

"Nice to meet you," says Anne Marie, gazing curiously at Toby.

Whatever he has to say to her can wait, he thinks. After all, he's waited for her too many times before, so she can wait now.

"Needless to say, I don't desire to confront this topic at such a moment, yet it's best if we handle it sooner rather than later," sighs Rabbi Miller. "I'd like to ask a few questions."

"Toby's in no position to...," starts Anne Marie.

"Stop babying him, Anne Marie," whispers Jeff, sternly.

"And you...," she poises herself to argue, then stops.

Hmmm, maybe she finally got it, Toby exchanging a knowing look with his mother.

"I'll be quiet," finishes Anne Marie. "Leave you to handle this."

"That'd be a first," mutters Jeff, smirking.

"Dad!" chastises Toby. "Please."

Anne Marie bumps past Jeff, causing the rabbi to raise an eye. She turns, sees Toby mouth "thanks" to her, nods, and leaves. Rabbi Miller folds his hands, leans against the desk, his usually benevolent position. What would Toby say to him?

"Toby, you know our congregation is very liberal," begins Rabbi Miller.

Toby nods sadly.

"Truth be told, that doesn't necessarily attract certain members of our faith, but these are our beliefs and all are welcome. I'm saying this because I want Manny to feel safe with us. If I need to talk to her personally..."

"No, no, sir," interjects Toby.

If he talks to her, she'd figure out the meaning of the word, and he can't have that. Simply can't.

"Very well then. Now, it's imperative we know the way the word was used," continues Rabbi Miller.

"No offense, Rabbi Miller, but it's quite obvious what the boy meant," speaks up Jeff.

"I don't believe in accusing anyone wrongly without the full details, Mr. Isaacs," says Rabbi Miller. "Though I've never liked this word, it's not always used pejoratively."

"Understood," complies Jeff.

"Toby?" encourages Rabbi Miller.

Deep in his gut, he was well aware that he'd be the one that would have to sell out Justin. Not Matthew, not his mother through legality. He's Clara's boyfriend too, and she's been so happy. Toby breathes in and out.

"Do the noble thing, son," says Jeff, going to Toby, putting an arm around him. "It's tough, I know."

"He...he called her filthy...and it...it was derogatory," admits Toby, refusing to look at either of them directly.

"That's that," sighs Rabbi Miller, straightening himself. "I'll consult with the other elders as to what to do next. May I have a word with him, Mr. Isaacs?"

"Yeah...certainly," says Jeff, giving them a puzzled look.

The door shuts after Jeff, Toby playing with the tie his mother took off. This day was stretching on forever and forever. He's amazed he's managed to stay cool and composed. There was someone out there who made his skin crawl, tried to make Manny feel lesser than herself, tried to make their relationship lesser than it is. They fought so hard to be together, no matter if it was insults thrown by Heather or Sully, or dealing with Clara or Manny's family situation, never mind their own feelings for Craig and Kendra. Kendra. Boy, was that an easy relationship in comparison.

"Why didn't you tell me it'd be this hard?" says Toby, glaring at Rabbi Miller. "I get confirmed, and an hour later, someone throws my faith in my face!"

Rabbi Miller shakes his head. "None of us are prepared for these ordeals."

"That's all you're going to say?" sighs Toby. "You didn't teach us this in..."

"You never want to tell the young that the world is cold, Toby," interrupts Rabbi Miller, placing a tentative hand on Toby's shoulder. "Or unforgiving. I'd much rather come to all the conclusions you made in your speech. That...that's what we should all learn."

"It was a stupid speech!" exclaims Toby. "No one will care! It was dumb!"

"No...no, it was not!" says Rabbi Miller, as forceful as Toby has ever heard him. "You mind that it moved so many. You...you just mind that."

Wow, Rabbi Miller genuinely believed that, judging by the tone of his voice. Based on the feeling he had when he read it, yeah, Toby has to reluctantly agree.

"I'm sorry," says Toby. "I...I'm wrong. Sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am," consoles Rabbi Miller, giving him a quick hug. "Let's go help."

III.

Nine-thirty. Sean slides a sugar packet against the counter of the Dot, sighs to himself for the millionth time. Yep, right now, he'd be working. No, he should be working. Jay is working. Great, he's been unemployed for less than two days and he's getting all nostalgic.

The garage was the best in Toronto, he can't lie. When Mr. Hill bought the place from Mel, he did a real turn around, starting offering more options to bring in more customers. Not only did it accomplish that, but they had to turn customers away near the end of Sean's run. A few people always asked for him too. He gave them the Sean treatment, the best for the regular price. They would get the Dale treatment, which essentially meant no treatment until someone else picked up his slack.

"More coffee, dude?" asks Spinner, leaning against the counter.

He looks rattled, realizes Sean. That's because he has a job. Eh, hating Spinner won't change anything. The guy was too nice anyway.

"Nah," waves off Sean.

Glancing around the restaurant, it's pretty hectic, which makes sense since exams are over. That may be why Spinner's so frantic. Sean polishes off his cup of coffee, the bell on the Dot door ringing. After the final ring, he sees two hands cover his eyes.

"Hey!" protests Sean.

"Don't move," commands Ellie.

Sean obediently stays still, hears some shuffling. Ellie taps him on his shoulder, indicating she wants him to look. When he does, he views several nicely taken postcards, a Canadian flag emblem in the left hand corner of each.

"Extra excitement after the B," explains Ellie. "Niagara...whale watching in Vancouver...Titanic burial site in Halifax. I'm all for the morbid."

"Great," says Sean, with a sheepish grin.

He can't afford this trip without steady pay. Ellie is so looking forward to it, their first chance to be completely alone for months...gone. It'd be dumb to take the idea back too, because it was his idea, his brainstorm. Why didn't his ideas ever work out? Slaving away at the garage would prep him to open up his own shop. Nope. Getting student welfare. Nope, though it almost came through and Mr. Ehl became a good friend. Buying an apartment. Nope, because he wouldn't be there at this rate.

"Those are yours," says Ellie. "I'm going to buy you a souvenir in every place we're in, to make up for the money you're spending on all of this."

Ellie smooths back Sean's hair, stares at him. He reads the look as total trust rather than his hair being all messy. Ellie would be let down by him, again, exactly the same way she was let down when he stayed in Wasaga. The last pay he'd be receiving is for Ashley's Acura, sure his last paycheck has to go to rent and other bills.

"Dad recommended the whale watching," informs Ellie. "He did that when he was our age."

"Yeah, about that, what should I wear to this dinner thing?" asks Sean, turning to her.

He glances at his combat boots, camo pants, and grey T-shirt.

"What you usually wear," replies Ellie.

"You're kidding, right?" says Sean.

"Um, okay. Slightly dressier," says Ellie. "Sean, it's not a big deal. The restaurant's a mix of comfortable and chic. Shirt and shoes...fancier. That's it. Wear jeans if you want. Dad hates getting dressed up too."

"Shaving too," mumbles Sean, touching his chin.

"Whatevskies," waves off Ellie. "So the next time I see you will be..."

"Graduation," fills in Sean. "Sure you won't brave the variety show? Manny convinced me to do tech. You can do an article or..."

"Nope, last article's done," explains Ellie. "Nadia's taking over the Grapevine, Jimmy's doing art...and I'm...well, I'm useless to them now."

Sean chuckles, kisses her cheek. "No, you're not."

"Having a guy-girl night in with Marco and Alex before summer gets busy that night," admits Ellie. "See ya."

Ellie buzzes Sean's lips, goes through the Dot door. Man, he really hates the thought of dashing her dreams. Or_ their _dreams. Sean revolves the cup in his fingers.

"Useless, she says," comments a voice that's poison to him. "She talking about me or her?"

Sean glares at Dale, wishes his cup was full of steaming coffee so he could throw it at him. Dale's ratty ponytail was uglier up close. His blue eyes reflect a thousand insults struggling to be said, but Sean's grateful his lips were still puffy, a couple bandages near his chin.

"Go away," orders Sean, turning his seat in the other direction.

Dale hops up on the stool in order to face Sean. "No hard feelings?"

"You can feel the hardness of my fist if you don't get up!" whispers Sean.

"Violence didn't solve our issues, trailer trash," says Dale, smiling. "Got you fired."

"You got me fired," shoots back Sean.

"Different perspectives," sighs Dale. "Nevertheless, I really gel with your bud Jay."

"Do you?"

"It's a shame we never got along," says Dale, plaintively. "There aren't many mechanics like you, Cameron. Trustworthy, talented...pushovers."

"Shove it!" exclaims Sean. "Daddy isn't here to save you, alright?"

A few Degrassi students peer at the two guys, Sean not caring. Dale laughs, lowers his tone.

"Relax," whispers Dale. "Anyway, I offered Jay a proposition. To earn some cash. Very interested. I'd...be willing to extend the same proposition to you. A side operation...how I get money for weed."

"Why would I ever work with you?" whispers Sean. "Especially after our oh so happy garage time?"

"Got a job lined up yet?" asks Dale. "Far as I know, most garages are already staffed. Dad won't rehire you. Rent...and this little...honeymoon, or whatever it is...can't be coming cheap."

What? Dale had been listening to him and Ellie? No way. He'd pound him again before he'd ever consider this.

"How much pride could you possibly have?" whispers Dale.

"A lot," replies Sean, standing.

"That just means you have a lot to chip away," says Dale, retrieving a card from his jeans pocket. "My office number."

Dale presses the card in Sean's palm, takes a coffee cup Spinner hands him, and breezily exits the restaurant. He walks with smarm, looks like a rat. So why isn't he throwing the card in the garbage? Whatever side operation Dale was doing isn't worth more than his pride. Is it worth more than Ellie, and this trip, and following through with at least one thing?

Sean folds the card, places it securely in his pocket.

IV.

The Nelson residence is as quiet as the party became. Toby stands purposefully at the end of the driveway, hesitantly moving forward. Wow, the last time he saw her, they were both on the verge of tears, caught up in confusion. It's not like they hadn't been through that before, yet this is so different.

Anne Marie gave him the number to her hotel room. She was leaving Sunday, and he sort of promised he'd call her before then. She deserved at least that for not fighting anymore and being kind to him. Jeff said nothing, let the two of them talk. The rest of the party, except for Clara who Christian transported home, silently cleaned up, no longer willing to celebrate. It was the first sad somberness of the evening, after such a beautiful somber feeling beforehand. Toby and everyone else hurt as they picked up the broken pieces of plates, the untouched food, mainly because their hearts hurt. They were a new place of worship, Toby knew, and this might get out, discourage others from joining the synagogue.

This had been Manny's first trip inside the synagogue too. From behind the bimah, she looked so happy to be there, and he knows it wasn't her thing. She came for him, and this happened? Toby glances at his Star of David necklace, swallows the lump forming in his throat as he presses the doorbell.

Emma opens the door, lets Toby come inside.

"This is the latest you've ever come," notes Emma. "Ten-thirty?"

"Not too late, is it?" asks Toby.

"No, no, it's fine," consoles Emma. "I can't sleep most nights anyway. Early birthday present for Jack."

She nods to a scrapbook, with animal stickers on one side, pictures of Jack on the other.

"Out of the two of us, I thought I'd be the veterinarian," sighs Emma. "But Jack's crazy about all creatures great and small. Whether dolphin pants or stickers."

"There's still time for him to figure out what he wants to be," says Toby.

"Still time to check on Manny too," encourages Emma. "She's up."

He figured.

"Where?" says Toby.

"Hammock," answers Emma. "You alright?"

"Will be," reassures Toby, patting Emma on the shoulder.

He goes to the side door, the door where Manny lead him through to get to the basement the day before. That seems so distant, but he hasn't forgotten how wonderful it is to be alone with her. True to Emma's word, Manny is stretched out on the hammock, staring sadly at the stars above. They haven't gazed at the stars together for quite awhile, the night before they kissed, when she needed comfort. He hopes he can comfort her as good as he did then, though this, as Jack might say, is a different animal.

Manny makes no indication that she sees him, but he can tell she's noticed him. She has yet to take off her black dress, only her feet are bare, stockinged feet touching the red material of the hammock.

"Got home okay?" asks Toby.

"Spike picked us up," breathes Manny.

"Can't sleep?"

"No," replies Manny, turning her head away from him.

Toby nods, sits on the hammock, near her waist. The hammock droops slightly, forcing Manny to look at him. He knew it would work.

She looks heartbroken, and he's certain, certain she's clear on the meaning of Justin's word. It all used to be so innocent, though they didn't realize it. Skating, beauty pageants, movie premieres and lines. Why does it change?

"If I was in there," starts Toby. "You'd tell me to get up. You'd say, Toby...stop moping around. There's more to life than microchips..."

"Like chocolate chips," finishes Manny, smiling slightly. "I was hungry...when I made that line up."

Toby laughs, places her hand against his, winds her fingers with his. He's happy when Manny does the same.

"I shouldn't have gone," says Manny, her smile fading.

"Wouldn't have been right without you," insists Toby. "Not anymore. Manny, you mean so much to me now, it scares me in the best way."

Manny's cheeks glow in the moonlight, skin turning pale. That basically meant she was pleased, though resisting. He could read her expressions pretty well by then.

"If I never came...," chokes out Manny.

"Your variety show's tomorrow. Shouldn't be sad. I get to be proud of you. Switching it up, right?"

Manny beams. "Toby..."

He leans down, puts his lips to hers, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Manny lightly pushes him away, unlocks her fingers.

"If I'm not supposed to be with you, then...," starts Manny, starting to cry.

"You are," interrupts Toby, wiping her tears. "What I said in the speech matters more to me than whatever anyone else says. I would've topped it with I love you, but that might've been too much. J.T. would've puked."

"I loved when you kissed me," sighs Manny, easing him back to her. "I love that you said that."

She kisses him this time, fully on the lips, pulling him to her. Manny lifts his glasses up and down, making Toby smile.

"You aren't in any pain?" asks Manny.

"Just tired," replies Toby. "Apparently, not too tired to hear my mom identify Emma as my girlfriend."

"What?" laughs Manny, and he's grateful to hear it. "I'm tired too, but definitely interested!"

"She thought Manny was short for Amanda, and Emma looks like an Amanda?" guesses Toby. "Ugh. I really wanted you guys to meet."

"Psh, we will, and she'll love me," assures Manny.

They chuckle, Manny whimpering.

"Mmmm, my foot's asleep," she says, massaging her feet.

Toby quickly rises, putting one arm over Manny, inching her to him. Manny squeals in mock protest, begins to relax in Toby's arms as he lifts her. He whirls her around a couple times, Manny's hair flying, knocking against Toby's cheeks. She's fairly light, and the bruise fails to ache. It feels special to carry her, carry some of the weight that may be on her heart after this day. He'll keep on doing it until she tells him to stop.

"Chivalry gets you to the side door," informs Toby, starting to walk.

"Awww, I was hoping for down the steps," groans Manny playfully.

"Yeah, right," mumbles Toby, grinning.

Toby spins her some more, Manny giggling, their laughter filling the night.


	11. Ain't Gonna Hurt Nobody

**XI. Ain't Gonna Hurt Nobody**

_The time has come to enjoy itself  
I've left my problems up on the shelf  
The work day's over and I've got it made  
like Johnny Kemp said I just got paid  
And I'm ready to mingle young man single and free  
Ready to get busy, down to party hardy and have a good time  
All I need is a partner in crime  
Call up the homies and hope they might  
Say they down to pay town rent tonight  
look in the closet and pull out the hype gear  
pull up the hightop fade and I'm outta here  
Do a disco on a party of some kind  
hope that I would find myself a good time  
Before I'm through and the night is done  
Man I'm gonna have some fun_

_Ain't gone hurt nobody we just dancin ya'll  
Ain't gone hurt nobody out there on the floor  
Ain't gone hurt nobody we just dancin ain't we  
Ain't gone hurt nobody gonna give you more  
o yeah yeah_

_if you lookin' for war step on the dance floor  
Check your coat and troubles at the door  
cause we sure you gonna see us smile today  
The problems of the world seem miles away  
The only thing that matters is a good time  
That can be had with the help of a good ryme  
The DJ's hype well and up to par  
uh-oh there goes a cutie at the bar  
So I stroll on over to her and say hi  
And tell her I'm the P-L-A-Y  
And would you like to dance awhile  
I'll do anything to see your smile  
See my job is to tell you how  
after a couple of songs I'll require  
having fun well i ain't done  
The best is yet to come_

Ain't Gonna Hurt Nobody is the property of Kid N' Play, and appears in the movie _House Party 2._ In case you haven't figured it out, I like older stuff.

The song from the last chapter comes from _Footloose._

Opposites Attract is the property of Paula Abdul.

"What time does her flight leave tomorrow?"

Toby barely hears the question, taking a small, silver four-leaf clover from the rack. The real question he has: How many things can a girl put in or on her body? Seriously, there are bellybutton rings, anklets, studs, lip jewelry. Lip jewelry? He's glad Manny hasn't pierced her mouth. It would probably hurt to kiss her.

"Earth to Toby!" speaks up J.T., peering over Toby's shoulder. "Ooooh, tongue rings!"

"Three o' clock. Her flight leaves at three," answers Toby.

Yes, the flight he's been dreading since January is carrying Manny to California in less than twenty-four hours. He barely thought about it yesterday, but who could after all that happened? She said she'd be packing most of the morning, then going over to the school to put together the final touches to the Degrassi variety show. Word has it Hatzilakos was so impressed by the dress rehearsal that she was thinking of making an annual event, which said a lot about Manny's hard work. Credit had to go to J.T. and Liberty also, though he knows Manny was the brains behind most of it, organizing and approving most of the acts, delegating, advertising. She'd carried all that responsibility from the video store into various parts of her life, carried the talent from her acting, and that's why he's sure she's going to flourish in California. That won't stop him from missing her.

He sifts through the rest of the charms, anxious to locate anything. The online search was a wash. He can't believe he can't find one to represent a single aspect of their relationship. Some were too corny, like a moon or the sun. Others were too dry, like the computer one, which he thought about getting since she paid for Kytel, but that didn't fit her. He's starting to think he'll never find a decent choice.

"This is the first show I've never been nervous about," shares J.T. "Dracula...totally freaked. Miss Degrassi...well, I had a goal..."

"To win Liberty," supplies Toby. "How's that going by the way?"

"I only agreed to co-host since I knew we'd be working together," complains J.T. "But no, Liberty was either checking stuff or studying for finals, even...even like a month in advance! Who does that?"

"Liberty," answers Toby, smirking.

"Heh, Toby made a funny," says J.T., trying to noogie Toby.

J.T. and Toby wrestle for a few seconds, stopping when they see two girls, around nine, sneering at them. The boys smile apologetically.

"So immature," says the shorter of the two.

They walk off, grinning down at a Make-Your-Own-Tiara kit. Manny already had a tiara. Oh yeah, Manny, thinks Toby, starting to look again.

"You're going to have to help me out with Liberty at the after party," says J.T. "She can't possibly have any more excuses with the summer on the horizon."

"Speaking of can't...," says Toby hesitantly, giving J.T. a weak smile.

"What?" groans J.T.

"It's our last night together, J.T.," replies Toby. "I...I've got something planned. Very important...considering my after party was such a trainwreck."

"Fine," mutters J.T. "Nah...I suspected."

"This is the last part," explains Toby. "Then, we can get out of here."

"Thank goodness," says J.T. "This place is so girly."

"Says Mr. Degrassi," laughs Toby.

J.T. shrugs, examines one of the tongue rings, grins.

"Plans, huh?" speaks up J.T. "You know, plans have a way of changing. I can get you a discount at the pharmacy."

"I don't need to go to the pharmacy," says Toby, eyeing him curiously.

Why did J.T. feel like they should go to the pharmacy? The tickets were bought, the show was tonight, he'd personally gone to find a spot that morning, and...wait a minute.

"Whoa," whispers Toby.

"Uh-huh," says J.T. in a low voice, clearly glad that Toby got a clue. "Judging by drive-in night, I'd say this excursion is overdue. Manny can relax post-show, but it can be mutual relaxation, if you catch my drift?"

"I'm not sure, man. We've already been through so much this week..."

"Which shows how strong you two are," interrupts J.T. "Why not give Manny the best going away gift you can?"

The charm was supposed to be it, he thinks. Yeah, that sounds pretty lame in comparison. Still, he really wanted to discuss them again, with clearer heads. He didn't know if she was totally over the Justin thing. It had only happened yesterday.

"Too fast," says Toby, shaking his head.

"Why?" argues J.T. "Toby..."

"I won't be like the other guys, J.T.," interjects Toby. "There's no way I'm taking advantage of her when she's...she's sad, confused. She needs me to be there with her...not you know, _with _her."

"Alright," sighs J.T. "Your decision."

Toby ends the conversation with a secure nod, glances over when his finger finds a charm in between an A plus sign and a dancer. His whole face lights up as he takes it, approaches the cash register.

II.

"I feel like I'm already in Cancun," jokes Jimmy.

Spinner grimaces, carries a heavy box to the props room. Sweat glistens on his forearms, tan shirt soaked through. Since Hazel was in the show, Jimmy elected to come along, despite not doing any real work.

"So do I," breathes Spinner. "But an in with Manny means an in with Emma."

Who knew "an in with Emma" would require so much heavy lifting, however? He agreed to do the lights, volunteered in the props and set departments. Since the traffic was increasing at the Dot, and the show was getting closer, his time was getting more and more thin. He felt like...felt like Emma, who was always busy. Oh, to be Jimmy, going to fair Cancun in a week, to celebrate graduation with the Brooks family and Hazel. Tis a pity, a real pity that...no, no, please don't. Please don't tell him he's thinking like a theater person. He wasn't Nate. Too many days working here. Way too many days.

"Hot beaches, drinks with umbrellas, Hazel in a swimsuit...," continues Jimmy.

Spinner takes a small towel dangling out of his pants pocket, wipes his forehead.

"I'm going to California, so there," says Spinner, even if California wasn't as exotic.

"Not with Emma, you aren't," returns Jimmy. "A shame, because that girl's got a body. If I weren't such a gentleman, I'd say more."

"Dude!" says Spinner.

"Chillax, Spin," says Jimmy, laughing. "But...Emma's classy. I'd say Paige was the best, but...yeah, out of the two blondes, Emma's not too far from the mighty Michalchuk."

Spinner blushes. "Yeah."

"What's she doing with you then?" teases Jimmy.

Spinner throws the towel at his best friend, Jimmy grinning. It feels good to clown around with him again, discuss girlfriends with him. Well, Emma isn't his girlfriend. He's starting to think that will remain the case. When he comforted her after the barbecue, she told him to go home, that she could handle it. Her expression said the opposite, but it was her wish that he leave. Since then, he hasn't heard from her. He called twice, and no answer. Emma was definitely making herself unavailable, in more ways than one.

"Maybe I should...should just not go for her," confesses Spinner, taking the towel back from Jimmy. "She's constantly on the go, her dad's left..."

"Man, what are you saying?" says Jimmy, resting his hands against the arms of his chair. "She came to Craig's party, didn't she?"

"That turned bogus," sighs Spinner. "Snake drove over and...me inviting her ended up with her running away."

"She stayed for you," reminds Jimmy. "Wait for the family drama to blow over. Spinner, she's feeling you. I can tell."

Spinner beams, puffing out his chest proudly, making Jimmy smirk. Jimmy's advice was usually reliable, something he appreciated. His dating advice was the best, especially when they were dating Hazel and Paige. Eh, couldn't hurt. He really liked Emma.

"I am pretty...irresistible," remarks Spinner.

"Yeah, alright, playboy," waves off Jimmy, grinning. "You best get to those boxes or Manny will go _Kill Bill _on you."

"Fine," groans Spinner.

"I'll lift one to the stage," says Jimmy.

Spinner smiles, sets one of the smaller boxes on Jimmy's lap.

"Come on, dude, I ain't a pansy," protests Jimmy. "Load me with an okay one."

Jimmy was right. Despite the guilt he felt initially, Jimmy was the same and should be treated like that. No more days at the theater after today, and no more days patronizing his closest comrade. Spinner trades the heavier box he's got with Jimmy, Jimmy tucking the heavier box under his arm while Spinner takes the lighter box.

"California's still tighter than Cancun," says Spinner as they head forward.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweat boy," says Jimmy.

III.

The corset, pantaloons, chemise, all set. She originally believed her mother went all out for the pageant talent outfit, but no, Maria provided a better costume for her this time around. Chante was glad she had to do one less outfit, vainly complimenting Maria when she arrived with it moments before. J.T. had fixed the seams in her bonnet. Manny laid the bonnet with the rest of her clothes, the tag on the hanger reading "Charlotte."

Backstage has turned into total chaos. Students were rehearsing lines, or dancing, the dancers bumping into anything imaginable, including a hat rack that almost toppled onto Clara, who agreed to help with the lights. Derek caught it just in the nick of time. Clara, for some reason, had taken to ignoring her all day, and she'd rather not get into why at such a hectic time. The only one not moving is Chante, putting on blush as she stares sadly into the make-up mirror.

Her father in the show, J.T., the idea of it still too hard to envision, walks hurriedly to a partition set off to let the boys get dressed in privacy. Sir Philip Degrassi twirled his top hat before going in. Liberty approaches the partition, mumbling.

"Sneaking a peek, Liberty?" teases Manny.

"What...what...no!" cries Liberty, blushing as she goes to talk to Darcy.

Manny smirks, starts collecting her make-up, jewelry, and other odds and ends so she can change in the dressing room. She sees Emma coming to her, looking very scared, though very pretty in a cornflower blue summer dress.

"You called?" says Emma.

"I did," replies Manny. "Manny law says the best must stay close on the last night I'm here."

Emma smiles. "You're busy..."

"So?" interrupts Manny. "You can disappear when the show starts, but until then, you're mine, Nelson. Then, after the date with Toby, we're staying up."

Manny's grateful when Emma appears to be cooperative. Despite all their squabbling, this was technically their last night together, with Manny under their roof. She would call her in California, but it wouldn't be the same, not by a long shot.

"How can I make myself useful then?" sighs Emma, pretending to be reluctant.

"Liberty's got most of it covered. Funnily enough, Nate hasn't come yet," replies Manny. "He was going to head tech. Your man, Spin's, doing most of it."

"He's not my man," corrects Emma. "Why would Nate bail?"

"Wouldn't, especially post-pageant," defends Manny. "I..."

They pause as Liberty runs up to them, frustration filling her face. This can't be good, thinks Manny, folding her arms instinctively.

"Nate's...Nate's got mono," informs Liberty. "Darcy...Darcy told me! Had to kiss some girl at his shampoo audition."

"He kissed her without my permission!" calls over Darcy. "That...that...that freak that kisses diseased girls!"

It never fails, moans Manny inwardly. The pageant, something went wrong. The ribbon-cutting ceremony, something went wrong. And yeah, Toby's Confirmation. That was the worst. Whenever that came into her mind, she'd busy herself with other tasks. She can't do that now.

"His duet with Darcy!" exclaims Manny. "Tell...tell me we have a back-up."

"Got it covered," assures Liberty. "A little... sisterly... persuasion. We're finding an outfit for him."

"Danny?" yells Manny.

"I love you, Charlotte!" calls over Danny, laughing while knocking fists with Danny.

"Oy vey," mumbles Manny. "Nate...Nate was going to do a monologue..."

"We're under a couple minutes," confesses Liberty. "That's why...I'm out of breath."

"Wait...wait, I know!" exclaims Manny.

She cautiously walks to Chante, in full Panthers cheerleading uniform, now applying lipstick. Chante asked for an extra minute, and she can have them. Manny's willing to put aside the whole breast joke Chante made. For the good of the show, she repeats in her head. For the good of the show.

"Nice flowers," comments Manny.

They both stare at a bunch of red roses sitting near Chante, a fancy gold card bearing her name. She figured it'd be best to open with a compliment.

"Apology flowers," says Chante. "Dad's...Dad's not coming."

"Oh?"

"Can't get out of work, apparently."

Manny clears her throat. "I'm sorry, Chante. Look...um, you'll dazzle everyone else, alright? That song...so funky fresh. Totally nineties and fun. Makes my nineties routine look amateurish."

"You are amateurish," remarks Chante, blowing her nails.

Okay, she's decided to stay mad at me, realizes Manny. Never mind that this is her show and she let Chante be a part of it. If it's so amateurish, then why be involved? Ugh, pull it together, Manny. She has to let Chante perform, fill up the extra space.

"That's why I need you to extend...your routine a little longer," says Manny. "You asked for an extra minute...you got two!"

"So you need me now," says Chante, slowly smiling. "Miss Degrassi needs me."

"Chante...," begins Manny.

"You couldn't...couldn't possibly flop in front of your parents. Your proud parents."

Chante says this with such malice it almost makes Manny want to back up, run. She had always made the attempt to be nice to Chante, even if they weren't too close.

"Me and the girls...we'll cover you," replies Chante. "Just...don't expect a perfect routine. Got some extra cheer locked away. We'll do our best."

"That's all I ask for," says Manny, softly. "Um...you okay?"

"I'm always okay, Manuella," replies Chante, rising, staring at Manny icily before going to Hazel.

How come she's not surprised by the chill in the air in her departure? Manny wishes she already had on her costume, which was a lot warmer.

IV.

"These women must have been crazy!" breathes Manny.

"My thinking, exactly," says Emma, trying to loosen the corset. "Too tight?"

"Better," says Manny, as she sees her waist expand.

She'd kill Liberty for her perfect attention to period costuming. Or J.T., for going along with it. Well, one of them. She bends down for a second, stands upright, smiles. Okay, moment of anger's gone. The show would go off without a hitch. Making up for Nate was the only chink in a well-oiled machine, and she'd taken care of that.

Emma zips open her purse, retrieves her small camera.

"Turn," she instructs.

Manny claps, does her over-the-shoulder pose, as Emma presses the button. They laugh, hearing a knock on the costume room door, a firm melody. Emma looks perplexed, but Manny smiles, quickly donning her blouse and green jacket.

"_Shave and a haircut...two bits_!" sings Manny loudly. "Charlotte says you may enter."

The doorknob twists, Toby coming into the room. He's dressed in a nice black suit, dark green tie securely fastened around his neck, briefcase over his broad shoulders. Awww, he always knew how to work a suit. Manny smiles.

"Oh, _Roger Rabbit _reference," says Emma.

"Duh, animated hit," reminds Manny.

Toby approaches Manny, taking her hands.

"I'm a little worried I'm starting to understand all the cheesiness," says Emma, shaking her head.

"What cheese?" jokes Manny. "We're totally hardcore gangsta."

Emma chuckles, brushing past Toby to leave, closing the door. As soon as the door shuts, Toby presses Manny to him, locking lips. Manny lets her hands slide around his waist, not caring that the lipstick she had recently put on for the show is now being ruined.

"What is it with us and dressing rooms, eh?" breathes Manny, separating from him.

"Brings out the love, I guess," replies Toby.

"Or the bad Toby," says Manny, trying to kiss him.

"Get ready for geeky Toby," says Toby, maneuvering the bag in front of them.

"You suck, bag," sighs Manny, looking down. "First, Toby takes you to Kytel more than me. And now this? Coming between me and my boyfriend. There better be a good reason why you're coming between me and my boyfriend."

"Trust me, there is," assures Toby.

He unzips the bag, Manny peering inside and smiling. There's a small video camera, state-of-the art, a few tapes, and an extra battery.

"Dad leant it to me," admits Toby. "Four times the seamless, digital zoom, Turbo Image processor, internal memory...an Ni-MH battery...and you look a little lost."

"I am lost," laughs Manny, blushing. "And happy. I like...I like geeky Toby."

"Well, I want you to remember this night," says Toby, setting down the bag. "I'll start taping all your performances from the audience."

Manny glances at the carpet of the dressing room, a nice creamy color. The premiere, the pageant, and tonight. Toby's support of her has been consistently beautiful. That's what she won't forget.

"Without you, it's not an audience," whispers Manny, laying her head against his shoulder.

"Then I'm going to have be there at every show then," says Toby, hugging her.

"The first nineties routine...I wrote it," says Manny. "Make sure to tape it. I...I hope you like it."

"I'll love it," promises Toby.

V.

Sean sniffles, stretches his arms before pushing a speaker a little to the left on Liberty's request. Sure, the extra credit from Kwan would be worth it, but he can't help but think Liberty is getting some sick pleasure out of ordering him to do all this. Maybe because he rejected her at one point. Heather Sinclair and Nadia...hmm, he never talked to them, yet they were staring too.

"Perfect," says Liberty.

"I'll say," agrees Heather, sighing at the same time as Nadia.

"Great!" breathes Sean, squatting on the floor.

He hears a familiar roar of laughter, sees Jay walking to him. Why was Jay here? The girls head in a different direction, obviously eager to get away from Jay, who upon closer inspection, was high, though not as high as a few days before.

"Liberty is going to kill me with this work," moans Sean.

"They were checking out your goodies, Sean-boy," laughs Jay. "I guess, even good girls need a good view once in awhile."

Sean stands hesitantly. "Hatzilakos can't see you, bro."

"It's Saturday," defends Jay. "If Spin can be here, I can."

Jay stumbles, Sean managing to get to him before he falls. Liberty will probably get on him for disappearing, but who cares? An hour before the show, and he didn't feel like being sized up anymore. They exit the auditorium, go down a few hallways, enter the courtyard. Jay leans against the wall instinctively, Sean doing the same.

"You can't keep coming here high, Jay," says Sean.

"Thanks...Grandma," mutters Jay. "I'm...I'm fine."

"Who drove you?" asks Sean.

"Dale," answers Jay, then coughing.

Dale? He's hanging out with that loser? He doesn't know what angers him more, that Dale is probably the one supplying the drugs, or that he's bonded with Jay so quickly. This is his friend, not Dale's. What if Jay showed up high at the garage? Jay would lose the job Sean got him, and end up hurting for cash, like him.

"Don't let Dale drag you down, man," warns Sean.

"What?" laughs Jay. "He's making my life tons...loads...well, a lot better. His side job...really good stuff, Seany. At first, thought it was shady. We went over today, and I wish you were there."

"Went where?"

"The outskirts...early this morning," replies Jay, then clutching his chest. "A...a little initiation."

Sean massages the back of his neck. Whatever this side operation is can't be too good if they're doing stuff on the outskirts of Toronto. That area was shady. He heard Craig ran away to that area, ended up getting beat up. And what was this initiation? The whole thing was strange.

"You selling drugs?" shouts Sean. "I'm not letting you..."

"What?" interrupts Jay. "No! You think I'm that stupid?"

He shrugs. Jay and Dale did seem to be getting pot pretty easily. Jay eyes him, clearly offended by Sean's call.

"Sorry," whispers Sean.

"I figured...that would've been your guess," waves off Jay. "No, it's a legitimate business, a business that would benefit from your car smarts. Come with me next time, dude. Dale ain't half bad. I thought he was, but he's been looking out for me, looks out for a lotta kids."

A lot of kids? How many kids? Maybe it had to do with teaching, as silly as that sounds. Dale's degree is in education, and perhaps he taught poor kids or something, and he'd destress himself by getting high. Mr. Hill, Dale's father, looked out for people, so why not his son? Dale knows Sean can instruct someone on cars, so maybe that's why he made the offer. Ellie would actually like that, more than the garage job, in fact. He could open the shop, have guaranteed employees if the kids liked him.

"If you lay off the pot, bro," says Sean. "I'm...I'm not Mr. Rules, or a PSA, but...I've seen a lot of guys in Wasaga screw up their lives by doing it too much."

Jay shifts his eyes, wipes his nose with his sleeve.

"Eh, stuff's expensive, anyway," replies Jay. "Go back to lifting. I'm out."

They bump fists, Sean staring after Jay as he walks clumsily to the front door of Degrassi. Part of him has the feeling it's the last time he'll be in this school.

VI.

Toby stares diligently into the window of the camera, the golden curtains appearing in view. He lowers it, taking in the busy nature of the room. Earlier, he went to say hi to the Santoses, who were down in front, whispering excitedly. They were as excited as his family at the front of the synagogue yesterday, especially Maria, since she sewed the costume. Other students filled the seats, brandishing programs Manny and Liberty designed.

The programs were his favorite part of being here so far, because among the cast thank-yous, right after Joseph and Maria Santos, Manny thanked him, Toby Isaacs. He couldn't believe he read that, reading it once more under the brighter lights in the back of the auditorium. Yep, Toby Isaacs. Toby smiles, clicks on the camera.

"Hey, Toby!" greets Nadia, wheeling to Toby's seat.

"Nadia, hey," greets Toby. "Almost show time. Twenty minutes. Oh...congrats on your essay thing."

"Thanks," says Nadia. "Have you seen..."

"Toby!" calls over a sweet voice to his left.

Oh boy, is he dreading and wanting to turn around at the sound of her voice. He can keep cool, he can keep cool, he tells himself. He rises, shyly appraises his appearance, before looking at her.

Kendra. When she grinned at him, a pained grin, his insides start to ache. Her jet-black hair is beautiful, hanging to her waist now, and those piercing, dark eyes he used to stare into are staring back at him. She wears a light blue cotton blouse and a cute, long denim skirt. He doesn't think he's seen her in a skirt before. Shoot. He has to speak.

"Hi," says Toby, smiling..

Kendra hugs him. The hug is long, Toby staring at the skin of her neck. He always did have a thing for necks. No. He gently eases out of the hug.

"Nice equipment," says Kendra.

Equipment? Toby stares at his waist and legs. Oh, oh, the camera. Such a dork, Toby, he scolds himself.

"It's an Olympus," says Toby, lifting it for her to view.

"Those are supposed to be good," says Kendra. "Ni-MH battery included."

"Uh-huh," says Toby, taking a step forward.

"Watch the wheels, Tobes," speaks up Nadia.

He throws Nadia a confused look, then sees his foot is almost touching one of her wheels.

"Sorry," he says.

Glancing around, he can feel his forehead producing more and more sweat. Man, you figure he was going on instead of his girlfriend. Someone lightly taps his shoulder.

"Manny!" he exclaims, viewing her in full Victorian garb.

"Startled you," says Manny. "Sorry. I...I just wanted to give you this. I grabbed it, never gave it to you. Didn't know if it was Derek or Danny's."

Wordlessly, Toby takes the _Wifey _book from her. It doesn't feel like he's holding it. Manny's speechless too, staring at Kendra as if she has eight heads.

"Hi Manny!" says Kendra, waving.

"Hi," replies Manny, softly.

Yes, that's the reluctant "hi" he used with her, too, thinks Toby. He has to take some initiative, smooth this out.

"Since when did Toby start hanging out at Emma's?" asks Kendra, staring at Nadia.

Nadia gives Kendra a guilty glance, pretends to fiddle with her necklace, a wolf emblem at the end of it. Toby's surprised when Manny clutches his arm, stares innocently at him. All those times he could've told Kendra...he's such a loser.

"I go to Emma's to see my girlfriend," says Toby, cheeks burning.

"Emma's your girlfriend?" says Kendra, eyes bugging out.

Toby wraps an arm around Manny's waist. "No, Manny is."

Kendra sticks her tongue at the side of her mouth, shakes her head, then starts to laugh. Manny glares at her, Toby closing and reopening his eyes.

"I...I must be hard of hearing," says Kendra. "I thought I heard you say...Manny's your girlfriend?"

"That's what he said," says Manny, clutching Toby tighter.

Kendra looks to Toby for clarification, and for the first time, he sees the sadness he's been hearing in her voice. He should be upset. What right does she have to get upset? She dumped him, found another guy. Instead, he feels horrible.

"Kendra...," starts Toby.

"I'm...I'm surprised," says Kendra. "But...happy for you, guys. Really."

"Kendra, seats are filling fast," notes Nadia, inching her chair back.

Kendra nods, gives Toby one final pointed look, walks with Nadia to the other side of the auditorium. Toby sits down fast, lets out a quick breath.

"Manny, I can explain," says Toby, turning to her.

"I can deal with your ex showing up," comforts Manny. "You're here for me, right?"

"Right!"

"Then, on with the show," whispers Manny, twirling Toby's tie. "I can't wait for later tonight."

Manny took that pretty well as he watches her leave. What she won't take well is that he's been in contact with Kendra since the beginning of this week. He should have never sent that e-mail, talked to her on the phone.

"Going to be a good show, ain't it, President Dork?" asks Sully, sitting right in front of Toby.

Toby glares at him, puts his face in his hands.

VII.

The backstage is dark, and she can only think of two words. Long hug. Long hug. That was a very long hug. When she saw them in the wings, she thought maybe, maybe it wasn't her. Sure enough, it was her. Manny fastens her bonnet, fingers shaking. J.T. stands next to her, Liberty about to signal their entrance.

"Hard of hearing, my foot!" mutters Manny. "The acoustics in the auditorium are top notch! I've acted here enough times to know."

"Is incoherent muttering a drama exercise I'm unaware of?" whispers J.T.

"Kendra's here," explains Manny. "And she was hugging Toby."

"Oh," says J.T., eyes dropping. "A hug is a hug, though."

"That was an 'I miss you hug', not a 'hey you' hug," groans Manny. "She better keep her toned muscles and gymnastic-perfect body off him."

"Manny, you're overreacting, and we're not even acting yet," comforts J.T. "Toby's gone on you. Tonight is you guys' night, okay?"

Manny sighs, looks at J.T., who doesn't waver. Spying Toby again, his camera is already up, red button blinking. He is there for her. She nods, sees Liberty's signal. J.T. gives her hand a slight squeeze, before they go on stage to a chorus of cheers.

"Good evening!" says J.T. into his microphone. "I am Sir Philip Degrassi."

"And I'm his daughter, Charlotte," says Manny, doing a slight curtsy, viewing her mother and father in the first row.

"Tonight, we're travelling back in time to celebrate fifty years of Degrassi!" says J.T. to enthusiastic applause.

"Starting with the happening sixties," continues Manny. "To show us what's groovy and outasite, baby, here's Darcy Edwards and her love groove dancers, here to kick us off. So let's head back to 1968!"

J.T. and Manny exit stage right, Darcy coming out in her pink shades, and polka-dot print dress, dancers in tow. That went smoothly, and she got to see her parents and Toby. She shouldn't be worried. Let Kendra hug Toby once. If she has any pull with the stars, she'd be hugging him for as long as fifty years.

VIII.

"I bet Manny loves having her close-up!" whispers Kendra, dropping in the seat next to Toby's.

"Huh?" says Toby, his eye leaving the lens of the camera.

He hasn't imagined it. Kendra is sitting next to him. Everyone else's eyes are turned to the stage, watching Darcy dip with the best of them to poppy music. He wondered why no one felt the need to sit by him in the seat to his left. It was a good seat, too. Most of his friends were in the show or running the show. Sully kept glancing at the empty seat, laughing at Toby with one of his friends.

"Oh, so Isaacs does have friends," remarks Sully, tossing Toby another glance.

"Why don't you be a friend and move your huge head to the side a bit,' returns Kendra. "It's blocking his view."

Sully says something foul under his breath, faces front, Toby smiling. Kendra grins too.

"Thanks," whispers Toby, raising the camera.

Onstage, they were going to the seventies, Danny and Derek, with twin afros, doing disco as Spinner and Clara change the lights to a funky pink and purple, giving the stage an eye-hurting glow. The crowd laughs as they do the Hustle.

"That's Liberty's younger brother, right?" laughs Kendra.

"Right," answers Toby. "My eyes are bleeding."

"Same here," laughs Kendra. "Manny...put together a good show. Saw the program."

Kendra's quiet for the next act, which includes Heather Sinclair doing an interpretive dance to a mix of Madonna songs, the bra strap under her leotard showing accidentally, much to Sully's pleasure.

The program. Toby presses pause as the stage lights go off, signalling a brief intermission.

"Are you...really okay with me and Manny?" he asks, biting his lip.

"I...I don't understand it, Toby," admits Kendra. "She's...she's not what I would've thought you'd go for."

It shouldn't matter what you think, groans Toby inwardly. She doesn't get to pick for him, or be interested for that matter. Didn't she ditch him?

"You expected me to wait for you?" questions Toby, staring at his feet.

"I...I'm not sure what I was expecting," answers Kendra. "Toby...what's this?"

They both stare at the book Toby has rested on his lap. He neglected to put it in his briefcase, but he forgot he had it.

"She's...she's not trying to change you, is she?" demands Kendra, her voice lifting.

"No!" says Toby. "This is...this is..."

"You wouldn't tell me anyway," interrupts Kendra. "Like you didn't tell me you were dating her. Toby, you better be careful, okay?"

Careful. That's what Clara wanted him to be too, like Manny was going to ruin his life. She was making his life better. Didn't anyone see that?

Kendra shakes her head at him, makes her way to her seat next to Nadia. Toby puts the book in his briefcase, zipping it furiously. He's thankful the stage lights come on again, Manny entering.

"And now for the first two forays into the crazy decade of the nineties," announces Manny. "I arranged this number, and instead of Nate Booth, we will be having a repeat performance by Danny Van Zandt."

The crowd applauds loudly, Manny smiling lovingly at her parents, then Toby. He almost feels as if he doesn't deserve it. She exits, though he can see her frame in the wings. Darcy comes out in a conservative, green sweater, pearls, tan slacks, and pennyloafers, prim and proper. Danny follows in a few seconds, wearing a jean jacket, white T-shirt, and jeans with a huge chain attached. Over his afro is a big bandanna with a picture of a skull. The difference in appearance elicits a wave of laughter, including Toby, smiling after all those negative feelings.

"Hit it!" yells Danny.

A bouncy rap song fills the auditorium, Danny and Darcy grooving to the beat.

_"Baby seems we never ever agree, you like the movies and I like T.V._," sings Darcy, shimmying next to Danny.

"_You take things serious, and I take them light_," raps Danny.

"_I go to bed early_," says Darcy, twirling her pearls.

"_And I party all night_," raps Danny, shaking his butt. 

Toby beams, suddenly realizing that Manny probably organized this with love, care, and attention. People were enjoying it, too, and Darcy did her best to act attracted to Danny, as much as she would've with Nate.

"_Our friends are saying we ain't gonna last," _sings Darcy, pouting. _"Cause I move slowly..."_

_"And baby I'm fast," _finishes Danny.

"_I like it quiet," _sings Darcy.

"_And I like to shout_..." sings Danny.

"_But when we get together, it just all works out," _they sing in unison.

The two of them do a little hip-hop, Darcy purposely struggling so she can stay in character, Danny going full out. They sing the chorus:

I take two steps forward  
I take two steps back  
We come together cuz opposites attract  
And you know: It ain't fiction  
Just a natural fact  
We come together cuz opposites attract

This was definitely his favorite routine so far, and they were all good. Manny's message is loud and clear, and he couldn't be happier about it. He'd have to make a copy of the tape, replay this. 

"_Who'd have thought we could be lovers..._," sings Darcy.

There was a change in the mood, as if the lights had changed color, but no, they're the same. He shakes a little, feels this intense burning in his gut. Turning his head slightly, he can see Kendra staring at him, mouth tight. Toby lets the camera drop to his knees. No matter how much he loves the routine, he can't bare to tape another second.

IX.

"Places, places, people!" says Liberty, eagerly. "We're almost through!"

Liberty pats Manny hard on the back without meaning to, Manny wincing a little. Yeah, she's excited too, she thinks, giving Liberty an awkward look. All the performers were up to par, Danny and Darcy's duet better than she originally thought. And Toby's reaction? Priceless. He had to have known what she was trying to say. He usually did.

Chante and her army of blue and gold uniformed cheerleaders go to the entrance of the stage. Manny smiles encouragingly at a couple girls, including Hazel, who to her surprise, won't return the smile. Hazel always smiles at her.

"You girls are gonna be excellent!" says Manny.

Chante smirks, waits for the light cue. As the light changes to a bright yellow, the girls bound out onto the stage, blue and gold pom-poms shining brilliantly. She'd have to thank Spinner and Clara for their contributions. All the acts looked amazing.

"Hit me with that funky track!" yells Chante.

A fun, light-hearted rap song pumps out of the speakers, most of the crowd nodding in synch to the beat or clapping their encouragement. The cheerleaders twirl two times in synchronization, flashing playful smiles. It reminded Manny of one of the pep rallies she used to do with the girls, only she worked with the senior girls, and she let Hazel and Chante work with the newer squad members, who made up this squad.

The girls kick out their legs in unison, and she almost wishes she was out there with them, the way they're moving, so carefree, so joyful. The only activity that gave her more joy was Drama Club, though. Crouching, they lift their arms into the air a second later, then dip in time to the rhythm. Chante was definitely into it, the most animated.

"Work it, girl," whispers Manny, starting to clap along.

"Wait!" calls out Chante.

The music track stops, Chante nodding to the cheerleaders. Hazel steps to the side, crosses her arms.

"_I said..._," yells Chante.

Stomping their feet to a made-up, on point beat, the cheerleaders shout in perfect time:

"_I'm gonna be famous! I'm gonna be famous!" _chant the cheerleaders.

Manny throws furtive glances to the crowd, pulse increasing.

"_You'll know what my name is, you'll know what my name is_!" continue Chante and the cheerleaders, bouncing with ditzy grins on their faces.

She can still stop this, run out there, pull Chante's braids. Staring pathetically at Hazel, who looks on the verge of tears, Manny's heart begins to beat, to this sick rhythm, this sick cheer that pounds in her ears.

Chante and the girls motion that they're lifting up their shirts, shirts remaining in place. Manny hears cackles, snickers, every quiet laugh. Her cheeks go rosy, ears burning.

Her sight finds Toby, lips parted in shock. He immediately stands, making his way out of the auditorium. She can't see him like this, failing to stop the tears.

Someone on the sound crew, perhaps Spinner, thankfully resumes the track, forcing them to do the rest of the original routine. Chante smiles despite the move, glaring at Manny, crying in the wings, from onstage.

"Manny?" asks Liberty, leading her to a chair near the props table. 

She hears the door open, won't look Toby in the eye as he stands on the other side of Manny.

"Want us to stop the show?" says Liberty.

"What good would that do?" snaps Manny. "Let...let them keep going."

Liberty hurriedly rushes to the side, angrily staring at Chante and her posse. Toby slides a chair in her direction, so he can sit next to Manny.

"Manny, don't let anyone take away what else has happened tonight," whispers Toby, holding her to him. "The crowd loves the show."

"Toby...how many...how many times are they going to throw that in my face?" chokes out Manny. "If my parents...my dad..."

"They won't know," assures Toby. "I taped the real Manny tonight. That's who your parents love. The real Manny."

"You too?" breathes Manny.

"I'm back here, aren't I?" replies Toby, cupping her chin.

**Author's Note: Hey all! I'm not sure when the next update will be, as we've had a death in our family. Tragically, one of our younger family members passed suddenly. But I did start this chapter, and wanted to finish. I'm also going on vacation fairly soon. So maybe really late August or early Sept. Not sure. Needless to say, I'm glad this chapter has light-hearted moments. Thanks for reading!**


	12. Somewhere

**XII. Somewhere**

_There's a time for us,  
Some day a time for us,  
Time together with time spare,  
Time to learn, time to care,  
Some day!_

_Somewhere.  
We'll find a new way of living,  
We'll find a way of forgiving  
Somewhere . . ._

**Somewhere was written by Stephen Sondheim, with lyrics by Leonard Bernstein, and appears in the film **_**West Side Story. **_**The dialogue and lyrics appear in the 1961 movie and hasn't been changed.**

_Such Great Heights _is the property of the Postal Service.

"Where are you going?" asks Hazel.

"Just somewhere," replies Ashley, popping a grape into her mouth.

Craig wasn't giving in terms of the details. All he said was they'd be leaving the variety show afterparty earlier than everyone else, and that he'd have her home at a decent hour so Kate wouldn't go crazy. Well, not knowing anything is making her crazy.

"It's no Cancun," laughs Ashley, winking at Hazel.

"Yeah, I still can't believe it," sighs Hazel. "The Brooks are so nice, treating me to a vacation for graduating, especially there. Not like I'm their daughter or anything."

"Come on, Hazel," says Ashley. "You were there when he was in and out of the hospital, and you've always treated him well."

Better than I treated Craig, she adds in her mind. But she was making it up to him. A whole month in England would prove how much she cared for him, and she can't foresee anything tearing them apart, after they weathered so many things– other romantic interests, cheating, distance, pride. Pride? That one just popped out of nowhere, but it's true. They could both be proud; they'd rather listen to themselves in most cases. On the other hand, they were really the only ones to break each other out of whatever situation was occurring. The scariest had to be when she went to Joey's, and she found him hitting his stepfather. She worked her way in, told him to calm down. Wow, if she ever went through something like that, with her out of control, she'd be scared. The more cautious Ashley wouldn't, she comforts herself.

"I'm going to go congratulate Manny...if she's speaking to anybody," announces Hazel, leaving Ashley alone with the refreshments.

Despite the flub, Manny's show was well-received. One thing she has to give Manny credit for is that the girl is imaginative. Ashley has never seen such a nicely organized, fun event, even throwing in the semi-formals at Degrassi.

"Discussing sunglasses?" asks Craig, coming up behind her.

"Shush," chastises Ashley.

"Hand bags?" continues Craig with an impish smile. "No, I like Hazel."

"We were discussing Jimmy," admits Ashley.

Craig darts his eyes, frown forming on his face, forehead wrinkling.

"And how awesome Hazel and Jimmy are together," adds Ashley, poking Craig in the shoulder.

"You're awful," says Craig, grinning and grabbing Ashley's hand.

Ashley laughs as they pass their schoolmates, stalling at the front of the auditorium stage. It hasn't factored in yet that she'll be crossing this stage tomorrow, leaving Degrassi for more opportunities. This is where it all happened. She met everyone here. She met Craig here. Despite all the crises, the identity changes, the pain, she truly loves this place. Getting away didn't quench any of her longings to be at the school that shaped her.

"I'm feeling reflective," says Ashley, leaning her head on Craig's shoulder.

"I'm feeling hungry," replies Craig.

"Grapes were good," suggests Ashley.

"No...I want some greasy, finger food," sighs Craig. "Like...at a bar or restaurant."

Bar? Restaurant? Was that a hint? She and Craig never went to those places, usually settling for the food court. Other than that, they were more into movies and concerts, things they could discuss.

"What'd you have in mind?" prompts Ashley.

"You and me...leaving...now," whispers Craig in her ear.

Ashley nods encouragingly, lets Craig lead her past the throng of variety show celebrants. They'd have their turn to celebrate tomorrow.

II.

"Reversible hair, man," praises Derek, turning the hair around.

Spinner pats the hair cluelessly, feels like he's touching a hairy marshmallow. He was really only wearing it because of Jimmy's urging. He should've known the whole thing was a cruel joke, seeing Jimmy laugh behind Derek.

"Enough of that," groans Spinner, tossing the afro back to Derek.

Derek smirks, high-fives Jimmy, wanders off. Jimmy follows, rolling to where Hazel stands. The crueler joke was what the cheerleaders did to Manny. Luckily, he started the track again so Manny wouldn't have to endure any more torture. They weren't close when they dated; she is his friend, however. His glance immediately went to Emma when that happened, viewing her and her mother stare flabbergasted at the cheer. He's fairly sure Toby went to comfort Manny, like he tried to do for Emma.

He looks over the heads of several party goers. The Santoses, Toby, Emma, and Manny were in the center, Manny receiving congratulations. No, better to wait. Then again, he's been waiting for how many months? Maybe that ski trip was a fluke, an out-of-town fling. Why did it work so well when they came home, then? Dating Darcy at the time made it difficult, but he enjoyed talking to Emma about the exotic birds, the resort, the pageant. Emma was the first person to actually care about his grades. She told him he could improve after he confessed he slacked off near the holidays. His parents cared, of course, and Paige and Darcy would say the occasional comments. Still, Emma really pushed him to study, and this past one ended up being his best semester ever. Darcy was a great girlfriend for different reasons, when he needed someone, and he's sure he can be a great boyfriend to Emma, who needed someone. That is, if she lets him.

His thoughts are interrupted by Kendra staring right in front of him, arms crossed. She looks upset, he thinks. He's betting no one convinced her to put on an afro, though.

"Kendra!" he says. "Uh..."

"Uh...so when were you going to tell me?" exclaims Kendra over the music, which isn't that loud to begin with.

"Tell you..."

"Not in phone conversations, IM messages, not even when I landed at the airport?" says Kendra, lowering her voice.

"Dude, throw me a hint," shrugs Spinner.

"Okay, so you told me you and Manny split up, and that she moved in with Emma, and not this?" replies Kendra, dropping her eyes.

Oh, Toby and Manny. Well, in all honesty, he was hoping Nadia would spill the beans. Or Toby himself. Great, I'm getting the flack because everyone's so secretive.

"Instead, I'm hearing he's leaving books over Manny's...or Emma's...whatever," says Kendra, shaking her head.

He hates seeing his little sister unhappy. She did choose Sam, though, so why is she unhappy? As far as he knew, she and Sam were pretty solid.

"You have a boyfriend," reminds Spinner, gently hugging her from the side.

"I...don't, actually," mumbles Kendra, clear enough for Spinner to hear.

"What happened?" exclaims Spinner.

"A bouncy little cheerleader at Gleeson," explains Kendra, blushing. "Sam wasn't into long distance relationships. Or me, I guess."

Cheating? He'd pound Sam. Spinner curls his fists, grits his teeth. Isaacs never pulled a stunt like this. Ugh, he'd throttle him. Kendra glances at Spinner.

"Oh no...Spinner, that won't solve anything," says Kendra, relaxing his hand.

She's right. Interacting with Sam wasn't one of his favorite things to do, anyways. Sam came to their house a few times, but mostly he made Kendra walk to wherever they were meeting. The jerk also liked to brag about how he only used to date cheerleaders in front of Kendra. Spinner dated cheerleaders too, he can't lie. That didn't mean he didn't try to be a good boyfriend to all of them.

"Sorry, Kendra," says Spinner.

"What do you know?" gasps Kendra, smiling a bit. "Friendship Club tamed the wild beast. A more mature Spinner, huh?"

"Yeah, well...um, Toby and Manny...seem mature from what I've seen," confesses Spinner.

Kendra slinks out of Spinner's hold, clearly not liking his response. She had to know that breaking up with Toby would have consequences, though, he thinks. When his eyes started to stray towards Manny, he lost Paige. That's how it works. He moved on, and Kendra should, too.

"He used to leave his books at our house," whispers Kendra, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah," says Spinner, joining her.

"Media Immersion, especially," sighs Kendra. "It was an excuse to see me again. Gosh, I'm getting all girly. I hate that!"

Spinner and Kendra exchange amused glances, start to laugh. Kendra massages her forehead, embraces Spinner lightly. Eh, they were both losing in the romance department. The Masons will be lucky one of these days. Either that, or he'd end up like Jerry, his co-worker who was waiting for his ex-wife to return after ten years.

"Spending the night at Nadia's," shares Kendra. "We'll hang post-graduation?"

"We better," insists Spinner.

Kendra kisses Spinner on the cheek, locates Nadia talking to Ms. Hatzilakos. Spinner props himself up from the wall, searches for Emma, who has left the group surrounding Manny. She left? Yeah, this night's a real winner.

A paper plate appears right under his nose.

"For the tech crew hero," says Emma, as Spinner takes the brownie.

"Just doing my duty," replies Spinner. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Had Spinner written all over it," answers Emma.

"Did Manny send you over to...like, I don't know, thank me?" asks Spinner, smiling.

"No, I came over myself," reassures a red-faced Emma.

One beat of Spinner's heart goes extra fast, then slows down. That was definitely the most hopeful thing he's heard since the party. Emma clears her throat, plays with the sleeve of her dress awkwardly.

"We're having a girls' night after her date with Toby," says Emma.

"Oh...cool," says Spinner.

"It'll be good. We hardly got to hang out...since the ski trip," says Emma, practically whispering the last two words.

Ski trip? Is he supposed to take that as a sign that she's interested? Emma's so hard to read. That sort of excited him, however.

"Nice...uh, dress...thing," stammers Spinner.

Idiot stuttering, he moans inwardly. Most people were wearing jeans or more casual clothes, so maybe the comment would go over well.

"People get dressed up for the theater all the time," waves off Emma, putting her hands behind her back. "Right?"

"Yeah...I know," says Spinner, quickly.

"It's not like I dressed up for anyone special," says Emma, just as quickly. "That's not what you were thinking, was it?"

Spinner blinks at her, confused. "Uh...no?"

"It's my best friend's big night," continues Emma, getting more and more flustered. "I...I wanted to look decent."

Okay, he forgot that Emma could be pretty awkward sometimes. Adorably awkward. That's sort of like him too, when he's around someone he likes. When Paige agreed to their first date, that ended up not happening, he got flustered as well. Jimmy knows what he's saying. Emma probably did like him.

"You look more than decent," compliments Spinner.

Emma offers him a reluctant smile, lets Spinner loop his arm with hers. She feels light against him, nice and gentle. The luck may have arrived sooner than he planned.

"Party's not over," says Spinner.

She squeezes his arm. "No, it's not."

III.

Manny does her best to appear proud, her usual upbeat self. The cheer replays in her ears as she shakes hands, meets parents she hasn't met, tells people they did a job well done. It's almost like a sick ringtone that makes her ears burn, which stinks because she's wearing a pair of earrings her mother lent her that afternoon. Maria was so proud of her, and while she is proud after the show, it's all been tainted.

The earrings were simple gold hoops she paired with a frilly, white jersey dress and white ballet slippers. She knew both her father and Toby would love the outfit, and she loved it too, making her feel semi-angelic. Would her parents consider her as innocent when they learned the truth? They were the innocent ones. Toby consoled her as best he could, like always. He did make her feel better, getting her to come to the party for a little while, promising they'd leave shortly. She'd much rather be with him anyways, particularly because when she stepped out in this dress, his sight held hers, and Kendra...well, she didn't seem important anymore.

"Really sensational, Manny," congratulates Coach Armstrong.

"Thank you," says Manny. "Hey, maybe we can do a teacher's variety show one of these days."

"Hmm, well, Daphne sings," informs Coach Armstrong, not cracking a smile. "I play...zydeco. That's something the kids haven't heard."

Coach Armstrong gives her an appreciative nod, Toby and Manny staring at each other.

"Zydeco? What's that?" questions Manny.

"Beats me," says Toby.

"Does that man ever smile?" says Manny.

"I've never seen it," replies Toby. "You...you're doing a good job smiling."

"Cause you're here," praises Manny, wrapping Toby's arms around her waist.

If Coach Armstrong was the sternest person at Degrassi, Toby had to be the warmest, the most open. As hard as it is to acknowledge, she won't have his support in California, not like this. Likewise, he wouldn't have hers. J.T. would substitute; she made sure of that. No more dates, kisses, flirting...all suspended. A frown replaces the smile as Manny pulls away.

"What's the matter?" asks Toby.

"I want to be alone," sighs Manny.

Toby smiles sadly. "Okay."

Toby begins to walk to the exit.

"No, I want to be alone with you," says Manny, blocking him. "Let's go...please."

Both of them glance around the room, find Chante in high spirits, talking to other cheerleaders. Of course, she's in high spirits. She totally tricked me, got the reaction she craved, thinks Manny.

"I need to be home at ten," informs Manny, apologetically. "For Emma."

"I'll have you home by nine-thirty," promises Toby. "Can I go to my locker first?"

Manny repositions herself, allowing Toby to pass. She hopes the trip to the locker is quick. Catching a glimpse of her mother, she motions to Toby, indicating that she's going. Maria blows her a kiss, nods. Joseph, talking animatedly with Spike, would probably not be the same way, as much as he liked Toby. Going off was going off to him, whether the boy is virtuous or not.

I'm not virtuous, thinks Manny, maneuvering past some well-wishers, including Darcy and Nadia. She stops at the refreshment table, grins as she catches J.T. and Liberty doing the tango. At least they were having fun. Hearing the clack of the ladle against the punch bowl, she looks to her right, groans.

"You deserved it," says Chante, raising her cup in mock salute.

"Your evilness?" snaps Manny. "I think not."

"So arrogant," sighs Chante. "I bet you believe this school should worship you. Homecoming queen, movie star, Miss Degrassi, part of a really cute couple. A little humility never hurts."

"What?" cries Manny. "Chante, I..."

"My dad didn't even care that I made the squad," whispers Chante, leaning in. "He's too busy trying to pick out what boarding school is farthest from him. My mom...convinced him to send me here to live with her."

Manny knew about Chante's father, based on past talks they had, but she didn't know about her mother making a case for her to stay in Toronto. The only other person she was close to that went through a divorce was Toby, and she's aware how messy that ended.

"Divorce...is hard...," starts Manny.

"They're not divorced!" exclaims Chante. "They're...they're separated! There's a difference!"

Unclear what to say, Manny drops her gaze, swallows a lump in her throat. Darcy told her once Chante's parents hadn't been together for a couple years, so she just assumed the marriage was over. However, does that mean she has to attack her?

"Why are you taking it out on me?" says Manny.

"You've got like four parents," says Chante, tears at the edges of her eyes. "Two in the front row. Then it's Emma's mom, Simpson...how is that fair? I thanked my parents in the program...they're nowhere...they can't read it."

Manny shakes her head, tries to reach out to Chante. Chante slams down her punch cup, moving past a startled Derek and Danny. I should've known, thinks Manny. The apology flowers, the cold remarks about her parents...I was just too busy and blind. No, she shouldn't be too empathetic. Chante embarrassed her, disrespected her.

Forget it. Manny walks to the exit to find Toby. California has to be better than tonight. She can't wait to get away.

IV.

Toby sets his camera bag on the floor, mouths his combination as the locker swings open. The shaky clatter of the locker echoes in the dark hallway. This sound forces him to recall the last time he came to Degrassi in the dark, to decorate Manny's locker. He didn't have to open it, and therefore, had no idea what was inside. Today, after meeting her there several times, he does. Posters of Audrey Hepburn, Lauren Bacall, and Drew Barrymore, her favorite actresses. Penelope Cruz and Halle Berry were at the bottom, her recent faves after discovering the beauty of Oscar nominees in independent features. Then, there was a picture of her and Emma at the premiere, with her parents at one of her father's construction sites celebrating Joseph's birthday. There were movie quotes written on her miniature chalkboard, one of Toby's election posters, and finally, his own favorite, the picture Emma took on their first date. Toby wanted her to take it off since his eyes were halfway closed, but Manny couldn't be convinced. That said, the picture is what he looks at first whenever Manny opens her locker.

With school ending, all the pictures have probably been taken off. Manny liked to clean early. That wasn't the case with him. Sighing, Toby drags out what he should've gotten rid of, places a nearby trashcan at the side. The tickets, what he came for, go straight into his pants pocket. Other stuff, his math and geography notes, scrap paper from his Kytel projects, comic books all go in the trash. Half the stuff he doesn't recognize. He feels in the rear, thumb touching something sticky. It's a piece of tape holding the Fruits Basket poster. Toby removes the poster, assesses it.

"Best storyline ever," comments a sweet, ringing voice.

He feels the urge to crumple the poster, not dig himself any deeper.

"Inuyasha's tops," argues Toby, grinning slightly.

"Your cell still play the theme?" says Kendra, standing near him.

"Like always," replies Toby. "Took me awhile to find it, remember?"

Kendra nods. "I showed you the site. Bet Manny couldn't do that."

She moves to put her hand on Toby's waist as he moves to the side, slams the locker.

"Then people started hotlinking it, and the file got taken down," says Toby, glaring at her.

He hates being cross, although what's with her acting all nice? Kendra basically insinuated that his relationship with Manny wasn't good. He didn't make any snide remarks towards Sam or their relationship.

"You were nice earlier," moans Kendra.

"So were you," points out Toby, shouldering the bag. "Til you mentioned Manny."

"Sorry!" exclaims Kendra. "I just...don't see you as compatible. Sure, she's pretty..."

"That's not all I'm attracted to," says Toby, trying to go past her.

Kendra stands in front of him. Boy, is he getting blocked tonight. He's definitely more annoyed when Kendra does it. Unfortunately, that's not halting him from looking in her deep eyes, pleading, gorgeous.

"Fine. Explain it to me," says Kendra.

"She's ...talented...sharp...incredibly sweet...loyal," stammers Toby.

Kendra bristles at the last word. The word slipped from his tongue. He really didn't mean to say that, especially with a tone of bitterness. Everything is so complicated tonight. He figured he'd enjoy Manny's show, maybe see Kendra across the room, and things would be drama-free after that really bad Confirmation party.

"I'm not in the mood, Kendra," says Toby. "Sorry."

"Toby...I made a mistake...dumping you," whispers Kendra, starting to cry. "What's that saying? What goes around comes around. Learned that first-hand."

Still paying attention, Toby locates his car keys. He guesses that means Sam's history. Honestly, he's not glad. Just because she ditched him didn't mean he wanted her to get ditched. Kendra was kind to him, accepted him, liked him when no one else did.

"I'm pathetic," whispers Kendra, covering her eyes.

"You're not pathetic," consoles Toby, hugging her.

To his surprise, Kendra draws him closer, cries all over the top of his suit jacket. He glances absent-mindedly at the locker, thinking of when he decorated hers and how she didn't seem to appreciate it, or him. Total opposite with Manny. Toby releases her.

"Toby!" calls someone familiar in the distance.

In the dim, blueish light, he can make out Manny near the doors of the auditorium. To his relief, she looks more anxious than angry.

"You can call me if you want to talk to someone," whispers Toby. "Have a safe trip to California, alright?"

Kendra nods wordlessly, eyes tracking Toby as he hands her the Fruits Basket poster, walks, slips his hand through Manny's, the two of them leaving the school.

V.

Car horns beep as they cross the street, the little walking man mysteriously changing to the orange hand without much time in between. Must be a faulty light, he thinks. The street does look familiar, thank goodness. The previous instance where they were here, Ashley took the lead. Craig remembers how excited he was, having no idea where they were going. This is truly a role reversal.

He neglected to tell Ashley of the role reversal he told Joey about at his mother's grave. From zero to hero, or from bad guy to good guy. Tonight is the perfect night to start, on the eve of graduation, before Ashley leaves. Good thing she didn't mind taking the bus. Her car was being fixed, and he let Marco use his to go see Dylan. The bus wasn't so bad, though. Its driver knew this part of the city better than him.

Right under the building's neon sign, Craig checks to see if there's any clarity on Ashley's face. Nope...nice. That was probably due to the building looking a bit different, but buildings went through changes, renovations. The neon sign says STAR, one new addition, yet the place is the same address, the same feel.

"Familiar neighborhood?" encourages Craig.

"Um, no," says Ashley, uncomfortably grabbing Craig's arm.

They approach a man, burly and red-faced, blowing into a tissue. Ashley winces as he wipes his mouth with the same tissue.

"Do you need to card us?" asks Craig, smiling jovially at the man.

"Huh?" replies the man. "Oh! No...no, all welcome."

The man is Asian, though his English is good. He bows courteously to Craig and Ashley, resumes wiping.

"Thanks," says Craig, opening the door for Ashley.

Ashley goes inside, Craig trailing her. The immediate room is so dark, but the curtains leading to the main room are a brilliant shade of light blue. Exactly how it was last year. Ashley covers her mouth.

"The...Star Fantasy Club!" cries Ashley, clapping her hands. "Where we danced...where you..."

"Proposed," finishes Craig. "Yeah, when you and Kate were the only women, and I...uh, we had a very eventful night."

Craig chuckles as Ashley throws herself against him, embracing him. He knows all week every grade twelve has been reliving memories. Why not relive this one? In fact, why not make it a better memory? He remembers that night in flashes, as he went in and out of an episode. The energy was palpable, the confusion stupefying. What he can report, and this makes him glad, is that dancing with Ashley, after their first time sleeping together, made it all the more real that it really happened.

Craig and Ashley part, excitedly moving through the blue curtains, the soft material brushing against Craig's nose. A soft green light penetrates Craig's gaze. Hmm, that wasn't there before. Tables were stretched from one side to another, mainly Asian customers seated around them. Waiters carrying plates of unrecognizable food waddle past them.

"What the...," begins Craig.

"Fortune cookies?" interrupts Ashley, retrieving one from a bowl on the bar counter.

Where is the techno music? The subdued, blue and grey lighting? Have they entered a new dimension?

"Konichiwa!" greets a cheery waiter, practically bouncing to them.

"Hi," says Craig, nervously. "Isn't this the Star Fantasy Club?"

"No, we're new," replies the waitress. "This is the Toronto Star Sushi Restaurant. Star, for short. Table for two?"

"This...this used to be an alternative club," complains Craig. "What...what happened?"

"We bought them out," says the waitress, beaming. "You interested in those clubs? Oh, I see! What if we feed you and your pretty friend, and I'll send you to a good one?"

Ashley giggles. "Are there any in the area?"

"This ruins everything!" cries Craig. "This was supposed to be..."

"Our maki sushi will ruin hunger," interrupts the waitress. "Will make you less grumpy."

"No, it won't," pouts Craig.

Ashley rubs Craig's back. "Stop. We'll stay and eat."

"Excellent!" exclaims the waitress. "Right this way."

The two follow the waitress to a table on the left, near a stage where there's a piano, and to Craig's horror, a large karaoke machine. Great, they're surrounded by all these adult businessmen, when they could be partying at a fun club. Craig throws down his napkin in disgust.

"This is insane!" whispers Craig. "Ash, this was going to be commemorative. Or whatever that word is."

"It's the right word," assures Ashley, patting Craig from across the table.

"Another screw-up," sighs Craig, slouching in his seat.

"The restaurant's pretty," says Ashley. "I'm sure the sushi is good. The company...perfect."

Craig tries hard not to smile, failing to succeed.

"No music," he still groans. "Not a Craig and Ashley date without some form of music. All we have here is a vocal torture machine."

They glance at the karaoke machine, where a larger man is wailing. _Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to see me cry? _A karaoke standard, and also one of Craig's least favorite songs. He can stick a chopstick in his ear possibly.

"Hmm, Toby taught me like five words in Japanese," says Ashley, looking at the specials. "When he was in his anime obsession faze."

"Toby...now, he can actually plan a romantic surprise," says Craig. "Me? Goes completely wrong."

"You said you were hungry," reminds Ashley. "Sashimi?"

"I...can't focus," stammers Craig.

Ashley stands, attempts to get Craig to do the same. Craig, no longer resisting, lets Ashley help him rise. He's not sure why they're getting up before ordering. The Boy George singer bows to enthusiastic applause, walks confidently offstage.

"Any takers?" shouts a waiter, resetting the karaoke machine.

"Me!" calls out Ashley.

"Aha, our first lady!" says the waiter, happily. "Grace us with a song."

The businessman in the audience clap wildly, their wives politely due to raised interest. Ashley grins, guides Craig to the edge of the stage.

"I'd love to do a duet," says Ashley to the waiter.

The waiter beams, lets Ashley flip through the collection. Curious, Craig's eyes drift to the songbook as well. Duet? No, he already felt disappointed in the evening. Ashley seems amped, however.

"Why are we doing this?" whispers Craig.

"Commemoration," replies Ashley. "I sang a duet with you before I went to England, and it ended badly. Tonight, we'll sing again, knowing it won't end."

Craig turns red, awkwardly bouncing up and down on the soles of his shoes. Ashley and her way with words. Ugh, one song won't kill him.

"That Boy George song...what a tough act to follow," whispers Craig. "Okay. What are we singing?"

Flipping through, they find a lot of flippant, pop songs, similar songs to what they had to play in the pageant, not at all happy to do so. Towards the end, they find more modern ones, including one Ashley believes fits the occasion. Craig has to agree; the song suits what they were going through, what they've been through actually.

The waiter gives them each a microphone, politely sits at the table nearest the stage. Music goes through two large speakers on either side of the piano, Ashley and Craig moving their heads to the side in unison. Ashley sings:

_I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles  
In our eyes are mirror images and when  
We kiss they're perfectly aligned  
_

Craig taps his microphone against the soft cloth of his pants, quietly enjoying the relaxed nature of her voice, the subtle undertones. It's sweet to his ear, joyful as he's ever heard her, definitely not torture. They skipped the karaoke night on the ski trip; she would've killed any song then too. Instead, she sang to him, sharing their first kiss in so long. He sings, as nicely as he can:

_And I have to speculate that God himself  
Did make us into corresponding shapes like  
Puzzle pieces from the clay  
_

They turn to each other, as natural as two parts making a whole. Suddenly, he's not that aware of the businessmen shaking in their seats to the rhythm, the waiters pausing to appreciate their efforts, the blinding green light that illuminates this fairly odd scene. Ashley gently touches Craig's elbow, as they sing to one another.

_And true, it may seem like a stretch, but  
Its thoughts like this that catch my troubled  
Head when you're away when I am missing you to death  
When you are out there on the road for  
Several weeks of shows and when you scan  
The radio, I hope this song will guide you home  
_

Guide her home? They'd spent so many occasions guiding the other, nudging them to be better people, to trust, forgive, learn. London will be a piece of cake, a breeze, a well-needed rest from their Toronto troubles. Only they'd be a part for a month in the mean time. They continue:

_They will see us waving from such great  
Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say  
But everything looks perfect from far away,  
'come down now,' but we'll stay...  
_

"_Come down now_!" sings along the Boy George singer, standing, rocking back and forth to the beat.

"Everybody!" encourages Craig, stifling a laugh, which Ashley produces.

"_They will see us waving from such great heights!_" sing the customers at a few tables, nodding their head like Craig and Ashley.

This was definitely more fun than the last time they were here, Craig has to admit. Ashley blushes, buries her face in Craig's shoulder, chest shaking from laughing.

"Woo!" calls out Craig, the crowd cheering when the music fades.

The cheers continue as Craig plants a kiss on Ashley, the green light shifting to a new spot where they are, a new memory.

VI.

The green on the hill is almost grayish-blue, blades wafting in the scented wind. The aromatic air lends itself to the atmosphere. There's soft, crunchy grass; stars stretched out in pretty patterns; crickets chirping in cozy hideaways. To him, it seems right from a movie. He hopes she feels the same. This park has a lot of hills, has to to accommodate so many visitors. Gold signs below announce what's showing, the different times. However, one secluded hill is slightly hidden by a few branches, free of thorns and dirt.

Toby chanced upon it when he saw a rabbit hopping in the direction. He thought it was weird, despite the early morning hours. He stepped on a twig, and the animal scampered off. But it lead him to this spot, just as he's leading Manny through the few trees near the hill, towards the spot, hands over her eyes.

"I can't see," sighs Manny, stumbling to her left.

Toby stumbles too, moreso because of everything he's carrying, which is his camera bag, a basket, and Manny's jacket. Maybe he should've left something...the jacket. It's pretty hot for the last day in May.

"You're fine," whispers Toby, making sure the basket is firmly under his arm.

"I smell...honeysuckle," notes Manny. "And like...woodsy smells. We're not in the wilderness?"

"No," laughs Toby. "Um, you're not afraid of bears, are you?"

"Shut up!" cries Manny, laughing. "Pine...yeah, that's it. Pine. And...your cologne. I like that last one."

He makes her stop at the top of the hill so she won't fall. It's not a particularly steep hill, though a roll down wouldn't be pleasant. Outward, he spies couples and families on blankets, different colors against the green. All their eyes are aimed at a fairly large stage, a red curtain with a gold rope draped near the top. A bronze sign with the masks for comedy, and for tragedy, hangs above. Strings of white lights hang elsewhere, making the audience area well-lit.

"Keep 'em closed," instructs Toby, removing his hands.

Manny obediently keeps her eyes shut, as Toby unfurls the red and white-checkered blanket, kneels, begins arranging what he brought. The last item, he slices into two, puts the charm box in the middle, sets the plate nearest Manny. He stands next to her, grinning.

"Open," says Toby.

Her beautiful dark eyes open, and he's totally enthused with the reaction. Manny covers her cheeks, shakes in disbelief. The tickets were hard to come by, nearly all gone, but staying up that late that night was worth it, watching her smile from ear to ear.

"Shakespeare in the Park!" cries Manny, jumping up excitedly.

"Um...," starts Toby.

He can no longer speak as Manny moves her mouth against his, and he lets his arm fall to his sides. They crouch to the ground, Manny still moving her lips.

"Mmm, _West Side Story_," confesses Toby, through a break in the kiss.

"Awww," says Manny, resting her mouth, wiping lipstick off his.

"They were doing a series..."

"I love musicals," sighs Manny. "Love this one. Tony and Maria...Toby and Manny. Seriously similar names, don't you think?"

"Uh, I don't know," says Toby.

Luckily, he doesn't have to act like he knows the whole story as Manny takes in the rest of what he's done. Lit, white candles in gold candlesticks stood in the center, two pieces of chocolate cake on glass plates and two bottles of sparkling water to the left and right of the candles. The cake was store-bought; he's just not that good a cook.

"Dates with dessert and my dashing, leading man," says Manny, scooting closer to Toby.

"That's the plan...I guess," replies Toby, blushing.

An usher approaches them, breathing hard as he hikes up the hill. He probably loathes the guests who sit here. Toby hands him the tickets.

"Good choice," gasps the usher. "Best view in the park."

He disappears as fast as he came, jogging to a nearby family of four. The mother wipes some coleslaw off her son's chin. Yeah, his mother used to do stuff like that, before she became more of a name in Christmas Card and once-in-awhile-emails. Manny breaks him from his reverie by tracing her index finger along his wrist.

"This week was getting so sucky for us...and now, perfect," breathes Manny. "Can I have a copy of your speech too, maybe?"

"Yeah, I'll print it, give it to you at the airport," says Toby.

"Shh...no mention of airports," groans Manny, gaze dropping to the blanket. "Not when we're finally alone."

"My...my bad," replies Toby.

They laugh, Toby sure that saying was a Manny influence.

"Ready to eat?" suggests Manny.

"I'd rather feed you," whispers Toby in her ear.

Manny raises her eyebrows, parts her mouth. He takes her piece of cake, grateful that she hasn't seen the box yet. Scooping a little cake with the plastic fork, he lets Manny eat, pink lips smoothly covering the plastic. She meets his eyes, winks.

"Uh...," whispers Toby, freezing.

"This side of sensual, Isaacs," teases Manny, retrieving her plate. "Oh, what's this?"

Toby grins as Manny lifts the box. "Something I can't cut."

Manny gives him a perplexed look, undoes the bow of the box. Toby rubs his hands in anticipation. The charm seemed totally fitting. Not too cheesy, not too dull. Flipping open the box, she gasps, smiles.

"A snowflake," says Manny. "The first..."

"First real dance, first real kiss...ski trip," finishes Toby.

"And the first time I said I loved you, it was snowing," adds Manny.

He hasn't forgotten that, though he neglected to say it. Manny leans forward, kissing him lightly. The mix of her breath and sweet chocolate sends chills up his arms. He watches proudly as she clips the charm on, tapping it with her thumb.

"It won't snow in California," points out Toby.

"Here either," sighs Manny sadly.

"Yeah," realizes Toby.

"Come to Cali for a week," says Manny, stroking his cheek. "Stay with your mom."

Well, his mother did offer to let him come for his birthday...nah, no, his dad would hate it. Plus, he really does want Manny to focus on camp.

"Me and Cali won't mix," demurs Toby.

"You and me mix," says Manny. "I know I can persuade you, Toby."

Manny relaxes, sits by his side, stares into his eyes. Ugh, those eyes. If Kendra's were beautiful, Manny's were stunningly beautiful, like divert-your-stare-away-from-the-monitor beautiful. Okay, that's a pretty nerdy concept, but he's not exactly thinking clearly right now.

"Manny," protests Toby, weakly.

The orchestra, maybe some sign, starts to play, a loud overture. Manny doesn't say anymore regarding California, instead draping herself on Toby, his legs spread as she leans back into his chest.

"Best way to watch," sighs Manny, closing her eyes.

Toby rests his chin on her bare shoulder. His heart is making all kinds of movements, skin getting rosy and hot. He can't forget what he said to J.T., though holding Manny against him, the words are getting more cloudy in his brain. It doesn't help that Manny's completely lax, soft in his arms.

The plot of the play is pretty dark, not fluffy at all, Toby soon sees. There's cultural conflict, violence, but there are lighter scenes, scenes in wedding stores and on rooftops, even a pretend wedding. Manny smiled brightly through that entire song, a song he recognizes from the clerk singing to him on the cell. She looks up at Toby now and then, checking to see if he's enjoying it, he believes. He is, honestly. Some of the numbers were pretty cool, with fancy footwork he could never do, men in leather jackets and women in flowy, vibrant dresses.

"I'd love to get married young," sighs Manny.

"I just hope my wife likes me," says Toby.

Manny laughs as onstage, a young, thin man holds Maria tightly to him, reassuring her in a desperate whisper.

"It'll be alright. I know it," says the man. "We're really together now."

Maria cries on Tony's shoulder, matching him in desperation. The two young lovers were really projecting pain. Toby learned that word from Manny. Project. To feel so strongly everyone else can feel it.

"But it's not us," cries the actress portraying Maria. "It's everything around us."

Everything around us. Why can't their friends and family let them be happy? Sure, they're young, but they can't let each other go. That much is obvious.

"Then, I'll take you away, where nothing can get to us," promises Tony, smoothing Maria's dark, black tresses. "Not anyone or anything."

He has a feeling things are going to end fairly badly, based on Manny pulling Toby's arms around her, gripping them tight. She did that occasionally when they were watching the older, ill-fated romances at the drive-in.

"_There's a place for us," _sings Tony, softly, practically cooing in his lover's ear. "_Somewhere, a place for us. Peace and quiet, and open air...wait for us, somewhere."_

"_There's a time for us,_" returns Maria, running her fingers along Tony's chin. "_Someday a time for us, time together with time to spare, time to look, time to care..."_

"_Someday_," belts out Maria, going to the edge of the stage, tears streaming on her cheeks.

"_Somewhere," _joins Toby. "_We'll find a new way of living."_

"_We'll find a way of forgiving," _sings Maria, laying her head against Tony.

"_Somewhere," _they both sing.

The song continues, seeming to be an endless refrain. Somewhere. Dark black and white images appear in the back of Toby's mind. The dream with Rick. The fight with Justin. Manny in the hammock. He has no idea what it means. Then again, does any of this make any sense? Tony and Maria were electing to go off somewhere, whereas he and Manny were going off in separate directions. Perhaps the message is plans never work out.

That all seems void as Tony and Maria finish their song, stage lights darkening, two black shadows collapsing on the bed.

"Is that the end of the song?" asks Toby.

"Yes," answers Manny.

"Oh, the lights went dark," says Toby.

"Toby...they're um...you know," says Manny, blushing.

"Sleeping," says Toby, shrugging.

Manny's eyes widen. "No, they're...they're..."

She stops mid-sentence, turns a little, nose inches from Toby's. Okay, her eyes definitely penetrating now.

"They're making love," whispers Manny, leaning in.

Toby awkwardly scoots to the other side of the blanket. Why didn't he go to the pharmacy again? Oh yeah, the huge week they've had.

"Toby...I'm not accosting you," promises Manny, giggling. "Relax, sweetie."

He takes a deep breath. Yeah, but part of him would love to take the blanket somewhere else, and let their bodies do the talking.

"We should talk more, though," says Manny.

She wants to talk? That's good. He's talked...hasn't done the other stuff.

"Do you think you'll be ready...soon?" questions Manny, rubbing his knee. "It'll be six months when we see each other next. That's...a milestone."

Six months? She's right. Wow, he knows the number, although out loud, it sounds huge, amazing.

"Six months," repeats Toby to himself.

"When you're ready...we'll have some sort of sign," says Manny. "Um...you can say green light?"

Toby stares at Manny, touched she's trying to make him comfortable with this on some level. He'd have to find a way to get over these hang-ups, be with her, body and soul. Mmm, he figured the soul would be harder for guys. It's the body that's tripping him up.

"Deal," replies Toby, holding his hands out for Manny.

She easily slides in, and he's relieved that finally he's going lax, Manny's hair brushing his cheek. A piercing shot rings across the stage, through the park. Tony's gone, Maria crying. Manny, on the other hand, smiles, falls asleep on his chest, against his beating heart. Toby's own eyes start to droop, shutting the world off, the park fading to black.

**So these recent promos are interesting. Hey, at least Toby's alive, right:P Thanks for the reviews and the well wishes, guys! It lets me know people are reading. Lol. **


	13. Broken

**XIII. Broken**

_Wake up to a sunny day, not a cloud up in the sky  
Then it starts to rain, my defenses hit the ground  
And they shatter all around, so open and exposed  
I found strength in the struggle  
Face to face with my trouble_

_When you're broken in a million little pieces  
And you're trying but you can't hold on anymore  
Every tear falls down for a reason  
Don't you stop believing in yourself  
When you're broken_

_Little girl don't be so blue  
I know what you're going through  
Don't let it beat you up  
Heaven knows that getting scars  
Only makes you who you are  
Only makes you who you are  
No matter how much your heart is aching  
There is beauty in the breaking  
Yeah_

_When you're broken in a million little pieces  
And you're trying but you can't hold on anymore  
Every tear falls down for a reason  
Don't you stop believing in yourself  
When you're broken_

_Better days are gonna find you once again  
Every piece will find its place_

_When you're broken, when you're broken_

_When you're broken in a million little pieces  
And you're trying but you can't hold on anymore  
Every tear falls down for a reason  
Don't you stop believing in yourself  
When you're broken  
Oh, when you're broken  
When you're broken  
When you're broken_

**Broken is the property of Lindsay Haun and appears in the film **_**Broken Bridges.**_

"Ellie Nash."

Ellie lets her forehead meet the pillow in embarrassment. On the TV, her past self is visible, with multi-colored hair and a don't-wanna-be-there slouch. At least her eyes appear sure, holding the camera's gaze.

"What are your hopes and dreams?" asks an offscreen Marco, voice a higher pitch.

"Ignoring the cliche, wistful nature of the question...," starts onscreen Ellie.

Ellie laughs wholeheartedly, Marco banging the table in front of them happily.

"Oh man, so glad I kept this," speaks up Marco.

"I'm very committed to being in the film industry," continues grade eight Ellie. "Totally in the camp that feels we should move away from blockbusters, return to the age of avante-garde cinema, that is, if successful studios were more concerned with resonance over revenue."

She, Marco, and Alex collapse in a fit of hysterics, Marco holding onto his chest to catch his breath. Wow, seeing herself at thirteen brought on all these emotions: sadness that Marco and her would probably cease to work on the same class projects; amazement that her style was pretty different; happiness that she made it to the end; a bit of annoyance that she was so sarcastic.

"I have the urge to hit you and agree with you," teases Alex, rising to sit Indian-style. "Eh, we should've been friends back then. A better pick than Amy."

Ellie smirks, glad that Alex was closer to her than Amy years later. She has really made some great friends here. Marco's practically her soulmate. They were responsible for all these changes, most of them great.

"So what happened with film?" says Alex. "You're all journalism now."

"More comfortable writing," admits Ellie, shrugging. "Even when we did those projects, I liked doing the scripts better than anything else."

Marco lifts a hand in agreement, pops out the videotape, slides in another.

"Plus I'd love to travel the world, report on stories that aren't fabricated, ongoing stories rather than giving priority to certain dimensions of a story in ninety minutes," says Ellie.

"And the old Ellie returns," jokes Marco, pressing play as Alex chuckles.

The screen fills with Degrassi's gymnasium, showing her, Alex, Craig, and Caitlin in red jerseys. Oh, the blood drive, recalls Ellie, lifting her fishnet-covered knee to the bottom of her neck. Marco was diligently recording all of them, Ellie glad that she looks more light-hearted there, making bunny ears behind Craig. Alex leaned on a table, playing with a strand of her dark hair.

"Hey, Alex," greets off-camera Marco.

"No," replies Alex, glaring at the lens.

"Come on...for posterity," encourages Marco.

"So?" returns Alex, making Ellie and Marco roar in the living room.

Ellie nudges Alex's tennis shoe with her boot. "Classic Alex."

"I'm sure my vice president has a few words on this important occasion," says Marco, voice rising with hope.

"This got me out of class," says Alex. "There's a few words. Get."

All together, laughing loudly, Marco has to put his finger to his lips to quiet them. Alex playfully pats herself on the shoulder, glances at Marco as he turns off the TV and the lamp."Um, we didn't see any embarrassing Marco," teases Alex.

"Tapes are broken," replies Marco.

"Likely story. I want to see you with your pants split or...anything," laughs Alex.

"You'll see that tomorrow or my speech tanks...incoming embarrassment," says Marco.

"Whatev," argues Ellie. "I've read it. Brilliant. No student will fall asleep, no parent will be disappointed. Fellow valedictorians will envy you from miles around."

"Don't exaggerate, El," says Marco, resting his head near her sleeping bag. "Thanks, though."

The Del Rossi's living room is relatively silent, except for the shuffling of their sleeping bags, Marco's foot hitting the coffee table, the swinging pendulum of an old school clock to the right of the mantle. It's almost two in the morning, and tomorrow would be the opposite. Loud, exuberant shouts and calls of good-byes and feet pounding the stage– all sounds she expects to hear. The sweetest sound would be her father and mother clapping for her, Sean following suit. Then, those would be traded for the sounds of the open road in November, when she and Sean drove all over Canada. He hinted he could have the bike by September.

"Sean loved the visuals, Marco," says Ellie, turning her head to Marco.

Marco yawns. "You're welcome."

"Totally excited the other night when we were at the Dot," remarks Ellie.

She sees Alex's head rise in the darkness, a little surprised that she's not asleep.

"I thought he worked nights," says Alex.

"Yeah, and sometimes he switches up his schedule," provides Ellie. "His co-worker's a massive slouch."

"Or Sean's slouching," mumbles Alex, though it's so quiet Ellie hears.

Ellie shoots up, startling a half sleep Marco, yanks the chain of the lamp to light the room.

"Babe," protests Marco.

"Excuse me?" snaps Ellie, staring at Alex.

Alex rolls her eyes, throws off the top of her sleeping bag, making her appear taller than she is. For a second, Ellie thinks she's ready to sock her, like she did with Amy. Going to graduation with a black eye didn't exactly appeal to her.

"Jay told me Sean got him a job at Sean's garage," informs Alex. "He was going to use Chad as a back-up if it didn't stick."

Is that supposed to mean anything, or is she too groggy to comprehend?

"Okay?" replies Ellie.

"And he told me that he's working on cars Sean didn't finish or start, then he shut his mouth. What that means I don't know, although if Sean has another partner...," says Alex.

That's strange. Sean always finished his cars. It's the trait that got him respect from his customers, from his peers. He even finished Mr. Simpson's car a couple summers ago like he said he would.

"Sean's the best they have, and he's so diligent," defends Ellie.

"If he's the best, maybe he should do his work," says Alex. "If Paige can dig in nacho cheese, Sean can afford to get his hands a little more dirty."

"Ladies...let's sleep," interjects Marco, nervously.

Ellie ignores him. "The point of this?"

"Either your boyfriend's lazy, and taking advantage of my friend, or someone's lying out of the two," says Alex, sternly.

"Sean doesn't lie...not to me," insists Ellie, deadening the lamp.

Climbing into her sleeping bag, she can't close her eyes, tossing side to side. She's certain there's some reason why Jay is handling Sean's work. Finals? Those were over. Sean wasn't sick. Getting Jay used to the place? That seems possible.

"I'll talk to him," assures Ellie. "May be a misunderstanding."

"Like you and Paige, Alex," chimes in Marco, whistling under his breath.

Ellie hears Alex click her tongue against her teeth.

"Not all of us are going to university," mutters Alex. "Some of us have to fend for ourselves."

Marco's wise enough to drop the discussion, and Ellie's too confused to add anything. Fend for yourself? That's what Sean has done so well, with the apartment, the job. Definitely not in a position to lie.

Ellie shakes her head, rests her sight on the clock's swinging pendulum, gold and shadowy.

II.

Red and white checkered patterns are the first thing she sees, wetness the first thing she feels. Drips of dew have gone through her panty hose, the top of her foot not covered by the ballet slipper grazing the grass. Manny sighs, props herself up by an elbow. Her jacket lies over her chest, waist. Far off, the stage is bare, the lawn is empty, under a dreary, grey sky, sun peeking from clouds every other moment. Half of her is tempted to lie down again, fall asleep.

No, I'm awake, she thinks, struggling to remember the day. Sunday. Sunday? What happens Sunday? Graduation...and leaving. Manny stands quickly, straightens her dress. The dress she wore to the park. She must've slept here the whole night. It was hard not to do. Everything was so calm, the music beautiful, the guy soft. The guy.

Glancing down, she views Toby sleeping on the other side of the blanket, glasses tucked in a gentle grasp. Manny shyly grins, kneels next to him. She would've liked it more if he chose to be closer to her, but he looked so sweet, nestled in the corner, dress shoes touching the grass. Bending carefully, she lets her hair graze his forehead and nose, gives him a peck.

"Toby,"she whispers.

He stirs, looking to his left and right, smiles at Manny. Toby puts on his glasses, ruffles his hair.

"What time is it?" he asks, eyes dropping to his watch. "Oh my gosh!"

Toby immediately opens the basket, starts placing the candlesticks, remnants of the cake, and silverware inside. Manny hops off the blanket, nearly falling, as he maddeningly begins to fold it.

"It's not a big deal," comforts Manny. "Spike'll be cool. We...were just tired. This week...hectic. Had to catch up to us sooner or later."

"Can't believe no one woke us," mumbles Toby as he stops folding.

"They didn't want to interrupt the romance," says Manny, shrugging. "Plus climbing the hill to interrupt...annoying. Unless you need some cardio."

Toby grins, Manny happy the worry appears to be decreasing. Honestly, she's more worried about Jeff. He was laidback, but not Spike laidback. Toby's family, particularly Jeff, liked her. What if they thought she was trashy for spending the night with him? It was different from when she was upset the night of Hanukkah dinner, and spent the night then. Jeff had no idea what they were doing now. Add to this the fact that she was the catalyst for Toby being pushed by Justin? Manny frowns.

"Okay, we can't both be nervous," notices Toby, picking up the basket.

"No, no nerves," says Manny, half-heartedly. "Although, when I saw you hugging Kendra last night...got these annoying little butterflies."

Toby stares at the basket guiltily. That bothered her more than Jeff's possible anger towards her. It was the second hug within two hours.

"I know I said I'd work on the jealousy thing, when Clara was in the picture...that still holds," clarifies Manny. "Just...tell me the truth."

Toby leans forward, kisses her forehead.

"The truth is you have nothing to be jealous of," replies Toby.

"Good," says Manny, smiling, putting on her jacket.

"You're...going to sit next to me at graduation, right?" asks Toby, nervously.

"And be distracted by you?" replies Manny, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Yes."

After Toby collects all the items, they walk hand in hand through the park. Everything is so calm and the few sounds are short and sweet: birds, leaves rustling, the alarm on her watch. She wonders why she set it for six-thirty in the morning. Her packing was done, and graduation didn't start until ten. Was she afraid she was going to sleep in? That doesn't...

"Emma!" cries Manny, massaging her brow.

"What?" says Toby, giving her a puzzled look.

Manny's heart beats wildly, as she drags Toby to his car, moving at a fast pace. Toby does his best to follow her.

"Emma...Emma...Emma," she repeats to herself as he unlocks the car. "Our girls' night...she's going to be so mad."

Manny gets in, hurriedly snaps on her seatbelt. Toby does the same, starts the car. Spike may be okay with it, maybe would've missed her absence entirely since she went to bed early nowadays. No, Emma...Emma would've waited.

"I'm such a bad friend," groans Manny, slouching.

"We both know that's a lie," argues Toby, gently. "Look, you fell asleep. You were tired. Emma will understand."

As much as she wants to believe Toby, she can just feel it, feel it in her bones that he's wrong.

III.

She isn't really a flower girl, he said to the clerk. He's confident with his decision, selecting these over roses. That doesn't mean the balloons bobbing in his face fail to make him a tiny bit regretful. Sean winces, raises them above his head as he goes down the stairs of his apartment building. You know they were nice. A couple blue ones, a couple gold ones, and a huge balloon with a cap and diploma picture in the center. Her parents would probably give her flowers and balloons, but he thinks Ellie would never expect him to first, buy balloons, and then secondly, to give them to her right after the ceremony. Big gestures like that weren't his deal, but it's a big day. She'd get a kick out of these.

It helped that the balloons didn't cost a bundle, too. A fancier gift would've required more money than he has at the moment. Searching in the classifieds lead to nothing. No one was hiring. Garages were staffed for the busy summer days, newer kids working since school ended. Ellie will like them, he tells himself. What meant more to her was the dinner, anyways. He'd play the role of the good boyfriend, do his best, make up for the lack of expensive present.

"Sean!" calls an exuberant voice in a Middle Eastern accent.

Sean stares upward, meets Ray's sweet grin. Ugh, his landlord. Usually, he likes seeing Ray, because he's the most friendly landlord imaginable, got along well with everyone, including Sean's frequent visitors, Ellie and Jay. A bit dim and forgetful, Ray's big heart made up for all of it. I'm no brain myself, thinks Sean.

"What's up, Ray?" calls Sean.

"Oh, you're graduating?" says Ray. "You study hard, so I'm not surprised."

"Ellie is," corrects Sean.

"Oh, congratulate her for me, will you?"

"Yeah."

Ray goes down a flight of stairs. "First of the month. I can expect rent soon?"

Yeah, rent. Well, he'd be set as soon as Mr. Hill mailed his last paycheck. When that was coming, he has no idea.

"Sorry...I don't have it yet. I think Monday, when the mail comes," informs Sean.

"That's fine. Your record's good," says Ray, jovially. "I can give you until the fifth?"

"Definitely," assures Sean.

Ray nods, walks up the stairs. Boy did he luck out. Some landlords wouldn't wait...at all. Or they'd send those ugly, official little letters. The fifth. If it wasn't in the mail on Monday, he'd...

"Where's the party?" yells Jay, breaking Sean's thoughts. "And why wasn't I invited?"

Sean rolls his eyes, tries to hide the balloons behind his back. Jay stands at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Graduation," mutters Sean, advancing to him.

Sean eyes Jay, curiously. Jay dressed in a lot of black, but never this much. His T-shirt is black, black baggy jeans, black tennis shoes, and a black cap. Most strange is a pair of black gloves, the kind hardcore bikers wear.

"Odd uniform," says Sean, laughing. "What are you? From the _Matrix_, man?"

"Save the jokes," replies Jay, cracking his knuckles. "You coming like you said?"

"Coming where?" asks Sean. "Man, it's seven..I have some stuff to do too. El's ceremony is at ten."

"Have you there before nine-thirty," promises Jay.

What is he talking about? Oh, that thing with Dale.

"Some other day," waves off Sean.

Sean attempts to walk past Jay. Jay blocks him, grins.

"No, I told him you were coming today," says Jay. "It'll take thirty minutes. For real."

The offer has been bouncing around in his mind since Dale introduced it. How would he keep his place without cash? How disappointed would Ellie be if she found out he was unemployed, and would have to cancel their trip? Okay, maybe if he went and saw what the job was, he could decide. If it wasn't legit, he might be able to convince Jay to drop Dale too. Eh, he'd drive to make sure he can leave whenever he wants. The other errands can wait.

"We're taking my car," says Sean.

"Nice," says Jay, following him.

IV.

The whole room reminds her of Tetris, with the stacked boxes, the empty corners. Emma lays her head against the pillow, writing in her journal. Last night just seemed to stretch and stretch...midnight into one o' clock, one o' clock into two. Her eyes caved in around three in the morning, the first night she didn't play Snake's tape. Made sense. Why be loyal to a routine? No one else is.

At least Spinner danced with her a couple times before Spike drove her home. She forgot how fun getting dressed up for Spinner was, since she hadn't done it since Peter's party. When she was trying to select between the blue and a pretty tan dress, Spike pushed for the blue. Emma sighed, said how feminist is this? Dressing up for some guy? Spike laughed, her first laugh in a long time, answered with, well if he notices, you have all the power. Emma smiled, chose the blue.

She doesn't have the power. Today, Manny's leaving, and she ditched what last moments they could have had. Snake ditched the family because of his hormones. But at least Snake showed up at the barbecue. Manny initiated the girls' night, then dropped her like a bad habit.

Emma's eyes fall to her alarm clock. Seven. She supposes she can get ready for the ceremony early, go to the Dot for coffee. Standing, she moves to her closet, starts going through clothes. Her ears catch some tentative footsteps slowing inching to the basement. One last creak. Manny. Emma makes it a point not to turn to her.

"I've thought of like a thousand apologies," says Manny, demurely.

Emma angrily slides some hangers, a sharp scrape of metal. There shouldn't be a reason for a thousand apologies. She didn't have to bail, promised.

"Emma, I got caught up...," begins Manny.

Caught up? No, definitely the wrong words to say.

"With what?" demands Emma, facing her.

Manny shirks back, looking way too innocent in her white dress. Ugh, she hates being mad at her. She's making it so easy, though.

"Just...generally caught up. I fell asleep," replies Manny.

The fact that Manny avoids eye contact with that comment says it all. She's purposely trying to keep him out of it. Toby. No, as much as she cares for her two friends, she can't let him be an excuse anymore. Manny ran off to Toby all the time, especially when she needed her.

"Asleep? With Toby," fills in Emma.

"You make it sound dirty...it wasn't!" insists Manny. "I'm sorry, Emma."

"I'm sorry too," throws back Emma. "Sorry you can't keep a commitment. Why am I surprised? Nobody does."

Cheeks flustered, Emma stares pathetically at Manny. Manny's mouth drops. Emma's shocked by her last statement, too. She really hopes Snake doesn't find his way into this conversation.

"He'll come home, Em," says Manny.

And there he is, groans Emma inwardly.

"Don't do that!" exclaims Emma. "This is about you, deserting me for your boyfriend, not Snake."

"Like you never abandoned me to hang out with Spinner," argues Manny.

"Wow, months ago," dead-pans Emma.

Manny's eyes grow teary. "What do you want me to do? Choose between you and Toby?"

Emma laughs sarcastically. "Would I like the choice?"

Emma immediately bites her lip, bites her tongue so hard it hurts. That was the last thing she wanted to say, seeing Manny's own lips tremble. Yeah, she basically insinuated that Manny didn't care about their friendship and that she did have to choose. I'm only saying it because I'm hurt, she realizes.

"Manny...," begins Emma.

"Wow, Em," whispers Manny.

Manny grabs the red top and skirt she'd be wearing to graduation, refusing to look at Emma, sort of some weird reverse from how the conversation started. Manny wipes her eyes, jogs up the stairs to change. The total reverse, Emma confesses, hating herself more than anybody.

Throwing herself in the bed, amid the green blankets, tears wet the cloth. Her sight shifts to a family portrait, a photograph of her and Manny at her mother's wedding to Snake. Why capture those days? Why capture them, when they're slipping away?

V.

"Of course he has a curfew!" yells Jeff from the other side of the front door of the Kerwin-Isaacs household.

Toby places a hand on the doorknob, breathes deeply.

"Huh?" continues Jeff. "Don't call here and make all these assumptions! Anne Marie...if he said he'd call you, he'll call you...that doesn't mean he's in a ditch somewhere! I'll call you...no, I said I'd call you!"

Entering his key, he unlocks the door, Jeff immediately opening the door, so fast Toby's whole body goes with it. Jeff shakes him slowly, eyes creased in concern.

"Where were you?" demands Jeff. "Huh?"

"I...I...," stammers Toby, glancing at his father's hand.

Jeff sighs, lets Toby go. He puts the phone to his ear.

"Anne Marie, he's here," says Jeff. "Okay...yeah...fine. Bye."

Oh man, his father was really worked up. Before dropping Manny home, he didn't even consider how his father would react, more eager to get Manny to Emma since she was disappointed they missed their girls' night. Now, he was considering it, for sure considering it, as Jeff glares at him.

"I was half out of my mind!" exclaims Jeff. "You call...you always call, you hear me!?"

"Sorry!" defends Toby. "Manny and I lost track of..."

"You can't...you had no idea how worried I was," interrupts Jeff. "I don't care if it's Manny...J.T...you call! Especially after that kid pushed...you know, I can't even look at you. So mad...I have to get dressed for graduation. I..."

Jeff paces maddeningly across the floor, then grabs Toby in a full embrace. His father could be so weird sometimes. Well, at least he knows he's loved, Toby returning the hug.

"I should've called," offers Toby. "I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

"We'll discuss punishment later," says Jeff, releasing him. "Today's a happy day. Ashley's day. Okay?"

"Got it," says Toby.

Jeff brushes past Toby, heading for his bedroom. Toby sighs with relief. It could've been much worse, and he'd have to call his mom for sure. He felt bad that she had to worry, though not as much as he did with his dad. Realizing he should be getting ready too, he lazily dumps what he's holding, yawns. The doorbell rings before he can even close his mouth.

He opens the door, views a startled Clara. Dressed in a nice green dress, her hair slightly curled, she must be going to graduation too. Toby smiles, the smile quickly fading when Clara turns heel, walks away.

"Clara!" shouts Toby, trailing her.

"Your dad said you were busy," says Clara over her shoulder.

Why is she acting like this? He didn't do anything, or maybe he did?

"Why are you going?" asks Toby, managing to halt her.

"I came to drop off the stupid Confirmation pictures we took in front of the synagogue," snaps Clara, shoving a picture packet in his stomach. "Was going to give them to your dad, but since you're here..."

There's so much anger in her voice, more anger than in any other conversation they've had. Did this have to do with Justin? Justin pushed him, not the other way around.

"You can't possibly be mad at me?" says Toby, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Can't I?" yells Clara. "Toby, the elders called me. Asked me all this stuff. Justin's...he's banned from the synagogue. My boyfriend's banned from the synagogue!"

Clara's whole body goes red, Toby raising his eyebrows. He figured that would be the outcome, yet actually hearing it? But so what? He can't talk to people like that, expect to face no repercussions.

"That wasn't my decision," defends Toby.

"Please!" exclaims Clara, starting to cry. "You're Rabbi Miller's favorite. And of course, Uncle Christian loves you, so I can't date Justin either. He said the most horrible things about Justin yesterday. It was...was awful."

"What he said about Manny was ten times worse!" argues Toby, voice rising. "Why would you date someone like that?"

"He was raised a certain way!" defends Clara. "His grandfather's very traditional, extremely Orthodox."

"My grandmother's Orthodox and she's never used that word," says Toby, lowering his tone. "It's sick...evil...and you know it."

Clara stares at the pavement, obviously some subtle sign of agreement.

"His grandfather...doesn't sound good," offers Toby, awkwardly.

"He's tough...like says bad stuff to Justin. Ironically, his parents thought moving in with him would be best."

Her eyes were so sad, Clara drying her tears. Maybe he is being too harsh.

"I wanted you and Justin to get along," she says, meeting his gaze. "Your speech made me think you'd be open to it. He needs people to love him. He needs me, Toby. Friends too."

Chest heaving, she cries more intensely. Toby darts his eyes. He feels about ten sizes smaller. Rabbi Miller was right, as usual. The speech did make some impact.

"I didn't like Manny at first, but you know...I'm trying for you," says Clara. "She's pretty okay, really. Matthew can't stand him. And yeah, I know he's not the kindest person. He is kind to me, though. The first guy that ever liked me."

Her last comment hits pretty hard, because well, he knows he's the other guy that could've been with her. Clara deserved someone, yes. Why couldn't she be with someone else, though? Okay, he didn't really know the guy. Still, there is good in everyone, and Clara has been nicer to Manny.

"He wants to apologize to you...personally," shares Clara. "And I...I apologize too. Manny shouldn't have been verbally attacked. Then, the variety show...must've been awful too."

"It was," agrees Toby. "Look...give me his address. I'll go over sometime this week."

The offer's a little weird to say, but it's genuine. If this story is true, if his speech came from the heart, he can try. Once. If Justin blew it, definitely washing his hands of him.

"Thanks, Toby!" says Clara, throwing her arms around him. "He's going to apologize to Manny when she gets back. I'm so sure he will...I'll...I'll bet on all my manga."

Toby chuckles, letting her go. "Well, no need for that."

VI.

Drizzle coats the windshield, his rear view mirrors. His car edges down a darker street, tiny, square buildings spread across the area. It reminded him very vaguely of the trailer park, in terms of how cramped it seems. The sun, out earlier, has disappeared. Sean guesses it might come out later. He hopes so since the place is so dim, so lonely, a little depressing. He glances over at Jay, who stares ahead, determined. Jay was concentrating, on something.

"This is the Toronto ghetto," jokes Sean. "I almost feel like someone's ready to jump us."

"Heh," returns Jay, shrugging.

Hmmm, his jokes usually met with more of a witty Jay retort, usually hinting at the lameness of the joke.

"Here," says Jay, nodding to the side.

Inching his car in a wider alley, Sean's forehead wrinkles in confusion. To the left is a regular building, more clean, slightly less grey than the others. To the right stands a shack, a clear sign they were on the outskirts. It didn't look sanitary, or liveable. Graffiti tags lined one wall, beer bottles and cans littering the pavement. That's when he notices how quiet things were. Because it's seven-thirty, he tells himself. Alright, understandable.

He and Jay leave the car, Sean straightening his suit. Failing to ask anyone how he should dress for the actual ceremony, he threw on a short, white dress shirt, navy slacks, and a navy suit jacket. The shoes were polished. He couldn't risk looking like a scrub next to the Nashes, so he figured that was the best outfit. Picturing the look on their faces, he smiles, glances at the balloons, bouncing carelessly in the backseat.

"I'll stop in, see what the deal is, and leave," says Sean, making sure to lock his car.

"Yeah, sure," says Jay, absent-mindedly, pushing Sean to the shack. "Come on."

Jay does a ceremonious knock, two short loud ones, and three ones with long stretches in between. Sean grimaces, chuckles.

"Secret clubhouse?" laughs Sean.

Jay fails to reply, the door swinging open. Complete darkness. Jay leads Sean into the room, closes the door. Startled, Sean quickly glances all around him. A single match appears, and he doesn't see Jay anymore. Dale holds the match upright, grins.

"You didn't use my number," says Dale, voice flowing throughout the room, as if he's in a grand pavilion. "You _are _here, however."

Sean takes a step back, afraid he'll bump into something, or someone. If possible, Dale looks greasier, his ponytail rattier by match light. He got the strangest sensation that there were more than three of them, too. Like crawling ants against the walls. How many people were there, he can't tell.

"Jay...said it was a good job," replies Sean.

"Alright, Jay!" congratulate a couple unfamiliar voices.

"What?" says Sean.

"Shush!" barks Dale. "I talk. They talk. You listen, then respond."

Sean feels the urge to bounce right now. No way could this be serious.

"So why are you dressed up today?" asks Dale, smirking.

What's with _that _question? It has nothing to do with Dale, or the job. Sean stays silent.

"Ellie," answers Dale himself. "That's her name, right? She's graduating today. Father's in the army. Mom's recovering alcoholic. You lived with her."

"Who told you...," starts Sean.

Jay. Had to be him. Man, if he could find his friend, he'd give him the most annoyed stare down.

"Relax," calms Dale. "It's my business to know this stuff. Your life's a little boring, bro. Should really change that. Used to be so much more interesting."

"Says the guy in some screwed up secret society," sighs Sean. "I'm...gone. Jay?"

With no movement, Sean shrugs, reaches blindly for a door. Instead, he's gently shoved to where he originally stood.

"Ease up, man," says Dale. "That temper got you sent to Toronto, from Wasaga? Tyler, was it?"

Okay, this is just freaky. Sean stalls, turns to Dale. Did Jay tell him his whole life story? Dale's eyes burn into him, as if he's evaluating him, testing him.

"Light, gentlemen," instructs Dale, smiling.

Instantly, a light is turned on, and Sean was right. There were seven other guys, besides Jay, lined against the wall. They had to be his age, except for a younger, black guy, who was maybe thirteen. Black clothes...all of them. Most have black shades too, minus Jay and the youngest guy.

The room is even stranger. Grey walls, a pile of junk food in the corner, a sink, typical. What isn't typical are the rows of tables, each holding different car parts. Carburetors, brakes, belts, bumpers. The whole room looks like a makeshift factory. Or store. Store, decides Sean.

"They're stolen," speaks up Sean, walking past a couple tables.

"No, someone else stole them," says Dale, blowing out the match. "I bought them with clean, green money from my job at good old Dad's."

Sean narrows his eyes. "Mr. Hill would be so proud."

"He would, because I'm making more profit than he is."

All the boys, except Sean, laugh. Sean does chuckle, though, very coldly.

"I find that hard to believe. Legit, you said? Such bull," says Sean. "Jay, you're so full of it."

Jay licks his lips. "I said it was a legit business, not legit merchandise."

"Told him to say whatever it was to get you here," defends Dale. "And yes, we are an operating business, complete with permit. Had to pull some strings."

"You guys are going to get caught," sighs Sean. "Some of these...look real faulty."

"We trade at night," informs Dale. "The dark makes a lot of stuff look real flashy, pretty. Faulty, nope, not when we're through with them. Which is why we require your expertise. Your brain, and my guys' brawn."

Dale slinks to Sean, puts a hand on his shoulder, which Sean shrugs off.

"Like yourself, these parts look nice, but they're in such trouble, they need a little help?" whispers Dale. "You can tell us which parts have the most potential. If they work for our customers, great. If they don't, too bad...we still get paid."

Sean closes his eyes. Just when he thought Dale couldn't get any lower, he says that. At least all that failure to do his job at his father's shop made sense. Such a lazy loser. He could be using his degree. Sean wouldn't mind having a college degree, using it for something good, decent.

"Give you an advance of five hundred," says Dale. "That's rent for a month, a start for your trip with Ellie?"

Five hundred? Did he say five hundred? To examine car parts? Ugh, this is like some weird Dickens novel, though, with the smarmy leader and his band of eager, young apprentices. Whenever he stares at the youngest guy, it hits home that they're all school age. They probably have more potential than these random car parts. But five hundred?

"I...," begins Sean.

"Consider it incentive," says Dale. "Usually, the pay isn't that great for my other workers. You'd be my right hand man, however, and that...that pays pretty well."

Sean hangs his head, tenderly grabs a badly put together brake. Man, did it need repair, and man, did he want to repair it, for cash.

"Want to move to Wasaga with your mommy and daddy?" taunts Dale.

A couple guys laugh quietly.

"That's what will happen if you bottom out,"continues Dale. "I mean, come on, you used to steal, right? You can't judge me. Now, I...I have good judgement. You're the best person for this. You need the money. Jay has no complaints."

They glance at Jay, who nods his support.

Would he really take this deal? This was the guy who insulted him, Ellie, his education. At the other end of things, he does know talent and he is offering money to dig him out of a hole. If he could change the circumstances, like when he was getting Jay a job at Mr. Hill's, more honest work, he would. I would get a decent job, Sean tells himself. That isn't the case, though. He can't change the circumstances. This is less honest work, but it is work.

"Parts have to be legit," says Sean, staring directly into Dale's eyes.

"We'll fix them as best we can," offers Dale.

"For a little while," sighs Sean. "A...little while, then I leave."

"Excellent," says Dale. "Hit the lights."

Sean faces the other guys, the dark coming earlier than he expected. He feels the quiet and coldness he felt before he came into the shack. Rustling from shoes and creaks in the floorboards enter his ears.

"Uh, Jay?" he says.

Instantly, a rough hand hits him from the side, another hand doing the same. Sean stumbles slightly, rises. He can't stand for long, as heavier arms throw him to the ground. His jaw throbs as it hits the floor, tasting blood in his mouth. Struggling, he feels so many fingers on him, a couple legs kicking his waist. White spots in the black fill his sight, his forehead ringing. Sean takes a few deep breaths, a knee hitting his chest.

"Ah!" he cries out.

Someone forces him to stand, and Sean's shoved roughly to the left and right, never seeing the person's face, body flying from guy to guy, as if he's a heavy, breathing ball. His heart beats wildly, and everything...so not in focus. Sticky blood creeps down the side of his mouth, when he meets the tallest of the forms. A slight whimper greets him. Jay.

"It's over, dude," consoles Jay.

Sean slides to the floor, light flickering on again. He can barely see straight, Jay a peach and black dot in front of him. Sean coughs, dribbling blood and saliva. Shirt's totally ruined, coated in blood. Pants and jacket, wrinkled beyond recognition. Jay glares at Dale.

"You guys weren't that bad with me!" exclaims Jay, taking Sean up with his arms.

"Initiation," explains Dale. "Level one goes to people, like you, who I don't think will talk. Level two to people who I think will. That's your boy Sean. Level three, if you actually do."

"Level three?" says Jay.

"Level three is you ain't walking out of here," provides Dale. "Take Cameron to his girl's ceremony. Sure she's expecting him."

Some hard, cold footsteps go throughout the shack. Dale's hot breath meets his face.

"For the pain," he says, slipping a baggie of pot into Sean's breast pocket. "Congratulate Ellie for us."

Dale and a few other guys laugh, all of them exiting without looking at Sean. He does spy the smallest dot, the youngest kid, hang in the doorway momentarily. Jay clicks his tongue, throws the baggie against the wall.

"He alright?"asks the youngest guy.

"I got him, Ty," replies Jay.

The dot, apparently Ty, disappears, leaving them alone. Sean fumbles weakly for his keys, eyes increasingly wet from the pain coursing through his muscles. Maybe he could've taken them if he could see, knew what was coming. Maybe. Then again, seven guys is seven guys.

Sean's eyes droop, slipping into shadow. Jay gently slaps him.

"Sean! Sean...Sean, keep awake," orders Jay.

Using all his strength, Sean stands, opens his eyes wide. His feet ache as they go past the tables, past the shack, to the car. Not speaking, Jay removes a bandana from his packet, wipes Sean's mouth. Sean views the now scarlet-colored cloth under the grey sky, shirks to the side, violently opens the door, gets inside.

"Don't touch me!" barks Sean, as Jay reaches for him.

A searing pain rips through his chest, and he lurches forward into the passenger seat window.

"Nah, man!" cries Jay.

What sounds like a hundred pops explode, right in his face. All the balloons, which had floated to the front, were in pieces over his dashboard, on the seat, near the cup holders. His body crushed them. His heart feels crushed. Jay groans.

"I gotta drive, Sean," says Jay, grabbing him from behind.

In shock, Sean lets him move him to the backseat, pulsating head meeting the soft cushion. His present for Ellie...totally destroyed. He can scarcely afford another. Jay holds out his hand for the keys, which Sean presents, limbs shaking.

"A card...a card...," he gasps.

Jay appears to understand, patting Sean from up front, starting the engine.

"Clean you up, and a card," promises Jay. "We'll get El the best card ever."


	14. See You In September

**XIV. See You In September**

_I'll be alone each and every night  
While you're away, don't forget to write_

See you in September  
See you when the summer's through  
If you are saying goodbye at the station  
Summer vacation is taking you away

Have a good time but remember  
There is danger in the summer moon above  
Will I see you in September  
Or lose you to a summer love?

Counting the days 'til I'll be with you  
Counting the hours and the minutes too

Have a good time but remember  
There is danger in the summer moon above  
Will I see you in September  
Or lose you to a summer love?

**See You In September is the property of the Tempos and appears in the film **_**American Graffiti. **_September is the best month ever! Especially the 13th. :P

Warm water rains down his nose as he presses the washcloth to his face. Sean reaches for a razor, fingers twitching, then steadying as he clicks it on. Closing the medicine cabinet door, he glances at his red eyes, scratched cheeks, swelled mouth. At least, he can see clearer, but that's no solace when you also clearly see the situation.

Jay stands silently in the open bathroom entrance, staring at Sean's scarred visage.

"Man, maybe...maybe you shouldn't go," speaks up Jay. "Pretty out of it."

"I'm fine," snaps Sean.

He totters uneasily to the hamper, where he's left the can of shaving cream on its lid. Promised Ellie he'd shave. Promised her a trip, to go to graduation, go to dinner. Pressing the top of the can, his palm, wrist starts to throb. Wincing, part of the cream finds itself on the front of his bloody shirt. A couple drips drop to his shoes.

"You won't let me help?" says Jay.

"You're partly responsible," replies Sean.

"It was an initiation!" defends Jay. "Wouldn't have done that otherwise. I'm still your friend."

Sean groans, applies some cream, starts to shave. Each movement hurts, both his elbows stinging, his upper jaw burning. Dale probably loved seeing him like this, not having the upper hand anymore, indebted to him because Sean was so desperate. Jay, he has to admit, at least looks apologetic, and he hasn't left.

"Agreed to be part of this," sighs Sean, finishing one cheek.

"This job...won't regret it," insists Jay. "And you get paid more than the rest of us! Pretty sweet, right?"

"How'd he know all that stuff?" asks Sean, wearily.

"I told him," confesses Jay. "Look, it's for the best. The better he knows you, the better he treats you. Dale thought you were some golden boy before, but then when he saw you were human like the rest of us..."

"Please," interrupts Sean. "Golden boy?"

Razor whirring, he jerks, though not because of pain. Jay has a hold of his arm.

"Hey!" protests Sean.

"Did it ever occur to you what today is?" exclaims Jay. "Huh?"

His tone is delivered with anger, all of the earlier compassion gone. Sean forcibly shakes him off. If anyone should be upset, it's him.

"What!" shouts Sean. "Get off!"

"Alex is graduating today, which means I could've graduated today," continues Jay, angrily. "Mr. Jason Hogart, Degrassi graduate. Do you know how embarrassing it is to tell your friends you got fired instead? Or...or ask your ex-girlfriend if their mom's boyfriend needs a hand?"

Sean shuts off the razor, lowers his gaze. Honestly, he hadn't thought of any of those things. Jay always seemed so content with not graduating. The only sign of that not being the case was that one day at school, when he showed up high in his car. He can't say it doesn't make sense. Here, Alex was, ready to cross the stage without him. Sean, if all went well, could graduate next year.

"The Hill job...you earned that," points out Sean.

Okay, so that partly wasn't true. Sure, Sean believed in Jay's abilities, but most of all, he had to make the case for him to Mr. Hill, waning Jay to stay working and out of trouble. Now, we're in trouble, anyways, he thinks.

"The Dale thing...that's my choice. I've got past due bills. What choice did I have?" shrugs Jay, noticing Sean grimace. "Can't get a fancy salary job with no diploma."

"Don't play the sympathy card, alright?" groans Sean. "Jay...you had a lot of choices. If you talked to Hatzilakos or tried for one of those high school completion exams or...anything! "

"I...I actually didn't want to get involved with this, either," interrupts Jay, fiddling with his hat. "I mean...I've got a job at least. Give me that."

"Yeah, my job... the job I gave you," grumbles Sean, loud enough for him to hear.

Jay smirks, throws the card they selected for Ellie at Sean's feet. The comment just flew out his mouth. Sean stares confused at the card. Disrespect. I totally disrespected him. Jay starts out of Sean's apartment.

"Jay!" yells Sean after him.

Jay turns, halfway out the door. Sean weakly follows, grasping onto anything for support. What should he say after he insulted his best friend? A lot of the remarks he made he didn't regret, though. Why not talk to Hatzilakos like Spinner, or ask someone how to get a diploma, or about other options? Add to that the fact that part of his bruised body came courtesy of Mr. Hogart himself.

Sean opens his mouth to speak, views Jay's hopeful expression.

"I...I still need a ride," stammers Sean.

Basically the worst words he can say. Sure, drive me to the graduation where you might've graduated.

"You drive to school everyday, Sean," returns Jay, smiling coldly. "So do it."

A resolute, loud slam fills the room as Jay shuts the door. Sean hobbles to the front door, rests as shooting pains go up his chest. Staring down, he's still a mess. He hasn't changed, and half his face is filled with cream. Collapsing on the sofa, he checks the time. Nine-twenty. It must've taken Jay a lot of time to transport Sean from the card store to his car, and from his car to the apartment. They did hover a lot on the way, so Sean could take in some breath. He promised to meet the Nashes at nine-forty so they could find a spot to get together. In his condition, that's impossible.

I can make the ceremony at least, he convinces himself. He'd hang in the back, have to, with his appearance. Grabbing the card, he goes to the bathroom, wipes the cream from his face, buttons the jacket to hide the bloody shirt.

Sean advances dizzily to the door, gains footing. Propelling forward, he manages the stairwell okay, finds his car okay. It will all be okay. Like Jay said, this is a routine he's used to doing. This has to be the one choice today he won't regret.

II.

"The central tenet of high school is discovery. About yourself, about your surroundings, about the world you will one day encounter. That is why what we were taught remains incredibly crucial as we leave these halls, and venture out into..."

Craig crosses his legs, hitting Ellie delicately in the thigh.

"Okay, don't make me regret trading seats with Paige," mumbles Ellie, then resuming listening to Marco's speech. "She just had to sit next to Alex."

"Too late," whispers Craig. "I farted."

"So funny I forgot to laugh," returns Ellie.

"Ruin the moment," says Craig, frowning.

"Go bother Ashley," sighs Ellie, focusing on Marco.

Craig rolls his eyes, turns them onto the graduate seated right in front of him. Cloaked in a blue gown, gold honors sash attached to the collar, long hair dangling over the back of the seat, Ashley reads the program diligently. Sure, they all love Marco, but his speech...running a little long. He should've stopped at the comparison of high school to the hockey rink, perhaps Dylan's influence. Currently, he's making allusions to great explorers and Degrassi? Yeah, he'd pay full attention later when Joey showed him the tape.

Speak of the devil, moans Craig inwardly, as a blinding light blooms in his eye. Craig waves half-heartedly as Joey returns an excited wave, pointing proudly at the camera. Snake was sitting next to him, and then Diane and Angie.

Marco finishes to enthusiastic applause, especially from the faculty, who looked pretty proud of themselves after Marco's appreciative speech.

"06, baby!" yells Joey. "06!"

Craig buries his head in his program, leans back, stares at Ashley's hands draped to the sides as Ms. Hatzilakos takes the stage. Eh, he never liked Hatzilakos that much. He could tune her out without feeling too bad. Craig tenderly grabs Ashley's right hand from behind, starts playing with one of the silver rings on her middle finger.

"Ashley," he whispers.

Ashley shyly glances at him, instantly turns around again. He grins. Well, at least she looked at him.

He can't believe this day is here, even sitting in the auditorium with hundreds of balloons being held by parents, tribute videos being shown on the projector screen, cap crowning his curly head. Joey took what seemed like a thousand photographs on the steps of their house, Angie singing "Pomp and Circumstance" after downloading the words. Diane helped with his robe, assuring him he was handsome. Simpson came over, bright and early, to eat breakfast with them, drive over with them. That meant he was there before most of the other graduates, but he didn't mind. This may be the last day he's ever here, except for the reunions.

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for," begins Ms. Hatzilakos.

Thousands of cheers and screams erupt, Craig clapping enthusiastically.

"We will award the newest members of our alumnae their high school diplomas!" exclaims Ms. Hatzilakos to more applause. "Ms. Kwan, Mr. Armstrong."

Dressed in a powder blue dress, Ms. Kwan takes the stage, as does Mr. Armstrong, clothed in a nicely tailored black suit. For the first time, they don't look like teachers to him. The two of them each take a handful of diplomas, stand to the right.

"Graduates, please rise," instructs Ms. Hatzilakos.

There's a shuffling of chairs, as the first group advances like they did in rehearsal.

"Hazel Aden," reads Ms. Hatzilakos.

Hazel smiles happily at the crowd, beams at her parents, the Brooks, and Jimmy, all seated in the same row. Jimmy whoops, shakes Mr. Aden's hand.

Quite a few graduates Craig barely knew cross the stage, every other graduate seeming to do some small gesture so they can be noticed. Most were waving, others were dancing or throwing peace signs, doing stuff Ms. Hatzilakos asked them not to do. No one cared, apparently, as they were now graduates of the school she ran.

"Marco Del Rossi, with honors," says Ms. Hatzilakos proudly.

Marco, who had to walk quickly to his spot, nods at his parents, Ms. Del Rossi releasing a few happy cries. Dylan and the Michalchuks had finagled some seats, not too far from the Del Rossis. Dylan exchanges a quiet smile with his mother.

"That's my boy!" shouts Mr. Del Rossi. "Top of the class!"

"Pa!" mouths Marco, taking the diploma as Craig and Ellie laugh.

A whole group receives their diplomas, before Ashley's group stands, walks to the steps. Already, he can hear the clacking of cameras being removed. Not to his surprise, he sees Robert and Chris with digital cameras aimed at Ashley, Kate and Jeff electing for more traditional ones. Or maybe Toby has their digital one, as he too records his stepsister. Toby and Manny smile at one another, as the student before Ashley receives her diploma. He's happy they're happy.

And I'm happy, he knows, as Ms. Kwan, teary-eyed, fetches Ashley's diploma.

"Ashley Kerwin, with honors," announces Ms. Hatzilakos.

"Yeah!" yell Craig and Ellie, clapping loudly.

Red-faced, Ashley smiles at her family, down at Craig, and takes the rolled up paper. He was so proud of her, for staying here. Spinner told him awhile ago that Ashley had thought transferring would be the solution to her sadness, due to him cheating on her with Manny. And then there was England, where she could've stayed. No, she's home, with her family, with him.

Besides Sean, she was the first person he felt comfortable with that first year at Degrassi. He'd wear these long-sleeved, dark-colored shirts to hide the marks his father left. They were neat, nice-looking clothes, worn because that's the style Julia preferred. Ultimately, like Ashley, he found himself, and a haven as he learned to like himself. His clothes were replaced with casual, rock tees and jeans. They weren't his mother's style, but he thinks she might've liked them because they were loose and fun and didn't have to hide anything. Luckily, the clothes weren't the only change. A new family helped open him up, where stern words didn't end up in hits, or a present wasn't given due to guilt. Ashley was a large part of that. Those first two guilt-free, father-free birthdays were with Ashley, the first summer without him, when he was making all these transitions.

Today, this is perhaps the biggest transition. Marco said it loud and clear. They were entering another world, as corny as that sounds.

Ellie taps Craig, interrupting the many thoughts going through his mind. We're up, notes Craig, standing. Paige tip-toes past Ellie, maneuvers in between the two of them.

"Craig Manning," announces Ms. Hatzilakos.

Craig's heart beats wildly, rhythmically. The moment's finally arrived. From the corner of his eye, the blinding light has returned, Joey and Angie yelling at the top of their lungs. Craig sticks out his tongue, makes devil's horns, as a smiling Ms. Kwan congratulates him, gives him the diploma.

"Paige Michalchuck," reads Ms. Hatzilakos, as Craig leaves the stage.

Paige makes a "who me" face, winks, waves at her family and a couple members of the cheerleading squad.

Making his way to his seat again, he stalls, locates Ashley, bending to kiss her. The kiss is short and sweet because Mr. Perrino rushes to him, signals for Craig to sit. Obeying, Craig scoots his chair closer to hers, Ashley leaning in for another kiss. Thankfully, Mr. Perrino was too enraged by Alex donning a pair of sunglasses, going to scold her.

"Joey's got his camera on full blast," laughs Ashley, pulling away.

"Still trying to convince him not to air this at the main desk of the car lot," sighs Craig.

"For real?!"

"Diane's endorsing it too," assures Craig.

"Sweet," says Ashley. "A Joey type of sweet."

Craig sees Ellie nervously adjust her cap, red hair stick straight underneath. He saw her parents when he came in with Joey and Snake, cleverly identifying her father. Already, maybe not cleverly, since he had military insignia on his coat and was next to her mother. No Sean, however. Weird.

"Eleanor Nash, with honors," says Ms. Hatzilakos, patting Ellie on the shoulder as she passes.

"El!" shouts Craig, he and Ashley raising their fists in the air.

Ellie grins, playfully bows to her parents.

"Well, your parents are like a Kodak army," teases Craig, nodding at the audience.

Ashley groans. "I swear. Every electronic device in the house came in our caravan."

Craig smiles mischievously, retrieves something light and grey from his robe. Like Alex and her sunglasses, he snuck this in, in fear of confiscation. That said, it's very small, and more appropriate. Plus, he slid Ellie and Marco some bags, just in case he got caught.

"This doesn't need a battery," informs Craig, showing what he smuggled.

Ashley claps, nods her agreement. "We're so using that."

"We could get in trouble," sighs Craig despite smiling.

"If they can find us," argues Ashley.

"If we do, we're taking the valedictorian down with us," informs Craig.

The final group leaves the stage, Ms. Hatzilakos heaving a huge sigh of exasperation. He's sure this ceremony took a lot of planning and patience. What it lacked– color.

"And now, it is my pleasure to present to you...the class of 2006!" exclaims Ms. Hatzilakos.

Her blonde head and tall body is soon obscured by bursts of paper, bits of color crossing the room. Pink, white, yellow, and blue confetti fly over the heads of the graduates, Marco tossing it from the row of honor, Ellie throwing it to the left, Craig to the right. Families applaud, as Ms. Hatzilakos laughs, shakes her head, indicating she's given up trying to control the ceremony.

Alex hops onto a chair. "06! 06!"

"'06! '06!" chant the rest of the graduates.

"Chaos!" cries Craig to Ashley. "Complete and utter chaos!"

Ashley begins to speak, instead signaling for Craig to look behind. Craig does, immediately being embraced by Joey, Angie clutching his waist.

"I'm proud of you," says Joey, releasing him, one tear creasing his eye.

"Me too," adds Angie, yellow and pink confetti dotting her curly hair.

Craig lets a tear fall too, shakes some confetti out of his hair, hugs Angie to him. It almost feels like he's holding his mom again, with her again, viewing her looks in Ang, her pride through Joey.

"Took forever to get here," says Craig, sniffling.

He claps Joey lightly on the back, enfolding his father and sister whole.

III.

"One more!" begs Kate Kerwin. "One more!"

Ashley scratches her temple, dutifully repositions herself in between Chris and Robert, beaming as if they'd won a new car. She's the one with the new car, if her mother would ever let her drive it after it was fixed. Too bad since Sean has really been making some strides with it. By September, though, she'll have to use it for school.

Kate presses the button, flash lighting their faces.

They stand near the publications office, where Ashley visited Ellie on so many occasions. Those days were so dull to her at that moment, and now, she would sort of lovingly miss them. During grade seven, she came in so scared, got along with a few people, including some nice guy named Jimmy. She took a couple pictures with him and Hazel, and then him and Spinner after the last of the confetti fell. Grade eight, she ran the place. She was school president, like Toby would soon be, and ran every committee in creation. The next year, she fell apart, but she thinks she fell apart for a reason, because today, she's pursuing the dreams she wants, not the dreams others expected of her. Pursuing a long-term relationship with Craig, and her music career? Not totally expected, especially by her mother. This summer would be all hers, and that September, moving out for university.

Ashley spots Craig, receiving a congratulatory hug from Spinner.

"Craig!" she calls over.

Kate throws Ashley a disappointed look, pretends to play with the strap on her purse. Craig approaches them, smiling with his mouth tense.

"Hi, Ms. Kerwin," greets Craig. "Mr. Kerwin, Chris."

Robert and Chris trade anxious looks. To Ashley's relief, they extend their hands for Craig to shake. Craig does so, relaxing a little.

"Congratulations, Craig," offers Kate, stonily.

"Thanks," says Craig, apparently missing the coldness of her tone.

I didn't, thinks Ashley, frowning at her mother. Craig has been great to her this entire year, and she's acting like he crashed her freakin' Acura into the auditorium, ruining the graduation? No, she loved that he was right behind her, that he's so proud of her.

"One more picture," says Ashley.

She positions Craig next to her, takes his hand.

"Film's low," murmurs Kate.

"Jeff," encourages Ashley.

"Uh...certainly," agrees Jeff.

Jeff was usually more soft than her mother, so yeah, picked the right person. Ashley and Craig lean in to each other, grinning as the flash goes off.

"Where's Jimmy?" asks Kate, suddenly. "Would love to get another picture of you two."

"We have enough pictures of Jimmy," says Ashley through gritted teeth.

"It's...it's just you guys make a real photogenic pair," says Kate.

"Allow me to make a photogenic exit," returns Ashley, brushing past Kate.

Fuming, Ashley reaches the middle of the room, glances back at Craig, who has gotten caught in what looks like more of a friendly conversation with Toby and Manny. Good. Her mother can't make any stupid, annoying comments to them anymore. She keeps walking, head distracted, accidentally bumping into Ellie.

"Hey, Ash!" says Ellie. "Your flight leaves at ten tonight?"

"Yep," answers Ashley. "Dad and Chris like night flights."

"Okay...okay, dinner should be done before then," says Ellie. "Have you seen Sean?"

"You haven't seen him yet?"

"No. He's probably here, just avoiding the parents."

"Wish Craig had done that. See ya tonight."

Ellie leaves, Ashley ducking into another hallway, free of graduates and noise. She can't recall much about this hallway. It's bare, not unusual since most students or staff cleaned the bulletin boards and walls the day before graduation.

Ashley bends to drink water from the water fountain. Heh, her last drink in Degrassi. Clean and fresh. She can't say the same for the body stumbling in shadow at the very end of the hallway. Ashley walks ahead, nervously, clutching her robe in fear. The figure's head is bent, as if he's taking a drink of water.

"Hello?" calls Ashley.

The person walks right under a window, the sun illuminating his face, sullen, with cuts and scrapes. Ashley's heart sinks, helping him to stand upright.

"Let me get someone," she says.

"No," moans Sean. "I...I need somewhere to rest."

She begins to inspect his face, a couple wounds still bleeding on the underside of his chin, and she can see traces of blood when she moves to adjust his jacket.

"Sean, you're hurt," whispers Ashley. "Why are you walking? A doctor..."

"No doctors!" interjects Sean. "Your garage...can I go there? My car..."

"You're going to drive!" exclaims Ashley. "You can't!"

"At least I can see better," moans Sean. "Already feeling better. El, she looked so awesome crossing the stage...I..."

He begins to cough violently, Ashley looking around, panicked. There were so many adults here. She's sure one would know what to do. He's so resistant, though. Why?

"I'll drive you," insists Ashley.

"Your parents...," he starts to argue.

"Believe me, they'll understand that I needed some fresh air," interrupts Ashley. "It'll take ten minutes max to drive you. I'll give them really long good-bye hugs."

Sean gives her a lop-sided grin. She guesses it hurts to fully smile.

Going past the row of lockers, Sean clutching her, Ashley figures they can go out the side door, near the French classroom without detection. For whatever reason, Sean wants Ellie to be clueless, and he wasn't giving her any clues either. But who could've fought him? Sean has no enemies to her knowledge.

"Be more myself at dinner," says Sean, confidently.

"Yeah," says Ashley, awkwardly.

"I'm getting your robe all wrinkly," groans Sean.

"Eh, I'm not wearing it for awhile, now am I?" jokes Ashley.

IV.

During the drive, she tries to grasp hold of everything she probably won't see for months. The tall evergreen trees, the quiet suburban homes, her mother sobbing gently in the front seat, Joseph checking on Manny in the rear view mirror. These moments after graduation are going really slow, like painful scenes leading to a powerful finale in a movie. There were so many movie good-byes too, some so touching they pinch her heart to remember them.

As Joseph parks the car, Manny grasps the cushion of her seat, cautiously staring out her window.

"Anything else we can do for you, Manuella, while you're gone?" asks Joseph.

"Tape your TV shows? Dust your bedroom?" adds Maria, drying her eyes.

"No," replies Manny, shyly.

They exit the car, Manny reaching for one of her suitcase, Joseph taking it instead. He also takes the other one Maria almost carries.

"Air Canada," informs Manny.

They walk to the entrance, Manny spotting Emma, Spike, Jack, J.T. and Liberty behind the glass doors.

"Guys!" exclaims Manny, glass door closing behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"It's not every day one of us goes to California," says J.T. "I mean, I thought I'd be first, you know..."

Liberty elbows him playfully, as Emma pushes his head. Joseph sets down the suitcases, releasing an exasperated sigh. They were heavy, but hey, she was staying a couple months. A couple months without her friends, her boyfriend, her parents.

"Good luck, Manny," says Liberty, hugging her. "May you embark on projects that prove productive in advancing your cinematic aspirations."

"Thanks," says Manny, still trying to ingest her friend's unique way of wishing her well.

She receives a hug from J.T. next, J.T. jokingly wiggling his butt away from her. Manny laughs.

"Awww, Manny, you're going to do so great," sighs Spike, rubbing her shoulder.

"Manny!" screams Jack throughout the airport.

"Bye, Jack," says Manny, kissing his small, curled fist.

Kissing. No offense to Jack, but there is a guy she'd rather be kissing before she boards the plane. They had a little congratulations lunch planned for Ashley, though Toby said he'd split to see her off. He should be in the group.

"Where's Toby?" questions Manny.

"Around," replies J.T., winking at her.

Emma bumps J.T. with her waist. "Stop teasing her."

Leading Manny away to a corner, Emma takes a deep breath, presents her with a large scrapbook. The scrapbook is a beautiful shade of light blue, with a picture of a setting sun on the front cover. Manny flips it open, seeing a picture of her and Emma in the park. Emma wears a lavender tank top, whereas Manny's in yellow, smiles plastered on their faces.

"First summer before Degrassi," sighs Manny, tracing the picture.

"That's also the day you met Toby," identifies Emma.

Manny swallows a lump in her throat, stares at Emma.

"What I said to you was out of line," says Emma, eyes growing blurry. "I do respect your relationship, okay?"

"I know," assures Manny.

"Well, I wanted you to have that yesterday, at girls' night," explains Emma. "Fill up all the pages, because it cost a bundle."

They both laugh, Manny clutching Emma, scrapbook trapped between their chests. All her other summers were spent with Emma. She wouldn't trade them, and she'd make sure this picture remained where it was, first and most important.

"Emma and Manny...," whispers Manny.

"Are BFF, and add an I for infinity," finishes Emma. "Man, that's lame."

"We must've been real bored in kindergarten," guesses Manny, shrugging.

Turning, she sees the people who sent her off to kindergarten. Ugh, she hates leaving them, especially after the year they've had. A cleansing year, a happier year, a year that came across as unbelievable to her if it wasn't actually happening. Joseph was seeing her off...so that she could be an actress? Pinch me and tell me I'm not dreaming, she thinks.

She stands in the center of her parents, Joseph and Maria embracing her. Manny can barely make out the other passengers going by, hear the trolleys and suitcases scurrying along. All she can hear is the breathing of her parents, slow and steady.

"I love you, guys," whispers Manny. "Thank you for everything."

This may have been uttered by almost all the graduates, but no event in her life, perhaps even graduation, means more to her heart as of now.

"You be a good girl," says Maria, crying unapologetically. "Have fun... learn a lot."

"I will," says Manny.

She looks at her father, who has no tears, though his lips are trembling under his moustache.

"You'll call when you land?" he says.

"Yes," promises Manny.

"Good...good," stammers Joseph. "And...we'll be glad to have you home when you return."

Manny throws a nervous look at Emma, who stares at a screen announcing departures and arrivals to avoid eye contact. Joseph helps her check in, Manny darting her sight to the glass doors, wondering where Toby is. She still has to go through security, too.

"Okay," says Manny, receiving her boarding pass. "So...California, here I come!"

None of them can go past security. New rules and regulations. J.T., Liberty, and Emma offer her sad smiles, waving. Manny does the same, then takes up her two suitcases, their small wheels scuffling against the floor. She goes slow, hoping, hoping the other person she anticipated being at the airport shows. Did he forget? He's never let her down before. Well, not on purpose.

The security line is fairly long. Summer is the season to travel. Manny holds onto her tickets, her boarding pass, gets in line.

"But you know, the thing about romance is people only get together at the very end," whispers a voice.

A bouquet or multi-colored roses appears to her right, Manny giggling.

"_Love Actually_, and you've been dying to say that," teases Manny, throwing her arms around Toby.

"The kid in the movie bugged me," says Toby, as Manny takes the roses. "I really think we should've watched _Blades of Glory _instead."

Manny lays her face against Toby's shoulder, groaning. These good-byes were getting worse and worse, a lot to take. Who would memorize lines to trade with her? Hold her when the going gets tough? Toby never moved from her side the night of the variety show, stayed with her as J.T. hosted the rest of the show and she cried backstage. Then, _West Side Story_, she'll never watch it with anyone else because she won't get the same feeling she did while watching with him.

"We have to talk everyday," says Manny, raising her head.

"Whenever you have the time," says Toby. "I hope it's a lot of time, though."

Manny grins. "You can come to Cali."

"What?" laughs Toby.

"I'm serious!" says Manny. "L.A. needs some T.I., and I don't mean the rapper."

Toby looks at her, clueless.

"Oh, the rapper!" cries Toby, seconds later. "I get it."

The security line inches forward, Toby moving Manny's suitcases ahead. Manny awkwardly adjusts her red T-shirt. She paired it with skinny jeans, one of her more stylish outfits. Lia would probably look way better when Manny arrived in California, but Manny thought she did okay with what she had.

Toby retrieves an envelope from his pants pocket, hands it to Manny as they move again.

"This is?" prompts Manny.

"A little something," replies Toby.

Tucking the envelope in her carrying bag, she begins to sense the end is near. She has to say good-bye eventually. Should she be strong, not cry? If she fails to cry, will he be offended? What if her make-up runs? Okay, the last one, a bit superficial? Well, her last words to him won't be superficial. The pageant showed she can be eloquent if she needs to be.

"Toby," she says. "If you hadn't told me to try out for the pageant, and helped with the scene, and stood by me these last few months...I...I wouldn't be going..."

Yeah, here it comes. Her voices starts to break, her eyes are wet. It was foolish to believe she'd get through this without showing any emotion. Manny sighs loudly, moving to get her suitcases as the line shrinks again. Toby grabs them, walking by her.

"You didn't need me," says Toby, shyly. "I'm...just glad I'm part of the ride."

"Protest all you want, but I needed you," reassures Manny, presenting her tickets to an employee.

"You're fine, miss," says the employee, ushering her forward. "Sir, if you'll step aside."

Toby and Manny go to a corner, scanning machines running to their left.

"First time I've ever been called sir," says Toby, nervously. "So..."

"So," says Manny, beginning to sob.

"As much as I want you to go, I want you to stay," says Toby, tracing her cheek.

"Alright," sobs Manny.

"Selfish, right?"

"No...sharing in the selfishness," chokes out Manny. "I love you, Toby."

"I love you, Manny," says Toby.

Toby removes his glasses, Manny startled by it. Then, she sees that his hands are wet, that he's furiously wiping away tears. The whole thing seems a bit cruel. Why weren't any good camps here? Nah, it's silly. California is where the action is, and that's no one's fault. Manny takes a deep breath, takes his glasses, puts them on, and softly brings her lips to his.

He kisses her, a sweet call and response, as if they were continuing their conversation. Manny can already feel the tears starting to dry off her cheeks. Toby lets his mouth meet her forehead, nose, and her mouth once more. Manny gently pushes him away.

"I have to go," she whispers, tugging at his shirt.

"Alright," sighs Toby.

"Copycat," laughs Manny through her tears, recalling she said that seconds before.

Manny sniffles, removes her shoes as Toby ducks under a rope to get to the other side of the security area, standing amongst a few other well-wishers. The security personnel motion for her to set her bags on the moving trolley, and her carry on luggage in a tray to be scanned. She sets her shoes near the carry on bag and her flowers, the items sliding on the conveyer belt. Passing with flying colors, she goes through the detector, quickly donning her shoes.

"Bye Manny!" yells Toby, out of view.

"Bye Toby!" shouts Manny, barely seeing him through all the machinery.

It isn't the first machine that's coming between them, she thinks, grinning. His computer. But she won, nine times out of ten where that was concerned. She finds her gate, and unfortunately, it looks to be a crowded flight. Sitting next to a sleeping woman in capri pants, and a "Put the Lime in the Coconut" T-shirt, she finds the envelope, reads the contents. One piece of paper held Toby's speech, so stirring to her soul as she imagines his voice saying it again. The other piece of paper is smaller, a pink card that maybe went with the flowers. The message is simple, and so dear to her.

_We were friends first, lovers last. Knock 'em dead, come home fast. Tobes_

She slips the card in one of the pockets of her wallet, catching the tears cascading with her fingers, even the ones that fall into her mouth, salty and warm.


	15. Stand By Me

**XV. Stand By Me**

_When the night has come  
And the land is dark  
And the moon is the only light we'll see  
No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me_

_And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh now now stand by me  
Stand by me, stand by me_

_If the sky that we look upon  
Should tumble and fall  
And the mountains should crumble to the sea  
I won't cry, I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me_

_And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me  
Stand by me, stand by me, stand by me-e, yeah_

_Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me, oh now now stand by me  
Oh stand by me, stand by me, stand by me_

_Darlin', darlin', stand by me-e, stand by me  
Oh stand by me, stand by me, stand by me _

**Stand By Me is the property of Ben E. King and appears in the film **_**Stand By Me **_**and **_**Urban Cowboy, **_**among others.**

**Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You is the property of Frank Valli and the Four Seasons. Thanks for the reviews!**

Announced times blast through the entire airport, flights to Houston, to Las Vegas, to Chicago. The times travel through the gift shop, over the miniature Canadian flags, rows of souvenir mugs, magnets with photos of their home attractions. Toby sighs. The flight he cared most about has left, his digital now reading three o' clock sharp.

A stern-faced cashier behind the register is folding something in wrapping paper, as he and J.T. look at books, J.T. more eager than he is, considering who the gift is for.

"We're not going to find anything," groans Toby, joining J.T.

J.T. slams down a copy of Bill Clinton's autobiography, rolls his eyes.

"She already has this," he says, starting to rifle through the fiction section.

"Liberty probably has half of these," guesses Toby. "Can we go?"

"Hey, you weren't at the variety show party for long, alright?" replies J.T. "I'm making serious waves, and I don't mean in the bathtub. When we did the tango, there was something there."

"Your lack of rhythm," returns Toby.

"At least I danced, mkay?" says J.T. "While you were off with Manny. I wanted to tell you this last night. Where were you?"

"With...with Manny," stammers Toby.

"And this morning?" says J.T., rifling through an Agatha Christie novel.

"With...with Manny," repeats Toby.

"No, I mean, before graduation."

"With...with Manny."

J.T. gasps, hits Toby's head with the novel. "Shut up!"

"Owww," complains Toby.

"You went to the pharmacy without me, you sly...you sly dog!" says J.T., grinning. "So?"

"So no," informs Toby. "We fell asleep in the park after the show. My dad went ballistic..."

"I can imagine," interjects J.T. "Well, at least Manny knows about Kendra."

"Uh, not everything," whispers Toby. "Not most of it, actually."

J.T. hits him with the novel, harder, making Toby wince.

"You had plenty of time!" exclaims J.T.

"We were just...like enjoying the moment, or she was too upset, and I wasn't going to see her for awhile so telling her...never happened..."

"You don't...keep stuff from...your girlfriend!" says J.T., hitting Toby with the book in between the words. "Have you learned nothing from my mistakes?"

The hits don't hurt at all, more annoying than anything, but it does result in the cashier yanking J.T. to her side. J.T. smiles at her apologetically.

"Dear, is he bothering you?" asks the cashier, kindly staring at Toby.

"Oh no...he's trying to be...helpful," replies Toby, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Well, there's no tomfoolery in my store," says the cashier.

She takes the novel, then Toby and J.T. by their arms, ignoring their winces and protests, nudges them into the bustling airport hall. Ugh, he felt like they were being manhandled by Raditch again, at age twelve. What can be worse?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say Toby Isaacs was trying to shoplift," calls a voice not too distant.

Kendra glides through the crowd with her small, green overnight bag, wiggling her fingers at Toby. She was wearing yet another skirt, this one a nice shade of brown, and a pretty tan top that brought out her skin. Toby smiles weakly.

"It's Kendra!" breathes J.T.

"She's not some bad omen," whispers Toby, shaking his head, then shouting, "Hey!"

"I don't like cheaters," mumbles J.T.

"Come on," scolds Toby.

"Hey," says Kendra, reaching them. "J.T., we haven't said hi yet. Well, I'm this close to leaving, anyway."

"Oh really?" says J.T., eyes brightening. "Shame."

Toby glares at him. Okay, yes, he likes that J.T.'s usually protective of him, but he knows Kendra's dealing with something, both of them do. What, though? It's probably best to send J.T. off, since he didn't seem too fond of her at the moment.

"There's another gift shop at the other end," says Toby, cocking his head to the right.

J.T. starts to shake his head, stops when he sees Toby's resolute stare.

"I'll be at the other end, then," says J.T., giving them a sarcastic smile. "You know, where we said good-bye to _Manny._ You know, _Manny_ Santos. Yeah, okay, so I'll be there, as _Manny'_s flight heads to California."

Could he be any less subtle? He only wanted to talk to Kendra. Why me, thinks Toby, rubbing his forehead. Kendra raises her eyebrows as J.T. walks off.

"J.T., honest to a fault," remarks Kendra, shrugging.

"Usually," supplies Toby. "I didn't know you were leaving today."

"Yep. Just had lunch with Spinner, Jimmy, and Hazel," explains Kendra.

"Didn't see you at graduation."

"Had an appointment."

An appointment? Worry lines crease Toby's face. Kendra meets his expression with confusion, then offers some insight.

"Oh no...no!" says Kendra. "Nothing serious."

He lets out a sigh of relief. Despite the awkwardness of encountering her, learning she was ill would bother him greatly. Kendra has always been so strong, so tough, part of his attraction to her when they were dating.

"You saw Manny off?" asks Kendra.

"Drama camp in L.A.," shares Toby. "Ms. Dale...her agent...said it's one of the best. She got in. Kevin Smith even called the camp to make a recommendation."

"Wow, she's really coming up, isn't she?" says Kendra.

He's pleased to hear her tone is more impressed than catty. That's really the Kendra he knew.

"Got called sir by the personnel before she left," shares Toby. "First time."

"Congrats to you," says Kendra, sadly.

The Kendra he knew...also wasn't known to be alone. Her parents were always there to see her off to gymnastic meets, or to her other school functions. Mrs. Mason was particularly protective of her.

"Where are your parents? Spinner?" asks Toby.

"I told Spin not to come and...my parents are clueless that I'm here," says Kendra.

Why hasn't she contacted her parents? Hmmm, well, it makes sense when he remembers that whatever secret she's hiding has been hidden from her parents.

"Spent the night at Nadia's," continues Kendra. "We had fun. I needed fun."

Toby struggles to piece together all this information. A mystery trip to Toronto, only exposed to Spinner and Nadia? A non-serious appointment? She can't drop hints and expect him to remain untroubled. That final statement? I needed fun. What was the meaning behind that?

"Spinner doesn't...," begins Toby.

"I told Spin the same thing I told you, which is the truth," says Kendra. "Nadia won an essay contest. Wouldn't lie to you anymore, Toby. Not after it blew up in my face."

Nice of her to say, and he sort of believes her too. She had basically opened up to him at his locker, so why not be more open? She felt bad about it and they couldn't change it.

"I'm sorry for that, and for keeping you. Got here early so I wouldn't miss my flight at five," says Kendra.

"I'll wait with you," offers Toby.

"For real?" says Kendra, beaming. "You can leave."

"Can hang for twenty minutes, then we'll go to security," assures Toby. "I don't really want to go back to Ashley's lunch thing. Ashley wasn't even there."

"Heh, interesting," says Kendra. "So tell me what's going on with you."

They find a pair of chairs along a wall, next to some pay phones. Toby's glad that their conversation isn't labored, and the tense feeling he had upon seeing her yesterday has faded a little. Kendra is especially excited when she hears him mention Kytel.

"That's a good company for a long-lasting career!" boasts Kendra. "I mean, after Disney, it's pretty much the best."

"I'm lucky," says Toby, turning red. "In fact, I've never been so lucky."

"Yeah?"

"Keep thinking it might all disappear. Scared, I guess."

Kendra fails to talk anymore, quietly peering at a young girl with pigtails, acting as if a bench is a balance beam, tottering slightly. Her mother tells her to get down, the little girl crying.

"Maybe my flight's early," mumbles Kendra, standing quickly.

Toby stands too, notices her shoelace is undone.

"Might want to tie your shoe first," says Toby.

"Uh," says Kendra, glancing at her feet. "That's okay."

"You might trip," warns Toby.

Kendra laughs nervously, raises her knee.

"Never seen anyone tie their shoe like that before," says Toby.

"We both know I'm different from other girls," says Kendra, grinning.

Kind of an odd action when you're wearing a skirt, thinks Toby, watching her fumble in vein for the lace. Heaving a bit, Kendra grabs the lace for a second, the lace immediately slipping out of her fingers. Why doesn't she bend or crouch, make it easier on herself?

"What's wrong?" asks Toby, as Kendra drapes her foot, shoe still untied.

"Nothing!" snaps Kendra. "Gosh!"

Frowning, Kendra angrily grabs her suitcase, starts towards the security line. Great, another girl that's mad at me, moans Toby inwardly. Only he could figure out why Clara was upset. He just advised Kendra to tie her shoe. Who gets mad over something like that? Okay, perhaps that whole lucky spiel was a subtle nod to being with Manny, and that set her off. Toby jogs after her, realizing that this spot is familiar, that yes, he and Manny were standing here not too long ago.

"What'd I do?" questions Toby.

"Nothing!" repeats Kendra. "Look, Toby. It was nice talking and all. You were very understanding, I appreciate that..."

"I would appreciate an answer," interrupts Toby, darting his eyes. "You tell me you have a secret, won't go into any details, you knock my relationship, you snap at me..."

Kendra stays silent through all these comments, eyes shaking, wet as they stare at him. All that tough reserve isn't here today. He doesn't mean to attack her. He's just frustrated.

"Tell me," whispers Toby, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Go," instructs Kendra, batting him away.

"How do you expect me not to care about you?" he blurts out.

Whoa, he thinks, as Kendra's mouth drops. What possessed him to say that? She is his ex-girlfriend, however, and yes, it's true. He's always tried to help those he cares about. Kendra's lips twist, on the verge of a smile.

"How much do you care?" whispers Kendra.

Maybe if he doesn't talk, he won't blurt out anything else that confuses him. What's to be confused about, anyway? The only reason he's talking to her is because of that e-mail. The only reason he called Santa Clara Beach Homes was because of a desperate phone call. The only reason he's here is because...well, because...okay, there isn't exactly a reason.

Kendra stares at the ceiling, at him.

"Don't answer me, then!" complains Kendra, walking away.

"Like you won't answer me!" returns Toby, loudly.

Great, I'm yelling in front of a bunch of strangers, sighs Toby inwardly. A few teenage girls watch them intently, giggling.

"My life is none of your business anymore," says Kendra, more calmly. "I don't matter to you, so you don't matter to me. Just...just pity me."

"That's not true!" insists Toby.

"If you ever did come to Santa Clara, I'd be shocked," throws back Kendra, smirking. "Completely. Do you know how hard it was for me to contact you? I was even going to mail you a birthday card. Haven't forgotten that it's in a month."

She remembered his birthday? It was hard for her? Toby lowers his head, remembers those times he could've contacted her, thought about it before dating Manny.

"Know what else I haven't forgotten?" says Kendra, leaning in close to Toby. "You were called 'sir' on our last date, when you used to care about me. I guess dating Manny leads to selective memory. Best of luck, Toby."

Starting to cry, Kendra abruptly leaves his side, dragging her suitcase to the back of the security line. The handle of the bag is firm in her hands, gripping tightly. He wishes she'd let him carry it, do something. Instead, she wants to freeze him out. Kendra's body disappears into the movement, Toby only able to detect her shoe lace stretched across the floor, white and free. He's not sure he'll ever be free of this guilt, of not being honest with Manny or Kendra. Toby lets out a deep breath, turns around, just missing a trolley going past.

"Can you understand right of way?" exclaims a moody man, clad in a Hawaiian print shirt.

No, he thinks, as the man huffs and leaves, as upset as Kendra. I don't understand at all.

II.

A flash of grey scurries around the front wheels, into a crack of the garage wheels, a light scattering of feet. A mouse. Sean's thankful to be resting his feet, a cold compress laying on his cheek. Sunlight crept in from the above windows, allowing him to better see the dry blood on his clothes. Ashley said she'd get him a fresh shirt.

Sean stoops to the floor, butt on the bumper of Ashley's Acura. Usually, he'd see Ms. Kerwin's car parked in the driveway, but Ashley mentioned there was some celebration going on five minutes ago, a celebration she's avoiding. Avoiding like he's doing with Ellie. Resting at his apartment, out of the question. Ellie would come looking for him after the ceremony, and she had a key so she'd walk in with him being weak and dirty. Can't take the chance.

The garage itself is fairly dirty, so he has good company. According to Ashley, Toby and J.T. promised to clean the mess. Dust lined all the shelves. Yard equipment lay against the walls in disarray. Toppled paint cans were near the trunk of the car. But since this was his only source of income, he was happy to deal with the mess, not to mention Ms. Kerwin or Jeff would offer him a snack now and again. Food at his place was getting more and more scarce.

Something tells him the Nashes wouldn't be as courteous the next time they meet. He stood them up, and didn't bother to find them after the ceremony. He was there when Mr. Nash arrived, and couldn't be there with them for a huge milestone for El? Sean coughs, shifts the compress.

The door rattles open, Ashley coming in, wearing dressy black pants, and a midnight blue, fitted top. She carries a can.

"We have tea," shares Ashley, giving him the can.

"Tea, nah," waves off Sean. "I need liquid courage."

Ashley shrugs, as Sean takes a couple sips of beer, sets the can on the floor. She hasn't been asking many questions lately. It has to be coming soon.

"My car almost done?" says Ashley, fidgeting with her top.

"It'll be ready by the end of the month," informs Sean. "The last part had to be ordered. For a new car, it's exhaustive."

"Most things in my life are exhaustive," moans Ashley.

"A certain relationship?" prompts Sean.

"No, not Craig," says Ashley. "For the first time, that's relatively simple. What's not so simple is how my parents feel about him."

"I can imagine," mumbles Sean, taking another sip.

He was dreading finding out what the Nashes thought of him. It really stinks because Ms. Nash didn't hate him nearly as much as she did before, and Mr. Nash was a clean slate, a chance for a better first impression.

"Does your Fight Club appearance have to do with your parents?" inquires Ashley. "Someone insult them or something?"

Finally, the questions return.

"I...no, no. The garage...messed up this guys' ignition and he roughed me up," lies Sean, drawing a fairly lame scenario from the depths of his mind.

Ashley bristles. "You're not going to report it?"

"My life's already complicated," replies Sean, and that's no lie.

No need to drag Ashley into the Dale delimma. She's off to England, with her boyfriend, touring everywhere. Her life's set. Maybe if he and Ellie went on their trip earlier, they'd be just as happy.

"Go to your thing," suggests Sean, removing the compress.

"The bleeding's stopped," notes Ashley. "I...I'm not sure. Not in the mood to hear my mom lay into Craig, or me."

Sean grins appreciatively. Well, nice to know he's not the only one freaking over parents. It's always them, isn't it?

"Let's be strong, deal with this," says Sean. "I go to this dinner tonight for El, and you go to your lunch for Craig. They're counting on us, right? Not going to let someone else, mainly me, ruin your graduation day."

"Ugh," sighs Ashley. "Fine. When you put it that way...let's do it."

Sean and Ashley trade smiles, Sean handing her the beer. Ashley grabs a paper towel from a packet, wipes the top of the can dutifully, and sips. Sean laughs.

"What?" she asks.

"You are so you," explains Sean, relieved to feel more lightness in his face than pain.

III.

"Reggae...pop...ska, Ash can do it all," rambles Craig, buttering a roll, not eating it.

"All I hear is what comes from under her door," confesses Jeff. "She's so private when she's composing. I've tried composing myself...couldn't get a handle on it."

"Maybe I can read your compositions some time," says Craig.

He knows it's not exactly fair to the table, but who else can he converse with? Robert and Chris barely made eye contact with him, and Kate kept checking the restaurant's clock over the fancy fireplace. Ashley's arrival kept getting delayed, and delayed. She invited him, and hadn't showed, although he can understand why. Kate had been making cutting comments regarding their relationship since December. He's tempted to split himself.

"Sure, if you like fuddy duddy chamber music," replies Jeff.

"Music is music," asserts Craig.

"Is it?" speaks up Kate. "Craig, are you planning on studying music in college?"

"Yes, ma'am," says Craig, clearing his throat. "Offered a scholarship, taking advanced classes, but I'm doing two beginning classes first semester. We could all use a refresher's course."

"There are summer programs," says Kate. "At the university. Ellie's doing a journalism seminar. I don't see why you didn't choose to stay here, focus on your own work."

Craig sets down his knife, folds his hands together placidly. The Jimmy comment he decided to let pass. Jimmy was a decent guy, his friend, and he got that Kate missed their relationship. But when it came to his music, that's his personal decision, and she has to respect it.

"Because your daughter asked me to go on tour with her, I like making her happy, and my music can wait," says Craig, staring directly into Kate's cool blue eyes.

"Kate, she's asked him," adds Jeff, nodding his head. "You've had a chance to adjust to this for months."

"It's Ashley's wish," chimes in Robert.

Robert finally spoke regarding him, and it's positive. Craig grins at Robert.

"I just don't see why...," starts Kate, her voice trailing off.

"Well, maybe you should," echoes a voice through the main room of the restaurant, Ashley's voice rising above the clattering of silverware and plates.

Ashley advances, black jacket over a blue top and black pants. Totally classy, thinks Craig, rising to his feet, along with Jeff, Robert, and Chris. She receives a buzz on the lip from them all, ignoring Kate, fails to look at her mother as she sits near Craig. Craig didn't feel he looked as good in comparison, in black slacks, a blue dress shirt, and his leather jacket. He wishes this lunch was more upbeat, but he's really afraid to say anything too corny or dorky in order for that to be the case.

"Ashley, you were more than an hour late," says Kate, glaring at her. "We haven't ordered. Toby's left."

"My apologies," murmurs Ashley. "I was distracted."

"We had a reservation," sighs Kate. "You made a commitment. Is this how it's going to be when you go overseas? Ditching tour dates because you're distracted?"

"No, and you're well aware I wouldn't do that!" snaps Ashley, throwing her napkin in her lap. "I swear...you're looking for a problem."

"My problem is my daughter is ruining one of the best days of her life," insists Kate.

Ashley takes Craig's hand, Craig putting a hand over hers. It's the warmest touch he's received all day, secure and sweet.

"If I'm with the people I want, it's not ruined," returns Ashley. "Ready to order?"

Craig blushes, stares at Kate hopefully. Her cheeks are pink, her mouth tight, yet she won't say another word. Chris and Robert pick up their menus, discuss what wines are good.

"Order what you want," whispers Ashley, smiling at him.

"I already feel full," says Craig, squeezing her hand. "Thanks."

IV.

Light violin music plays in the foyer, as Ellie paces the carpet, lush and red. John Nash straightens his black suit coat, a more casual blue shirt underneath. Amanda Nash brushes back her bangs, closes her compact mirror. Ellie smiles apologetically at them, stalling, black pearl earrings glinting under the light when she pauses.

The earrings match a stately, long black dress, with lace sleeves. Tonight, no rubber bands, comfortable showing off her arms, air conditioning seeping through. Why didn't she wear her rubber bands? Because she didn't want them under her graduation gown sleeves, on her big day. Sean has been missing all day, her big day.

"This is so not like him," says Ellie, playing with a loose, curly strand of her long hair.

"Sure he has a good reason," comforts Mr. Nash. "How about we sit, wait for him? Sure your feet are tired in those heels."

"I hate heels," admits Ellie, staring disgustly at her black pumps. "Fine."

John Nash snaps his fingers, loops arms with his wife and Ellie, as they're seated by a cheerful waiter in a tuxedo shirt and pants. They're seated at a table for four. It should be four, thinks Ellie, dismally. She'd show up early if she were eating with Tracker or his parents. The restaurant is gorgeous too, most people dressed more casually in T-shirts, jeans, or light, summer dresses. Sean would've fit right in, no question, if he's late because he's selecting what to wear, getting ready.

"Ellie, did you try his cell?" asks Mrs. Nash. "Maybe traffic..."

"I called," interrupts Ellie, annoyed.

Multiple times, she adds in her head. Where could he be? First, he wasn't at the graduation. Her hope that he was one of the first people she saw as a honors grad? Dashed. Her hope that she could wave to him from the stage? Dashed. Tears coat Ellie's eyes.

"Ellie...," starts Mr. Nash.

"He's not coming," sighs Ellie, starting to cry. "He didn't come to my graduation, to this dinner..."

"Sean will be here, okay?" says Mrs. Nash.

The fact that her mother, Amanda Nash, said that startled her, Ellie staring meekly at the person who doubted Sean more than anybody. Well, if she still has some faith, maybe she should.

Ellie dries her tears with her napkin, forcing herself to smile.

"You're expecting one more?" asks their waiter, coming forward. "A young man?"

"Yes...yes!" cries Ellie, enthusiastically.

"You heard the university woman," says Mr. Nash, chuckling. "Show Mr. Cameron in, please."

The waiter nods politely, goes to fetch Sean. Okay, sure she had reason to doubt. After the conversation with Alex, and the lack of Sean for most of the day, skepticism is to be expected. But now, her heart's steady, beating soundly. The first genuine grin she's had tonight crosses her lips, then speedily fades as Sean and the waiter approach the table.

His clothing is impeccable, him wearing a suit she's never seen before. Other than that, noticeable cuts and scrapes are on various parts of his countenance, as if he just left the boxing ring. Sean twitches a bit, regains his composure as he meets Ellie's gaze. Her parents stand, awkwardly exchanging furtive glances. She remains seated, gripping the edge of the table, her knuckles stinging.

"Mr. Nash, Ms. Nash," says Sean, Ellie focusing on a gash near his neck.

"Sean, thanks for...thanks for joining us," stammers Mr. Nash, extending his hand.

"Welcome," greets Ms. Nash, softly.

They shake hands, Sean ruffling his hair with his free hand.

"Ellie," says Sean, smiling nervously.

Ellie strokes her forehead, her nose, refusing to give him recognition. He showed, showed alright, injury-ridden and acting like nothing's happened. Who did this to him? Sean hasn't fought a person since Tyler, and that wasn't even a real fight.

Sean takes his seat, trying to lock eyes with Ellie. Ellie leans back, folds her arms, glares at him. If she got him alone, maybe he would explain, explain why he was absent, is late, is hurt.

"Sean," whispers Ellie, pointedly, as her parents sit.

"So what's good here?" says Sean, receiving a menu from the waiter. "The chicken?"

"Oh, I like the chicken," shares Mr. Nash. "We came here when Ellie was twelve, before she started Degrassi."

"Really?" says Sean, turning to her mother. "So it's full circle?"

Ms. Nash pretends to fix her hair, casts a knowing glance at Ellie. Her father can play the genial host, but they can't, not when they've seen how much Sean improved from a year and a half ago. He was so different at the Christmas gathering with her mom. So different.

"Excuse me," whispers Ellie, sniffling.

She immediately rises, hugs herself as she goes past her open-mouthed parents, through the candlelit foyer, into the cool night. A half-moon shines above, lighting her lace sleeves, her pale skin. Her skin looks so fresh compared to Sean. Who would touch him? She'd yell at them, scream until her lungs gave out. Ellie's chest heaves as she cries, heart brutally beating against her skinny chest.

"El," says a soft voice behind her.

Sean. Man, she's not half prepared to talk with him yet.

"Why, Sean?" breathes Ellie, whirling around.

Sean bites his lip, a cut near the soft folds of his mouth, a mouth she's been wanting to kiss all day. He blinks back tears, his hand shaking as he makes a grab for the inside of his coat pocket. Pulling out a card, he wordlessly hands it to her.

"Happy graduation," he whispers.

"Thank you," whispers Ellie, tearing open the envelope.

The card is so gorgeous, gold flowers pictured on front, a gold bow lining the edge. Inside is a photograph of a typewriter, unmistakably a nod to her journalism aspirations. _Grad, there are still stories left to write. Only you can make them right. Lead with your heart, an open mind. That's why you've succeeded all this time. Congratulations. _It was perhaps the most perfect Hallmark message she could receive. Not too sappy, although seeing Sean like this...

He comes forward, the half-moon lighting him just as clearly. His eyes are so red, the inflicted marks deeply set. He looks ready to break.

"Oh, Sean," chokes out Ellie, gently massaging his cheek.

"I was there at Degrassi," says Sean. "I wanted you to know that."

"Who did this to you?" cries Ellie.

"It's not important," replies Sean. "It's done. I'll heal."

"Heal?" says Ellie. "You should call the police! It looks like you were jumped."

She spots a flash of clarity in Sean's gaze, figuring she may be on the verge of a truth. I can't drag it out of him, though. He has to speak.

"I deserved it," says Sean. "Made some stupid comment. You know how I am. Deserved it."

"No comment is worth that!" shouts Ellie, pushing him softly.

"Let's go to your parents," soothes Sean. "I already messed up, not meeting them earlier. There's still time to make a decent impression."

He's concerned with the dinner? What if his life is in danger? He's being so secretive, so aloof.

"You're always honest with me," sighs Ellie, wiping her cheeks. "Like...like always. I'm scared... I'm scared!"

Sean hugs her, rifling her formally neat hair, breathes against her neck. At least he's breathing, alive. Ellie holds him tightly.

"I'm scared," she whispers.

"Don't be," reassures Sean. "El, you look so beautiful, I'm so proud...that's how I honestly feel. This is a one time thing. I'll watch what I say, okay?"

What can she do? Her parents are waiting, and so is she, waiting to hear the whole story. But Sean is still her Sean, open and sweet. Plus the idea of putting food into his body appeals to her. He probably hasn't eaten all day. They'd have to talk later.

"The chicken really is good," says Ellie, rubbing his arm. "Come on."

V.

"And remember when Derek almost got his hair set on fire when he put his head next to that huge spotlight?" laughs J.T. "Classic."

"Yeah, Michael Jackson moment," replies Liberty.

Toby and J.T. look at each other, shrug.

"I recently read a BBC article where in 1984, Michael Jackson burned his scalp while filming a Pepsi commercial," says Liberty, staring interestingly at her soda. "Anything for mercantile success, I suppose."

Toby stares dumb-faced at them, J.T. nervously toying with a straw wrapper.

"Ha, right," says J.T. after an awkward pause. "Wacky commercials. Umm, so Tobes and I are happy you decided to come out and eat with us. Sorry if we finagled you into it."

"No problem," says Liberty, shyly glancing at J.T.

Heh, he's the one that was finagled. Once they left the airport, J.T. failing to score a present, J.T. goaded Toby into inviting Liberty, and himself to the Dot, making it into a fake spontaneous idea. After being verbally lashed by Kendra after J.T. tried to be there for him, he sort of felt obligated. Perhaps J.T. could've prevented the whole thing if Toby let him stay. Now, he's right smack in the middle of their variety show recollections and flirting/non-flirting banter while some old, romantic song plays.

_You're just too good to be true.  
Can't keep my eyes off you.  
You feel like heaven to touch.  
I wanna hold you so much.  
At long last love has arrived  
And I thank God I'm alive.  
You're just too good to be true.  
Can't take my eyes off you.  
_

He sighs as they continue whatever it is they're doing, takes out his cell. He should call his mom. Later, he decides. And no call from Manny. She must be on the plane. Pressing a few buttons, he brings up some of the picture he's taken, or Manny took when she grabbed his phone to take them. Manny was definitely a big believer in capturing moments, as he smiles at each of them: Manny standing in the Kytel offices with him, nose nuzzling his cheek; a photo a waiter took of them on Valentine's Day, Manny's head resting on his shoulder; post-premiere, kissing in front of a _Jay and Silent Bob Go Canadian, Eh? _poster, Jason Mewes winking over them. The premiere one is his favorite, because they were one of the last couples to leave that night, and Manny was so excited to find the perfect spot to share their first kiss that night. Toby closes his phone, the image fading from his brain, J.T. elbowing him.

"What's with you?" encourages J.T.

"Manny withdrawal," diagnoses Liberty, smiling playfully.

"She's been here every summer," groans Toby. "I'm so happy for her and...I'm acting like this? I suck."

"Go to California," says J.T. as if he could get there in five minutes.

"Nah...I...I can't," sighs Toby. "Going to get a refill."

Toby grabs his glass, goes to the counter, asks for a refill. The clerk nods, heads for the dispenser. He feels someone shake him lightly, turns.

"Hey, Matt," says Toby.

"Hey," replies Matthew. "Didn't Manny leave today?"

Yeah, thanks for reminding me, thinks Toby, takes his glass.

"A few hours ago," answers Toby. "Your journalism thing starts tomorrow?"

"Yep, on my way to being Dan Rather," says Matthew, gleefully. "But first, press pass, shoddy pay."

Toby laughs. "Wish I could say engineers had it tougher..."

"You can't," says Matthew, sticking his tongue at him. "Don't. Listen, have you talked to Clara?"

"Mmm hmm," says Toby, hesitantly. "Justin's banned from the synagogue."

"Thank goodness," whispers Matthew. "She...she didn't ask you to talk to him, did she? Cause she asked me."

"She did," says Toby. "Said I would."

He notices Matthew's face becomes more strained, brow wrinkling. Matthew usually did that when he was wading through some difficult text.

"Toby," sighs Matthew. "Justin's really cold-hearted, and I'm as open as the next person, but he's mean. What Manny had to go through...I can't tell you how many times he's made some dirty remark about me and Ebony."

Ebony. Matt's girlfriend.

"Eb tells me to ignore it, so I've tried to ignore him as much as possible," continues Matthew. "Just like you can be as kind as possible, and make no influence. The guy needs help you can't give him.'

Help he can't give. Sounds exactly like the situation with Kendra, someone who isn't cold at all, who meant something to him.

"Take my word for it," advises Matthew. "Stay away."

Matthew pats Toby on the back, pays for his sandwich, walks out the Dot.

It's easy for Matt to say. He isn't the one who rejected Clara, and his girlfriend isn't the one who was degraded in front of a roomful of people. Unlike Matthew, he has to do something, made a promise. He can't let Justin put down Manny or him or even Ebony. Doing nothing isn't working. He's never taken promises lightly either. Staring at the premiere picture again, Manny smiling as their mouths were against each other, fingers fiddling with his bow tie, he's never been more sure that a promise should be kept.


	16. Candy In The Sun

**XVI. Candy in The Sun**

_Hey-The time is now to start the show  
Hey-Rev it up and let it go_

_Cos I know a place where the sun is always shining  
And I won't forget the face  
The one that's gonna keep me smiling  
You're like candy in the sun  
You're my angel on the run  
You're like candy in the sun  
Hey Hey Hey_

_Speedin' down the highway  
With the top down  
We're gonna get out of this one way town  
Kick it into motion  
Got a notion  
We're gonna drive all the way to the ocean, yeah  
Hey-Rev it up and let it go  
Hey-Crankin' up the radio_

_It's time to take a chance  
You know it's true  
Come on let's break away  
Just me and you_

_Cos I know a place where the sun is always shining  
And I won't forget the face the one  
That's gonna keep me smiling  
You're like candy in the sun  
You're like candy in the sun  
You're like candy in the sun_

**Candy in the Sun is the property of Swirl 36 and appears in the film **_**Never Been Kissed.**_

"Do you know Rachel McAdams?"

"No."

Manny smiles at the anxious woman next to her, non-plussed. She rips open a bag of honey-roasted, places a couple peanuts into her mouth. A toddler cries in the center of the plane, trying his best to climb out of the seat into the aisle. His mother grabs him by the waist with one hand, types something into her Blackberry in the next. Talk about multi-tasking.

The woman next to her finally started making contact with Manny near the end of the flight, and now they were descending. She said that she had seen Manny somewhere before, not sure where, asked if she knew any popular Canadian actresses. More questions started tumbling out, and so far, Manny's rejected her ideas of her being in a back-to-school commercial, an episode of _Suite Life of Zach and Cody, _and a billboard with the guy from the MacIntosh advertisements. Toby would've liked that last one.

"Well, you look very familiar," sighs the woman. "I may be thirty and old, but I'm not that old, you know?"

Thirty? Old? Wow. Manny lifts her eyes, lurches back as the plane hits the runway. Wringing her wrists in anticipation, she glances outside the window. Past the airport buildings and the tarmac, she sees palm trees, green fronds shining under the golden sun; a suggestion of long, grey road, which is probably the famous Interstate 405; white arches that soar to the blue sky. LAX, one of the most well-known airports in the world.

"Welcome to Los Angeles, folks," the pilot says over the speakers. "It's a gorgeous day, as always. Sunny, seventy-five and feeling fine. We wish to thank you for traveling with Air Canada, and hope your stay or journey home is a good one."

During the flight, she got repeated calls from Ms. Dale to see if everything was okay. They were sort of nagging, almost as if she hadn't left her mother behind in Toronto. Yes, I'm fine, she assured her, more nervous than she let on. The calls came so much she missed the in-flight movie, which may've been a good thing seeing as how she avoided Jamie Kennedy films. As she recalls the many horrors of his last film, the seatbelt lights go off, and people start fetching their bags overhead.

"Thank goodness," sighs the woman, tucking her phone into a Prada bag. "I couldn't be in Canada one minute longer. Nice to meet you, dear."

Manny glares at her. Canada was home to her, and hey, most people she knew liked it. Of course, they were Canadians. She collects her things, squeezes in between a guy with green streaks in his blonde hair, and a heavy-set businessman with what appears to be a toupee.

"Bye," she says to the two stewardesses, who are up front to wish the passengers well.

"Hasta luego, hon," replies the stewardess with the taller hair.

"Ugh, Georgia," says the other stewardess. "Borderline kitsch."

"Uh, yeah," says Manny, waving at the pilot as she leaves the aircraft.

What was that? J.J. was the one that knew Spanish, not her. Oh well, probably just her trying to be cute.

She stops mid-way before they exit, quickly pulling out her mirror. Have to look good for the City of Angels. Almost all of the people on the plane looked meticulous for a flight of several hours– beautifully coiffed hair, only slight ruffled clothing, the latest gizmos. Patting down her hair, pulling at her red, backless shirt, she takes a deep breath, enters the terminal.

Immediately, she can't stop smiling, at this huge, wonderful airport. Gurgled messages over speakers zoom across the airport, clearer in their second delivery. As she passes, people slide on sunglasses, clip on cellphones, jot their addresses on luggage tags. Gigantic white pillars are housed in the floors, an American flag stretched near the back of the terminal. A structure straight out of the Jetsons looms outside the glass windows, luminescent, diners eating in the center. Wait until she told her dad she saw a round restaurant. Joseph, the construction worker, would never believe it.

Oh, call the parents. Manny pulls her bag close to her body, starts rifling through.

"Manny, Manny fo fanny!" shouts a cheerful voice. "Terminal two! Toronto!"

Grinning, Manny zips her bag, walks to her left, tries to peer in vein over taller travelers. Finally, she spots Lia's bright red hair, sleek, long, down to her waist now. She was used to it being curlier. Just as she expected, Lia looked ten times better than her, in a deep purple cropped jacket, over a white spangly top, fitted black pants, and purple pumps. No one needed to ask her questions. If she wasn't Ursula Andrews' daughter, or a movie star's daughter, she was somebody. Standing next to her, was a really attractive guy with olive skin, dressed in a tight black T-shirt, black jeans. Boyfriend?

"Lia, profile smashing as always," compliments Manny, nervously.

Lia hugs her, Manny seeing freshly manicured nails on her shoulder. She started feeling insecure again, but the warmth of Lia's hug calmed her down slightly. They have forged some weird type of friendship based on their acting goals and love of fashion. Funny how the person you sit next to might wind up being a confidante.

"Did Dale harass you?" groans Lia, letting Manny go. "She is so protective."

"Yeah," answers Manny, relaxing more. "I was like, didn't I just leave my parents? And my friends, and my better half..."

"Speaking of better half," says Lia, tugging on the guy beside her. "This is Colin, the Will to my Grace. Don't worry. He won't hit on you."

Oh, so not a boyfriend, thinks Manny, smiling at him.

"I might," speaks up Colin, playfully. "Though we wouldn't get very far. Oh, you were right about this girl's dimples. You must've smiled a lot when you were a baby."

"I did," reassures Manny, laughing. "I'm sorry. Thought you guys were dating."

"Whatever," says Lia, rolling her eyes. "Okay, okay. We might pull a Rock Hudson/Doris Day thing in our twenties."

"So scandalous!" agrees Colin. "And we've kissed a couple times."

"I'll make out with anybody," shrugs Lia. "Picture time, peeps!"

Manny watches happily as Lia retrieves a digital camera, yanks Manny by the arm so that she's situated between her and Colin. It's nice to know she's among people that love the camera as much as she does. Toby wasn't like that, and even Emma would complain if she didn't feel like it. Well, she always felt like it.

"Jet lag pic!" calls Lia.

She and Colin frown, pretending to be haggard, Manny willingly doing the same as Lia snaps the picture.

"Proud to be in Cali pic!" exclaims Lia.

They all grin widely as Lia presses the button a second time. The three of them stare at the results, Lia nodding appreciatively.

"Let's get your luggage and skedaddle," says Lia. "LAX is such an eyesore after five million visits."

"For sure," agrees Colin. "Too much sepia."

Lia and Colin start toward the baggage claim area, talking amongst themselves. Silently, Manny pulls out her pocket camera she got at the pharmacy J.T. worked for, her heart fluttering. The single flash illuminates part of the enormous building. This was no eyesore to her. So distinguished, so different, so new.

Someone gasps near her, dips under the security line rope. A girl, around fourteen, runs up to Manny, on the verge of hyperventilating. Two friends her age join them.

"You're...you're her!" cries the first girl through huge, weighted breaths.

"Um...," says Manny.

"I knew it!" exclaims one of her friends. "I saw you with Lia Andrews, Ursula's daughter. Like only famous people hang out with famous people. You're...Kelly, from the Kevin Smith movie!"

"We watched it after our junior high prom. The whole group loved it!" explains the third girl. "Can we have an autograph?"

Flustered, Manny shakes her head, trying to gain some sense of clarity. Her shoes are touching the floor, her lungs are working, her head is spinning. Yes, she's alive, standing in front of girls who actually recognize her! For her movie! Not a horrible videotape, not for a secret relationship, not for being Miss Degrassi.

"Aw, she said no," whispers the second girl. "Come on."

"No...I was surprised," assures Manny. "Um, you really want me to autograph..."

"Yes!" cry the girls all at once.

The girl stops hyperventilating, hands Manny a napkin, then a fancy pen with pink ink. Heh, how appropriate to do her first autograph with her favorite color.

"Manny Santos," reads the second girl. "I knew it! I'm always right."

Lia and Colin, obviously noticing Manny's absence, had returned, smiling as Manny signs one girl's receipt and the back of another girl's empty postcard . Lia winks at her.

This couldn't be more right, thinks Manny, crossing the T in Santos with an excited flourish.

II.

"Phone's still tied up," sighs Ashley, closing her bedroom door.

"Toby doesn't seem like much of a talker," comments Ellie, pounding Ashley's black pillowcase. "Must be Manny."

"It's with his mom," shares Ashley. "And hey, I know neither of us are big Manny fans, but easy on the pillow."

"I'll bet she doesn't show up to dinner with Toby's parents looking like Muhammad Ali," replies Ellie.

Ellie harrumphs, lays her head against the soft material. Three guesses why she's upset, moans Ashley inwardly. Sean had obviously gone to dinner, and it had obviously not gone well. Part of her thought to try and convince Sean to stay in the garage, to come up with some elaborate excuse Ellie would understand. Eh, maybe the buzz she got from the beer snuffed that idea. What did Sean call it? Liquid courage. Yeah, liquid courage that got her to go to that lunch after her mother's stupid comments. Still, Ellie's day was far more worse judging by her actions.

"Sure there was a reason," says Ashley, hesitantly.

"Yeah, a mystery fight he refuses to tell me about," says Ellie. "Instead, he skulks off silently after dinner, says he'll call me to see when I need a ride to the airport."

"You know, don't come," presses Ashley. "Your journalism dinner might run late..."

"And I won't see you til August," interrupts Ellie. "No, we're going. And I do mean _we. _He can be punctual for one thing this week."

Despite the verbal wrangling Sean is receiving, Ashley does detect a tear trickling down Ellie's nose, even with Ellie quickly wiping it away. She can't stand to see her friend in emotional pain, and worse, Sean in horrible physical pain.

"Thanks for coming over," says Ashley, kneeling to the floor, ruffling Ellie's hair.

"Some company I am," breathes Ellie. "This anger isn't going to change the fact I'm going to miss you."

"Touched, really," replies Ashley, gently pulling Ellie's ponytail.

"Owww," laughs Ellie, rising to push Ashley playfully. "Gosh. I'm never being sentimental with you again."

"Honestly, you will be missed," says Ashley, smiling whole-heartedly.

They hug, Ashley recalling that not too long ago, they were at different co-ops, Ellie in journalism, her in music. Now, they're continuing their passions in more competitive, mature ways. Maybe Ellie could follow her out on the road someday, chronicle the highs and lows, hopefully more highs. Her and El were close, the only break in their friendship occurring when she confessed that she'd fallen for that jerk Allister. She hated that break. No talking, no hanging out, no best friend. What if that happens because of the secret she knows regarding Sean? Sean did tell her why he was hurt, and if he's in danger, real danger, she won't be here to help him. Ellie...she would. If she doesn't talk, and Sean was beaten or killed, Ellie would never forgive her.

"Ellie...," starts Ashley, releasing her.

"Yeah?" prompts Ellie.

"Sean...ruined this guy's car," whispers Ashley. "The ignition? I saw him at graduation, we talked in our garage, and he spilled."

Ellie's brow furrows, Ashley sure the anger is rising within her. She's surprised when Ellie speaks.

"Don't believe it," says Ellie.

"That's...what he said. Honest," promises Ashley.

"But Sean's not being honest," insists Ellie. "He'd never let a car leave the lot in poor condition. Gets antsy when one car part's out of wack."

"Doesn't he have a partner, though?" asks Ashley. "I saw this lazy guy..."

"Dale," says Ellie, nodding. "May be his fault. So he got beat for nothing."

"And he's too ashamed to tell," adds Ashley.

"Or scared since Dale is the boss' son," reveals Ellie. "Sean would take the heat and not tell. He loves that job, wouldn't risk it."

"Yeeesh, yeah, ugly," says Ashley, shaking her head. "What are you going to tell him? That you figured it out?"

"No," says Ellie. "I'm a journalist, right? Need all the facts. All I know is I refuse to let my boyfriend suffer for someone else's mistakes."

Ashley pats Ellie on the back, deadens the lamp in her room, climbs into her bed. Watching her friend wiggle in her sleeping bag, seemingly already stringing facts together, she lets her eyes rest. It sort of reminds her of those nights in England, trying helplessly to sleep as she thought about leaving Craig, hearing he'd been hurt, running the streets at the very end of his rope. What drives someone there? Is Sean there? She's never been that desperate, though she can certainly understand.

III.

"Let's see," says Manny, wind whipping past her cheeks. "It was...like this sirloin beef, mashed potatoes, a roll, and an apple tart?"

"Carbs!" shouts Lia, wincing. "Ask for the vegetarian meal next flight."

"Like you take commercial," blasts Colin. "Kel wouldn't let his baby girl fly with a pilot he's never met."

"No, he just lets his baby girl greet a month-long guest alone," sighs Lia. "My apologies, Manny. Dad was never one for manners."

"He had to work," says Manny. "My dad's committed too."

"My dad's a little too committed," says Lia. "Too much air?"

Manny shakes her head, which is the opposite of how she feels. Lia drove a beautiful, silver Porsche, a car Manny thought she'd only ever see on TV. The negative is that the air is incredibly heavy, and her hair's getting damaged. Never mind. Gleaming, fully equipped, the Porsche speeds along the tree-lined streets of Los Angeles, her home for an entire seven weeks. She'd awake to the sun everyday, hit the beach, act her heart out. It's like she has to touch everything, soak in everything to make sure it's real. Who gets to see these things everyday? Oh yeah, Lia and Colin. She called her parents as soon as they reached the first intersection, Manny telling her mother most of what she saw so far. Maria gleefully told her to call tomorrow, take pictures now.

"_Sunset_!" sing-songs Lia, glancing at Manny.

Outside her window, seeing bushes of white and red roses dotting the landscape of stately, white and grey houses, marble fountains spewing water in nicely kept lawns. They were like maximized versions of the houses she saw in soap operas, with black gates blocking her view, tall trees stretching to the roofs, expensive cars parked near brown sheds. With a sharp right by Lia, the houses disappear and the streets get more crowded, darker. An elongated, pinkish fresco building with a blue front stands behind a red light, when they pause. The Beverly Hills Hotel, where Elizabeth Taylor stayed. Manny takes a picture, sighs.

"Pink Palace," informs Lia. "Polo Lounge, where all the popular flirts go."

"Including Lia," says Colin, trading an amused glance with Manny.

"Tell me where they serve a better mojito to a minor?" asks Lia, assuredly.

"Correction. A well-known minor. I never got one," replies Colin.

Instead of comforting Colin, Lia drives as the light goes green. They pass an oddly-shaped, oval, grey building with green and pink lining, a sign saying the Laugh Factory. Hmm, that sounds pretty fun.

"Laugh Factory?" speaks up Manny.

"Oh, yeah, nice place," replies Lia. "Seinfeld, Eddie Murphy, Robin Williams. All great comedians go there. Dad's a regular visitor when he's not working. Happened to be there during that Michael Richards incident."

"He wasn't!" cry Manny and Colin at the same time.

"Quoted in the _Hollywood Reporter_," says Lia. "Ahem, when comedy reaches a level of human indecency, that's nothing to laugh about. Kel Andrews. The ever quippy producer."

"So Kel-ish," agrees Colin. "And we've got our own Kelly in the back here."

Manny turns red. "Whatever."

"No whatever, Manny," says Lia. "The movie did well in the States. Live it, love it. Hello? A couple of us would die for film roles."

"True, although Broadway beckons," sighs Colin. "I've wanted to be a Broadway baby all my life. Not long at sixteen years, but..."

Manny grins. "I'm in that place where I'll take anything."

"That's the smartest business decision I've ever heard in this car," comments Colin, elbowing Lia.

"Heh, funny," says Lia, turning into another street.

This street is far quieter, shade hovering over the Porsche, Manny's face. At the end of the drive, the car stops in front of a gorgeous brown house, Manny identifying the make-up as stucco. Her father really loved stucco. Beautiful, marble statues of nature, including deer, squirrels, line a walkway, red and purple flowers behind the square, marble stones of the walk. It's the type of house Robin Leach would love.

"Your house is gorgeous and a half," compliments Manny.

"1920's," shares Lia. "Little too vintage for me."

"I got your bags, Manny," says Colin, opening his door.

Lia and Manny exit the car, Manny tottering on her feet, even though she's not wearing heels. This is it. Once she enters this house, this whole thing will really set in. She's left the airport, actually living in a completely new country.

"Come on, Dorothy," says Lia, putting an arm around Manny. "Scarecrow will show you around."

They approach the house, Manny admiring the beautifully crafted statues. Lia inserts her key, lets Manny go in before her. Manny releases a deep breath as she takes in the golden chandelier twinkling over their heads, the white-floored foyer with gold and white roses in a vase on a table.

"So?" encourages Lia.

"Have you ever seen _Parent Trap_ when the girl goes to live with the mom?" says Manny. "I mean, the dad is the one who lives in California, but..."

"More Sharon than Susan," interjects Lia. "Totally. Okay, your bedroom's upstairs. I made sure it was next to mine. The gremlin's at the far end."

"Gremlin?" asks Manny.

"Hannah Rose," speaks up Colin, dragging in Manny's luggage. "Lia's cute little sis, who has enough imagination to power the weakest movie studio."

"She's annoying, and the imagination genes are in this body, thank you very much," says Lia, sticking out her tongue. "Manny deserves to freshen up, maybe a nap."

Manny has been resisting the urge to yawn for the entire drive there, and was too excited to close her eyes. Silent, she follows Lia upstairs, enters a room two doors down the hall. An overpowering wave of pink comes into her sight, and she squeals. Yes, Lia knew what she liked. The bedroom was big, way bigger than the one at the Santoses, a little larger than Emma's basement. It was almost a little apartment. A hot pink rug matched the lampshade on a corner table, full of perfume bottles, lotions, and shower gels. The bed is queen-size, her biggest bed, the Chanel sheets neatly arranged on the mattress as Lia hinted they would be. Manny walks further inside, the wallpaper a soft pink, her closet and cupboards a beautiful, shell-colored white, almost grey.

"Lia, you're the best!" shouts Manny, throwing her arms around her.

"Judging by that reaction, interior decorator wouldn't be a bad idea if acting doesn't pan out," says Lia, giggling. "You're welcome."

"Alright, nap, and then we do it all?" proposes Manny.

"Eh, camp doesn't start 'til next week," says Lia. "We'll rest today, and venture out tomorrow. Colin can entertain me while you nap. Wanna call Toby?"

"Yes!" exclaims Manny. "I mean...yeah, that'd be cool."

Lia wrinkles her nose, grinning. "So in love."

She closes the door, leaving Manny in the room, her perfect, amazing room. Taking out her cell, she punches in Toby's number. He shouldn't be asleep, not yet.

"Hello?" asks Toby, groggily.

Okay, so maybe it was late in Toronto.

"Sorry," says Manny, guiltily. "I couldn't..."

"Manny!" cries Toby. "I thought...you called! What's it like? Do you like it? Did they treat you well on the plane? Did you read the note? I..."

Manny giggles. "I choose to answer the last question first since it's most important, and I loved the note."

"Okay," says Toby, shyly.

She can picture him blushing with the phone clasped to his ear. Awww, it really hurts to picture him without her. The bedroom's stunning, the places are interesting, the people are beautiful and all, but it's no Toby.

"Some girls...they saw the Kevin Smith movie!" exclaims Manny. "They asked for my autograph!"

"It's starting already," praises Toby, confidently. "The movie did better in the States, right?"

"That's what Kevin said, but I had no idea," confesses Manny. "YouTube's one thing..."

"YouTube's huge, Manny, a great indicator of what people want," says Toby.

"Well, I want you out here," says Manny, lowering her voice. "Your mom...your mom lives in L.A. You talked to her, right?"

"Late," admits Toby. "It was more me apologizing for being out all night."

"Oh," says Manny, sitting on her bed.

Such soft sheets, thinks Manny. However, the thought of being the reason for Toby being in trouble make them a little less soft.

"Don't feel bad," says Toby. "She never apologized for missing half my stuff."

The talking comes to a strange pause, although she can tell that Toby's fumbling for something to change the subject. He was always so reluctant to discuss his mother, or their interactions. It was foolish of me to believe he'd come to L.A., tolerate that awkwardness for a week, she thinks.

"You've asked me...like three times?" asks Toby, laughing.

"Yeah, but...," begins Manny.

"I'm getting a little sick of saying no," admits Toby.

Manny covers her mouth to keep in a squeal, falling flat on her sheets. Is that a hint that he would consider it? With Toby, you never really knew.

"What's your favorite number?" asks Manny, regaining her composure.

"Five," says Toby. "Why?"

"Okay, the fifth time I ask, I want an answer," says Manny. "That's seven available weeks for you to choose from, mkay?"

She believes she's going to have to coax more. Truly, it's somewhat appealing to her, that hard to get attitude that makes her want it more.

"Alright," sighs Toby.

"I'm wearing you down," brags Manny. "Oh, did I tell you about the Laugh Factory?"

"No," chuckles Toby. "Tell me."

IV.

"Please," begs Liberty, trailing Snake to his desk.

Snake sighs contemplatively, opens his desk drawer, making the gumballs in the jar next to his computer shake. They always shake when they get that low, thinks Emma, standing shyly behind J.T. and Toby. Why can't he keep it full? Spike had always told him to have something fun and colorful on his desk, for the more boring days.

"Liberty, Ms. Hatzilakos said three-fifteen, and she meant three-fifteen," replies Snake.

Emma notices that he's taking the folder out anyway, grins. He really was a good teacher, and well, going against Hatzilakos may've been some silent rebellion, and Emma can't say that she didn't enjoy that aspect of it.

"We deserve to know our marks!" cries J.T.

"You really want yours?" jokes Toby.

"Not...especially," whispers J.T., then gesturing to Liberty. "Some of us do."

"I wouldn't be bugging you if universities didn't pay particular attention to grade eleven marks, especially second semester," provides Liberty.

"I'm well aware of that, Liberty," says Snake, handing her a sheet of paper. "Your computer access code to your report card."

Liberty beams, rushes to a computer.

"Oops, can I?" as she sets down her backpack.

"Eh, go ahead," says Snake. "You guys?"

"Alright," groans J.T.

"Um...yeah," mutters Toby, receiving his code.

J.T. and Toby sit on either side of Liberty, J.T. stretching dramatically before typing his onto the screen. Great, groans Emma inwardly. They left me alone to talk to him. She only came so they could get _their _codes.

"Em?" offers Snake, glancing at a clock. "It is...now...three-fifteen."

"Fine," says Emma, rolling her eyes.

Snake presents her with the sheet, smiling. "Sure you did well. You always do."

"Uh-huh," says Emma.

"Can I hear the results?"

"I want Mom to see it first!" exclaims Emma, forcing her friends to turn around. "I mean...sorry."

Snake flinches, manages to put on a decent enough smile.

"That's understandable," he says.

Something tells her he only broke the rules because of her, not that it was a severe gesture. Snake was still Snake. He isn't living in the same place, however. She used to pretend he was coming home, but when he brought Jack home from his new place, that thought seemed as childish as one of Jack's stuffed animals. That afternoon, she heard the door open, a tense exchange of words between Snake and her mom, and a loud slam. Emma kept a close eye on her mom the rest of the day. Spike acted normally, almost as good an actress as Manny.

"What are you going to do with Manny's?" asks Emma.

"Hmm, well, I called her parents, and they wanted Toby to take it to them," answers Snake, loud enough for Toby to hear. "So Toby?"

"Sure," says Toby. "Oh cool...a B-plus in history!"

"What the?" protests J.T. "I got a C-minus."

Ignoring them, Emma was sort of surprised that her parents wanted Toby to take it to them. Why not her? She and Manny used to pull up their grades together on J.J.'s old computer, celebrate the good ones, lament about the bad ones. True, Manny did more lamenting than celebrating, and Emma did the most support, but it was their thing.

"Can I have Spinner's?" asks Emma.

"Gavin's?" says Snake. "Em, he can come get it himself."

"Don't call me Em," waves off Emma. "Look, he's working from two to five. What, you don't trust me?"

"School policy says...," begins Snake.

"School policy also said three-fifteen," reminds Emma. "Hand it over."

Truthfully, she didn't know if Spinner was planning on ditching work to come get his report card, but hey, if she can't go over Manny's with her, she can go over them with someone she likes, and not have her cheating stepfather breathing down her neck. Those were some not so nice thoughts she's having, and Snake's expression matches them. Red-faced, he frowns as he slowly flips through the folder, removes the sheet for Gavin Mason.

"Oh no!" exclaims Liberty, typing manically. "A 94 in math! That's basically an A-minus!"

J.T. scoots his chair next to hers, pats her hand reassuringly.

"An A is an A," consoles J.T.

"Armstrong's hard, Liberty," adds Toby. "Ninety-four is more solid A to me."

"Those stupid vectors!" cries Liberty, sniffling.

Emma glances innocently at Liberty, hoping that her friend eventually realizes the grade isn't so bad, not bad enough to cry over at least. She's shocked to see her own stepfather...her father with tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. I shouldn't have talked to him like that, she reasons, saying nothing as she takes Spinner's code.

"You happy?" whispers Snake.

"No," replies Emma. "I was happy when Mom gave you that gumball jar. You said you 'd keep it on your desk, and you did. You have. So..."

"Emma," says Snake, reaching for her.

Emma backs away. "You should fill it."

She turns, walks past all the teenagers eagerly going into the MI lab to retrieve their sheets. The only eagerness she has is in leaving the room.

V.

Table four has no pickles, no onions on their burger, but yes to bacon. Table five has curly fries, only curly fries. Thanks, table five for making it easier, thinks Spinner, setting a glass of water in front of Sully and a group of his friends. They were celebrating summer, apparently not considering their report cards at all. Boy was that on his mind. He should go, really should. His boss would let him run to Degrassi for that.

"Burger with extra cheese for the basketball whiz, and slightly salted fries for his lady," says Spinner, coming to Jimmy and Hazel.

Hazel greedily eats one fry, sighs as if it's her first meal all day. Jimmy waves to Spinner without looking at him, eyes set on his laptop. They had been there for over an hour, longer than their usual stay, and just five minutes ago, Jimmy was on his cell, laughing uproariously.

"E-mail don't fail me now," whispers Jimmy, typing.

"Jimmy's smart, asked Simpson to mail him his code at three-thirty," informs Hazel, grabbing the whole tray of fries. "Mmm, no Dot food in Cancun."

"If I flunk, I'll be holed up while you enjoy paradise, Haze," sighs Jimmy. "Okay...yes! He sent it."

"Didn't know you could do that," admits Spinner.

"Want me to mail him for you?" offers Jimmy. "Computer's got monster speed. We'd know your marks in like six minutes."

"Nah," says Spinner. "I don't think I did so hot during finals."

"Cumulative grades, Spin," says Hazel. "Trust me. I've done pretty badly on my finals, and still managed to get a B or C."

Spinner shrugs, leaves his friends to enjoy what he's sure is a pretty good report card for Jimmy. He did study during finals week, like Emma suggested. He's just not sure he studied to a point where it made any difference. The multiple choice tests were difficult, and he second-guessed himself a lot. Then, essay exams were never his strong suit.

"Yes!" cries Jimmy from afar. "Who got skills? Three A's!"

He high-fives Hazel, then kisses her. At least he can be happy for his best friend, who wasn't even his best friend for most of the year.

The door rings as he grabs some menus. Another costumer. Spinner moves to greet them. Another costumer named Emma.

"How may I be of service?" says Spinner, bowing slightly.

Emma laughs. "Nothing for me. Except you gloating over your grades."

Spinner watches as Emma removes a piece of paper from her bookbag. The code he needs. Why? Like he'd really open his report card in front of the girl he wants to be his girlfriend? Face public humiliation?

"Working," covers Spinner, walking to the nearest table.

"Hi Emma!" shouts Jimmy, teasingly.

Spinner gives him an annoyed look. Also humiliating. What is this? Frustrate Spinner Day? Hey, it's the start of his summer too!

"Why, it's James!" returns Emma, grinning. "May I sit?"

Uh-oh, thinks Spinner, immediately going over to block Emma from sitting with Jimmy and Hazel.

"So guys, I notice you have a computer," says Emma, ducking under Spinner's arm so she can sit next to Hazel. "Your pageant picture looked amazing by the way, Hazel."

"Oh, thanks," murmurs Hazel, her mouth full of fries.

"Why, yes I do," says Jimmy, nodding at Spinner.

"Would you happen to have the Degrassi school website on there?" asks Emma.

"As a matter of fact, mysteriously, that's the website that's up," answers Jimmy.

"How convenient!" cries Emma. "It's...it's like destiny, I guess."

"Destiny, my butt," moans Spinner. "You guys..."

That phone call Jimmy received? Yeah, play it off all you want.

"School secretaries have a lot of numbers," defends Emma. "Including ex-assistant coaches for sports teams..."

"Got dishes to wash," lies Spinner, starting towards the counter.

Emma grabs his arm, motions for Spinner to sit, which he reluctantly does. Fooled by his best friend, Hazel, and Emma? Well, they weren't getting any extra napkins. Emma opens the sheet. Spinner takes it, types in the code, presses a couple buttons. Emma goes to the other side of the table, standing behind Jimmy's wheelchair.

"All of us knew you wouldn't do this without some encouragement," says Emma, pointing to the computer.

His marks come onscreen, Spinner shutting his eyes, then after counting to three, opening them. C in Armstrong's class, C in geography, B in history, not too bad. B in Kwan's class. A-minus in Media Immersion...A-minus! He hasn't gotten an A in a subject since...since maybe when he was nine?!

"Oh!" cries Spinner, jumping to his feet. "Oh...oh my...I got...no grade lower than a C! I got...got...got an A!"

"That's hot!" congratulates Jimmy.

"Spin!" cries Hazel, happily.

"This is like some dream where you wake up and realize it's not a dream, man!" exclaims Spinner. "And the dream is like righteous, dude!"

They all laugh, Spinner pumping his fists in the air.

"Yo, Jimmy!" yells Spinner. "Dude!"

He embraces his best friend, then bumps fists. Hazel gives him a warm, congratulatory hug, goes back to her fries. Spinner stalls at Emma, blushing. If she hadn't brought his code, or cared to make sure Jimmy was there for this moment, this great moment, he wouldn't feel half this good.

"Thanks," mumbles Spinner.

"One A down," says Emma, hugging him tightly. "Hundreds to go."

V.

His squeakers squelch on the linoleum steps, bookbag strap hitting the side of his waist. Climbing the stairwell to Manny's parents didn't usually tire him out, but he was up late talking to her on the phone. Eh, it was worth it, he thinks. Not so worth it? Calling his mom so she could chew his ear off. He politely listened, though he thought she was as Manny would say, playing the part of a concerned parent. Where was that concern in the other days of his life? Maybe the Justin thing was a wake-up call. Yeah, right. Come Thanksgiving, the regular e-mail.

Toby knocks on the door, hears some hurrying steps approaching the other side. Whoa, this is the first time he'd ever been to the Santos home without Manny being there. Even when they were friends, it was a bit awkward. Joseph used to be so intimidating, and Maria shy. After getting to know them, he sees that's not the case at all. Still, he's not sure what to expect.

"Toby!" greets Maria, ushering him in so fast Toby doesn't get to say hi. "Joseph, Toby's arrived!"

Joseph was actually the one that asked them to meet so they could call Manny together. He hopes he doesn't discover that he kept his daughter awake, talking to her past midnight. Well, he wouldn't know unless Manny told him.

Joseph, struggling to remove his tool belt, wobbles into the kitchen, waves to Toby despite having one end of it in his hand.

"Hi, sir," says Toby.

"Let's not wait!" cries Maria, anxiously. "Let's call Manuella."

All three of them, Toby in tow, go to J.J.'s old bedroom, a room not unlike his own, except J.J. was into baseball, not anime. Incredibly into baseball, notes Toby, eyeing tons of posters with players he barely knows. There was a lone flag for the Philippines, red, white, and blue, with a sun in the upper left corner. He wonders if Manny has a flag like that in hers. Oh, probably shouldn't think of her bedroom in front of her parents.

"So do you have the sheet?" asks Maria, interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, the sheet!" says Toby, fetching it.

He turns on the computer, waits for the main screen to upload. J.J. has a pretty decent PC., though it appears that only Manny regularly uses it as Joseph and Maria trade confused stares as the computer releases a few normal beeps.

"It's all done by computers nowadays," remarks Joseph, nodding resolutely as if that was the first time anyone had ever said that.

"Yeah, it's the easiest way, the most secure," offers Toby. "And you can...oh, um..."

His speech fails him as a screensaver of himself and Manny comes onscreen, a photograph of them after his presidential speech, Toby beaming as Manny held up an index finger. _Number one stud_, the message fading in and out underneath. Ugh, and her parents saw.

"Stud?" asks Joseph, innocently.

"Like...like an earring," covers Maria, blushing. "She loves the earrings in that pic. More slang!"

"Hmm...why can't they say that then?" sighs Joseph. "Let me get Manuellita on the phone."

Joseph goes to the side, punches some words into his cell, curiously eyeing Toby. Toby's sure he's not off the hook, but at least he was too occupied to grill him. He gives Maria a thankful smile, finds Degrassi's website.

"Hello?" says Joseph. "Yes...yes, it came. How are you? Good. Toby's bringing up the page...why do you use the word stud for earrings? That's definitely strange."

Toby swallows a lump in the throat, focuses on entering the code. He's both unnerved and secretly happy she chose that word. Can't let it show, though.

"Oh, I see," laughs Joseph. "You kids. Okay, here's Toby."

Apparently, whatever Manny said made Joseph laugh at the whole thing.

"When are you coming to Cali?" asks Manny, cheerfully, then giggling.

"It's loading," informs Toby, casting an amused glance at Maria.

"That makes four," notes Manny. "Aw, man. I have a bad feeling about geography. And math. Kwan's should be good."

Manny's code clears, and he punches a few keys, relieved to see that she not only did well, but extremely well. Kwan's was, in fact, good, a low A. Two more A's in French and Media Immersion, a B in geography and history, and a lone C in science, her weakest subject.

"You did awesome," congratulates Toby, then telling her the results as Joseph and Maria clap, hugging one another.

Manny gasps, yelps excitedly.

"I might make the honors list this time," boasts Manny. "Like right on the cusp."

"Average should do it," agrees Toby. "Congrats!"

"We're so proud of you, Manuellita!" says Maria, taking the phone from Toby. "When you come home, I'll bake you your favorite cake. And brownies! And bread!"

"I'm going to finish that bookcase of yours tonight," adds Joseph, as Maria holds the phone to his mouth. "Anything to make sure it continues. So proud!"

Toby receives the phone again, twirling the chord as Maria starts listing other furniture that Manny might need repaired, including the computer table. He's never seen a mom react like that to high school grades. Definitely not my mom, thinks Toby, frowning.

"So how'd you do, sweetie?" asks Manny.

"Um, A's and a B in history," shares Toby.

"The streak continues. I like my man smart," says Manny. "As the screensaver shows. Sorry."

"Well, I don't want to keep you," sighs Toby, as much as he wishes he could.

"Wait!" says Manny. "I...I love you."

Oh boy, he can't say that in front of her parents. It's one thing to say it in front of Emma or J.T. or kids in school, but them?

"Me...me too," stammers Toby. "A lot. Um, call you tomorrow."

He sets down the phone quickly, smiles at the floor.

"Okay, I'll turn this off and go then," says Toby, interrupting yet another hug between Joseph and Maria.

Beginning to log off the computer, Joseph places a firm grip on Toby's shoulder. Firm, yet not intimidating. He glances into Joseph's warm brown eyes, then into Maria's, which are even warmer.

"Maria and I have discussed it and...," begins Joseph.

"Yes?" encourages Toby.

"We've decided that it would be okay...if you were to..call yourself Manny's boyfriend," says Joseph, giving weight to each word. "And for us to do likewise. Of course, you know all that entails, respect being the biggest."

"Uh...sure...yeah, um...," stammers Toby.

Toby looks at Maria for confirmation, sees Maria offer him an apologetic shrug, clearly aware Manny's been using that title for him. Yeah, he's been her boyfriend for awhile, but it is different when Joseph, who was more traditional, says he can say it, like he's part of their family. Toby grins.

"It's an honor," says Toby.

"Good," says Joseph, bright teeth showing under his moustache. "It's settled."

"Can we print that out?" asks Maria.

"Sure," says Toby, returning to the Degrassi website.

As Joseph and Maria smile at their daughter's grades, he can't help but smile too.


	17. Magic Carpet Ride

**XVII. Magic Carpet Ride**

_Well, you don't know what we can find  
Why don't you come with me little girl  
On a magic carpet ride  
You don't know what we can see  
Why don't you tell your dreams to me  
Fantasy will set you free_

_Close your eyes girl  
Look inside girl  
Let the sound take you away_

_Last night I held Aladdin's lamp  
And so I wished that I could stay  
Before the thing could answer me  
Well, someone came and took the lamp away  
I looked around, a lousy candle's all I found_

_Well, you don't know what we can find  
Why don't you come with me little girl  
On a magic carpet ride  
Well, you don't know what we can see  
Why don't you tell your dreams to me  
Fantasy will set you free_

**Magic Carpet Ride is the property of Steppenwolf, and appears in the movie **_**Coneheads**_**, as well as **_**Austin Powers 2.**_

Lit buttons become dark as the elevator pauses on the second floor. This is such a huge building, a university building where she's close to coming face to face with thirty other almost university students. First-years. Frosh. Bait for anything that can and will go wrong. Well, at least she knows where the journalism building is. The information packet was very useful, complete with a detailed map that showed all the haunts of the University of Toronto. Clutching the paper, Ellie stands firmly as the elevator door shuts, ascends to the third floor, her floor.

She chose to wear a dark blue business skirt, and fitted black blouse, based on the encouragement of her mother to dress up a little. It was a good suggestion, thinks Ellie, as the doors open, revealing a very nice conference room, with fancy linen-covered tables, and a piece of parsley set on each of the forty or so plates. Ellie swallows a lump in her throat, goes into the room, where there are only a few waiters. Strange.

Where is everyone? Then, she hears a collection of voices in an adjoining room with state-of-the art computers, articles taped to cubicle walls, pens and pads everywhere. This is where she and her fellow seminar members would be brainstorming, writing. Ellie smiles anxiously, approaches the group.The group is diverse, even more than Degrassi. They were all young, sure, but definitely from different backgrounds. What makes her most happy is that the group was even when it came to gender. Both her mother and herself thought it would only be her and maybe three other girls. Heh, well, Katie Couric and Christiane Amanpour apparently had some impact.

"Hi," greets Ellie, her throat hurting. "I'm Ellie. Ellie Nash."

All eyes float to her, a bald-headed man in his fifties, glasses hugging his ears, in the back. She brightens when he grins sweetly at her.

"Eleanor Nash, from Degrassi Community School," says the man. "Welcome."

"Sorry," says Ellie. "Am I late?"

"No, you're on time," comforts the man. "The rest of them are...just ridiculously early."

The students chuckle politely, Ellie's cheeks burning. She should've came early. She insisted on taking the bus so that her mom wouldn't have to take her. That would've been more embarrassing than being the last one here. Her boyfriend would be picking her up, if he wasn't mysteriously delayed again.

"I'm Professor Williams," says the man. "We were waiting on you and another student. Then, we'll socialize, talk about the class..."

He's interrupted by a tall, attractive boy walking into a table on his way to the group. Ellie notices a couple of the girls sighing, smiling at one another. The guy winces, greets all of them with a friendly wave.

"And you are?" asks Professor Williams.

"Sorry, Professor," he says. "Matthew. Matthew Stern."

"Ah, I remember your portfolio," beams Professor Williams. "Especially your editorials on uniforms in schools. Glad to have you with us."

"Glad to be here," assures Matthew.

"Fine," says Professor Williams. "In fact, I'm well aware of the class' collective achievements. Because of that, I hold each of you to a high standard. Attending this seminar will not guarantee you a spot on the Core next year. However, it will prepare you for the more rigorous work you are sure to encounter not only at our university, but in professional journalism circles."

Ellie unzips her purse, takes out a small notepad, prepared to take notes.

"Not yet," whispers Matthew, glancing at her.

Ellie returns the glance, curiously. She always took notes at the start of class. Okay, so technically it's not class. But why not?

"I'd save that pen for more appropriate ventures, Ellie," remarks Professor Williams, chuckling.

The class joins in the laughter, a few students shaking their head in bewilderment. Ellie wishes she could put her purse over her head.

"What we can do, since you're all so eager, is to select partners for your first investigative piece," says Professor Williams. "This is a mock piece, of course, but I want to make sure you understand the form and flow of a comprehensive story. So those, who are less experienced may want to pair up with someone with a little more experience. I leave you to discuss it. Then, we eat!"

Voices fly across the room as each participant moves through the crowd, telling others about their work. Ellie's voice remains non-existent. She has experience, with the co-op, and her school paper, yet this is all so intimidating. The professor remembered Matthew's portfolio right off the bat. What about hers? Was it good enough? The fact that several people were heading for Matthew is no surprise. Ellie crosses her arms, looks at the floor.

"Stragglers stick together?" whispers Matthew to Ellie.

Ellie raises her eyebrows, shrugs. "Sure."

"Matthew, partners?" asks a pretty blonde in a red pencil skirt.

"Already selected," sighs Matthew. "Maybe next project."

The girl glares at Ellie. "Well, alright."

She leaves them alone, Matthew laughing. Matthew has to reject a few other prospects before they're alone.

"How'd you know about the pen thing?" asks Ellie.

"Came by to ask about this seminar months ago," explains Matthew. "Took out a pen when Mr. Williams was talking casually, and I got the same reaction. Guy's big on eye contact, personal connections. I agree. Seeing is believing, and believing is what you want your readers to do, right?"

Ellie grins, nods. "How much experience do you _really _have?"

"Not a lot," demurs Matthew. "Um, some workshops, editor of my school's paper since grade ten, some random award..."

"Uh-huh, thinking that award is pretty huge," interjects Ellie, laughing. "Well, to make you feel better, I'm not a novice either. School paper and yearbook, a co-op..."

"With who?"

"Caitlin Ryan. Um, she worked at..."

"Caitlin Ryan of Ryan's Planet?" cries Matthew. "Man, I love her! That's the kind of news I want to do. Illuminating quieter issues, communities without voices...and you got to work with her!"

"Yeah," says Ellie, blushing.

"You must go to Degrassi then," guesses Matthew. "All the finalists for those co-ops were from that school. I...kinda checked. Oh, wow. Do you know Toby Isaacs then?"

"Best friend's stepbrother," informs Ellie.

"Synagogue friend," offers Matthew. "Small world."

"Small world," agrees Ellie. "Wow."

"I know," says Matthew. "So any ideas for this piece we're going to do?"

The piece? Heh, actually, she was concentrating on not making a fool of herself anymore, especially with someone like Matt, who can bump into a table and still be the most charming one in the office. No, no, she's at the seminar for her writing, not to be well-liked. What issue can they cover? Like Matthew, she would love to illuminate topics that should receive more discussion. Gangs? Eh, not too current. Campus housing? Too boring. Then, the discussion from last night plagues her mind. There's one question she wants answered as soon as possible.

"Cars," speaks up Ellie. "Feel like doing something on cars?"

"Come on, I'm an eighteen-year old guy," laughs Matthew. "Of course. And it's very applicable to university students. Should choose a topic that's current. You know, in 2003, they busted this illegal car parts ring in Quebec. The biggest in Canada."

"Wow," breathes Ellie. "You don't think that's a problem in T.O.?"

"Eh, nah, they'd be on it quicker after that whole ring got cracked," says Matthew. "Although..."

"Perhaps we shouldn't be so ambitious," interjects Ellie. "Driving to campus?"

"And the experience of being a frosh driver, going home, back and forth," finishes Matthew.

"Taking driver's ed," admits Ellie. "But yeah, I'll be among them come September. I consider it current."

"Let's put the pedal to the medal," jokes Matthew, clapping enthusiastically, causing a few to stare at him in awe. "Okay, no longer cool."

"Join the club," says Ellie, elbowing him.

II.

"Spillage," warns Lia, placing a straw in her green tea smoothie.

Manny moans, hands freezing as vanilla yogurt seeps under her fingers, over the napkin. She loves dessert, but she really wants to look classy, especially walking on Olympic.

"Pinkberry plague," consoles Lia, fetching another napkin from the store's counter.

Offering a grateful look, Manny wipes her hands, then continues digging in. Ugh, it's so good on a hot day. She's so not use to this increased heat. Toronto only got this hot in the middle of summer. Worse, Lia doesn't appear to be sweating at all.

"Fruity pebbles and pineapple," giggles Lia. "Never saw that combo of toppings before."

"Creative license," defends Manny, spooning some red Fruity Pebbles into her mouth.

"My sister gets chocolate chips and granola, because they're brown," shares Lia. "Everything needs to make some type of weird sense to her."

"Am I ever going to meet Hannah?" asks Manny.

"If she ever comes out of her room," replies Lia.

They move to the right side of the yogurt store, sitting at a white table, in green glass chairs that make Manny's shoulders ache. The chairs looked cool, but they weren't practical at all. The food is good, however. Very good.

"Not social, huh?" says Manny.

"Only when she decides to be," remarks Lia. "Okay, enough about her. I think it's high time I saw the talented Toby. Present the boy, please."

Manny sets the yogurt on the table, retrieves her cellphone. She definitely has pictures of him on here, but yeah, part of her is afraid Lia might pull a Heather, and wonder why they were together. Toby may not be Johnny Depp, but he's far more wonderful in her book. Finding the picture of them on a ski trip, she gives the phone to Lia, folds her hands in her lap, playing with her charm bracelet.

"Awww, ya'll look all Zac and Vanessa," sighs Lia. "Ha, I bet he's good in math too."

"Yeah," says Manny, loosening her grip. "And hey, Vanessa's Filipino like me. Well, partly."

"You act better than her, though, for sure," says Lia, shaking her head.

They laugh, Lia going through her phone to view multiple pictures. Manny's relieved to see that Lia's smile never fades.

"Survey says?" encourages Manny.

"Hottest Jewish nerd I've ever seen," answers Lia, kissing the air.

"How'd you know he was...," starts Manny.

"We're Jewish," insists Lia. "Okay, not religious Jewish. But, you know, we are. Toby looks like a cousin of mine."

"Oh, didn't know," says Manny, red-faced.

"No big," says Lia, flipping her hair. "I mean, the most important thing is that we're all annoyed by Sarah Silverman, right?"

Manny hides a grin, shovels a little yogurt into her mouth. Honestly, it's a little more comfortable to be around someone that isn't set in their identity, as much as her parents, as much as Toby. She's seventeen, and yeah, she has plenty of time to figure that out.

A waft of wind blows through the restaurant and a door opens, medium-length blonde hair shining under brilliant sunlight, a young guy entering. Clothed in designer jeans, an orange T-shirt, and sandals Manny swore she saw in a magazine, he resembled a Calvin Klein ad model, only slightly shorter. He strolls to the counter, leans against it, playing with what Manny perceives is an expensive watch. Brooding, built, and clearly confident, he scans the tables, lets out an amused grunt. Manny stares at Lia, who drops her head to the table top in one fell swoop.

"Manny, tell me he's not here," sighs Lia, placing her ear against the cool table.

"Who?" whispers Manny.

"How Lia spent her summer vacation," teases the guy, walking to their table. "Part one. You and Colin weren't at Mood Saturday?"

"You missed Colin?" says Lia, lifting her head. "I'll tell him."

"Everyone was asking for ya," says the guy. "Hmm, your hair's straighter. Don't like it."

"Shut up and go away," groans Lia.

The guy looks to his right, just now noticing Manny. She offers a shy smile.

"Being rude in front of a guest?" he says. "What would Kel say?"

"Alright!" exclaims Lia. "Manny, this is Blake Willis. Blake, Manny Santos."

"Hi!" greets Manny, cheerfully.

"Pleased to met me, you're sure," replies Blake, then ignoring Manny. "You're doing camp again?"

"Why?" says Lia. "Are you?"

"Natch," assures Blake. "How're you going to land shampoo commercials with that hair, huh?"

"Focus on your own career, B-movie Blake," brushes off Lia. "Leaving, Manny?"

With pleasure, she thinks. This guy may have the looks of a matinee idol, but his attitude was completely annoying. Not to mention, she was picking up some vibes that Lia's past with him isn't so great. Lia and Manny throw their containers in the trash.

"At least I've been in movies!" exclaims Blake, blocking Lia. "And your friend..."

"Manny was in a movie," corrects Lia.

Don't drag me into the conversation, begs Manny inwardly. This is only her second day in California, and it's all been perfect so far. Please don't drag me into this fight.

"As a maid?" shoots back Blake. "Illegal immigrant?"

"Excuse you?" shouts Lia.

Flustered, Manny's mouth opens, her heart racing. Why, of all the comments he could've made, did that fly out? She played the typical naive freshmen, the homecoming queen. Why is that so hard to believe?

"Ignorant as always," complains Lia, grabbing Manny's arm. "Buh buh, Blake."

"Whatever. Lia, you of all people should know it's hard to get work because of the way you look," says Blake, calmly. "No offense, but it is."

Manny grows more and more confused, not only because of that statement, but because Lia's face falls immediately. Lia's probably one of the most beautiful girls she's ever seen. If she wasn't, she doubts she would've gotten those commercials in the first place. Lia lets Manny go, streams past Manny into the daylight, the sun feeling a thousand times colder as Manny joins her.

Lia hurriedly takes out her keys, car honking in response. No matter how upset she is, and she definitely is, Lia appears livid, absolutely livid. Muttering incoherently, she tugs at her car door. Manny gets in, snaps her seatbelt.

"Obsessed with hair, apparently," jokes Manny, awkwardly.

Flipping down her rear view mirror, Lia fusses with her hair repeatedly, red hair flying everywhere.

"It doesn't have as much bounce," murmurs Lia, in a volume Manny can hear.

"Well, if you straightened it...," begins Manny.

"I straightened it because I wanted to," interrupts Lia, angrily. "Because _I _wanted to. No one else."

"Well...well, good," stammers Manny.

"Stupid Blake," says Lia, on the verge of tears.

"Ugh, that maid comment. The only maid I've come into contact with is Minute Maid," jokes Manny, hoping it makes Lia smile.

It does.

"What does that mean, anyway?" laughs Manny.

"He thought you were Hispanic," clarifies Lia. "Dumbo. Problem is it's more his agency's fault. They're image conscious, create clients that are. I was with them for awhile. He resents my leaving, because the Andrews name got them money from family sponsors."

"Family sponsors?"

"You know, the kiddie-friendly, wholesome companies. They see Dad heading this family company, are willing to give money, and they have major bucks, Manny. But I can't be their little image bunny. Oh, and their cash cow! I want to act. _Act."_

Lia pounds the steering wheel resolutely, hurting her hand, then rubbing her wrist. Manny places a hand on her shoulder.

"Act like my mom," whispers Lia, lowering her eyes.

"So on your way to Emmy," promises Manny. "Or Oscar!"

"I'd settle for People's Choice at this rate," says Lia, grinning, starting the car.

The car speeds along, passing Pinkberry, a jewelry store with glittering diamonds on fake plastic hands, then two schools that are normal in comparison. Normal. She wonders why she didn't act or yell when Blake made those comments, as if it were normal that he said them? Usually, she'd get involved, even if she didn't know the person that well. Did part of her feel it was normal? After the Justin comment, and Chante's stunt, should she feel used to being labeled?

"Don't...don't let Blake label you," counsels Manny, the words hot as the fire in her chest

Bubbe said it best. Be strong, don't let it break you.

"Manny, they'll label you," sighs Lia. "You can't get away from it."

III.

Sean adjusts his cap, as he pulls his car into the airport parking lot. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful in her dinner outfit, wanted to ask her how it all went, wanted to let her know he's much better today. Will she care? He supposes he deserves this icy reserve, this stoic frown. The gigantic noise of a plane traveling overhead isn't as loud as the silence between them.

When he woke up, while the bruises were outwardly ugly, distracting, he felt no real pain. He might feel the occasional twinge of pain, have a dizzy head, and that's where it ended. Sleeping until three in the afternoon might've done the trick. Breathing in and out, his breath steadied during the rough night. Now, he breathed normally, as Ellie lets out her own deep breath.

"I know, Sean," says Ellie, hugging her bag to her chest.

She knows? Did Jay squeal because he was mad? Or Dale, because he just felt evil? He never thought he was in the clear, after dropping her home last night. Still, if she ever discovered the truth, he wanted to be the one to tell her. Great, another "I want". Well, what does she want? To leave? To try and patch up things?

"You can't do this, Sean," continues Ellie.

"I...I know," says Sean. "I can't."

"Mr. Ehl saw that you worked so hard in school, so it lead to the job, the apartment, and you deserve this trip," insists Ellie. "More than me."

"No, I...I really don't," says Sean.

What is this? Why is she being nice all of a sudden?

"If you have to quit, I understand," says Ellie. "Dale's intimidating...well, I guess the situation is more intimidating. Don't let him win."

Oh, so she does know Dale's involved? Or...what? Ellie's talking in circles. Then again, hasn't he been doing that since he lost his job? Lying, making underhanded promises, trying to explain his behavior?

"I'm in the hole, Ellie," whispers Sean.

"You aren't indebted to anyone, but yourself," says Ellie, sliding over, kissing him on the cheek.

Boy, are you wrong, thinks Sean, his heart the part of his body that hurts the most right now. He's indebted to Dale, or else he won't be here, with Ellie. There has to be...no, there is no way to leave. He was so independent when he came back from Wasaga. So independent.

"Ellie," whispers Sean, hating the single tear that drops.

What's strange is how sure she sounds, like he's innocent, like it's all Dale's fault. Far from innocent, and he can't tell her otherwise. She has no clue.

"Dale's guilty, not you," says Ellie.

She's right. I'm not guilty. Not yet. Not _yet_.

"Ellie...," begins Sean again.

"The truth is hard, Sean," whispers Ellie, massaging his arm. "I'm a journalist, so hey, I get it. Last time, when you did something honorable, the shooting, you couldn't tell me anything. You felt ashamed. I get that too. There's...there's still time to do what's honorable. You always do."

Sean opens his mouth to reply, can't, sniffles.

"You always do," repeats Ellie, softly. "I don't want you to lose your job over this...lose you over this."

Ellie presses her mouth to his, eliciting a kiss of desire. His desire? To confess, to share secrets he shouldn't. It's as sweet as usual, then unusually bitter, as those words, the words he wishes to say, are hushed.

"Ashley's waiting so...," says Ellie.

Sean unbuckles his seatbelt, rubs his red eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, leaves the only car that won't cost him everything.

IV.

"Make sure they stamp your passport," reminds Craig.

"I've been to London before," says Ashley. "Stamps already in place."

"This trip is special, though," argues Craig, wrapping his arms around her waist. "The start of Ashley's reign over the United Kingdom, world soon to follow."

Ashley smiles, pats his arms with her hands. She can feel Kate's eyes burning a whole through her light, green cotton sweater. Her father and Chris were still loading baggage unto a trolley, while Kate chose to hover with her daughter and her boyfriend. And Toby? Well, something tells her Toby was getting a little sick of being in the airport for two days straight, conversing with a tired Jeff at the nearest exit. They were all sweet for coming, no matter their locations. Even Paige came to wish her a proper good-bye.

"Okay," says Paige, walking to them with Sean and Ellie. "I got you _People _for human interest, _Time _for substance, and _Cosmopolitan _for hair tips."

"And I got you something you'd actually read," speaks up Ellie, putting a copy of _Rolling Stone_ under Ashley's nose.

"Hair tips are so needed for the summer," defends Paige.

"Thanks," says Ashley, grinning.

She takes them all, though she's certain she'll read Ellie's selection first.

"Batteries," mutters Sean, giving her a package of double A-batteries.

"So touching, Sean," dismisses Paige. "Why not get her air freshener?"

"It's for her CD player?" guesses Craig.

Sean nods, smirks at Ashley.

"Well-appreciated," says Ashley, ignoring Paige huffing.

Awww, she really doubts other musicians get this treatment. Maybe it's because it's her first tour, or because she's so young. Meredith e-mailed her, saying all the people at the center would miss her visits, and not to worry about leaving that night unexpectedly. She's just glad Ashley would spend time with her and the girls. No more of that, she thinks, sadly.

"I'm thinking in that tour program, you'll be in the mood to write some dedications," hints Paige, grinning widely.

"Dedication to my friends...got it," promises Ashley.

"Especially your best," chimes in Ellie.

"Or oldest," says Paige, nudging Ellie.

The two keep at it for a few more seconds, Ashley smiling at Craig. Luckily, for them, the luggage is loaded, and Toby and Jeff appear at her side. Toby holds out his cell to her, Ashley lifting it to her ear.

"Hey, Ash, this is Hazel!" squeals Hazel, nearly hurting Ashley's eardrum.

"And Jimmy...," says another voice.

"Uh...," says a third voice.

"Talk, man!" orders Jimmy.

"Oh, it's on? Hey, Ashley, this is...this is Spinner," says Spinner.

"Good luck!" the three of them yell.

Ashley chuckles. "Thanks, guys! Have a great summer!"

The phone clicks off. Wow, and with Marco arranging the going away party, she's totally overwhelmed by their show of support. Ashley gives Toby his phone back, rubbing her forehead. Really so overwhelmed. Ashley tears up, glancing from one person to the next. Leaving Degrassi was hard for her last summer, and this time, even harder.

"July's gotta go by fast," says Ashley, eyes wet. "It...it just has to."

Ellie and Paige surround her, arms encircling her, with Craig in the rear. It's hot in this heat, although not too hot for her. With Ellie's cheek pressed to Ashley's chest, her sight finds Sean, and the weight of the hug becomes exaggerated. She wonders if he and Ellie have talked. If they have, she hopes he will forgive her. He did buy the batteries, thinks Ashley, nodding at Sean.

"Alright, family intervention," jokes Toby, trying to butt in.

Paige and Ellie release her, Ashley hugging Toby. They had their own little mild secret, of when she showed up drunk that one night. Kate never caught on, and she appreciates his failure to tell her. Jeff hugs her after his son.

"We'll be checking in," promises Jeff. "They're taping the tour, right?"

"Yeah, our own camera crew," says Ashley, letting Jeff go.

The last good-bye...her mom, of course. After all the terse words and strained actions, this shouldn't be hard. A mom is a mom, though.

Kate Kerwin breathes deeply, collects her daughter in her arms, smoothing Ashley's long, red-brown hair. The hug is reaching, tender. Ashley feels ready to say it's all right, you're forgiven. She doesn't think she needs to, returning the soft pressure.

"Keep warm, safe," instructs Kate. "London has riffraff too, so you carry your wallet..."

"Inside my jacket," finishes Ashley.

Ashley wiggles from her mother's grasp, surprisingly not wanting to as much as thought she would.

"My daughter...on tour," sighs Kate, happily.

"My mom...wishing me well," whispers Ashley, buzzing her mother on the lips.

Ashley takes Craig's hand, slinging her carry-on bag over her shoulders.

"Love you all," says Ashley to the group. "Trust me. Moody Ashley doesn't fake happiness."

They all laugh, even Sean. Advancing hand in hand with Craig to the security checkpoint, Robert and Chris go to the back of the line, sure Ashley would like a little privacy.

"Next time I see you, we'll be in England," says Craig, looking at his shoes.

"A long time coming," says Ashley, laying her head against his chest.

Craig holds her, chest heaving slightly.

"This feels like the right summer to go, doesn't it?" asks Craig. "We're...we're ready."

"We're happy," adds Ashley.

"We're holding you up," sighs Craig, kissing Ashley's forehead. "Go on, or I'll never forgive myself."

Ashley rolls her eyes, playfully hitting him as Craig pulls her in for a lip lock. Relaxed, joyful, different than the last kiss they shared last year, before her taxi sped off. No, they're at the airport, and he's coming with her like they agreed. She was waiting for him to come to her, after all, a completely different scenario.

"Steal a barf bag," whispers Craig in her ear as their lips leave one another.

"Because I drink so much," laughs Ashley.

"Okay, one of those air travel magazines," suggests Craig.

"I'll see what they have," jokes Ashley. "See you in three weeks, Craig."

"Are we sure it's three?" says Craig, dramatically gasping. "Not four? Not two?"

"Three!" insists Ashley, pinching his waist.

"Good, that's what my ticket says," replies Craig, winking. "Love you."

"Love you too," says Ashley, kissing his mouth quickly.

"Ashley!" calls Robert.

Sighing, she walks to her parents, luggage easily being transferred by Robert, an employee indicating that the next available agent is available. Her eyes stay on Craig with each passing second, hoping it's a silent sign that this is a guarantee, that London will happen this time for them. She chooses to believe that he got the sign, Craig staying there, gaze unbroken. It doesn't break until she finds herself walking to the terminal with Robert and Chris. In fact, it remains in her heart as she sits, lifts the eggshell-colored window cover to view the runway.

When the plane ascends, her eyes begin to drift. Her thumb goes up and down as she lazily grazes her fingers over her CD player, the black sheen of the machine matching the darkness threatening to fill her sight. Robert and Chris were already knocked out around the hour mark, Chris snoring quietly.

"Miss, a drink for you?" asks a curly-haired stewardess with yellow orb earrings.

"Sure, what do you have?" replies Ashley.

"Are you under nineteen?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we have soft drinks, tea...," lists the stewardess.

"Sprite?"

"Fine, miss."

The stewardess pops open a can of Sprite, pours some into a cup. Ashley thanks her, the bubbles tickling her nose as she listens to Chris breathe. She remembers all the celebrations she's had, the drinks poured then, the bubbling excitement. It was all for a reason, all for today. Ashley toasts herself now, no matter who's watching.

V.

"So you're officially introduced to Olympic," says Lia, closing the door behind Manny.

Manny nods, glancing around the still-so-beautiful foyer, notes that the roses that were once there have been replaced with new flowers.

"New flowers?" says Manny.

"Oh, Dad does that every morning," explains Lia. "We don't have a butler or anything. Dad thinks we should do everything ourselves."

Manny fingers a few petals. The roses Toby gave her were in the kitchen, nicely arranged in a pretty purple vase. Lia put them in a good spot where they'd get enough sun. They were still healthy, after two days.

"Everything?" remarks Manny. "Wow. My parents get antsy when I go near a hot stove. Then, at Emma's, until a few months ago, there was always an adult around."

"The only adult that comes here regularly is Hannah's teacher," informs Lia. "Sleeps in the room next to Hannah's."

"Teacher?"

"She's home-schooled," says Lia. "I graduated at sixteen from private."

"Whoa!" exclaims Manny.

"Hey, there's a brain in this beautiful head," defends Lia. "Speaking of the sibling...Hannah!"

Lia glances around the foyer, curves her head into a white and gold parlor Manny discovered earlier that morning. Everything looked so untouchable in there, she left immediately.

"Gremlin!" calls Lia.

"I'm not a fuzzy creature in a movie!" yells a voice from the kitchen.

Heavily sighing, Lia leaves the foyer, heading for the kitchen. Manny follows. The kitchen wasn't as fancy as the rest of the house, except for some black, metallic furniture, and a few up to date appliances. An ipod laid next to the toaster, and that was probably the only other modernity. What's stranger is the girl at the kitchen counter cutting the crusts of an apple pie, putting them on a Spongebob plate. Only the crusts, realizes Manny. Blonde, puffy hair, parted right in the middle, was housed in two big buns. Lime-green tinted sunglasses were over her eyes, matching the color of six bracelets on her left arm, and six bracelets on her right. A tie-dyed pink T-shirt and white shorts complete the outfit.

"What are you doing using a knife?" cries Lia.

"I want hard, sweet food," says Hannah, glancing at them. "Are you Manny? Hello."

Manny starts to reply, Lia shushing her.

"That's gross," remarks Lia.

"I'm eating it," asserts Hannah.

"Those better not be my Fendi glasses!" exclaims Lia. "I got that at a swag for Teen Vogue."

"These glasses see into your soul," whispers Hannah, removing them.

"Yeah, right!" says Lia. "Look, go eat your disgusting snack in your room. I don't have time for this."

"You sound like Daddy," sighs Hannah, walking past Manny.

"No, I don't!" cries Lia. "And don't forget to brush your teeth. That stuff will make them rot."

"The Tooth Fairy says my teeth are sparkling," defends Hannah.

Feet scampering across the floor, Hannah leaves, Lia collapsing into a chair near the kitchen table. Manny stands by her.

"See what I have to deal with everyday," groans Lia.

"She is imaginative," says Manny.

"No, you don't know the half of it," says Lia, rubbing her temple. "You should go see her castle. It is not to be missed."

"Castle?"

"Her room," explains Lia. "I dare you."

"Fine," says Manny, playfully hitting Lia in the shoulder.

Manny exits the kitchen, starts up the staircase, ornate and gold and long, hand firmly gripping the banister. Her room's at the end of the hall, remembers Manny. Well, the door looks ordinary, brown and mahogany. She knocks.

"Hello, it's Manny!" she says.

"State your purpose!" calls Hannah.

What a weird thing for a seven-year old to say. Go with it.

"I wish to gain entry to your castle?" offers Manny, not even sure why these words came to her.

"Permission granted," replies Hannah. "Watch the moat!"

Manny twists the doorknob, basically steps into a storybook. That's the theme of the room, anyway. True to her word, a rug resembling a moat has been placed near the front door. Well, when your dad's rich and has movie connections, she guesses. The room is charming, though. Blue and purple turrets were painted onto the walls, pink banners hanging from side to side. Two mannequins stand next to a lavender canopy bed, one figure in a knight's costume, complete with shield, and the other figure wearing a gorgeous light blue gown, and brown wig. All the necessities were interspersed between, cabinets and a vanity mirror and a nightstand. The furniture was a dusky mauve, beautifully and carefully crafted. Most interesting of all was a see-through, dark blue tent erected in the center, the tent resembling one you'd see in an Arabian marketplace. This must've taken a lot of money, and a lot of time, and hopefully a lot of heart.

"Cool castle," compliments Manny.

"It's French," says Hannah. "Like Lia's manicure."

"I see," says Manny. "Can I sit?"

"In the tent," replies Hannah. "That's where I grant audiences."

Obeying, Manny approaches the tent, sits under the glittering blue cloth. With some slight shuffling, Hannah soon comes in with her plate of pie crusts, chewing one.

"Are you excited for the summer?" asks Manny.

"No," says Hannah. "That means the kids next door will be really loud."

This is all sounding fairly familiar. Alyssa and Emma kept to themselves too, because of sadness, but the difference here is that Hannah actually seems upbeat and content to do it.

"Why don't you go play with them?" asks Manny. "I'm sure they're nice."

"Oh, they're nice," assures Hannah. "Just not interested."

Perhaps it's a result of the home-schooling. She's used to being by herself. This isn't exactly healthy, though.

"Maybe we can hang out some day?" suggests Manny.

"If I'm not busy," sighs Hannah. "Such a busy schedule. I'm in high demand."

Manny laughs, pats Hannah on the knee. They leave the tent, Manny smiling at the costumes once again.

"Those were given to me by a fairy godmother," shares Hannah. "Her disguise is a pattern maker at a studio. The knight saved the princess."

"I'm such a freak for damsels in distress," confesses Manny. "Must've watched Sleeping Beauty millions of times. Liked Cinderella the best."

"It is the best," agrees Hannah. "Have you found your knight?"

"I think so," replies Manny.

And I haven't called him today, thinks Manny, gasping, fetching her phone. Hannah stares at her, innocently. No need as the phone's ringing.

"Hi," says Manny, turning her back on a curious Hannah.

"He's the one that sent you flowers!" whispers Hannah, excitedly.

Manny smiles politely, ushers Hannah to the other side of her castle. Not as annoyed as Lia, but she doesn't want Toby to hear her.

"How are things?" asks Manny.

"Great," says Toby. "Kytel's over. School's over. I'm...bored."

What was J.T. doing? He promised to get Toby out of the house, and no, he's not living up to his end of the bargain.

"Liberty," mutters Manny, glancing at the moat.

"Huh?" says Toby.

"Nothing!" laughs off Manny. "Uh...what are you doing tomorrow?"

"I kinda...kinda promised...," stammers Toby.

This doesn't sound good, thinks Manny. He's stumbling over his words. Don't let it involve Kendra, don't let it involve Kendra, she repeats in her head.

"To talk to Justin," finishes Toby.

Justin? That prejudiced, violent, idiotic...uh-uh, no.

"Toby!" whispers Manny. "Why would you do that? He hit you!"

"Clara said he wants to apologize...to you and me," says Toby. "What's wrong with opening the lines of communication? He'd stop bothering you."

"Toby..."

"I can't bare the thought of you hearing that word again," confesses Toby. "I...I can't."

Manny places the phone next to her heart. She'd love to think it was that simple, yet she can't see any good coming from this.

"You can't be alone with him," whispers Manny into the phone. "Will Clara be there?"

"No," says Toby. "Manny, I can handle it."

"Okay, anyone else," says Manny. "Your dad? J.T.? Rabbi Miller? Matthew?"

"They wouldn't let me," protests Toby. "It's one talk."

Manny feels tears at the back of her eyes.

"What if he snaps?" says Manny. "Toby, listen to me..."

"I am. Just...I know this is what's best for us," interrupts Toby. "I'll call you right after. Oh, my dad's coming. Bye."

"Toby!" whispers Manny, strongly, alarmed to hear the phone click off.

And great, I have to recharge, realizes Manny, lightly slamming the phone against her forehead. What's up? Toby always listens to her advice. In fact, he usually takes it. Guess I have to believe he's sure what's best.

"Are the knight and princess having a fight?" asks Hannah, offering Manny a pie crust.

She takes it, chews reluctantly.

"What would you recommend?" asks Manny, wiping crumbs from her lips.

Hannah shrugs. "I'm smart enough to know to stay out of people's business. At least today."


	18. Tomorrow Is Another Day

**XVIII.****Tomorrow is Another Day**

_Come along _

_Will there be sunshine shinin'? _

_Will we find a silver linin'?_

_Come along _

_Sing a song _

_When today becomes tomorrow _

_Will we find joy or sorrow? _

_Sing a song _

_Is it wrong _

_To put all our hopes together _

_And wish for somethin' better? _

_Is it wrong? To belong _

_To face the future with another _

_who means more than any other _

_Is to belong _

_We'll paint the grey clouds _

_With pretty rainbow hues _

_And we'll brush the gloom away _

_And save it for a rainy day _

_Rainy day _

_Oh, today I_

_f troubles cast a shadow _

_And shadows make the sun afraid to stay _

_But it's OK_

_'Cause there'll be sunshine shinin' _

_And we'll find a silver linin' _

_Another day_

_Tomorrow is another day _

_How I hope you'll always stay _

**Tomorrow is Another Day is the property of Shelby Flint, from the animated film **_**The Rescuers.**_

**Let's Dance is the property of David Bowie.**

Her eyes locate faded pageant posters, clips from the classified section, volunteer of the month, showing Hazel with her usual cheery demeanor. Unlike Degrassi, apparently the community center didn't clean out every passing quarter. She takes solace in that. Viewing something that's consistently full makes her pulse steady.

Hmm, when was the last time she was here? March? Yes, March, when she didn't have the knowledge she has at the moment. It should've been so perfect, and she wanted the night of the premiere to be, for Manny. She's her best friend, after all. Who knew going to the washroom would end in the most disgusting sight she's seen in her life? Snake kissing Hatzilakos, arms wrapped around her frame, similar to how he held her mother. Awful. Going back to sit with Jack, Spinner, and especially her mother in the movie theater made her body grow cold. She touched her wrist, finger meeting chilled skin, swears all her bones went cold.

She figured her bones were so out of wack they couldn't dance anymore. That's such a shame, because whether plies, chasses, or jetes, her body managed to not only keep up with the class, but feel free, freer than it felt in years. Maybe it's equivalent to how Toby felt in his Confirmation classes, or Manny felt in her acting exercises. She can be a part of something beautiful. Nothing else mattered, as her body swayed from side to side, jumped in the air. There was a purpose without structure. That's why it feels so enticing now. Structure was needed at home, and the purpose of all the routine work was painful, because the purpose is to function without Snake.

Emma smooths her bangs, hair in a high ponytail, walksdown the community center hall to thumping music. Shyly poking her head into the room with the music, she views Hazel doing a lunge in synchronization with the rhythm. Clear, and crisp, judges Emma. As Hazel continues to move, Emma almost feels guilty interrupting her. Too bad her journal drops out of her bag, to the hard plywood floor of the studio. Hazel turns her head, lands securely after a leap.

"Hey," greets Hazel, jogging over to turn off the huge stereo next to the mirrored wall.

"Hi, clumsy me," apologizes Emma, scooping up her journal.

"Don't be," says Hazel. "I was goofing around. Miss my students."

"Manny does too," says Emma.

"How's she doing in L.A.?"

Emma shrugs. "Well...actually, I haven't heard from her since she left so..."

"Yearbook budget?" asks Hazel, when Emma's voice fades.

"Thanks," replies Emma, walking to her.

Hazel opens her lavender duffel bag, fetching the yearbook budget Emma needed for Student Council. She received the yearbook itself from Paige two days ago. Her mom came through, as promised, gave her the money with a proud smile. They could still benefit from some money, but Emma loved her mother being proud. The cash was given to her with love.

"When are you guys going to get a treasurer?" jokes Hazel.

"I was sort of hoping Toby would be treasurer too this year," says Emma. "That leaves me with the job since no one else volunteered."

"Everybody ran for president, or vice president," remembers Hazel aloud. "Liberty's bound to help you guys, though."

"I can do it," waves off Emma.

"Are you sure you're not taking on too much?" asks Hazel.

"Absolutely not," answers Emma. "Perfectly under control."

"Okay," sighs Hazel, zipping her bag.

"It's just like dancing," shrugs Emma. "Control, precision, attention to detail..."

Hazel smirks. "Not always, Emma. Even you can have an out of body experience."

Emma bites her lip, as Hazel bumps her playfully, exits the studio with her duffel bag. Dancing _is _detail. That's why you practice. Emma lets her own bag drop to the floor, stares seriously into a shining mirror. Her eyes appear so dull, and the bags underneath, to her disappointment, haven't left. Jack was up later since the end of school, completely aware he could bother Emma longer into the night since she didn't have a reason to wake up every morning. Summer also prompted her mother to ask Emma to do more chores, including most of the cooking. Perhaps it was a silent punishment for inviting Snake to the barbecue, an action they rarely talked about. Call her crazy, but she secretly thinks Spike was pleased with Snake making more effort to be around. Word is still out on them working on their marriage, however.

Spreading her legs slightly, she bends, touches one toe, then the other. A rush of energy flows in her lower body. Grinning, she does it a couple more times. Heh, this is too simple, she thinks, elongating her waist and chest. Her feet start to travel, sneakers squeaking as she inches closer to the stereo. What possesses her to press play on the speaker is completely lost to her. She likes being a bit lost. Only a little.

Light rock music bounces off the walls, into her ears, ready to hear. Control, precision, detail, she repeats, lifting her legs in a solid plie. Twirling, she places her arms in a praying position, she kicks back a leg, does a turn out.

_Let's dance put on your red shoes and dance the blues_

_Let's dance to the song  
they're playin' on the radio_

Her waist, legs lock properly, pops her shoulders to a clanging cymbal in the verse of the song. An increased drumbeat gets her feet running in place, advancing forward in soft shoe movements.

_Let's sway  
while color lights up your face  
Let's sway  
sway through the crowd to an empty space_

Not too bad for being out of practice, she congratulates herself, slipping off the tie that holds her ponytail. Blonde hair falls against her cheeks, brown eyes welcoming the sight of a girl in a tight blue T-shirt and denim shorts, bending her knees to prepare for a grapevine. Moving her left food, she smiles shyly as she sways.

_If you say run, I'll run with you  
If you say hide, we'll hide  
Because my love for you  
Would break my heart in two  
If you should fall  
Into my arms  
And tremble like a flower  
_

Glancing in the mirror again, she sees another figure. Jumping in fear, she trips, thigh meeting the floor.

"Oh man, oh man," breathes Spinner, rushing to her.

Emma releases a couple heavy breaths, pats his shoulder reassuringly. Spinner, refusing to look at her, gets her to her feet. Where did he come from?

"Scared me," admits Emma, straightening her shirt.

"Said I'd give Hazel a lift home," explains Spinner.

"She left," says Emma.

"I...I know," says Spinner. "She said you were in the center and I...came to say hi."

"Hi," mumbles Emma, blushing as she gazes at her knees.

Usually, she has more confidence around him, whether the situation is awkward or not. However, him catching her dance so goofily is reason to allow the nerves to show. He'd realize those dancing lessons he paid for weren't doing a lot of good, despite his belief that she danced well during the pageant.

"That was good," compliments Spinner.

"What? That random, uncoordinated mess?" says Emma.

"I like random and uncoordinated," assures Spinner. "You're talking to the guy who had to dance to country music at the eighties' dance."

"I was there," reminds Emma, beaming. "At least you weren't a dancing panther. Toby and Manny still haven't forgiven me for putting them through that."

"Awww, it was cute."

"You and Jimmy didn't think it was cute then."

"Turned over a new leaf," replies Spinner. "Insensitive, immature. _Mea coda."_

"_Mea culpa," _suggests Emma.

"The A was in Media Immersion, not English," defends Spinner.

They laugh, Spinner running a hand through his short brown hair. He really did look good today, just off work, clad in his Dot uniform, black-Tshirt and baggy tan cargo pants. With Manny gone, she didn't have a lot of people to talk too, on a more personal level. J.T. and Toby were best friends, so she felt intrusive letting one in and not the other, and she and Liberty weren't close. Spinner was the best option. On the negative side, he also happens to be the guy she's attracted to, so she can't share as easily as she'd like.

"Dancing the stress away," says Emma.

"I was sort of shocked you wanted to give up," confesses Spinner. "Like, right after Valentine's, you were at the center practicing. You told me stuff you were learning..."

"Needed a break," interrupts Emma. "Spinner, home's so hectic. I barely have a moment to breathe. Jack needs looking after, or Mom wants an extra hand, or...and if I don't work...if I don't work, you can feel this huge gap..."

Emma pretends to wipe sweat from her face, really wiping tears before they can come. No matter how far she tries to stamp on the prior days, they illuminate themselves. She hates snapping at Snake, missing Manny, seeing what she can't fix.

"Do you know why I bought you lessons?" asks Spinner, moving a piece of hair from in front of her eyes.

"Why?" says Emma.

"You said you wanted to be different after the shooting when we were doing the pageant," says Spinner. "No more Ravine Queen or whatever. I know what that feels like. I mean, obviously not exactly, but...yeah."

Fighting the urge to laugh, Emma sighs loudly. Yes, they all desired new things after the shooting, and they were all playing out. Toby with the presidency, Spinner with school, yet she's the only one that's in a situation where she can't grow. I'm stifled, she thinks. Stifled since I need to think of others.

"This dance thing...could've been mine," breathes Emma.

"So dance!" exclaims Spinner. "We all deserve something that's like...relaxing. Something where we can chill, enjoy it. That's why I'm going to Cali."

"You always look like you're enjoying yourself," says Emma, smiling.

"Good friends and family make a good life," explains Spinner. "And...wicked, wicked hair. Just enough product."

Emma chuckles. "Most useful maxim I've heard all year."

"Max-what?" blanks Spinner. "The magazine?"

"Like I'd read that sexist garbage," says Emma, rolling her eyes. "When are you leaving?"

"Two weeks," answers Spinner. "Wish you were going."

"I could dance oh so randomly on the beach," teases Emma.

Spinner grins widely, rubbing his hands together. "With animal ears?"

"Stop," chastises Emma, hitting Spinner lightly on the back as he laughs.

II.

"All I'm saying is Paul McCartney is the most celebrated," comments Chris, carving his steak into two.

"Simply because George Harrison is quieter," argues Ashley. "Many musicians have quieter personalities, and gain posterity. Harrison was way more artistic."

Seated around her father's apartment kitchen table, decorative silver tablecloth spread across the length of it, she and Chris were having the usual "who's the better musician" discussion. She liked these because she won with enough persistence. Chris folded somewhere at the point where Ashley kept insisting that fame didn't make art, that little heard voices may be bigger in theory than on the charts. It is harder with two Beatles, though. And here it comes.

"Got My Mind Set on You does get more airplay, and I am sick of hearing about Paul and his marital troubles," concedes Chris. "Mmm, meat could be more tender."

"Ashley's won this round," remarks Robert, grinning.

"I always win," brags Ashley.

"Well, I wonder if George Harrison's dad set his keyboard up in his child's room the way I did," adds Robert, Ashley blushing.

Robert smirks, finds the remote control to turn on the small television on a nearby counter. Ever the journalist, Robert had to know today's news. With a mouthful of potatoes, Ashley pays attention as well.

"The House of Parliament gathered for a landmark assembly today, surely anxious to hear the legislative decisions proposed by..."

Eh, government. After taking all those difficult exams at Degrassi, she can afford to ignore any mentions of laws and officials. The broadcast lasts a good while, Robert rising from his chair to get a bottle of wine and a couple glasses. Ashley pokes her potatoes with her fork.

"Merlot, Chris?" asks Robert.

"Fine," replies Chris. "After that rocky flight yesterday, could use some relaxation."

Robert pours half a glass, hands it to Chris. Chris swishes it around, sniffs, sips.

"Good year," says Chris.

"How do you know it's a good year?" asks Ashley.

Robert chuckles. "Has a refined taste."

"Though with Merlot, you seldom go wrong," points out Chris.

The newscast changes from Parliament coverage to a woman sitting in front of a desk, the word _Features_ in the corner of the screen. This looks way more interesting. Robert sits back down with a glass of wine, increasing the volume.

"One sure not to miss event this summer is a bevy of new musicians embarking on a make or break tour in our local streets," announces the reporter, in a prim English accent. "Yes, that's right. The second annual BB6 New Voices musical festival promises to be as good as the last."

Ashley covers her mouth, as Chris and Robert clap enthusiastically. Whoa, what are the chances? She wagered the press for the tour wouldn't be happening until near the end of the month.

"Throughout July, the freshest talent will travel from university courtyard to erected park stages to a shattering finale at the Pitcher and Piano, on a beautiful black tour bus housing more than forty people. From native Londoner Mark Kennick to Canuck ingenue Ashley Kerwin..."

Her reporting is interrupted by a loud cry of joy from Chris, Ashley's heart racing.

"Shhh," says Robert, rising to put an arm around Ashley.

"The streets will be hopping with a variety of musical styles," continues the reporter. "Visit the BB6 website listed below for show times, locations, and as always, my site, Gallivanting with Gail will have up date information. Back to you, Nigel."

Gail disappears with more reportage of a Parliament session appearing onscreen. Ashley barely notices as her heart is still beating brutally. Her name was heard throughout London just now. Her name! And whoever wrote the telecast or the press release chose her to be a part of it!

"Concert goers going to see my little girl," boasts Robert.

Wait. If the concert's being mentioned on the biggest news station in the city, that...that means this is more intense than she originally thought. They'd know her name, and she'd have to be ten times better, or as good as this Mark Kennick.

"Can...can I have some?" she says timidly, motioning to the bottle of Merlot.

Robert laughs. "What?"

"A...a little?" replies Ashley. "I'm...I'm eighteen."

"Not sure you're going to like it, but yep," says Robert, going to get a glass.

"Rob, I'm not sure," speaks up Chris, tentatively.

"I'm drinking age here," reminds Ashley. "Don't worry, Chris."

"I agree, and Ashley's a good girl," says Robert, giving her barely any.

Ashley looks at it, annoyed. She can handle more than...what is it, three drops? She tips the glass, a sour, bitter taste, with a hint of sweetness. Yeah, gross.

"Going to bed," says Ashley, scrunching her nose. "Still on jet lag time."

"Told you you wouldn't like it," chuckles Robert. "Put up the bottle for me?"

Robert kisses Ashley's forehead, takes his place at the table. Yawning, Ashley picks up her plate, goes to the kitchen, sets down the bottle of Merlot, gleaming under the florescent light, a copy of the _Daily Mail _next to it. She can imagine the reviews in the _Mail_ now. Ingenue? More like idiot. What did the twins call her? Dull. Craig has done a lot more than her, with the wedding gigs, the Squatch gigs. True, they liked the pageant gig, but those were full of friendly families who always humored you.

Ashley casts a dejected look at her father and Chris, takes the bottle, heads for her room. Her room in London is smaller, though it's nice because it's quieter, and the color scheme is more appealing to her eighteen-year old nature than her room at her mother's. The walls were a dusky blue, and the furniture, rosewood and sturdy. Then, the view outside was gorgeous, showing a small park with pink rose bushes. Very private and pristine.

Closing the door behind her, she flips on a lamp, twists the cap off the bottle. She never drank straight from the bottle before. A couple sips, she tells herself, letting the liquid coat her throat. This isn't so bad with the second taste. After two more hesitant swigs, she sits on her white bedspread, staring at the wall. The bus walls would be black, right? University courtyards...bound to be some smart alecks there that were music snobs. Her fingers find the bottle again, teeth throbbing with cold as she drinks. She fails to stop after a few minutes, vision getting foggy, throat getting scratchy. The first of the hiccups comes as a surprise, Ashley shaking it off. Thirty minutes later, the empty bottle falls to the carpet, Ashley moaning.

Struggling to move in the dim room, she finds her cellphone, hiccups as she dials, burping as it rings.

"Hello?" says the voice at the other end.

"Hi!" shouts Ashley, louder than intended.

"Ashley?" cries Paige. "What are you? On the Tube?"

"I am...I'm yelling for no reason!" remarks Ashley, putting a hand in front of her face. "Whoa, I have on a lot of rings. Okay...and it took a lot of rings for you to answer."

"Yeah, like two," says Paige. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine...posilutely absitively fine," says Ashley, in between a loud hiccup.

"Hon, keep it down...," begins Paige.

"You have a really high voice to be Craig," whispers Ashley, giggling. "Is this Angie?"

"I cannot believe you drunk-dialed me," cries Paige. "Ugh! Ashley, where are you?"

Ashley laughs, collapsing on her bed.

"You sound like that girl on _Take the Lead_," says Ashley, rolling to the right.

"And you sound like Nicole Richie during a DUI," condemns Paige. "Sober up. Just..just tell me you're at home."

"So not drunk...I'm home," says Ashley, then massaging her forehead.

"Uh-huh," sighs Paige. "Go to sleep, and call me in the morning? Barring Mom wanting to do Pilates, I'll be available."

"Sleep...sounds good," breathes Ashley.

"Okay, take care," says Paige. "Bye."

Ashley listens to the dial tone for a minute. Her room is more dark, the furniture fuzzy, and she can only make out the bottle, sliding it under her bed with her foot. The last clear thing she sees before nodding off is her keyboard, standing straight and tall.

III.

A pathetic bark from a dog greets Toby as he pulls his car to the center of the street, a street that's so empty he might've mistaken it for a farm road, if not for the three dilapidated houses at the end of the hill. One boy rolls a trash lid across a dirt-patched lawn, a lollipop wedged between his lips. The trash can is nowhere in sight, but the trash is, strewn across one of the houses' yards, flies buzzing near the top of the heap. There's a strong smell as Toby leaves his car.

Cezanne Street. It's the address Clara gave him, and he's never heard of the neighborhood, or the neighborhood next to it for that matter. Degrassi was only twenty minutes away, so he felt like he should've. The neighborhood isn't in the bad part of Toronto, either. Cezanne is just...tucked away, quiet. Each of the three houses is odd in shape, as if they were formally stately and intimidating, and were currently bent and in need of repair. Justin's Prius stands out like a shell on the beach, distant and expensive. Toby approaches Justin's car, so much better than his own. The boy with the lollipop stares at Toby, sucking loudly.

"Hi," says Toby, shouldering his backpack.

The boy doesn't answer, but gives Toby a nervous smile.

"Fly right!" yells a demanding voice from the other end of the street.

Immediately, the boy darts into his house, slams the door. Toby narrows his eyes in confusion.

"_Fly right_!" sing-songs the voice. "_All we're asking you to do is fly right_!"

What does that mean, thinks Toby, as he sees three young guys approaching him. Fly as in airplanes? Clothed in jeans and T-shirts, they were similar to Degrassi students, not aspiring pilots. The guy who sang, head shaved, passes Toby, throwing Toby a dismissive look.

"_The day will come when we will fight!" _sings the boy again, kicking the bumper of Justin's Prius with his shoe.

Saying nothing, one of the bald-headed guy's friends, unzips his pants, and Toby views the boy rub his genitals against Justin's car door. The guy zips up as the other two laugh, keep walking, until they disappear into the house next to Justin's. Toby swallows a lump in his throat, shakes his head. As much as he dislikes Justin, that was a pretty mean thing to do.

Meaner than what Justin did to Manny? After their conversation, Toby did consider bringing along J.T. to this meeting. Manny's advice usually came in handy, and it's not like he wanted to be attacked again. Then, he remembered what his mother said. You have to defend yourself, though he's fairly sure Anne Marie Isaacs would be against what he's doing, too. But if he can't make sure his she's safe, who will?

Not too long ago, things were simple. A hug was all it took to help.

_The morning after Ashley's impromptu party, he thought he'd impressed Emma for sure. Who was there when bad boy Sean Cameron kept bothering her? Him. Who did she turn to when she didn't want to face the class rebel? Him. Finally, the good guy would have his day. He had his day alright, or his night, rather, because the next day, it was the same as always._

_Emma flipped through her Gorillas of the Mist magazine, threw it hastily in her bookbag. They were seated at a picnic table in the Kerwin-Isaacs backyard, Manny jumping rope in the background. The hairs on Emma's arm touched his own. He loved that she was so into so many causes, so passionate to do good where she could. Then, there was her silky blonde hair, tall limbs, and angelic eyes. The complete package, he thought._

"_Look, Emma, about the party...," started Toby._

"_Sean is scum," groaned Emma. "Scum in a jean jacket. Don't apologize, Toby. I know he invited himself over there."_

_Not exactly, admitted Toby in his head. Okay, not at all. He and J.T. invited Sean to get Emma there._

"_Ignoring him all summer...I'll show him," said Emma under her breath._

_Ignoring Sean? Great, thought Toby, grinning. Time to make a proposal then. He was so glad that Emma and Manny came by to see if they could aid in the clean-up, and this would be the icing on the cake._

"_The movie theater's showing this...," said Toby._

"_Why are guys like that, anyway?" interrupted Emma. "Why can't they tell us how they feel, Toby?"_

_Toby opened his mouth to reply, Emma continuing on instead._

"_He was the one that asked me out," said Emma. "That means he's interested. Then, I help him study and he pushes me while he's fighting Jimmy."_

"_Accidents happen," comforted Toby, shrugging._

"_Not to me, they don't," asserted Emma, confidently. "I'm going home to erase the picture of our first date!"_

_So? Okay, so at twelve, that's pretty much a statement equivalent to singing "I Will Survive". He didn't want her to leave._

"_Are you sure you're not being too hasty?" asked Toby. "Come on. Stay."_

"_Too hasty?" exclaimed Emma. "Was it hasty when the Spaniards sent Columbus on his voyage, or Aldrin and Armstrong took their first lunar steps? This is about principle, Toby, a belief that there are better things coming my way. Things that have nothing to do with Sean Cameron."_

_Emma stood, Toby doing the same. Raising her head in a determined fashion, she marched from his sight, Toby frowning after her. Yeah, no date for him this weekend. Why can't he be a better thing coming Emma's way? Manny walks to Toby._

"_Their date pic is her Livejournal icon," said Manny, whipping Toby lightly with her jump rope. "She won't delete that."_

_Toby dropped onto the bench, staring at the grass. _

"_Why doesn't Emma like me?" asked Toby. "I helped her, and not just last night. The turtle project, the panther dance..."_

"_She likes bad boys," interrupted Manny, quickly._

_Manny opened her purse, pulled out a packet of Fun Dip Lik M Aid. _

_A bad boy? Last night, he tried drugs, hoping to be a bad boy, only to find out Sean switched the drugs. Yeah, Sean, the consistent obstacle in the Emma situation. _

"_Candy?" said Manny, offering him a white, sugary stick._

"_No," sighed Toby. "Well...'_

"_You can have a blue tongue," bribed Manny._

_Toby took the stick, dipped it into the sugar. Manny did the same, smacked her mouth. Whoa, a mouthful of sugar is mysteriously making this less painful. A sugar rush can cure anything for a few seconds._

"_So bad it's good. Sugary crack," commented Manny._

"_Mmm hmm," murmured Toby, checking to see if his tongue is blue._

"_Personally, I think it's cool what you've done for Em this year," spoke up Manny, shyly. "Sean's a hottie, but no one can match you in niceness, Toby."_

"_Thanks," said Toby, smiling widely at her._

"_Don't get a big head," teases Manny, setting the rest of the Lik M Aid in his hands._

_Toby laughed, watched as Manny retrieved her jump rope, skipped happily from his sight. _

That wasn't the last time Manny complimented his personality, but it was the first. He can be nice to Justin, wait for an apology. He waited for Emma for how long? Good thing Kendra came along or else he may've still been waiting. And of course, Manny, who factored in unexpectedly, the Lik M Aid jump roper who sprang from the wings to be the girl he fell for. So, I'm doing this, thinks Toby. Let me do this, for me and Manny.

The central house , Justin's, is the most impressive of the three. Dark blue shutters were closed over the windows, which were large. The cracks in the wood pillars were invisible until Toby reached the stoop. Unlike the others, the yard looked tended to, trash in bags near the mailbox. No name on the mailbox. Well, at least it looked like someone lived there. After ringing the doorbell, Toby shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Who is it?" yells a withered voice from the other side.

"Sir, my name is Toby Isaacs," says Toby. "I called earlier...for Justin?"

Boy was that a strange call. His grandfather answered, kept asking why he wanted to see Justin and such. Toby thought it best to not say why, said he was a guy from computer camp, another truth.

Toby hears a couple latches being opened, and a white-haired, incredibly tall man opens the door. The voice definitely didn't match the body. Eh, wasn't that the case with him too? His voice is pretty deep, and he's shorter than J.T.

"Afternoon," says Toby.

"Hello," replies Justin's grandfather. "You must be Tony. You don't look Italian?"

"Toby," he corrects. "Nice to meet you."

"Come in," orders Justin's grandfather.

This isn't like the times he went to see Rick. His mother always made him feel so welcome, baked cookies for them despite Toby's protests. Justin's grandfather only kept staring coldly at Toby, as if he were a burglar ready to strike.

Inside, the atmosphere is cold too. All the furniture is wooden, hard, in need of attention or new paint. A faded green couch stands in the center of the living room. He can't imagine anyone, especially someone as sweet as Clara, coming here routinely.

"Justin!" calls his grandfather.

Within minutes, Justin is barreling down the stairs, wiping his nose with his sleeve. Toby's insides get hot upon first seeing him. The last time they interacted Justin was hurling horrible comments and throwing Toby to the floor. No, thinks Toby. Cool it. He will eventually apologize, and then he won't bother me or Manny ever again.

Justin's blonde hair was greased as usual, and he sighs pensively upon seeing Toby. Like I want to be here, either, moans Toby inwardly.

"Who's this boy?" asks Justin's grandfather.

"Toby Isaacs," says Justin, playing with his shirt.

His grandfather's face contorts fiercely, blue eyes shaking as they pierce Justin.

"The boy you pushed at the synagogue!" exclaims Justin's grandfather.

"Technically, we weren't at the synagogue...," begins Justin.

"Boy, it's a wonder I didn't send you away to the detention center!" chastises Justin's grandfather. "Your parents couldn't discipline you for the life of them. You got no sense of direction. You spend more time with your girlfriend than you do studying."

With each comment, Toby notices Justin shiver. His grandfather's voice is soft and belittling, and there isn't that slight detection of affection Toby heard from his father when he was getting punished. Being grounded for a couple weeks due to being with Manny in the park seems like a holiday compared to this.

"Stupid," mutters Justin's grandfather. "Just plain stupid."

Justin is uncharacteristically silent, stares harshly at his grandfather. Toby can tell Justin's ready to snap, and thinks maybe Manny's warning might be justified. Instead, luckily, Justin walks casually to the staircase, goes up the stairs. His back bent, Justin moves his lips, muttering, disappears around the corner into the upstairs hallway.

Toby guesses he should follow. He did come to talk.

Walking carefully up the rickety staircase, he spots an open door, supposes that's Justin's room. To his surprise, the room is pretty bare. Since he drove that fancy car, Toby was expecting a lot of high-priced electronics. The only scientific instrument is a telescope, not particularly expensive. Justin's bed is broad and brown, as is most of his furniture. In fact, the sole modern piece of equipment is a lone computer, with books near the mouse.

Refusing to look at Justin, and happy to look at something familiar, he stares at the screen. There's a wallpaper of Clara on Confirmation day, sun highlighting the white gown and her hair, illuminating the blonde as if it were a halo. Halo. That can be a way in.

"Getting Halo 3 when it comes out?" asks Toby.

Justin smiles, turns to Toby. "The good samaritan... Toby Isaacs."

"What?" says Toby.

"You wanted to see where I lived," continues Justin. "Have a laugh or two."

"No, I didn't!" insists Toby. "I...I'd like an apology."

Justin bristles at the last word, sits in front of his computer. That's what Clara said, didn't she? This jerk wanted to apologize to him and Manny. Why else would he possibly agree to meeting with Toby? It's not like either would gain anything from...wait.

Toby shakes his head. "You don't want to go to the detention center."

"If I apologize, the elders said they wouldn't push for it," says Justin. "Brilliant deduction, Tobias."

"Never mind how you humiliated my girlfriend!" exclaims Toby.

"Grandpa's really pushing for it too...kinda like how I pushed you," says Justin, smirking. "Eh, you deserved it."

He should leave. Justin wasn't feeling bad about what he did, instead coaxing him here for his own benefit. Clara, most likely, has no idea.

"What is your problem?" blasts Toby. "I don't get why Clara dates you."

Toby starts towards the door, Justin knocking over his chair when he stands. Okay, maybe the Clara comment was hitting below the belt.

"Want to know the difference between me and you?" whispers Justin, standing directly behind Toby.

"I respect women?" answers Toby, turning around.

"I respect Clara," says Justin. "You don't know how her mom died, do you?"

Justin returns to his seat, Toby pondering this question. No, because Clara was very secretive when it came to her parents. Her dad left, he's sure, and her mother was around for awhile, and passed away when she was younger.

"No," admits Toby.

"Mother went to Israel on a tour," reveals Justin, moving his cursor over the picture of Clara. "Bomb went off...all that was left were ashes. We know how violent it is over there."

Toby feels his heart lurch, growing a little light-headed. No wonder Clara never told him. The speech she made before singing during Confirmation was actually the first public mention she made of her mom, recently. Releasing a loud breath, he goes to Justin's bed, takes a seat.

"I'd never be with a girl that didn't understand and love my culture," continues Justin, tapping his keyboard. "As soon as Clara turns eighteen, we're going to Jerusalem, pay tribute to her mom. Don't even care that she's not Orthodox."

"Why...why...does that matter?" stammers Toby, letting his bookbag drop to the floor.

"Grandpa wouldn't approve," answers Justin. "I lied and said she was."

"You like to lie a lot," says Toby through gritted teeth.

"More honest than that lie of a speech," counters Justin. "Oh, I love everyone. I will try to help everyone. No one's like that."

Like I care that you didn't buy my speech, thinks Toby. It was for Manny.

"I'm not perfect," says Toby.

"Duh," laughs Justin. "Since you're so shocked Clara likes me, why do you think Manny likes you then?"

Toby eyes him doubtfully. His sensitivity regarding Clara shocked him, and he guesses it won't do any damage to tell him that.

"Half the time, I don't know," says Toby, smiling to himself. "Manny's so sweet and funny...gorgeous. I was lucky to be her friend in the first place. Maybe that's it."

Justin's no longer listening, typing quickly on his computer. Fine, he doesn't have to listen. He didn't think much of their relationship, anyway. Justin whistles, brings up a webpage with a large bird symbol taking up a lot of space. The bed squeaks as Toby rises, Justin instantly closing the page.

"What're you doing?" asks Toby.

"Sending an e-mail," answers Justin, avoiding Toby's eye. "Do...do you have one?"

"Why?"

"I...I don't hate you, Toby," says Justin. "I...I just didn't see until now how special Manny is to you. Can understand having your relationship judged."

"Yeah, I guess," mumbles Toby. "You and Clara."

"So maybe we can talk more?" suggests Justin. "That way, Clara will be semi-happy. She'll stop breathing down my neck to hang out with people. In case you haven't noticed, don't have too many friends."

Toby lowers his eyes, the image of the guy violating Justin's car in his mind. Rick got it bad too, when he was alive. I don't know, mulls Toby. What would the detention center honestly do? Justin would get angrier, Clara would be heartbroken, and his father would insult Justin more intensely when he came back.

"A sudden change in mood?" says Toby, voice coated with suspicion.

"Well aware...it's time for me to fly right," replies Justin, baring his teeth in a pained smile.

Fly right? He's not sure whether to be sickened or hopeful. If he gave Justin his e-mail, that would make Clara happy, and they wouldn't have to interact in person.. Justin stares at him, and that annoying resemblance seeps into his heart. The fact that they looked alike knawed at him, but also brought forth this huge wave of pity. It'd be a small help

"Yeah," agrees Toby, writing his e-mail address on a paper Justin hands him.

"Good," says Justin, smiling as he takes it. "We gotta stand by our girlfriends."

Toby raises his eyebrows. "Yeah."

Grabbing his bookbag, he follows Justin as he leads him downstairs. Justin stalls at the bottom step, his grandfather positioned at the front door.

"Did he apologize?" asks his grandfather, glaring at Toby.

No, Toby would like to say, but that would screw up whatever progress they made, and Justin would be off to the center, make everything far worse.

"He did," replies Toby, faking a gentle smile.

Justin grins, a triumphant expression on his face.

"Finally did something decent," mutters his grandfather, nodding at Justin. "Come eat your supper."

Justin's grandfather strolls to the kitchen, a confident gait that reminded Toby of a soldier heading to war. His shoulders were so broad, like an action figure.

"Holocaust survivor," whispers Justin.

"My Bubbe too," shares Toby. "My grandfather didn't survive."

"So much in common," says Justin, leading Toby quickly to the doorway. "Um, so chat with you online?"

"Sure...when do you think...," begins Toby.

"Can't talk...supper," interrupts Justin. "Bye."

Toby walks into the sunlight, Justin instantly slamming the door. Okay, no feeling of being welcome going in, or going out. At least the visit was productive. He knew it would be.

Walking to his car, he sees the same boy he saw earlier, lollipop now removed, sitting sadly on his stoop.

"It's getting late!" calls over Toby, inserting the key into the car.

"You're too nice to go into that house," says the boy, picking at a scab on his knee.

"Oh, he's not so bad," says Toby. "At least, not the younger guy."

"Yeah?" replies the boy. "I'm afraid he is."


	19. Two Hearts

**XVIII. Two Hearts**

_Well, there was no reason to believe she'd always be there  
But if you don't put faith in what you believe in  
It's getting you nowhere  
Cos it hurts, you never let go  
Don't look down, just look up  
Cos she's always there to behind you, just to remind you_

_Two hearts, believing in just one mind  
You know we're two hearts believing in just one mind_

_Cos there's no easy way to, to understand it  
There's so much of my life in her, and it's like i'm blinded  
And it teaches you to never let go  
There's so much love you'll never know  
She can reach you no matter how far  
Wherever you are_

_Two hearts, believing in just one mind  
Beating together till the end of time  
You know we're two hearts believing in just one mind  
Together forever till the end of time_

_She knows (she knows)  
There'll always be a special place in my heart for her  
She knows, she knows, she knows  
Yeah, she knows (she knows)  
No matter how far apart we are  
She knows, i'm always right there beside her_

_We're two hearts..._

**Two Hearts is the property of Phil Collins and appears in the film **_**Buster**_

**Portion of**_** A Cinderella Story**_was written by Leigh Dunlap. The words have not been changed, and they are not my property.

**Note: Okay, so here's where the timeline is going to have to shift a little. After the Sean and Ashley scenes, I'm advancing the story a week. That way, it'll be time for Manny's drama camp in part III. Hopefully, you won't get confused. Lol. **

The steady rain is so hard he can hear it from the stairwell. Occasionally, someone would walk by, their squeaky shoes ringing in his ears. Sean would rather be upstairs, covered in blankets, listening to the rain, Ellie sleeping soundly next to him.

She came over that afternoon, never left. The room was full of questions. What does she know? What does she believe? He sort of figured out that she thought he still had his job, that Dale was guilty, but not for the crime she's thinking. Admitting that he wasn't the fine, upstanding boyfriend he pretended to be would erase all that faith she has in him. Hmph, what a joke it was pretending for her parents. They probably saw right through him. Late, battered, with no explanations? Yeah, they were most likely thinking, the bum from Wasaga that happens to be dating their daughter. Mrs. Nash rarely looked at him, picked at her lasagna, and Mr. Nash made small talk with him, Ellie taking deep breaths in between courses.

Now, here he was, waiting for Dale, who called him earlier. Jay must've given him his cell number too. What hasn't Jay given him? Well, the one thing he needs is money, which Dale promised to cough up today.

Sean straightens his white T-shirt, chain on his blue jeans hitting the top of the step. A succession of hard footsteps covers the flow of the rain, and Sean shudders as he views a ponytail fall from underneath the black hood of a coat. Opening the door, Dale shakes himself, drips of water splattering on Sean's pants legs.

"And they said it'd be sunny," remarks Dale, chuckling.

Sean stands. Couldn't be too careful. He knows he can take Dale, but who knows what this waste of sperm had up his sleeve?

"Hey," says Sean, shifting his gaze.

"Oh, a greeting without the faintest hint of sarcasm?" says Dale, sneering. "Fuller pockets makes us all friends, right?"

Friends? Yeah, tell that to Jay.

"Only doing this for the money, man," sighs Sean, outstretching his hand.

"But of course," says Dale. "We all need rent. And respect."

"Respect?" whispers Sean, strongly. "What kind of respect can you gain from this?"

Dale glances around for any possible listeners, like a rodent going for cheese in a far off corner. In the faded light of the building, he has no semblance to his amiable father. Definitely not two apples from the same tree.

"Have no idea, do you?" whispers Dale. "Guess I'll show you when you come in. Wear basic black, come alone...on the fourteenth. That's when the shipment's coming in. The garage on Greenville and Sumter. Five a.m."

"Greenville?" bristles Sean.

"Scared?" smirks Dale.

Going to that ugly shed is one thing, and Greenville another thing entirely. That's where legitimate shipments went, yet Mr. Hill always insisted on two men, adult mechanics, going to retrieve the parts. Greenville could get pretty frightening, pretty fast. A lot of seedy stuff went down there from what Mr. Hill told him. Apparently, Dale didn't care as much as he did. But let that show?

"No," says Sean, getting in his face.

"You better not wuss out on me," whispers Dale.

Sean can feel his strong, foul breath against his cheeks, similar to the day he got jumped. That not only caused him pain, but Ellie, and her parents had to be suspicious. What if he does back out? He'd rather get respect some other way.

"Don't tempt me," says Sean, crossing his arms.

Dale narrows his eyes, takes out an envelope, removes the cash. Rather than hand it to Sean immediately, he ceremonially counts it, twenties and tens flying past Sean's nose. The taunting is interrupted by a cheery whistle, feet descending. Oh no, thinks Sean. Ray. Dale shrinks back in the shadows, eyeing Sean quizzically.

"Sean!" exclaims Ray, happily. "How was the graduation? Did you get your diploma?"

"Uh, it was Ellie's," says Sean, forcing a smile.

Dale is barely in sight, hunched against the mailboxes, not at all visible to Ray.

"Yes, yes, Ellie's," says Ray. "I remember now. We agreed on the fifth?"

Okay, I'm remembering now, and yes, I did promise, thinks Sean. Ugh, and Dale has the money. The paycheck from Mr. Hill never came. Interesting how his son is more reliable in that department.

"I...uh...," begins Sean.

"I really do have to have it," insists Ray, shyly. "You're the last one."

"Can I get my mail first?" asks Sean.

Ray offers him a confused look, nods, runs a hand through his gelled black hair.

Shaking his head, Sean walks casually to the mailboxes, Dale waving his face with the bills like a fan. It's so difficult to take in all of this. Ellie's waiting, upstairs, in the apartment he's struggling to keep; Ray's waiting, on the stairwell, for money with Sean not sure where it came from; he's waiting for the voice in his head to offer an alternative. Nothing's coming. He can't wait.

"Greenville," whispers Sean, taking the money.

"Five in the morning," replies Dale, grinning.

Sean separates the rent amount from the rest, still a nice chunk left over, goes to Ray. Ray claps his hands, breathes a sigh of relief.

"Love that I can always count on you, Sean," says Ray, taking the money. "Bye."

Count on me to give you dirty money, groans Sean inwardly, as Ray races to his apartment on the second floor. As Ray's door slams, Sean turns to find Dale. Gone. Not even behind the rain-soaked windows.

Trudging towards his apartment, the weight of the money in his fist is heavy, paper hard against his palm. Unlocking the door, he goes to the bathroom. He stuffs the money in his jeans, removes them, gets them away from his sight. Leaving the bathroom, he stands in the doorway of his bedroom, viewing a pale, shirtless back as she shuffles under the sheets.

Gently, he sits on the bed, kisses the small of her back. Ellie sighs, turns, head against his chest as Sean lays beside her.

"No work today?" she breathes.

"No work," replies Sean, rubbing her shoulder.

Ellie sits up, making sure the blanket encircles her chest.

"Alex said some things," shares Ellie. "Jay's been doing some of your cars?"

What? Did Jay say something to shake Ellie's trust in him? If he told Alex, Alex would be sure to tell Ellie. Then, of course...honestly, he's done just as much to shake Ellie's trust.

"Dale's...Dale's lazy," mutters Sean.

"Knew you were covering for Dale while Jay did your stuff," says Ellie, slightly grinning. "And I'm betting Dale ruined someone's car and you paid the price?"

Well, he'd ruin a car if he sold them bad car parts, that's for sure. Boy, is that stretching the truth, though. Sean lowers his eyes. Is it lying if he says nothing? At least, Ellie's version of the story made him look decent, and it did fit the lie he told Ashley, who obviously spilled to Ellie.

"I'll handle it," says Sean, kissing her forehead.

"I'm here, okay?" offers Ellie, squeezing his arm.

Ellie lays down again, hand still holding his arm, the sweetest grip he can hope for. It's secure in its gentleness, steadfast in its presence, sad in its meaning. Sean's head falls to the pillow, staring into space as the rain outside increases.

II.

"Roast beef, potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding," says a waitress with a purple mohawk, setting down a tray.

"Yum," comments Robert, grabbing the salt shaker.

Barf, thinks Ashley, wincing as Chris puts the plate in front of her with a loud thud. Why is this restaurant the loudest restaurant in the world? Her head is throbbing with the same force as a jackhammer, as her father and Chris smile peacefully in the corners of her drooping eyes.

"You know what I'd love?" says Chris.

"Advil," murmurs Ashley to herself.

"A muffin," answers Chris. "With nice creamy butter. They serve muffins at brunch. How about that, Ashley?"

"No!" cries Ashley. "I...wait. Sorry."

"Stressed, huh?" says Chris. "I'm getting you a muffin, anyway."

"Forget you, muffin nuts," laughs Robert. "I want a couple pastries."

Stupid hangover. It was messing with her consciousness, her body, and now her appetite. But the Merlot did help her relax for more than ten seconds. Her parents would never understand. They're too proud to understand. Craig might. She thought she called him last night, was surprised to get a chipper call from Paige around noon. When did she call Paige? Last night, apparently. The call consisted mainly of Ashley apologizing, and saying she only drank to celebrate the tour. Yeah, or not think of the tour, admits Ashley privately.

"Spot of tea?" asks the waitress, returning with a mug.

"No thanks," replies Ashley.

"Wooo...good," sighs the waitress, setting the mug on the table. "Been serving these yobs and prisses all freakin' day. Been dying for the loo."

Ashley gives her an apologetic smile. "It _is_ busy today."

She's been here several times with her parents, but this has to be a first, a waitress admitting she's tired, her reserve breaking. Ashley takes a closer look at her, purple mohawk the color of a dyed Easter egg. Her nose and her bottom lip were pierced, a rose tattoo on her neck. The two, top front teeth stuck out a smidge.

"They'd all be best off with some fish and chips is what I say," advises the waitress. "Charing Cross, if you can go."

Her thick accent made it imperceptible to pick up the words at first, but yeah, she knows where Charing Cross is.

"Center of London," says Ashley. "We're playing there. I..."

"Seriously!" cries the waitress. "You got a band and all that?"

"Just me and a keyboard," answers Ashley. "Original stuff, though. BB6 Festival?"

"I'd think you were dodgy if I didn't notice them fingers," laughs the waitress, nodding at Ashley's hand. "I play sax when I'm not serving. A whole lot of us musicians are meeting at the Pitcher for a pint. You interested?"

Like her parents would let her go out for drinking with a bunch of people she doesn't know? Then again, I am eighteen, an adult. Eh, this hangover is killing me. Staying in would be for the best.

"I'm...I'm with my parents for the day," replies Ashley, blushing.

"No worries, love," says the waitress, grabbing her pen from her ear.

Ashley watches as she writes an address on a napkin, small hoop earring shining against her lip. She takes the napkin, hesitantly, sees the Pitcher's located in Charing Cross. Isn't that the place where they'd cap off her tour? Wow, if she saw the place, maybe she'd be less nervous, and maybe she could score some good contacts. Her father would let her go for that. He made contacts all the time.

"A round of drinks every Friday," informs the waitress. "Any Friday. I'm Aja."

"Ashley," says Ashley.

"Nice meeting you, Ashley," says Aja. "Better shake a leg or else I'll be selling Walkers in Croydon near a tram stop. Brother's never recovered."

Ashley laughs as Aja walks to the nearest table, puts on a friendly expression. Tea cups tinkle in a steady silence, the first moment when her head's not hurting. This is an opportune time to really call Craig. Dialing the number of Joey's car lot, Ashley puts the phone against her ear.

"Hello?" says Craig.

"It's your girlfriend," greets Ashley, smiling.

"You do know this is Craig, not Joey. Cause then I'd vomit," says Craig.

"Yes, I'm having a secret, passionate, international affair with Joey," teases Ashley.

"No wonder he's been smiling all day," kids Craig. "How are you?"

"Good...anxious," admits Ashley. "Craig, sometimes I'm so...like...I don't know. I should just be grateful, you know?"

"Hey, you're there for a reason, okay? You're the best they've got," reassures Craig.

"And you'll be here for a reason," says Ashley, grinning. "Me."

"There's my confident Ash," laughs Craig. "Gotta go sell. Call you at ten, your time. I love you."

"Love you," says Ashley, clicking off.

Chris and Robert return, laden with muffins and pastries, setting them in front of their seats.

"I brought you a muffin, anyway," says Chris, passing one to Ashley.

"Thanks," says Ashley, receiving it.

"Bet the tour food won't be as good as this," wagers Robert.

Ashley smiles, her first confidant smile all day. No, Dad, it won't, she thinks. It just may be better.

III.

She didn't feel like Dorothy until she got here. It was a nearly a week ago when Lia called her that, before Manny stepped into a mansion straight from the webpages of _Luxury Homes. _Still, it's nowhere near the grandeur of this Tuscan-style theater. A pale gold building, with a wide stucco roof, large, arched windows on either side of the doors, she swears she's in some part of Spain she's never heard of. Even the cobblestone walkway leading to the doors is intimidating, though Lia and Colin traipse down it with an air of indifference. Manny shoulders her handbag, an old tan Miu Miu bag, on loan from Lia. Emma would've killed her if she accepted the leather Christian Louboutin.

Emma. Wow, she hasn't called her in over a week. Chances are she's asked Toby if he received a call, and Toby's honest to a fault, so yeah, she wonders if Emma will be open to hearing from her. She better try.

Manny fetches her phone, ready to press the button when Lia yells to her.

"Hurry, Manny!" she says. "Being slow does not make a starlet!"

Sighing, Manny walks quickly behind them, texting her best friend. _Calling to say hi_, texts Manny. She can't think of anything else in this rush.

Colin holds open the door for Manny and Lia, Manny feeling a wonderful burst of air conditioning flowing throughout the entryway. Busier than the air are the many students strolling in the lobby, greeting each other with hugs, chatting on their cells, or appearing non-plussed. Blake, combing his hair, fit into the last category.

"Lia! Colin!" he calls. "Whatever that girl's name is!"

Stupid B-movie Blake, she thinks. Lia told her he'd done three of those dad-wants-to-go on vacation films. He was one of the oldest camp goers there, most of them around Manny's age, which she's happy about. They were all dressed in casual designer wear, truly professionals. Some carried headshots. Why didn't she bring her headshot? She brought a resume on Ms. Dale's advice.

Manny awkwardly stands beside Colin and Lia, also talking on her cellphone. Hey, why couldn't she do it if Lia could?

"No cellphones for Canadians?" whispers Manny, elbowing Colin.

"Not a call of her choosing, I'm afraid," sighs Colin. "Kel's frazzled."

"Dad...what do you want me to do?" exclaims Lia. "I can't...can't quit camp! It was your decision to let her go on vacation...you can't hire a nanny? Yeah...I know your views on hired help, but this isn't fair!"

Manny bites her lip. Lia's father did sound fairly excited. Well, on her end.

"Of course, there's reliable nannies in L.A.!" continues Lia. "What? Fine...whatever. Bye."

Lia angrily shuts off the phone, brushes past a few people, Colin and Manny in tow.

"Breathe, _Mamma Mia _Lia," orders Colin, holding her shoulders.

"I am not a walking exclamation point...I am not a walking exclamation point," repeats Lia, breathing in and out.

"This works all the time," whispers Colin to Manny.

Okay, weird, though if it works, thinks Manny. Having been out here awhile now, she has yet to meet Kel. Then again, Hannah was at home most of the day with her teacher, and she barely saw either of them. Edwina, a prim Australian woman with shockingly bright blonde hair, was kind and gentle, a bit shy, which contrasted with Hannah's bold personality, but seemed to mesh with her love of privacy. Kel didn't consider Edwina help, more like family, since she was eighteen when she started, and now nearly twenty-six. So yep, it was still in keeping with the whole "no hired help" rule.

"Do you guys know any good nanny agencies?" questions Lia. "Guess I'll peruse the web when I'm home."

"Huh?" says Colin.

"Edwina's getting all familial, wants a month off to visit her sister and her new baby in Sydney," sighs Lia.

"Awww, new babies are so cute," comments Manny.

Both Colin and Lia toss her incredulous looks, though Lia shrugs it off.

"Dad wanted me to blow off camp!" complains Lia. "That's so him, not thinking of me. Miss the classes, the scouts, the Starlight Ball? Uh, no. So not happening."

"What's the Starlight Ball?" asks Manny.

"End of camp ceremony...only glitzier, because we're a bunch of aspiring actors who can't live without a little glamour," explains Colin.

"It's totally cool," says Lia. "I mean, even Blake thinks it's worth an appearance."

Manny's not sure she's prepared for that. Honestly, her outfit today totally sticks out, a tight yellow shirt and fitted white pants, no designer labels to be found. She didn't want to keep asking Lia for things, either.

"You can bring a date," says Lia, winking at Manny.

"But...," starts Manny.

"But nothing! Tell Toby to get his sweet little butt out here," interrupts Lia. "He can bunk with Anne Marie Isaacs. Her house is big enough."

"Hold on!" cries Colin. "Your man's mom is Anne Marie Isaacs?"

"In the flesh," answers Lia for Manny.

"You lie!" protests Colin. "How'd it feel to meet her? Oh my...yeah, kvelling here!"

"Manny should be the one kvelling because you can't get a better contact," says Lia.

"I haven't met her yet," admits Manny.

"Disappointing," murmurs Colin, looking away.

"She and Toby don't have the best relationship," says Manny. "Besides, Bluewave already signed us, and they're not so bad. Right, Lia?"

Lia raises her eyebrows, obviously hesitating to answer. Why was she waffling? Colleen is the one who got her hair commercials. Well, maybe she didn't want to say as the doors to the theater part, and Manny nervously turns to face them.

Out of the darkness steps an auburn-haired woman with a long red cloak over a velvet black dress, glasses above her forehead, many bracelets on her hands. The whole room grows silent. She reminded Manny of an older Hannah, only more aloof and intimidating.

"Enter," she says, then walks back into the theater.

Colin and Lia do so immediately, Manny hurrying to catch up. The theater is typical, which comforts her. Rows and rows of soft, red seats stretch from left to right, with a few adults scattered throughout. The stage curtains were a nice shade of mauve, and the lights shone on the hard floor below.

Manny and the rest of the group go down to the stage, stand placidly, waiting for some direction.

"Cellphones off, hats and sunglasses removed, papers put away," commands the auburn-haired woman, as she goes up the stairs towards the stage.

Taking a deep breath, Manny does as instructed, not as fast as Colin, a little faster than Lia, who frowns at a text before putting it in her purse.

"Leave your bags in the first aisle," says the woman.

There are more than a few quiet groans, yet they all do as told. Manny struggles to lay her bag flat on a chair, the arm rest making it difficult.

"On the stage," calls the woman, the group's many feet immediately shuffling to her.

Moaning, Manny can't lay the bag down any more. The seat must be faulty as it squeaks. Suddenly, the feet stop moving, Manny swallowing a lump in her throat.

"On...the...stage," repeats the woman, giving each word weight.

Chances are she's talking to me, thinks Manny, slowing raising her head. Yep.

"Sorry," says Manny, the chair releasing another squeak.

Joining them anyway, she sits between Lia and Colin, folds her feet, unfolds them when she sees everyone's legs are outstretched.

"The Majestic Theater Training Academy is perhaps one of the most joyous, exhaustive experiences an actor can have," says the woman, closing her eyes in deep thought. "You'll learn that acting is more than a day job. It's a craft, intense in its make-up, and creative at its finest."

The woman opens her eyes, startling Manny.

"When I think of theater, I think of the parts of the body. The mind that interprets, the body that moves, the heart that feels, the gut that reacts. Am I right?" continues the woman.

Several people mutter agreements.

"Of course I'm right," says the woman, resolutely. "Been doing this for over thirty years. Anyways, the first two weeks will be composed of daily acting exercises to warm you up for the first of two productions we show towards the beginning of next month."

Preparing two productions in a month? That's insane, thinks Manny, scratching her head.

"Some of you may find this daunting, but welcome to the world of professional theater. One group will perform the Bard's masterpiece _The Tempest_...," explains the woman.

Lia grabs Colin's hand excitedly. Okay, Lia's obviously going for that one, reasons Manny.

"The other group will perform a musical version of _Cyrano de Bergerac_," continues the woman. "Scouts will be present at both performances. The three with us today are here to show support. My colleagues Rebecca Scott of Paramount, Martika Timmons of Pinecrest, and Eric Hegel of the New York Arts Academy are in the theater. They all are prominent members of top-rated production companies, and were very encouraged by your resumes."

She gestures towards the adults in the audience, two stern women in business suits and a bespectacled guy with messy brown hair who can't stop smiling.

"We'll use today to introduce your skills to one another. I know some of you may have already prepared monologues for the second day exercises..."

About twenty out of the forty students raise their hands enthusiastically, Manny's jaw dropping. The packet said the monologue was for tomorrow, and she wanted to get a good feel for what the other students were doing before deciding on one.

"Mine is long!" speaks up Blake, hand running through his carefully combed hair.

Gross, moans Manny inwardly, smirking. She'd love to ignore Blake for the entire summer, especially after that maid comment. Secretly, she hopes he's cast as Cyrano so he can wear that prosthetic nose, see what it's like to be judged.

"Let's see," says the woman, lowering her glasses. "Hmm...you? Bag girl? What's your name?"

Me? Manny blushes, throws a fearful look at Lia before standing. Great, the bag incident comes back to haunt her.

"Manny," replies Manny. "Or...uh, Manuella Santos."

"Kevin Smith's newest young find," identifies the woman. "Yes, I remember you distinctly."

Manny notices the students trading amused glances, including Blake, who appears bewildered. He probably thought Lia lied when she said Manny was in a movie.

"Enchant us with a monologue," says the woman, clearing her throat and sitting next to Colin.

"Excuse me?" says Manny.

Her palms grow sweaty, and not because of the burning stagelights. Ugh, this is worse than the pageant. At least then she was prepared.

"A true thespian can deliver on the spot, correct?" says the woman, straightening her cloak and staring at Colin.

"In...in spades," stammers Colin, nodding.

Lia pokes him in the shin.

Manny's heart races as she meets eyes with the woman. This isn't really fair. She knows they might have high expectations for her since Kevin Smith called in, and he was nice for doing that, but she's the same as other inexperienced actors. No years of training, no extensive resume. All she has is instinct. As her eyes burrow into Manny's, a thousand scenes run through her mind. Okay, I can pick one. At the drive-in, at the movie theater with Toby, she memorized lines. Surely, there's one tucked away in the crevices of her brain.

"Can it be modern...from a popular film?" asks Manny.

"Modern monologues are very fashionable," encourages the woman.

Alright. The last film she saw was...well, she was sort of fawning over Toby through most of it. _A Cinderella Story_. She wasn't a big fan of Hilary Duff's, but she remembers a couple parts, including one where her character Sam confronts the guy who hurt her. She could relate after the Chante drama. She'd love to confront those mean cheerleaders. Eh, worth a shot. Alright, remember how you felt after the cheerleaders humiliated you or how boyfriends, namely Craig, hurt you. Manny goes to the center of the stage, stares directly at the male scout, the friendliest of the three.

"You turned out to be exactly who I thought you were," begins Manny, feeling her pulse quicken. "I never pretended to be somebody else. It's been me all along. And it was me who was hurt in front of everybody."

She's surprised to find her eyes tearing, her body lengthening. For some reason, it's coming more naturally than she anticipated. Alienation, pain, a need to express herself. After having lost her family, being told her body wasn't good, that she's a slut, she has made it here, and she's strong, her voice growing in confidence.

"Look, I didn't come here to yell at you, okay?" continues Manny, shrugging. " I know what it feels like to be afraid to show who you are. I was. But not anymore. And the thing is, I don't care what people think about me... because I believe in myself. And I know that things are gonna be okay. But even though I have no family, and no job, and no money for college... it's you that I feel sorry for."

Manny shakes herself out of it, her heart steadying. She's certain no other words can flow out of her mouth without being false. Thank goodness the applause is covering the silence. Applause? Manny grins, as everyone, including Blake, claps. Lia shimmies proudly, waving her fingers at Manny. The woman stands, walks to Manny, appraising her.

Okay, yeah, maybe the film was corny, too corny. It's no Shakespeare or Cyrano.

"Nicely done," comments the woman. "Your speech is a little too breathy, and your pacing's a bit off. You do have a great sense of embodiment, however."

"Embodiment?" whispers Manny.

"What the character has gone through," explains the woman, than addressing the other students. "Embodiment is the spirit you wish to convey in any piece. Thankfully, the spirit of the character is increasingly becoming the most important aspect in casting. Things such as nontraditional casting or color-blind casting..."

"Ahem!" coughs one of the scouts loudly.

The woman with the cloak rolls her eyes, smiles politely at the scout, clothed in a zebra-print blouse under a black suit.

"Martika?" says the woman.

"Arissa, perhaps it's best that you stick with dramatic terms rather than current fads, shall we say?" suggests the scout, obviously Martika.

"The business is changing," says Arissa, crossing her arms over her cloak. "Should we ignore that?"

"Certainly not," says Martika, narrowing her eyes. "But I think it's best that we don't bring politics into it. Besides, there's nothing wrong with playing what you were meant to. I've gotten a lot of Hispanic clients..."

"Meant to?" interrupts Arissa.

Should I go sit down, wonders Manny. These women were in some heated discussion that had nothing to do with her, or did it? Lia motions for Manny to sit so she does.

"Yeah!" agrees Blake. "Directors look for image and talent, for certain things."

Arissa tosses a dismissive glance at Blake, Manny staring at her shoes. Something tells her this conversation does have something to do with her. She's too emotionally exhausted to figure that out, anyway. This has to be the most awkward five minutes in humanity.

"And Broadway?" throws in Colin.

"Same," says Blake, rolling his eyes. "Just go with your culture, dude."

"No matter," interrupts Arissa, glaring at Martika for a second. "We still have a lot to do today. I suggest a ten-minute water break, and after that, we will commence with the monologues."

Manny hears a collective sigh of relief, certain the other students were uncomfortable with the awkwardness too. Too bad, because it did decrease the joy of nailing that pulled-from-her-butt monologue.

"You are so in her good graces," assures Lia, patting Manny's shoulder. "Perrier from the vending machine?"

"The best water's at the Majestic," says Colin.

"Is Arissa always like that?" asks Manny.

"I love her," says Lia. "She's so intense. Like scarily."

"Scary," agrees Colin. "Anyways, refreshments?"

"Nope, Manny's calling her boy," informs Lia. "He wanted to know how her first day is going if she got a break."

"Aww," say Lia and Colin, pretending to hug.

"You guys!" laughs Manny, then leaving the stage.

Figures her bag is more cooperative now, as she finds her phone, presses the button. A couple rings sound, Toby picking up after the third.

"Have you gotten a standing ovation yet?" asks Toby, cheerfully.

"Not quite," says Manny. "This camp is so intimidating. Monologue in the first five minutes .I did some random monologue and they liked it. "

"They more than liked it, I bet," says Toby.

"As long as you more than like me," says Manny, smiling shyly. "Um...Justin hasn't emailed you, has he?"

Secretly, she hopes he hasn't. While Toby told her the meeting went well, she still has her reservations. A leopard can't change his spots that fast, if at all. She could understand if he were catty like Heather Sinclair, or jealous like Clara was, but Justin was merely cold.

"No, and that's fine with me," says Toby. "Are you free?"

"Honestly, have to leave," sighs Manny.

Ugh, she hates not seeing him. Interestingly enough, the scout she made eye contact with earlier is approaching, and he sort of reminds her of an adult Toby, only more cheerful. Toby is nice, but this guy is the walking personification of nice.

"Gotta go," says Manny. "Love you."

"Same," returns Toby. "Have fun."

Manny clicks her phone, grins at the scout.

"Hi...Eric Hegel," greets the guy, repositioning his glasses as they fall down. "Heh...that was amazing."

His voice keeps breaking with somewhat dorky, gleeful breaths. Really sweet.

"Hi," replies Manny. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm with the New York Academy...an artist's colony...well, actually we're at another theater while the New York one gets refurbished...breaking ground...2008. It's gonna have an old-fashioned parlour...Victorian style...like in that one scene of _Imitation of Life. _Have you seen that? You're probably...too...too young, right?"

Manny takes a deep breath, smiles. Wow, this guy has the same excited energy she did. Although she can't help thinking, is this going anywhere?

"You're probably wondering...wondering why I'm bothering you...actually. Um, we're doing a Broadway production...next summer into the winter. Very fun...a musical," stammers Eric.

Hmm, maybe she should go get Colin. She'd never thought of trying out for anything like that.

"I mean...you're just so...well, a person I think the audience would find endearing," admits Eric. "And it's nontraditional casting like Arissa was saying so..."

Oh no, she didn't want to get caught up in whatever beef there is concerning that. Manny drops her head, massages her neck.

"Manny!" exclaims Lia, grabbing her arm. "Uh, sorry, sir, her schedule's full. Call Colleen Dale for her profile."

Lia and Manny link arms, Lia throwing her a cautionary glance as they walk away.

"Such a geek," groans Lia. "Rumor has it he's been trying to get this little project off the ground for three years. It's a dead end, Manny. He's sweet, but total dead end. Hegel should really stick to producing, not directing."

"Yeah, I'm all for personal projects. Still, it's only the first week," says Manny. "He'll find a better singer and actress in no time flat."

"True," agrees Lia. "While we conquer the world of film!"

They hug, return to the stage. Lia closes her eyes, muttering her monologue, Emily's from _Our Town_. Manny notes there are a few other people doing the same, and she's glad she's already done it. The rest of the students return from break, repositioning themselves, except for Blake who makes a point to walk to Manny.

"Hi _Manny_," he says, finally getting her name right, exaggerating it.

"Hi," she says, lifting her eyebrows.

"Kevin Smith...nice," says Blake, puffing out his chest as he walks past her.

Manny feels tempted to gag, keeps it in. She'd let every other emotion out, without putting on a mask, showing hesitance, because hey, she'd rather soar than sink.

IV.

"Finally cleaning," sighs J.T., tossing a baseball mitt into a cardboard box. "Who in your family played baseball?"

Yes, they were at work in the garage, after that promise to Ashley so he could get Manny's charm bracelet. When she called, he hoped that she didn't hear him cleaning in the background, not that she could tell, or maybe she could. Manny always picked up on stuff, sooner or later. He wouldn't like it if she picked up on the fact that he basically has been lying.

Lying, he thinks, as he shuffles a couple more boxes to the left with his foot. With the Justin situation handled, he still has one more thing to wrestle with. He and Manny seldom kept secrets, and if they did it, it was as not to hurt the other. A lie is a lie, however. Toby pounds the hood of Ashley's car with his palm, shaking his head.

"You don't know?" says J.T.

Oh, he hasn't answered the question.

"Dad when he was a kid," replies Toby.

That's how his parents met, actually. They were at a college baseball game, and Anne Marie noticed that his father had some ketchup on his collar. She said that's the weirdest place she'd ever seen ketchup wind up on a shirt, and he said he was too distracted by her to be a clean eater. Pretty lame, but it lead them to talking. Toby honestly believes the beginning of his relationship with Manny is a tad more interesting.

"Oh, Jeff was an athlete, eh?" says J.T. "Must've skipped a generation."

"Shut up," says Toby, tossing J.T. a helmet strap. "That's yours."

"My skater phase," says J.T., accepting it. "Ay, such a promising start to our wild summer, Toby."

"Yep."

"So glad I went through a style evolution," says J.T., twirling the strap.

"You're a regular Manny," says Toby, smiling. "Ash should have more room for her car when she comes home this year. Alright, we've got three empty boxes left, so cleaning supplies?"

"There's a drawer we didn't touch," confesses J.T.

"Why not?"

"Aversion to dust, my friend," apologizes J.T.

"I'm the clean one," mutters Toby.

"Clean in more ways than one," jokes J.T., sizing him up and down.

Rolling his eyes, and rather than hear another virginity crack, Toby goes to a tiny armoire where Kate kept a secret stash of school supplies, opens the first drawer. There were markers, brushes, stencils, colored pencils, and interestingly, some piece of folded paper. Opening the paper, it only takes seconds to identify it, his name signed at the bottom. It's the picture he drew for Kendra's birthday two years ago. His name, in black marker, has faded.

Did Kendra really want him out of her life the way she insinuated at the airport? If she did, why did she call him on more than one occasion? Why did she come to him with her secret, a secret he has yet to guess? Did it have to do with him? The lines of communication wasn't always this strained. Their relationship was great. Hmm, their best day had to be the bar mitzvah. That day was the first time he'd ever seen Kendra in a dress– dark blue, with a ribbon belt encircling the waist, hair dangling to her thin shoulders. He can still recall the beautiful shyness of that night.

"_You...you look pretty tonight, Kendra," stammered Toby, straightening his black tie._

_They were alone at a small table in the far corner, most boys, or rather, new men who used to be boys like him, evaluating Toby's mitzvah gifts. The haul was pretty good— money from Bubbe, a watch from Jeff, computer games from friends, and his favorite, a box set of Inuyasha manga from Kendra. She always knew what he liked._

"_That's the third time you've said that," remarked Kendra, eyes falling to her lap. "Thanks. I'm...I feel so foreign in this dress."_

"_Oh," said Toby, slowly sitting down next to her._

_His mother would rejoin them any minute, Anne Marie Isaacs discussing payment with the photographer she hired. He was glad she was away, because he wouldn't have to hear any more indirect insults towards his father. So far, Anne Marie made comments regarding the watch Jeff gave Toby, and the fact that Rabbi Green stuttered during two sentences of the Shabbat._ _Anne Marie...always so particular. She did like Kendra, however, so bonus points for that._

"_This is your day...why are you sitting with me?" questioned Kendra, playing with her belt._

"_I want to," said Toby, then quickly blushing. "Plus maybe if I sit long enough, they won't make me do Hava Nagila. J.T.'s already amped."_

_Both their eyes find J.T., bending down, rising up and stretching, his green backwards cap situated over his short hair. They laughed._

"_He's more the center of attention type, not me," admitted Toby, pretending to play with his new watch._

"_That's okay," said Kendra, leaning over, patting his hand. "I like your type."_

"_Yeah?" cried Toby. "I mean...thanks."_

_Toby smiled at the group on the dance floor, arms around each other, dancing in beat to the lively rhythm. Beards swayed, necklaces shook as they moved around in a circle._

"_Hava Nagila! Hava Nagila!" sang J.T. louder than anyone. "Ve-nishmekha..."_

_Kendra shook her head, giggled. Her giggle was so pretty. Ergh, that's mushy thinking. He can't help it. She's the first girl that ever liked him. They watched anime together, impersonating the voices of villains and heroes. Kendra did a good Japanese schoolgirl/heroine, despite her voice being lower than the characters. And they were so excited that Kendra had been pulled aside by Ms. Hatzilakos the other day, Kendra receiving an invitation to try out for the gymnastics team. Then, of course, that day, she came to the synagogue before everyone else, beamed at him after he did his Torah reading. _

"_U-ru u-ru achaim," sang his mother, mysteriously showing at a moment he was truly enjoying. "Nothing beats the classics."_

_Man, he thought she'd be with the photographer for awhile._

"_Kendra, that's a beautiful dress," complimented Anne Marie. "So classy."_

"_Your son thinks so too," teased Kendra, grinning at Toby._

_Toby stopped fiddling with his watch, bit his lip._

"_I could tell," said Anne Marie, rubbing Toby's shoulder. "Eh, Kendra, I really think we gotta loosen Tobemeister up one of these days. Not dancing at his own bar mitzvah?"_

"_Toby's secretly a good dancer," said Kendra. "At the luau, you couldn't get him to stop dancing."_

_That was somewhat of a fib. They only danced to slow songs on Toby's request. No matter...they still had a great date._

"_Must be because I'm here," said Anne Marie, smiling at Kendra._

_Yeah, and he was surprised. After Parent's Night, she did start calling often, asking him for different pieces of information. She visited twice, when Kate wasn't home. It almost felt as if she'd never left. Then, she made the stunning announcement that her agency was relocating to California. California? Not only another town, a completely separate country. Why did she want to leave? Because she didn't want to be close to his dad and Kate? That was his guess. _

_Toby sighed. Somehow, he knew the direction of the conversation would make this weird turn into Kendra and Anne Marie discussing him. He can't avoid it forever, but he can avoid it for a few minutes._

"_I'll be back," said Toby, rising._

_He heads past a few tables, goes into a school hallway. The celebration wasn't at Degrassi, but at a private Jewish school with a great conference room. Anne Marie thought the design was impeccable, and the staff charming and capable. So everything met with her approval. She didn't think to ask Toby._

_Walking with his head down, his eyes find a pair of pink Sketchers, the feet going up and down quietly. Manny is seated in the hall, long pigtails covering her tanned shoulders and the sleeves of a flower-print summer dress._

"_Did you and Emma like the ceremony?" asked Toby, sitting next to Manny on a bench outside the girls' washroom._

"_I didn't understand when you were talking," said Manny, picking a piece of lint from her sleeve._

"_Hebrew," said Toby._

"_I knew that!" cried Manny, brushing her sleeve. "Ewww."_

"_Thanks for the wrestling game," said Toby. "Supposed to be good."_

"_You get to control sweaty men now," said Manny, sticking out her tongue at him._

"_What are you...like molting?" joked Toby, touching her sleeve._

"_Stop!" exclaimed Manny. "I am not a bird!"_

"_Brought about by hormones...which you completely have," teased Toby. "Craig? I don't think I have to say anymore."_

_Manny's jaw dropped as she stood, playfully pushed Toby into the back of the bench. Despite her short stature, she was holding him down easily. Toby tried to resist her, hands encircling her waist._

"_Oh my gosh," laughed Toby._

"_That's why you didn't make the wrestling team, okay?" said Manny, beaming. _

_They stare at each other, Manny's grip relaxing, her gaze beginning to stray. Toby smiled, releasing her waist. Manny slowly backed away._

"_Psh, I bet if I were Kendra, you would've tackled me," assessed Manny, removing fallen strands of hair from her face._

"_Kendra could've killed me," protested Toby. "With you, I have a fighting chance."_

"_Whatever," waved off Manny, sitting again. "I wish...I wish I had somebody."_

_What? Manny had to be one of the prettiest girls not only in his class, but the whole of Degrassi, maybe the district. Kendra was more his type of pretty, though he can see why Craig found Manny attractive. _

"_Craig's with Ashley, Emma's with Sean, you're with Kendra, J.T.'s...J.T.," lists Manny. "One date would be enough to cure the single blues."_

"_You'll get a boyfriend," reassured Toby. "And you'll be able to wrestle him."_

_Manny laughed, sighed. "As soon as Em's done, gotta go home. Dad's strict ways. Sorry I can't stay longer."_

"_Aww, and I wanted to see you dance Hava Nagila!" said Toby, snapping his fingers._

"_Hava Nagila!" sang Manny, bouncing up and down. "Hava..."_

_Toby chuckled, making her stop. _

"_That was more hip-hop, right?" asked Manny._

"_Uh, yeah," replied Toby._

"_Well, anyway, this is the longest I've ever stayed out...because of you," teased Manny._

"_I feel special," said Toby, folding his hands behind his head._

"_You should...it's not everyday your friend becomes a man," said Manny, kissing his cheek. "Hee, I made you blush!"_

_Toby covered his face, sure Manny was telling the truth. Knowing she risked staying out late for him, and that small comment...well, he couldn't help turning red. _

"_Who made who blush?" asked Emma, bathroom door swinging open._

_She wore a denim skirt, a conservative white blouse, and a teal jacket. _

"_None of your never mind," replied Manny, standing. "Let's jet."_

"_Mazel tov, Toby!" said Emma, shrugging. "Come on. Sean said he'd call tonight."_

_Without Manny being able to say another word, Emma grabbed Manny's hand and they left the school. Time for him to go too, Toby collecting himself, and reentering the room. His mother and Kendra were in deep conversation. Heh, why isn't he surprised they got along better than he and Anne Marie?_

"Your mom, Tobes!" says a voice, breaking him from the visions of his bar mitzvah.

"Huh?" replies Toby.

Jeff stands with a phone in his hands, giving the boys a curious look. J.T. looks puzzled too, has apparently been staring at him while he took a trip down memory lane. I feel like a freak, thinks Toby, taking the phone and leaving the garage.

"Hello?" says Toby.

"Toby!" greets his mother, happily. "Glad you're in. I think we should talk."

Oh, great. What's this? More cracks on his father or condemning him for being out late? His father's punishment was enough. He just barely snuck in time to see Justin after leaving the library. Thankfully, his father believed the library lie. Yeah, another lie. And he called Justin a liar?

"When I said you should come to California for your last school year, I was upset...and I've been feeling bad about that. Apologized to your dad. I know your home is in Toronto. Just...I'd love to see you more," says Anne Marie, softly.

The softness almost makes him feel like she's telling the truth, the one truth today.

"That's alright," says Toby.

"No...no, it's not," insists Anne Marie. "However, the offer's still available for a trip to L.A. courtesy of me. For your birthday. J.T. could come too. I really like him and he'd be an honored guest."

Toby turns, spies J.T. drumming the drawer with a pair of amputated Barbie legs one of his twin cousins left years ago.

"Yeah, he kinda grows on you," says Toby, smirking. "I wouldn't...wouldn't want to be any trouble."

"Consider it a present," encourages Anne Marie.

Well, if he goes to California, even with J.T. in tow, he'd be closer to Manny. No more waiting for her to call, or for time to call her. Totally perfect. He'd have to deal with his mom, though, for more than a couple hours. Truthfully, he's not sure he wants to reconnect with her. Still, if Manny asked again, he'd love to say yes.

"Can you hold on?" says Toby into the phone.

"Certainly," answers Anne Marie.

Toby goes into the garage, covers the phone.

"Mom's offering a trip to Cali...for me and J.T.," says Toby. "Um...can I go?"

Jeff sighs loudly, his mouth getting tight. He will say no, and Toby can't blame him.

"Tell her to call me with some plan. A feasible plan," responds Jeff.

Toby's mouth hangs open, exchanging a smile with J.T.

"Cali, here we come, baby!" yells J.T., pumping his fist into the air. "I...I can resurrect my tan!"

Placing the phone to his ear, Toby opens his mouth to speak.

"J.T.'s on board, based on that outburst!" laughs Anne Marie. "And you?"

"Yeah," says Toby, grinning. "Thanks."

"I'll call tomorrow," says Anne Marie, hanging up.

Toby hands the phone to Jeff, who still appears anxious. He's anxious too, to tell Manny, to go see her. This summer definitely looks promising now.


	20. I'm So Excited

**XIX. I'm So Excited**

_Tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen,  
Tonight we'll put all other things aside.  
Give in this time and show me some affection,  
We're going for those pleasures in the night._

_I want to love you, feel you,  
Wrap myself around you.  
I want to squeeze you, please you,  
I just can't get enough,  
And if you move real slow,  
I'll let it go.  
I'm so excited,  
And I just can't hide it,  
I'm about to lose control  
And I think I like it.  
I'm so excited,  
And I just can't hide it,  
And I know, I know, I know, I know  
I know I want you, want you._

_We shouldn't even think about tomorrow,  
Sweet memories will last a long long time.  
We'll have a good time baby don't you worry,  
And if we're still playing around boy that's just fine._

_Let's get excited,  
And we just can't hide it,  
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it.  
I'm so excited,  
And I just can't hide it,  
And I know, I know, I know, I know  
I know I want you, want you. _

**I'm So Excited is the property of the Pointer Sisters and appears in the film **_**The Nutty Professor.**_

Author's Note: Timeline shift again! Well, first of all, enjoy the season 7 premiere! Looks like it will be an interesting season. Anyways, the first couple scenes take place the second day of Manny's drama camp. There's an Emma scene, and a Manny scene. Then in the next two parts, we're advancing two weeks for another Emma scene, since Spinner said he'd be leaving for California in two weeks. Then, the last scene is Toby. Thanks for the reviews!

"Ah!" cries Jack, burying his face into a red pillow.

Spike glances at him, smiles, returns to placing some scarves in a chest that was formerly in the basement. Emma's arms still hurt from carrying it all the way there. At least it was something to do. She is so bored, wishing to be like Jack who seemingly loves going headfirst into pillowcases.

Believing that to be not the best way to play, Emma steadies him, Jack moaning his complaint.

"Careful, Jack," cautions Emma.

"Em, he's fine," says Spike. "Softest pillow in the world, and he'll get bored with it in a few minutes."

True to her mother's words, Jack is already playing his knees like a drum, making low purring noises.

"Such motherly instinct before you can even vote," compliments Spike, touching her shoulder on the way to the vanity mirror.

In the mirror, her mom appears so tired. Both of them are a little worse for the wear. It seems as if Spike's running on the adrenaline she does have, driving from the beauty salon to here, doing the bills, taking care of Jack. Thankfully, whatever new job Snake has, wasn't interfering with him coming to the house to take Jack for a couple weekends. Their dialogue when he came was so short, painful in its curtness. Emma could sense the tension from the top of the staircase. Normally, she'd stay in her room, but it was empty without Manny, a colorful tomb with the occasional hum from the washing machine if a load was being washed. Spike needed her, anyway, and she's happy to be helpful, not focus on the loneliness.

"Em, J.T. called earlier, wanted to see if you were up for a movie with him and Toby," says Spike, rearranging her perfume bottles.

"What and watch _Robot Murder Stories_ in sticky seats?" replies Emma. "No thanks."

"Might be fun," shrugs Spike, giving her a look.

Man, she knows what's behind that look. Part of the reason she doesn't think her mother yelled at her too much for inviting Snake to the barbecue is that conversation she overhead between her mother and grandmother. They were concerned. Why, she has no clue. She went to the variety show, the after party, and Spike was still watching her as if she's so fragile. I'm not, thinks Emma, selecting a bottle. She spritzes herself, head growing woozy from a very strong flowery smell.

"I appreciate everything you've done, Emma, but I _am_ the mom," says Spike, gently.

"You are, but...," starts Emma.

"Grandma and I have noticed you're too isolated," confesses Spike. "She calls frequently to check..."

She should've known that conversation would be ongoing. Grandma Nelson never let anything go, even if she's certain it's because she loves her. That was just her way of showing it, an annoying way.

"I'm fine,"defends Emma.

"Certain people are making more of an effort," interrupts Spike. "That's giving you more free time."

By certain people, you mean Snake, fills in Emma inwardly. Well, she can't argue with that.

"In fact, he's coming over tonight...and I think...think you should talk to him," says Spike, taking the bottle from her daughter.

Snake's coming over? With no warning? She should've at least had warning. There was no mention of Jack going away, to her knowledge.

"Why can't he just take Jack and leave?" asks Emma.

"Because he'd like to see you," answers Spike, grabbing Emma's hands. "Em, he's your dad. I'd never not want you to see him, especially because of me."

Emma shakes her head, fighting any crying. Turns out she's losing in the first few seconds, her eyes releasing tears. She'd gone to see him already, and ended up being disappointed. The discussions did nothing good for any of them, and the last talk revealed that he was settling in somewhere else. What would happen today? She finds out Snake has a new girlfriend?

"I won't talk to him today," mumbles Emma. "Maybe...maybe soon."

"Whenever you're ready," consoles Spike.

Making her way out of the room, kissing Jack on top of his head, she goes down the two flights of stairs to her basement, sits on her bed. The only sound is the slight creak of the bed, and birds chirping behind the far window. Then, surprising to her, her cell rings.

"Hello?" answers Emma.

"Finally caught you!" cries Manny. "Did you get my text?"

Yeah, that one lonely text from yesterday. It was so informal Emma really didn't feel like bothering with it. Better not to play victim, groans Emma inwardly.

"Got it," replies Emma, coldly.

"It's insane here," says Manny. "Learning loads, though. Em, you should see this house...my room. So impossibly impressive."

"Sounds great," says Emma, letting her head fall against the pillow similar to Jack.

"Been meaning to call you more," admits Manny. "Just...Arissa, our teacher, thinks cellphones are demonic and I was so exhausted yesterday after doing vocal variations and blocking exercises and...I'm filling the scrapbook"

The last sentiment makes Emma's grin. At least, she was doing what Emma hoped she would in that department.

"How full?" questions Emma, lifting her head.

"A third in," replies Manny. "You'll be the first person I show it to."

"You remembered to take the price tag off?" says Emma.

"Yessssss, Mom," groans Manny, playfully. "So enough about me. What exciting things are happening with you?"

"Nothing, and by that I mean...nothing," sighs Emma.

"Lack of Spinner news?" says Manny. "Sad."

As far as she knows, Spinner is packing for his stay in California with Kendra and his grandmother. Spinner told her he negotiated to spend at least one day in the L.A. area too, to visit Manny. Heh, he'd probably see her more this summer. Emma twirls the phone cord.

"He's on his way to you," says Emma.

"I detect a hint of jealousy," kids Manny. "But rewind back to you. Why are you all mopey? Tell me you spent one day out of that house."

"Went grocery shopping, to the dance studio...for a few," shares Emma.

"Not processing as a truly fun day," argues Manny.

"Mom can't do all this without me," insists Emma. "It's...it's hard...it's busy..."

"It's not healthy," adds Manny.

"I don't have a job or anything so yes, it's quiet," shrugs Emma. "Lately, things are easier. I mean, all I do is watch Jack, maybe do the laundry."

"You watched Jack...oh my gosh, you _watched _Jack!" cries Manny.

Emma raises her eyebrows. Clearly, the California sunshine has done a number on her best friend's sense of logic.

"Uh-huh?" blanks Emma.

"This is perfect!" exclaims Manny. "If you can watch a toddler, you can totally watch a seven-year old."

"Seven-year old?" replies Emma.

"Kel's daughter...um, Lia's sister...needs a nanny, or caregiver really," explains Manny. "You're so trustworthy and practical and could do it! Then, we'd be next to each other all summer, and you could travel, have some relaxation..."

"What references do I have, Manny?" says Emma. "My mom? Jack's teddy bear?"

"My parents, who get along great with Kel, and me. Lia, too, if we twist her arm," answers Manny. "_Come on._"

Spending the summer taking care of a child she barely knows? Not entirely ideal. But it would get her away from all this monotonous stress, her inquisitive grandmother, and her worried mother.

"Sun, Spin, stress-free...how else can I sell this to you?" encourages Manny.

"And his daughter isn't out of control?" sighs Emma.

"As calm as you are, though a little more interesting," teases Manny. "She's an angel. Look, talk to Spike, see if it's a possibility. Camp starts in twenty, so I have to leave."

"I'll mention it," promises Emma. "Bye."

They both hang up the phone, Emma standing and straightening her orange, cotton tank top. As she climbs the stairs, she's reminded of the movement in the dance studio, that freedom in a more comfortable place. She almost feels guilty for craving it again. The doorbell rings when she reaches the foyer.

Without thinking, she opens the door to Snake, dressed more for autumn than summer, wearing a long-sleeved plaid shirt and brown trousers. Noticeable sweat glistens on his forehead. Emma tucks some hair behind her ear, stares at her hands.

"Hey, Emma," greets Snake, grinning.

"Come in," says Emma, softly, stepping to the side.

Snake enters, pretends to look around the foyer, as if he hasn't done it for the past three years. He whistles, rocking on the soles of his shoes.

"Spike told me you did well on your report card," says Snake, breaking the silence. "Top marks in Media Immersion. Some people thrive in the classroom and in independent study."Emma nods, wishing this moment won't drag. He can try to bond all he wants, but fact is he's living in a new place with a new second job...without her. Jack wouldn't care. She does.

"Any plans for the summer?" asks Snake, hesitantly.

No, although she can't bear to say so. If another person thought she was pathetic, she'd scream.

"California," says Emma, quickly. "Nanny...au pair...whatever."

Snake beams, surprise inching over his face. "How'd you swing that?"

"Manny," admits Emma. "Yeah...she...um, knows some people. We just have to make arrangements."

"If you do as good a job as you do with Jack, sure you'll do a great job," compliments Snake.

"Thanks," says Emma.

"Can your mom afford to send you there?" asks Snake, lowering his voice.

What kind of insinuation is that? Alright, she can't say for sure that she has enough money to make a trip, or even if the trip is possible. The expression of hesitance seems to answer the question for her. Snake shrugs.

"Let me pay," offers Snake.

"No," protests Emma, heading for the staircase.

Snake follows her, blocks her way, and they each hear a pair of steady feet coming down as well. Emma gulps as she views her mother carrying Jack, asleep on her shoulders.

"Pay for?" whispers Spike.

"Emma's trip to California," answers Snake.

She and her mother exchange tentative glances, Spike clearing her throat. This definitely isn't the best situation.

"You're staying at that girl Lia's house?" asks Spike.

Emma's mouth nearly drops to her waist. No complaints about her not knowing anything? No revelations to Snake that this trip has been unknown until now?

"Think...think so," stammers Emma, letting her head fall.

"I...I didn't get to take you guys to Mexico or New York...like we planned," speaks up Snake. "Let me at least do this."

There is momentary silence, where Jack's breathing is the loudest noise. Emma manages to stare at her mother, who looks resolute in whatever she's going to say.

Spike strokes Jack's back. "Emma and I will call you with full details."

Snake smiles, his teeth wide in the faint sunlight of the foyer. Failing to utter another word, Snake takes Jack from Spike's arms, fetches Jack's overnight bag, and closes the front door behind them.

"Mom, you didn't have to do that for me," says Emma, stroking her forehead.

Spike rushes down the stairs, hugs her daughter, who shakes from the tight grasp.

"Yes," whispers Spike. "I did have to do this for you."

II.

"_Ba be bi bo bu ba be bi bo bu...ca ce ci co cu ca ce ci co cu..._," chant forty voices echoing through the grand theater.

Manny stands in the second row, trying to talk to Lia through the vocal exercise, the warm-up starting to wear out its welcome. Colin loves it, trying to sing it without being detected. Manny shoots a look at Lia.

"She's so into discipline and encouragement when necessary," says Manny, as the students start another round. "It's scary what a great baby-sitter she is."

"Key word, baby-sitter," whispers Lia. "Without first-rate credentials, Dad won't give her the time of day."

"Unless his daughter convinces him. Camp issues would be solved," points out Manny.

"Since I'm desperate," sighs Lia. "She's not boring, is she?"

"No...um, Emma's the life of the party," replies Manny, staring straight ahead.

Lia groans, releases a deep breath, continues with the vocals as Arissa moves down the rows, straightening the posture of some of the students.

"Listen to the texture of your voice!" instructs Arissa, loudly. "Without projection and rhythm, your instrument won't reach its full potential."

In the corner, Manny spies Martika, the scout who fought with Arissa yesterday. It was almost like she wanted to keep tabs on Arissa, which Manny doesn't see any sense in doing. Arissa has stuck to the technical and dramatic terms.

Arissa comes to Manny, moves back her shoulders.

"Use your whole diaphragm, dear," whispers Arissa, patting her stomach.

Ugh, this is the second time I've been singled out today for something improper, she remembers. The first was barely making eye contact in the pantomime exercise, where she had to follow Lia's movements to a tee. Eye contact has always been hard for her, unless she trusts the person. Lia's gaze was alarmingly firm, while hers strayed every few seconds. Her failure elicited a distinguished sigh from Arissa, and yeah, basically, the monologue hadn't made as big an impact. It was understandable considering that the students who delivered monologues the next day upstaged Manny, and their monologues were more standard and powerful. Apparently, a day can make a difference.

"Restroom break, and then we'll discuss dramatic irony," shouts Arissa after the final chant.

Students hustle to the back doors, and Manny's tempted to go too, since the darkness of the theater made her feel really cramped. Manny hops off the stage, immediately runs into Blake, who'd been staring at her for most of the session.

"Manny, a word?" says Blake, standing near her.

His impossibly white teeth shine under the stage lights, blue eyes bright. The closer she got, the more he resembled a teen idol whose poster you'd like to pin on your wall. Then, he speaks, and you'd love to rip off the poster. Better to be polite. This is a professional place.

"You can have two," agrees Manny.

"Saw your scenes on the Internet," shares Blake. "Good student of naturalism."

Naturalism? Okay, they haven't gotten to that part in the syllabus, though what else can it mean except him believing she acts naturally?

"I was a beauty queen," waves off Manny, smiling demurely. "Act what you know."

"Beauty queen? Not surprised," says Blake.

Curiously, Blake motions to Martika, who in odd taste is in zebra-patterned clothing again, this time in a zebra-print skirt with a black blouse. Manny offers Martika a confused stare as she approaches.

"Miss Santos," says Martika, happily. "Lovely to meet you. I'm Martika Timmons. From Pinecrest? Surely, you remember us."

I remember you and your zebra wear, and that's about it, thinks Manny.

"Our agency represents Blake. May I ask who you're with?" says Martika.

"Bluewave," replies Manny.

"Oh, Bluewave," breathes Martika. "Never heard of them."

"They're in Canada," says Manny.

"Canada...that's...that's sweet," says Martika, giving her a strained smile. "Anyhoo, listen, we were wondering if you wouldn't mind taking a picture with Blake. It's not every year our esteemed camp gets two popular movie stars in the group."

Popular movie star? The girls asked for her autograph at the airport, but that didn't make her a star or anything. When she hears the word "star", she thinks of those actresses with emblazoned stars on the Walk of Fame, the ones the tabloids follow, the ones with fancy houses. At least Lia fit one category out of the three.

"I'm not...not a star," demurs Manny.

"Ha, so modest," laughs Martika. "The Kevin Smith film you did...the second highest-grossing film he's shot. Not only that. This summer, it appealed to the sixteen to twenty-five year old demographic more than any other comedy, the demographic that is the best you can get."

"For real?" cries Manny.

Wow, a lot of people appreciated her role. No wonder Kevin made that call for her.

"Pinecrest has an opening for rising talent. Blake is one of many success stories," continues Martika, putting an arm around Blake.

Blake winks at Manny, making her shiver. She didn't want to be a success story if it meant being an egotistical jerk like Blake.

"Our agency is releasing a press package, and we'd really benefit from a picture of two beautiful attendees," says Martika. "So...a picture?"

Manny looks from Martika to Blake, repeating the gesture as her heart thumps. Something about this doesn't feel quite right, and she's with Bluewave, not Pinecrest. She'd rather do this for Bluewave, no matter how aggravating Colleen could be.

"You'll say I'm from Bluewave?" asks Manny.

"It'd be ridiculous if we didn't," replies Martika. "Scoot in close now."

Blake grins widely, an arm going around Manny's shoulder, locking her tightly against him. Manny grits her teeth, smiles the best to her ability. Blake was nowhere near as gently as Toby, his hand squeezing her shoulder. As the flash goes off, Manny counts the second until the arm is removed.

"Excellent...well, if Bluewave doesn't pan out for you, hon, talk to Blake for a change of locale," says Martika, pocketing the camera.

Instead of saying good-bye, they leave her, walking briskly down the aisle, Manny shaking her head in confusion. I've had enough of these weird interactions, Manny collapsing into a theater chair. Emma accepting the position would boost her spirits, and if Toby did show, that would be the best medicine.

III.

"Do you have any...Grey Poupon?" asks Spinner, unlocking his seat's tray.

He blushes as Emma giggles beside him.

"No, sir," replies the stewardess, rolling her eyes.

"Dang, and I wanted a sandwich," sighs Spinner, folding his hands together. "And the..."

"No, sir," says the stewardess. "We don't have tater tots, Rice Krispie treats, or monkey-shaped ham."

"Of course you don't," says Spinner, smiling.

The stewardess collects Spinner and Emma's empty cups, moves to the next row, massaging her temple before doing so. He didn't mean to seize the opportunity, but he'd do it to make Emma laugh. Her appreciation is made evident by a sigh, and her leaning back into her seat.

"Keep worrying about Mom and Jack," admits Emma.

"Don't," says Spinner. "When they saw us off, they looked happy. Your mom had like a tear on her cheek and stuff."

"She did," says Emma, patting Spinner's arm.

This all seems straight out of a dream. Manny convinced Emma to come to Cali two weeks ago, and he gets the rewards? So cool. The news left Jimmy dumbfounded as much as it did him. There were complications, however. Santa Clara was quite a distance away from the Andrews house, and she'd be busy with Hannah most likely for the first few days. He and Kendra never determined how many days he could visit, but he does have his job at the Dot, and they were set on him returning the last week of this month.

In the back of his mind, he's been wondering about his sister. At their lunch with Jimmy and Hazel, she was so spacey and she didn't stay with their parents. Has the break-up with Sam taken that much of a toll on her?

"Kendra and I usually do that to keep away the stewardess," explains Spinner. "It was cute when we were little kids. Now, they hate us."

Emma grins. "That scared of stewardesses?"

"Man, they smile all the time...it's abnormal," stammers Spinner. "But man, those hot complimentary napkins in first class...if you charm one a certain way, you can get 'em in coach."

"No, you can't," argues Emma, smirking.

"Ruined my chance on this flight," says Spinner. "Although..."

Spinner glances around the airplane, spies the stewardess who yes, is purposely avoiding him, and waves her to them. The stewardess smiles as if she's in pain, stands near them.

"Yes?" she says.

"My girlfriend's incredibly cold," lies Spinner. "I mean, the air on this plane? So chilly."

Emma arches her eyebrows, maintains an expression of understanding.

"Aren't you cold, snicker doodle?" asks Spinner.

Clearly willing to play along, Emma pretends to shiver, lips trembling. Hey, if he didn't know any better, he'd swear Emma was the actress and not Manny.

"Oh...that's...that's not good," stutters the waitress. "I'll get you a blanket."

"No offense, ma'am, but those blankets are too thin...as you can see, she's skinny," says Spinner.

"Something...something hot please," pleads Emma.

"Coffee? Tea?" offer the stewardess, panicked. "A...a hot towel?"

"Hot towel?" says Spinner, stroking his chin. "I...believe that might do it. Two blankets and a towel."

"Yes...yes, sir," remarks the stewardess, starting to the front. "I'll be a minute in first class...and yes, hold on a sec."

The stewardess disappears behind the curtain, Emma and Spinner busting out with laughter. Spinner had no idea that would work so well. He guesses discomfort can work as easily as charm. If all goes well, with this trip, maybe Emma will find him charming. Not Jimmy charming, but slightly charming.

The stewardess returns, apologizing under her breath as she hands Emma a very warm towel, and gives the two blankets to Spinner. A man moves to go to the bathroom with the seatbelt sign still lit, so she goes to scold him.

"Girlfriend?" whispers Emma.

"Thought it might make the situation...more sympathetic," explains Spinner. "Sorry for saying that."

"No," says Emma, wrapping her hands in the towel. "Get in some practice."

Spinner's mouth parts, unable to speak as Emma grins to herself, her hair falling to the thin blanket as she sleeps. Spinner smiles at the back of his seat. Would it annoy the stewardess anymore if he ran down the aisle, shouting "woohoo"? Mmm, probably.

IV.

"Suntan lotion," says J.T., dropping the bottle into Toby's basket.

"J.T., we can't buy the whole store," argues Toby. "Kytel doesn't pay me that much."

They continue to wander around the pharmacy, scanners beeping, a toddler screaming at the top of his lungs, a girl casually trying on flip-flops in one of the aisles. It cheers him a little to see all these subtle signs of summer, even before heading to his destination. That's right, I'm going, thinks Toby, proudly. For the past two weeks, Jeff and Anne Marie hammered out a good week for him to go, days that coincided with his birthday, so for a week and a half in July, he'd be in the States.

He'd never been in the States for that long before. He imagines a lot of the things are the same, and what is new he'll take in, because yeah, he didn't exactly fit in here either.

J.T. and Toby separate as the girl saunters down the aisle in her flip-flops, resume standing side by side as they head for the home care products. Toby desperately required a new toothbrush, and some toothpaste.

"Crest is the best!" they hear from the beginning of the aisle.

"Oh no," groans Toby, starting to turn.

"Electric, dude!" argues Danny. "Braun is not for boys, but for men."

"Consider me a kid, cause I like my Crest," says Derek, twirling a toothbrush still in its packaging.

"Walk away," whispers J.T., tugging Toby by the arm. "Walk slowly away."

Of course, they don't get very far, Derek and Danny running to them, nearly out of breath.

"Dude, what are the odds?" says Derek. "This must be the new hot summer hang-out."

"Complete with Manny's Casanova Toby, and the Incredible Shrinking J.T.," teases Danny.

Toby and J.T. glance at one another. He totally wishes they picked some other day to come into the pharmacy. Surely, it could've been any day, seeing as J.T. worked here and Toby had nothing better to do before the trip.

"Why the newfound interest in minty breath?" returns J.T.

"That book...didn't work so well in scoring honeys," sighs Derek.

"Whoa, really?" says Toby, sarcastically.

"It did for me!" boasts Danny. "Hot date Saturday. Thank you, thank you. Applause is so encouraged."

None of them applaud, Danny patting his fro.

"Forget ya'll, then," says Danny. "Now, Derek here...he'll be pulling a Toby. Going to start acting all nice and what not. We'll see how that goes."

Danny laughs, shakes Derek lightly.

"I can open a door for a girl," insists Derek.

"With your bony arms," adds Danny.

"Send flowers...," continues Derek.

"Ones that she's allergic to," finishes Danny.

Toby's fairly clear that neither of them knows what they're doing, though he'd bet Derek's mindset might win in the end. J.T. chuckles, asks what else Derek plans to do to win a girl. Eh, he'd let them talk. Going to another aisle, he finds some deodorant, puts it in the basket, pauses at a section not too far from where he stands.

Yes, he's seen them before, maybe three and a half years ago with J.T. Bacon condoms. No, no, just condoms, thinks Toby, staring at the different brand names. He wasn't even contemplating sex on that occasion, only what they looked like and what the big deal was. At sixteen, with him in a good relationship, he knows what the big deal is.

Tenderly taking a package of condoms, he glances to his left, to his right, reads the back. The remembrance of touching Manny through her shirt, her fumbling with his belt, her breath against his cheek, flow through his brain. Funny. With Kytel functions and schoolwork gone, these thoughts are speedily making their way to every functioning part of his mind. With Manny, would it come so readily? She acts like she's attracted, but she has yet to see him without a shirt, or partly nude, and definitely not nude at all.

"Toby," whispers a voice to his right.

He immediately drops the condoms, blushing furiously. Clara stares at the package too, face getting as red as it can get.

"Um...um," stammers Toby. "I was holding these for a friend."

Clara lets her hair fall into her eyes, shyly hiding. He wishes he had long hair and could do that.

"I saw you and...uh...wanted to thank you for talking to Justin," stammers Clara, not looking at him.

"No big deal," says Toby, bending cautiously for the condoms.

Neither says a word as he puts them in the basket, and not where they were originally. Clara clears her throat, Toby sure she's going to talk anyway despite the awkwardness.

"It was a big deal to me," assures Clara, meeting his eyes. "Justin's been hanging with these guys..."

"Not the Colgate brigade, I hope," says Toby, way too dorkily.

She'd have to excuse that. He was still pretty embarrassed.

"That's where he picked up that word, I'm sure," says Clara, tone more hushed. "He was so shocked when he said it. Sometimes your environment can make good people go bad. I mean...did you see his house? And his grandpa?"

Toby twists his lips in response. He saw them, and he won't tell Clara about the guys befouling Justin's car. Maybe a friend who didn't do that stuff is what Justin could use.

"I'm lucky to have him," sighs Clara. "He's so sweet when we're alone."

Justin must have some dual personality, because he's never seen it. Toby shifts the basket from one hand to another.

"Looks like you...you and Manny are planning to be alone," whispers Clara, eyeing him anxiously.

Toby feels like going back to the toothbrush debate. Then again, they are...they are Confirmed, adults in a way. He can face this maturely. What should he say next, though, to the girl who formerly claimed she was in love with him? What should _they_ say?

"I hope it's beautiful," says Clara, answering it for both of them.

His father said once that in these type of situations, girls had a better handle of words. Toby's thinking he's right. Like he told Justin, Clara is more a sister than anything. Would she understand?

"I'm afraid she'll laugh at me," whispers Toby, glancing forlornly at the basket.

"She won't," reassures Clara. "When two people are in love, you don't see what everyone else sees. Like some secret, perfect part only the other person can see. And I've...never done that, but I have a feeling it applies, same as everything else. Plus...you're hot."

"Whatever," says Toby, blushing.

"Don't believe me," says Clara, squeezing his arm. "I only...fell for you at first sight. So long, Toby."

Clara smiles, goes to the counter to ask the cashier for some pictures they developed. Toby places the suntan lotion and the deodorant over the condoms, breathes deeply. Perhaps Clara is right, that Manny sees something he doesn't. What if she's wrong? Manny probably saw that "secret, perfect part" more easily with Craig or Sully or in his worst fair, a new guy in L.A. That's where perfection is most on display, not at the body he's living in. It's fifty/fifty as far as he's concerned, and with those odds, he's not sure if he'll be lucky.

V.

Manny stands ceremoniously at the end of Lia's drive, leaves rustling overhead, her legs moving excitedly with each passing car. She's waiting for a limo, a black stretch one. Yep, her friend's arriving in class, because Kel did the same thing for Edwina way back when. Manny's hoping one day she can swing a ride in that limo.

In her hands, she has the scrapbook. Just like she told Emma, the pages were getting more and more full, mostly comprised of scenic photography, or Colin and Lia posing in front of the theater. Her favorite is Colin dipping Lia with a cheesy grin.

Hearing a slight sputter, Manny's heart leaps, the black, shiny metal coming into view. The length of the automobile is impressive as it slows to a stop in front of the house. The driver opens his door to let out the passenger, Manny shaking her head.

"Allow me," she says, happily.

Opening the door, Emma grins, the two of them embracing as Manny rubs her back.

"You're not sick of this smog yet?" says Emma.

"Ugh, the first words out of your mouth...predicted as much," replies Manny. "L.A. has many other attributes."

"No Lia?" says Emma, closing the limo door.

"Facial," explains Manny. "Hannah's staying with Edwina for the last night she's here, so you'll meet her tomorrow. I can already feel it. Total kismet for the blonde duo."

"She's a blonde?"

"Seventy-five percent of this place is," jokes Manny. "How's everyone?"

"Doing well, actually," says Emma. "What? Toby hasn't filled you in?"

"He's been secretive lately," shrugs Manny. "Our conversations are mainly I-miss-you-I-love-you and a dial tone."

"Heh, he hasn't told you yet," laughs Emma. "I won't."

"What?" says Manny, pushing Emma playfully.

Emma passes her, refusing to answer. "Is my room pink?"

Manny sighs, goes to open the front door for Emma. Emma gasps, as Manny holds the door for the driver so he can deposit Emma's bags in the foyer. Manny smiles triumphantly. That's how she reacted too. She grabs Emma's hand.

"I've been dying to check out Edwina's room," whispers Manny.

The driver gives them a polite nod, which they return, and leaves the house. Looking at each other momentarily, they let out screams of delight, Manny leading the way. She opens the door, breathes a sigh of content.

While not nearly as bright as her room, Kel or Edwina has good taste. With pale blue walls, it reminds Manny somewhat of an island resort room, with white furniture, a queen-size bed, roses in vases dotting the room. Emma has the better view, a large window leading out to a garden. Sophisticated, more simple, more Emma.

"Gorgeous," breathes Emma.

"So happy you're here," says Manny, hugging her from behind. "We need some happy tunes!"

Manny flips on the radio under the plasma TV, bobbing her head to the oldie that's currently playing. She's bobbing so much she barely hears the phone. Answering the call, she views Emma fall onto her bed, recalling when she did something similar her first day here.

"Manny?" says Toby.

She instantly lowers the volume of the radio, smiles into the mouthpiece.

"It's you!" cries Manny. "Perfect timing. Camp's over for today and Emma's here. Say hi, Em."

"Hi!" shouts Emma, cheerfully, staring at the ceiling.

"She's in bliss," laughs Manny.

"I'm glad," says Toby.

"And since we have more than five minutes," teases Manny. "I'm feeling Jeopardy-like today...you know, the question asking spirit. And need I remind you, this will be the fifth."

"Go ahead," replies Toby.

"When are you coming to Cali..." asks Manny.

"Early July," says Toby, before she finishes the question.

"Shut up!" yells Manny. "Shut up...shut up...shut up!"

"Is Toby saying something rude?" asks Emma, sitting straight.

Manny clutches the phone, hops two times. He's coming, actually coming! Oh wow, good things come to those who wait.

"When?" says Manny.

"Birthday," answers Toby. "Me and J.T. For ten whole days."

"Ten?" exclaims Manny. "That's...like totally the perfect time span to do everything."

"I thought so too," says Toby. "Got to discuss some stuff with my dad, but I did want to call you. And um..."

She knew it. There is a condition. He'd be on lockdown because of the Justin incident, or like Spinner, he won't be in L.A. for the whole stay? This is all too good to be true. Three of her friends and her boyfriend arriving to spend part of the summer with her? That only happens in movies or TV shows, the land of fiction.

"Yes?" says Manny, placing a hand over her heart.

"Manny...um, green light," says Toby, softly, but loud enough for her to hear.

She could hear that standing in the middle of the busiest day of the Santa Monica freeway. The dial tone enters her ears, Manny letting the phone slide to the floor, as she stares blankly at the wall. Emma stands beside her, poking Manny with her thumb.

"You okay?" asks Emma.

"Green light," repeats Manny, then grinning. "He said green light."

"Is that code...or gibberish?" says Emma.

"Code...because Toby's ready!" whispers Manny, excitedly.

"Oh my...oh my gosh!" cries Emma, grinning.

"I know!" exclaims Manny, dancing to the low beat of the music, turning it up.

"Come on, Em, you're the dancer!" nudges Manny.

Manny shimmies from side to side, grabbing Emma's shoulders in the process, making her spin. Emma giggles, joining Manny in her energetic dance. It's time. He finally said it's time.

"_Tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen_," sings Manny. "_Tonight we'll put all other things aside. Give in this time and show me some affection, we're going for those pleasures in the night_."

They continue to dance, Emma having way more rhythm in her than Manny expected, Manny kicking to a beat that's almost as fast as the one in her heart. Months of being treated wonderfully, millions of kisses, one willing boyfriend.

"_Let's get excited_," sings Emma, swaying, snapping her fingers. "_And we just can't hide it..."_

"_I'm about to lose control and I think I like it_," sings Manny.

"_Oooh, boy, what you do to me...Toby's finally going to give it up_!" sings Emma, laughing afterwards.

Manny hits Emma, giggling, the two of them falling onto Emma's bed as the music comes to a close.


	21. Smells Like Teen Spirit

**XXI. Smells Like Teen Spirit**

_Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low?  
Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low?  
Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low?  
Hello, hello, hello ,hello  
With the Lights out it's less dangerous  
Here we are now entertain us  
I feel stupid and contagious  
Here we are now entertain us  
A mullato an albino  
A mosquito my libido  
yay_

_I'm worse at what I do best  
And for this gift I feel blessed  
Our little group has always been  
And always will until the end_

_Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low?  
Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low?  
Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low?  
Hello, hello, hello, hello  
With the Lights out it's less dangerous  
Here we are now entertain us  
I feel stupid and contagious  
Here we are now entertain us  
A mullato an albino  
A mosquito my libido  
yay_

_**Smells Like Teen Spirit **_**is originally the property of Nirvana (of course) and has most recently appeared in the film **_**Moulin Rouge.**_

**Into the Void is the property of Nine Inch Nails.**

The directions themselves were complicated, never mind the intentions behind this meeting. He had no clue when Dale met him at the shack, no clue why this young kid Ty was tagging along, no clue why he got in the car. The seatbelt cuts into his waist as Dale turns sharply, Ty's small body bouncing in the background.Sean inches down his black, cloth cap, blue eyes staring into the foggy distance. The hours before dawn are cold, and nearly silent, except for the sounds of the car.

Sean glances at Ty in the rear view mirror again. He's found himself doing that all throughout the drive. This is the kid who asked if he was okay after the initiation, but this morning, he only showed Sean the smallest hint of recognition, crawling into the car and buckling up. Ty wore a skull cap, baggy, unwashed black jeans, and a black T-shirt, his skin brown and pock-marked.

Dale chuckles as they approach a dirty garage, rust lining its doors. Sean takes a deep breath as Dale stops the car. He wonders what Dale finds so funny, then it becomes clearer as Dale yawns, lifts his black shirt to reveal a shining handgun. Okay, yeah, Greenville's tough, but he figured they'd simply shop, maybe get railed a bit, definitely nothing like this.

"Best to be prepared," says Dale, patting the gun proudly.

"What...what...there's a kid here," stammers Sean, lowering his voice.

"First of all, Ty's not a kid," says Dale, as Ty shuffles in the back. "He knows how this works, unlike you. Secondly, when you're working with the best ring in the area, you gotta be strapped."

"Ring?" prompts Sean.

"Stolen car parts ring, idiot," sighs Dale. "This isn't Daddy's garage, Sean. Not all deals go smoothly. Just cooperate, which you're sometimes capable of doing, and there won't be any heat."

Cooperate? He'd rather spit in his face. Whatever. He already used the money so it's not like he wasn't being paid for his services. Services? Yeah, like he's Spin at the Dot or Tracker installing windshields. Man, if Tracker or his parents knew what he was doing, they'd be disappointed for what, the five millionth time? Don't think about it, he tells himself. You have to do it.

"Okay, so here's how it works," whispers Dale to Sean, Ty leaning in. "The guy opens the back of the truck, gets out the boxes with parts available for trade. Usually, they mix the decent parts with the really good parts so they can fool us. Got a load of bad ones when I first started. Currently, I'm choosing great to okay ones. That's why we need you, Cameron."

Sean rolls his eyes. "I don't get why you guys can't go to the dump or a scrap pile and fix those. People throw out salvageable stuff all the time."

"That's fine for your grandma's old hooptie in Wasaga," returns Dale. "I work with quality cars. And it's why I'm making bank. Plus I don't have the patience to lovingly work on parts that might not even work."

"Your funeral," mumbles Sean.

"No, yours if you don't clam it," returns Dale, glaring at him. "I got men you don't got, and I got a gun you don't got. And who knows? So foggy out here I might shoot the wrong person."

Sean narrows his eyes at him, wishes he was packing too. Or no, that'd be another dumb mistake. Ty drops his gaze, and without another word, follows as Dale exits the car, advances through the early summer mist. Greenville is near the docks, a town near Toronto, more bare and industrial. The buildings were a bland grey, and the streets were littered, dreary apartments housing the residents. In short, not the perfect place to be traveling in ugly weather.

He can still stay in this car, or run, find another way to pay back Dale. Then, he remembers that in a little more than two weeks, next month's rent is due, and does he have a guaranteed job? No. Jay does, and he hasn't talked to Sean since he left the apartment. Dale did tell him, though, that Jay was repairing the stolen parts more regularly late at night. Sean guessed that meant lighting up too, because Dale's car reeked of pot. The smell is so powerful Sean would leave for that reason alone. Another reason, probably waking up for her seminar in a few hours, comes to him quickly. There's no doubt in his mind that this trip with Ellie should happen. He spent so many weeks convincing her that he was reliable, insisting to others that he could offer her as much as any other boy that came her way. How will it look when he bails on the trip, a decision sure to get back to the Nashes?

Slowly opening the car door, then closing it, Sean goes on the same path as Dale and Ty. White fog stings his eyes, Sean wading through, until he comes to the rusty door, his two business associates, which they sort of were, standing before it. Dale pounds on the metal door, the door inching to the top almost immediately. It stops with a loud clatter, Dale and Ty going into the dark garage. Sean shakes himself, goes inside.

"What's your poison?" says a voice piercing through the darkness.

"Acura spindles...Audi camshafts...antennas of any make," lists Dale.

With his final request, someone hits the light, revealing two large trucks in a practically empty garage, old newspapers blowing across the floor. Three large men, in different plaid shirts, and dirty brown trousers,stand ceremoniously by the truck nearest them. Sean notices slight scarring on the men's arms, necks, and faces, as if they were in a scuffle not too long ago. Otherwise, it looked as if they'd just returned from a fishing trip.

"Antennas from Lexuses," says the oldest of the men, a mustard-colored beard covering his chin. "We're running low on spindles so no sale."

"When are you getting them in?" inquires Dale.

"Depends on when I can get my guys to jack the dock," replies the man. "Who's the new guy?"

"A little insurance," replies Dale.

Insurance? That almost sounds like some twisted form of respect, thinks Sean. Or it degrades him to a thing. He's not sure how to take it.

"I wager that other piece in your pants is your insurance," says the man, apparently aware of Dale's hidden gun. "Wouldn't try it, though. My muscle's true muscle."

The man's two friends stand by him, glowering at Dale. Heh, for once he can see Dale hesitate before speaking, clearly intimidated.

"That a threat?" says Dale.

"Got no problem icing you in front of a kid," returns the man. "Suspect that's why you brought him. No dice with me. Open the truck, Carter. Camshafts first."

One of his friends, with long red, shaggy hair, props open the truck, boxes on display for Sean to see. The boxes are fairly large, and others are medium-sized, but all of them are unmarked. He considers how they achieved this, lugging around a bunch of unmarked boxes, then assumes that there was an operation at the docks, to confiscate parts and repackage them in untraceable boxes. They must have an "in" man in the packaging department. Carter hops into the truck, carries a medium-sized box to where they all stand.

"Sean, evaluate the camshafts," instructs Dale, stepping away.

Great, he really is doing all the work. Dale knows camshafts. He dealt with them routinely at Mr. Hill's garage. Goes to show he doesn't want to get his hands dirty again, moans Sean, inwardly, stooping to open the box. He pulls out a cylindrical-shaped, grey rod, guesses the duration. Hmmm, not very good. Digging further into the box, he can hear Carter provide a deeper intake of breath. Dale grins encouragingly.

"Do you really need to dig like a squirrel?" asks the head guy, nervously. "They're...they're all the same."

"Not if we don't want belt failure later on," murmurs Sean, checking two others. "These are ideal for an Audi. Can fix them up in a couple days."

Dale glances over Sean's shoulder, nods. They glance at the man, stroking his beard thoughtfully, eyes panicked.

"Any problem, Leon?" asks Dale, beaming.

"No," says Leon. "Carter, get...get the antennas."

To his surprise, Dale is effective in helping Sean select quite a few antennas for purchase, and in negotiating a good deal for trading some calipers for air pumps. Sean notices Ty watching intently, remaining quiet. Carter and Leon were truly astounded by their picks based on their expressions, and he'd hate to admit it, but it does give Sean this adrenaline rush, a sense of sick pride.

As Dale doles out the money for their buys, Ty bends to situate an antenna in the box so it won't break.

"Don't touch!" barks Leon, going for Ty.

Ty widens his eyes, shrinks back.

"Hey!" exclaims Sean, standing in front of Ty. "It would've gotten broken if he didn't put it in there. Ease up."

Leon snorts, eyes Sean crossly. The battle's apparently over, as the three men head to the driver and passenger seats. Sean feels his shoulders relax, and Dale leads them outside. Good, because the garage was getting a bit stuffy. Dale carries the box to his faded green Toyota, such a weird choice for someone who worked with "quality cars". Eh, if he was in the mood, he's bust on him for that. But he's slightly unnerved that he kind of enjoyed letting these people see his smarts. It was harder in school if it wasn't shop class; in the garage, much easier.

"You did good, man," compliments Dale, sliding the box in the trunk.

"Doesn't take a rocket scientist to do that," says Sean, shrugging.

"Love the fake modesty," says Dale. "Oh, and Ty, remember, don't touch the merchandise."

'I saw a Mercedes one," reveals Ty. "We...we could've got a Mercedes one. That's why Leon snapped."

Heh, and Sean thought he was only moving the antenna further into the box. How would a twelve or thirteen-year old know a Mercedes antenna, anyway?

"They wouldn't throw a prime antenna like that in there, Ty," says Dale, shaking his head. "In we go."

The three of them pile into the car, Dale starting the engine. Obviously tired of the silence, and pleased by how the visit went, Dale cranks up the stereo, nodding his head to the beat, giving Sean his trademark rat-like grin.

"What's it feel like?" asks Dale.

Sean's brow wrinkles in confusion.

"To be a criminal," clarifies Dale.

As much as he'd love to deny it, that's what he is; this morning made him one. Sean leans back in his chair, refuses to reply as Dale chuckles. The radio blares loudly, unforgiving in its tone.

_Tried to save a place from the cuts and the scratches  
Tried to overcome the complications and the catches  
Nothing ever grows and the sun doesn't shine all day  
Tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away  
_

His sight finds Ty huddled in his seat again, only this time Ty is meeting his gaze head-on, red, sad eyes blinking maddeningly. All these questions flow through his mind: Where were his parents? Who did he stay with? How'd he get involved with Dale? They were questions he's not sure he has the right to ask, but maybe there is one they both have: Why am I here?

_  
tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away_

II.

Ipod in ear, Ashley crosses her legs, foot tapping on the moving floor of the Tube. A single strand of her red-brown hair falls near her nose, and she quickly brushes it away. No, every hair has to be perfectly in place, because tonight she has to look presentable and adult. Usually, a bar or pub was pretty casual, a venue to celebrate the end of the work week or good news. However, Aja's invitation to drink with musicians, real musicians, made Ashley reconsider any street wear. She painstakingly went through her wardrobe, decided nothing was good, and ended up on Carnaby Street buying a nice, tweed blue jacket, a ruffled black top, and matching skirt. The outfit made her look ten years older, but that's kind of what she was going for.

The train comes to a stop, men calmly perusing newspapers as teenagers raucously brag about their A-levels or discussing the newest concert at Albert Hall. They all seem so...British. Even after being here last summer, she feels like a foreigner half the time. She mentioned the Leafs or tasty poutine, one of Craig's favorites, and they'd stare at her blankly. Ali was the first to understand her, and the last to respect her. Sucky arrangement. This summer, she vowed to be more social, because that's what musicians who want to be successful have to be. Tonight, all about fitting in and making connections.

Thankfully, her father and Chris were going to view a documentary on global warming at Piccadily. Ashley told them she was going to visit an old BB6 co-worker, go out to eat and catch a movie. Her belief is that they'll get home around the same time. She's just really popping in to make herself known.

"Charing Cross," says an automated voice, shuffling from the train's passengers already starting.

Ashley barely hears it over her music, rises to join the throng of people leaving the train. The Tube station is bright despite the night hours, so when she reaches the outside, the dark blue glow of the streets startles her. Strolling down the streets, she sees a large brick building, the sign for the Pitcher and Piano resembling that of a library's. Hmmm, reminds her of a schoolhouse. Then, hearing the loud noise coming from inside, she retracts that thought. A naughty schoolhouse, perhaps.

"Get off, you nutter!" cries a voice as Ashley peers into the pub.

Aja, purple mohawk messy, dangles from the shoulders of a burly man in black leather pants.

"Whoa!" exclaims Ashley, trying to go past a bouncer

"I.D., miss," requests the bouncer, holding her back.

Ashley sighs, furiously digging into her purse. The woman's in trouble and they're focusing on her?

"Here," says Ashley, presenting her driver's license to him. "And you're letting that woman get assaulted. Some top-notch security, eh?"

"Got a mouth on you," returns the bouncer, handing her the license. "Go on then."

"Thank you," says Ashley, sarcastically.

She rushes to Aja, is immediately grabbed by two guys, teetering on their feet as Irish techno music sounds throughout the bar. They sway with Ashley, bad teeth bared, as Aja shuts her eyes, body still draped over another guy's shoulder.

"I...I don't know you," says Ashley, shrugging them off. "Excuse me."

"Wotcha!" cries the man to her left. "We got a real Diana here, as if she were come from having tea with her Majesty!"

"Oh, we love you, your Majesty!" adds the other man. "We don't care if you dress like you at Ascot. Fine and prim...dandy to be sure."

Ashley gulps, does her best to walk in another direction, only to run straight into a more normal-looking man with light-brown curly hair, two black stud earrings shining in each ear.

"Lost?" laughs the man, Ashley detecting a beautifully breathy accent.

"More like aimless," replies Ashley. "I'm...I'm meeting Aja and..."

The man nods, whistles over the music, Aja instantly awakening. She smiles. Oh, she was playing around with that guy, thinks Ashley. I feel stupid. Great, she's already failing at fitting into the scene. Aja, in a tight black-and-white, plaid baby doll dress, walks to Ashley.

"You're real blighters, the pair of ya," condemns Aja, giggling. "Ruined my wrestling match...would've gotten a free pint. Hi Ashley!"

"Hi," says Ashley, shyly. "Great...great place."

"You lie," says the man, smirking. "By the way, I'm Mark."

"Mark Kennick," adds Aja. "Don't be coy, boy."

"Oh wow...I'm...I'm Ashley Kerwin," stammers Ashley. "We're on tour together."

"Really then?" says Mark. "Oh, you're the young one."

The young one? Alright, so she's the youngest, but she doesn't want that publicly broadcast to strangers. She'd lose major points. At least, if Ellie or Paige or Craig were here, she wouldn't feel so exposed.

"Not...not too young for a drink," replies Ashley. "Round on me?"

"Hello!" exclaims Aja, bouncing to the bar.

Ashley and Mark exchange a grin, the three of them sitting at the counter. A bartender in a clean, white apron over black clothing takes their orders, retrieves the bottle. Ashley simply ordered what Aja and Mark did, a couple shots of Guinness. Honestly, she has no idea why these glasses are even out. Maybe the young comment got her to thinking she has to do something adult, or maybe since Aja and Mark were drinking, she felt she had to do it too.

The bar is sophisticated, a nice, intimate setting for their last stop on the tour. A minimal stage is set at the rear of the pub, empty microphone stands already there. Someday, she'd be there. The stage is just before another section with pool tables and one of those Test-Your-Love-Potential machines. Like a regular bar, she reassures her heart. I can play this. It's small and inviting, maybe too inviting, considering those drunk guys.

"Bottoms up!" shouts Aja, throwing back a shot.

Mark does the same, shivers.

"Got something against beer, Ashley?" teases Aja.

Ashley shakes her head, downs one shot, the stinging liquid touching her tongue. The taste is fairly bad, but not too bad that she doesn't drink it all. Her eyes burn slightly as she stares at Mark and Aja, already drinking their next shot. Aja burps, slams the glass against the counter.

"Yeah!" she yells. "_Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall...ninety-nine bottles of..."_

She giggles, forcing her eyes to stay open, as she lays her head against the counter top. The bartender takes away the bowl of pretzels next to her.

"So you did the festival last year?" asks Ashley, wringing her hands together.

The beer's definitely working through her system, head already growing foggy, but she is traveling home by herself so can't get carried away.

"I did," answers Mark. "Quite a thrill to play in front of hundreds. Oh, and the press. They're itching to snap you. BB6 is a big deal."

"They mentioned us...in the press," admits Ashley, demurely.

"They better," says Mark, eyes glazing over. "I got signed to another label, and I'm doing this gig as a favor to a friend."

"You're signed?" gasps Ashley.

"Picked up during the festival," reveals Mark. "Here's hoping it happens to you."

Mark lifts his glass, indicating a toast should occur. Ashley grins, touches her glass with his, and they drink in unison, Ashley's throat burning. Ugh, this was a strong beer. Then again, she's never had beer. She doesn't particularly like it, but it isn't doing as much damage, what with food in her stomach.

Aja moans weakly. "I'm not playing any festival."

"She does hair for us," explains Mark to Ashley. "Ignoring personal mishaps with her own..."

"Shut it!" interrupts Aja.

"Aja's actually pretty good, with follicles and _funk_," insists Mark.

"I can do you, Ashley," offers Aja. "Come on. Help a disenchanted saxophonist earn money to realize her dream of being part of a major tour."

Ashley pats her hair protectively. She finally got it to a style she liked. What, did that look babyish too? Meh, she'd rather not.

"What...what's wrong with it?" says Ashley, paying the bartender.

"Nothing, but...there's nothing wrong with a little experimentation," replies Aja. "Hey, a little purple to bring out them blue eyes. One streak?"

"Sounds good to me," encourages Mark.

Hmmm, she has had purple streaks before, in ninth grade. Chances are she can dye it back herself if she doesn't like it, and it's not such a drastic change that her parents or Craig would bulk at it.

"A...a streak," stammers Ashley.

"Great!" cries Aja, grabbing Ashley's arm. "My place isn't too far from where you came."

"Too da loo, ladies!" says Mark, waving as they exit.

"Too da loo!" yells Aja.

Ashley and Aja leave the pub, Ashley offering the bouncer an apologetic smile.

"Having fun, Ashley?" asks Aja, as they head to a Metro stop.

"Getting held by drunkards...seeing where I'm playing...meeting Mark," lists Ashley, laughing. "Merry fun in good old England."

III.

_Load up on guns, bring your friends  
It's fun to lose and to pretend  
She's overboard and self-assured  
Oh, no, I know a dirty word  
Hello, Hello, Hello, How Low_  
_Hello, Hello, Hello  
_

Manny sneezes into the air, pink curtain greeting her blurry vision. Okay, maybe a little too much powder on the chest. She saw a few actresses do it in older movies, glam up their breasts with talcum powder to make them look softer and healthier, and she decided to test the act. Funny. Her breasts were okay with her until she visited the plastic surgeon's office, and they confirmed Bernice Fine's assessment, that her body needed work. But today, they're pretty, or she believes they're pretty.

She beams at her reflection in the dressing room mirror, black hair dripped over a sparkly, green bra and panty set. Despite her reservations, Lia assured her that Frederick's of Hollywood had lingerie for every size, every occasion, and Manny should've known she was right, because Lia is usually right. The color really brings out her skin tone, though she isn't sure it's special enough. Better to get a second opinion.

"Ta da!" exclaims Manny, giggling as she parts the curtain.

"Hot!" compliments Lia, hopping up and down with a shopping bag.

"Manny, there are other people here," whispers Emma, urgently, trying to shield Manny with her carrying bag.

"Oh yeah, the assistants?" says Lia, raising her eyebrows. "So many people."

Emma shrugs, removes the bag, stands by a mannequin. To Manny's disappointment, Emma and Lia weren't exactly getting along. Things started fine, with them all eating dinner last night, and Lia really being interested in Emma's dance classes. They were bonding over their love of performing for a bit, and then it took an awkward turn. Lia mentioned a new club opening on Wilshire, and invited them, and Emma declined. Manny's sure it wouldn't have made as much difference if it wasn't Friday night. Emma privately told Manny she didn't want to go out the night before she met Hannah, which made sense to Manny, but Lia was irritated with the whole thing. It ended with Lia going out, and Manny staying with Emma, who fell asleep early.

"Emma, what do you think?" asks Manny, clearing her throat, hoping to change the mood.

"You look gorgeous," assures Emma, shyly.

"Now, if you have a lemon scrub on your abdomen, that really works in the appearance factor. Gives skin a great sheen," advises Lia.

Manny quiets a laugh when she sees Emma swallow a lump in her throat, eyes bugging out. Emma fingers a bra on a nearby rack.

"Liquid Dream?" she whispers, reading the tag.

Manny does laugh at that, closing the curtain. Lia ducks inside the dressing room, humming.

"Have you figured out the 'where' yet?" says Lia.

"No," confesses Manny. "Anywhere but a car."

"Guys aren't good with location," murmurs Lia. "Or cuddling. Toby looks like a cuddler, however."

"He does," agrees Manny.

"What's Toby's favorite color?" asks Lia.

"Blue...but I don't want to look too innocent," replies Manny. "Or maybe I do. Like some of those bustiers on the mannequins...would totally scare him. Like a mix of innocent and sexy?"

"I'm thinking classic silhouette...hmmm, Signature Embroidery," says Lia, nodding to herself, and disappearing.

When it comes to lingerie, she's not exactly Einstein. Wow, lingerie. She never thought she'd be buying it this soon, that Toby would be ready this soon. Truthfully, she expected their first time to be in Toronto, maybe stretching into their senior year, maybe prom night the way Toby reacted to her sometimes. What's with the change? Well, if she questions it, chances are it won't come true. No, be confident, she thinks. I'll look great, and it'll be great.

"Clearance granted?" says Lia behind the curtain.

"Come on in," says Manny.

She's startled to see both Lia and Emma enter, Lia holding a beautiful bra and panty set, with black embroidery on light blue cloth, and a long, light blue chemise. Manny gasps, a bright smile spreading over her face.

"The one we agreed on," says Lia, gesturing to Emma without looking at her. "Satin, rich, lace."

"Classy," adds Emma, confidently.

Manny holds it against her chest, feels the soft material on her belly. Yes, Toby would definitely get a kick out of this. She can imagine him sitting on a bed, staring sweetly in anticipation, the lights low.

Lia's beeper goes off, her muttering something cross.

"Gremlin's here," is all Manny can detect.

Following Edwina's flight home, Lia arranged for the limo driver to ferry Hannah to the store, though Manny's not sure a lingerie store is the best drop-off point. Lia leaves the dressing room, Manny hearing her heels against the hardwood floor. Emma moves back Manny's hair, grins.

"Awww," teases Emma.

"You know, I didn't feel...beautiful until Toby," says Manny, seeing her cheeks redden in the mirror.

"You're crazy," scoffs Emma.

"No...it's like I felt sexy or hot, because guys told me that, but nothing else," admits Manny. "Maybe because Toby didn't want to get in my pants the first day we met. He was kind and we talked...and now, now we're doing this."

"Life is strange like that," says Emma, hugging her gently.

"Okay, so this outfit has to be the one...," starts Manny.

"And you're going to be _the one _for Toby," finishes Emma.

Emma exits the dressing room, letting Manny try on the selected pieces. They fit wonderfully, giving her bust and legs definition, and it even brings out her eyes, bright and hopeful. She never felt so sexy.

IV.

Emma evaluates what she think is an ugly black and gold chemise, before going to the front store window. She isn't exactly certain how to greet Hannah. The only non-Jack baby-sitting she's done is for a couple neighbors, and those kids weren't the kids of millionaires. She'd love to believe all kids are the same, yet she can't. Her heart lurches against her chest as the limo door parts.

Lia taps her foot impatiently, waits a couple minutes before going in and pulling out Hannah. Clothed in a cute pink T-shirt, white denim shorts, and the sole expensive item on her body, white pearl earrings, she carries a stuffed dog and a coloring book. Okay, so she likes coloring, records Emma in her brain. Her blonde hair is tied in two Princess Leia bundles on the side of her small head. Manny sort of indicated the girl has a thing for princesses. Leaving the front window, Emma pretends she hasn't been watching, sniffing a scented candle on display. The door chimes as Lia and Hannah enter.

"It smells like perfume and Lemon Pledge in here," speaks up Hannah, hugging the dog to her tiny frame.

"Quiet," whispers Lia, grinning at a couple annoyed assistants.

"Why are there suspenders under these shorts?" questions Hannah, trying to grab a garter.

"Those aren't suspenders, silly," explains Lia, yanking her away from the rack.

Lia and Hannah awkwardly approach Emma, who puts the candle in its original position, turns to smile at them. Hannah stares at Emma with the most confused look she's ever seen. What, didn't Lia fill her sister in?

"She's all yours," says Lia, pushing Hannah forward.

Sighing happily, Lia walks off, begins perusing some satin panties. Yeah, quickly pawn her off on me and go search for panties, thinks Emma. But I'm all about taking charge.

"Hey, Hannah," greets Emma. "I'm Emma. We're going to be hanging out this summer."

"I thought Lia would be taking care of me," says Hannah, reluctantly.

"She and Manny are busy with camp," replies Emma. "That doesn't mean we can't have all sorts of fun."

"Are you a fan of magic?" questions Hannah.

That's an odd thing to ask, especially since they weren't talking about magic. Emma figures she should answer, truthfully.

"Not really," says Emma.

"Then we aren't compatible, which I thought was the case," sighs Hannah.

Aren't compatible? Well, they won't be with that attitude. Am I doing something wrong? Emma wordlessly watches Hannah sit in a plush chair near the dressing rooms, flip through her coloring book. Eh, she's not a quitter, and that's not going to change now. Emma follows her.

"Why are the vines black?" speaks up Emma.

They're both viewing a picture that Hannah has colored, one of Sleeping Beauty in her bed, vines with thorns winding around her chambers. Most of the colors Hannah used were darker, black and earth tones.

"They represent despair and possible death," says Hannah, bluntly.

Wow, fairly heavy interpretation.

"So you don't feel that she'll be saved?" asks Emma, resting on the side of the chair.

"She's waiting to save herself," replies Hannah, staring directly into Emma's eyes.

Emma's heart begins to quicken, a drumming beat. It's a strong reaction to that last statement, though she isn't clear why. This is a story, after all, a well-known, harmless story. Save herself from what? The depressing vines?

"Excuse me," says Emma, massaging her forehead.

Resting against one of the walls near the dressing room, the air conditioning relieves her a bit. She can hear two voices behind the curtain, Manny and Lia, who's apparently joined her again.

"Are you sure she hasn't gotten a lobotomy or something?" laughs Lia.

"Lia!" protests Manny, gently.

"You said she was the life of the party," says Lia. "So far the only evidence I've seen is her separating her baby carrots and spinach. What a rebel."

It doesn't take a brain surgeon to know they're talking about me, groans Emma inwardly. Although, since Lia is virtually a stranger to her, and she is staying in her home, she can't do anything, without ruining things for Manny and herself. Well, Manny will speak up for her.

"I hate when she does that," says Manny, clicking her tongue.

"It's sad," sighs Lia. "What do you guys do? Maybe we can liven her up. Entertain her some way."

"We haven't had fun in awhile," replies Manny.

"Not surprising," says Lia, giggling.

She's expecting Manny to argue with her, but instead she hears Manny's trademark giggle joining Lia's. The laughter increases the pace of her heart, Emma crossing her arms, making her way to the exit. She steps into the warm sunshine, sniffles. Won't cry, she thinks. I won't cry. At least her family talked about her with concern. Lia and worse, Manny, were condemning her personality. Lia has no idea who she is, what she's been through, and Manny doesn't seem to care.

The glass door opens behind her.

"I thought you were supposed to watch me," says Hannah, quietly.

Emma glances at Hannah, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah...yeah, I am," stammers Emma, sniffling.

"Did Lia say something mean to you?" asks Hannah.

Emma avoids eye contact, stares at a coffee vendor on the corner. No matter how much Lia is annoying her, she won't spill the beans to her little sister.

"That's okay," says Hannah. "She says mean stuff to me too."

Emma smirks, lets out a tiny laugh, staring at Hannah. Hannah smiles, showing a missing bottom tooth.

"So maybe we are compatible," says Emma, shrugging.

"We'll wait and see," decides Hannah.

V.

"Fore!" shouts Darcy, swinging her club as majestically as possible.

Four other eyes follow the small, lavender ball as it floats over a green bush and lands squarely in a small patch of dirt near a gate. Darcy not only missed the hole, but basically the entire stretch of green.

"Oh peppermint!" groans Darcy, bounding to the displaced ball.

Nate goes after her, holding his putter with a firm grasp. J.T. and Liberty exchange amused glances as Toby tees up, red ball ready to be hit. He stares at the hole, a windmill staring back at him as it turns slowly.

"Bend your knees!" instructs J.T.

"Angle your elbow," advises Liberty.

"Man, can I swing?" snaps Toby, doing his best to concentrate.

They'd been doing that for the last five holes, ever since Toby's score started to sink. Something tells him they want him to win, after dragging him out of his room for a night of innocent fun. Liberty recommended this particular activity, because it was a sport that used the basics of geometry. Toby guessed Liberty was still steaming over that imperfect math grade, catching her analyze the angles of her ball to the hole occasionally. J.T. is more interested in showing off in front of Liberty, swinging grandly, even if it results in his ball going in any directions at a high speed. He nearly took out the plastic mermaid on hole two. Darcy, desperate to do anything this weekend, elected to go, apparently finding J.T. and Liberty much cooler post-variety show. Nate, newly healthy and out of the doghouse with Darcy, made five. Toby liked them both, so he didn't have a problem with the arrangement, and he knows Manny wouldn't want him being bored at home. He isn't truly enjoying himself without her.

Toby takes a deep breath, swings. The ball hops to a decent distance near the hole. Another stroke and he'd make it.

"Excellent job, Toby!" congratulates Liberty.

"Yeah, the next Tiger Woods," adds J.T. "You're totally going to win."

"You guys aren't letting me win, are you?" says Toby, gaze moving from his best friend to Liberty.

"No!" cry J.T. and Liberty at the same time.

"Whatever," mumbles Toby.

The three of them go to Nate and Darcy, Nate easily putting his black ball into the hole.

"We got spirit, yes we do! We got spirit! Nate sinks it in two!" yelps Darcy, excitedly, marking Nate's strokes on the card with a short pencil.

"All in the wrist," demurs Nate, smiling.

"This is so fun," remarks Darcy. "Nate, you're doing awesome. Okay, so I have the highest score, but you guys have nothing to be ashamed about."

"Um, Darce...you want the lowest score," says Nate, nervously.

Darcy places her finger on the card, staring at the numbers, twists her lips. Red-faced, she smooths out her white skirt, grins.

"It was...was a joke," stammers Darcy. "J.T., you're next."

"Let me show you what a goofy golf expert can do," boasts J.T.

"Emphasis on goofy," says Toby, smiling.

J.T. rounds his shoulders, sets a yellow ball on the tee, beams at Liberty, then focuses on the ball. Bending slightly, he takes a deep breath, swings hard. The ball sails to the left, a bumpy projectile, hits a man on the back of the head. J.T. winces.

"What the...oh my...!" yells the man.

Wait, that's no random man, recognizes Toby. Liberty and Darcy cover their mouths in shock.

"Beaning the unsuspecting, Mr. Yorke?" says Mr. Raditch, clad in a Hawaiian print shirt and jean shorts.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Mr. Raditch," apologizes J.T., coming forward. "I...I wasn't paying attention."

"Hi Mr. Raditch!" greets Liberty, cheerfully.

"Nice to see you all," says Mr. Raditch, nodding to each of them, except J.T. "Hope you're enjoying your holidays."

"Do you like your new school?" asks Darcy.

"Darcy!" cry the other four.

Raditch chuckles. "As a matter of fact, I do. Of course, I miss Degrassi too."

"Are you playing alone?" says Darcy.

"Actually...," begins Mr. Raditch.

He's interrupted by a sweet female voice calling "Dan!" A woman in a short, red dress waves at him, a boy around eight kicking the felt grass on hole seven. Raditch? On a date? So I'm the only one without a date, thinks Toby. Pathetic.

"Uh...have to go," says Raditch. "Great seeing you!"

Raditch disappears to a chorus of good-byes, save Toby, who sadly sits on one of the large stones encircling the green. What's next? Are Mr. Armstrong and his girlfriend going to make an appearance? J.T. sits next to him, twirling his putter in his hands.

"If you elongate your back, you can get more torque," shares J.T. "A little thing I know."

"What I know is I'm no longer having fun...if I was in the first place," sighs Toby.

"July is nigh, Tobes," reassures J.T., patting his back. "Then you'll be in the City of Dreams with the woman of your dreams."

"I guess," says Toby.

"Heh, it's weird...both your ex and your girlfriend will be in the same state," realizes J.T., stroking his chin. "What are the odds?"

Yeah, but Kendra doesn't want to see him. She made that pretty clear at the airport.

"Eh, I'm just praying my mom and I can get along," shares Toby, Kendra fading from his mind. "She wants to bond."

"And you want to bond with Manny," adds J.T. "_You _better pray she doesn't find out the real reason you're going."

So what if she did? After bad-mouthing his dad and ignoring him countless times, he has the right to be semi-selfish. He'd spend a day or two with Anne Marie, give her the same time she gave him over the past four and a half years.

"Um...honestly, want to do a little more than bonding," whispers Toby. "With Manny, not my mom."

"Interest peaked," says J.T., grinning.

"Protection has been obtained," says Toby, blushing.

"Without me?" exclaims J.T.

"Shhh," shushes Toby.

"This was to be a pivotal moment in our friendship, Tobias," complains J.T. "I...I was supposed to be there."

"Technically, you were there, just talking with Derek and Danny," clarifies Toby.

"Man, that's bogus!" whines J.T. "Let's go get some more. You can never have too many...or maybe you brought the wrong size! It happens."

"No!" whispers Toby, strongly.

"Score!" shouts a voice to their left.

Toby grows queasy as the voice sounds familiar, and it's a voice he hates. Sully throws an arm around a blonde girl popping gum loudly. They stroll to the next tee, Sully glancing over his shoulder and smirking. Great, I've been spotted, moans Toby inwardly, standing with J.T.

"It's Pissaacs!" exclaims Sully.

The girl, who Toby can tell is a Degrassi student by a school jacket she's wearing, laughs, leans against Sully.

"Hey, are you here because this is a sport a chub chub geek can actually play?" says Sully.

"The fat's the least of his problems," says the girl, dismissively.

Toby clutches his putter tight, anger rising in his chest. He'd love to purposely putt a bull into Sully's thick head, crush that huge ego.

"You'd never believe it, but...he dates Manny Santos," says Sully to the girl.

"Gross," says the girl, wincing. "Low standards much? I bet she has to peel back all that fat to see it."

Letting the putter fall onto the green, Toby sinks to the stone again, blood flowing from his body.

"Toby's pure as the driven snow...Manny would spew at the thought of that," argues Sully.

"I would," laughs the girl.

They kiss, a nasty, sloppy kiss. J.T. throws his putter down, advances to Sully.

"J.T...no," says Toby, throwing him a cautious glance.

After the tussle with Justin, he;s perfectly aware that fights really didn't solve anything, and though he loathes Sully, he'd rather not get J.T. involved for the second time or let this continue. He can't take any more insults.

"Later, wimps," says Sully. "Come on, boo."

"Okay, baby," says the girl, letting Sully drag her to the next hole.

J.T. scratches his head, obviously still livid. At least he's not pure as the driven snow, fat. Manny might be nice to him, say he's not fat, but if random, pretty girls think he's ugly, he's sure Manny is patronizing him. Why'd he buy those stupid condoms in the first place? He can't let her see him.

"Don't listen to that," advises J.T. "Those two will end up in clown college."

"Yeah," mutters Toby.

"Toby, he was proven wrong the last time, and this'll be no different," whispers J.T. "I bet Manny's doing her own preparation right now, girlishly picturing the experience, probably a lot of pink candles."

Toby isn't laughing as much as J.T. would like him to, because even if she's pictured it, she isn't picturing him, not the way he really is. Maybe both their pictures are a little fuzzy, and she'd be disappointed.

"It's your turn," says J.T., helping Toby to his feet.

Setting his ball on a tee, everyone else smiling their support, Toby swallows a lump in his throat. Would Manny be as supportive when the lights were lowered, the sheets were undone, the clothes were off? Toby tenses, completely ignoring J.T. and Liberty's nuggets of mini golf wisdom. He swings, the ball missing the hole, clattering clumsily into a mound of dirt.

"Some concentration, Toby," kids J.T., nervously.

Toby leans against his putter, the handle burrowing into his palm.

"You're still beating me," comforts Darcy.

"Oh," sighs Toby. "Great."


	22. The Best is Yet To Come

**XXII. The Best is Yet To Come**

_Out of the tree of life, I just picked me a plumb  
You came along and everything started to hum  
Still it's a real good bet, the best is yet to come _

The best is yet to come, and won't that be fine  
You think you've seen the sun, but you ain't seen it shine

Wait till the warm-up is underway  
Wait till out lips have met  
Wait till you see that sunshine day  
You ain't seen nothin' yet

The best is yet to come, and won't that be fine  
The best is yet to come, come the day that your mine

Come the day that your mine  
I'm gonna teach you to fly  
We've only tasted the wine  
We're gonna drain that cup dry

Wait till your charms are right, for the arms to surround  
You think you've flown before, but you ain't left the ground

Wait till you're locked in my embrace  
Wait till I hold you near  
Wait till you see that sunshine place  
There ain't nothin' like it here

The best is yet to come, and won't that be fine. 

**The Best is Yet to Come is the property of Frank Sinatra, but the Nancy Wilson version appears in the film **_**What Women Want.**_

_**You're All I Need To Get By **_**is originally by Marvin Gaye, but Method Man did a rap version sampling the song, and the lyrics are his property. :D**

**Author's Note: Again, there's a time shift to accommodate the storylines. After the Emma/Manny scenes, you get Craig's arrival in England, and then we move to the beginning of July. For the Sean storyline, that's picked back up in the next chapter. Nothing truly riveting is happening there, but Ellie's still in her seminar and Sean's still involved in the car ring. Thanks for reading!**

The air is running full-blast, but Emma continues to feel the stickiness of the limo seats, lifting one leg, making the seat squelch. Hannah does the same, as if it were some fun activity. Emma wishes she was in a fun mood, after overhearing Manny and Lia. Her stomach turns as she views Manny wobbling towards the car with a couple maroon shopping bags. Manny greets them with a sigh when she opens the door.

"Hannah, do you want to ride with Lia?" asks Manny.

"No," replies Hannah. "Not if she's being rude."

Emma grins at the girl, glad for her loyalty, which is hard to come by these days.

"Rude?" laughs Manny. "Okay. Well, I'm riding with you guys."

"Sure you wouldn't much rather ride with Lia?" says Emma, crossing her arms.

"With the wind damaging my carefully coiffed hair?" answers Manny. "Please. Finally got a style that's perfect."

Manny whips her hair from side to side luxuriously, making Hannah giggle. Emma isn't compelled to do the same, clearing her throat and looking forward at the driver, blowing into a tissue. Obviously hoping for more of a reaction, Manny taps Emma on the shoulder repeatedly.

"We're set to go," says Emma to the driver, ignoring her.

The driver starts the car.

"No, we're not," argues Manny.

Frowning, the driver turns the key, the car shutting off.

"Manny...yes, we are," says Emma.

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what crawled up your butt," insists Manny. "Why are you being like this?"

"I should ask you the same question," mumbles Emma.

"What?" cries Manny. "Emma, you're being..."

She didn't get it? Manny playing innocent again. It's one thing to not call her for the first week in California, or to ditch their girls' night...she can forgive those. But criticizing her as her family's falling apart?

"Boring?" inserts Emma. "Depressed? Are you going to talk about me behind my back like everyone else? Who knows what you've said to Toby."

"I didn't talk about you behind...," begins Manny.

"In the dressing room...just now," clarifies Emma. "_You _were laughing at me, when Lia insulted me."

"When?" exclaims Manny.

Wow, Manny could certainly play clueless.

"She made some crack concerning my vegetable separation, asked how we had fun at home, and then you laughed after she said 'not surprised'," explains Emma, after taking a deep breath.

"Oh," sighs Manny. "No...see, Lia flashed me after she said that. We were horsing around."

"Lying," dismisses Emma.

"It's true!" says Manny. "Do you want me to get her so we can confirm it?"

Emma stares into Manny's eyes, searching for some shaky fear that reveals she's lying. She can't find it, and Manny rarely lied to her, except a couple times to spare her feelings. And Manny always apologized.

"Em, you're acting strange...like paranoid almost...,"stammers Manny.

"I'm not paranoid!" snaps Emma. "You would've thought the same thing. It's not like I don't know you like Lia more than me."

Hannah raises her eyebrows, puts her nose in her coloring book. This is probably awkward for her too, them discussing her sister in this way. She should probably nip it in the bud, be done with it, but Manny is giving her the most sorrowful stare ever.

"Remember when you started hanging out with Paige and Hazel because we weren't having fun?" whispers Emma. "Today felt like a repeat. I mean, not to be a shrew or anything, but I was there when you and Toby weren't dating, then for your first date. For pretty much everything. Why couldn't it have been just us two today?"

Manny nods, lowers her eyes. She didn't want to make Manny feel guilty. However, if this stays bottled up, she knows it's going to get worse later. And maybe it'd change things. Since she's taking care of Hannah, she'd actually like to get along with her sister. If Lia's open for a friendship, she'd be open too.

"Emma, I know you've had it tough recently," assures Manny. "I wouldn't laugh at that. And while I'm annoyed with the vegetable thing, that's totally an Emma thing. You're my best friend. No one else."

"Even if I'm not exciting?" asks Emma, starting to smile.

"Hey, I need balance," says Manny. "Why do you think Toby and I..."

"Toby?" bristles Emma, mouth dropping.

"Sorry...reflex," says Manny, biting her lip. "No more comparisons. Just...I need an Emma in my life. This year proved it."

The reference to last semester cheers her a bit, because they are each aware that it's true. Without Emma's household, who could say where Manny would've ended up? All the disagreements in the world couldn't change that they were there for one another. And a misunderstanding won't either, decides Emma.

"So I'd rather hear the damage you did with your credit card than let our friendship be damaged," says Emma, trying to peer into Manny's shopping bag.

Manny offers her a glowing smile, holds the bag to her chest. "Well, it's his first time so yes, fairly costly."

This being her first day as Hannah's nanny, she's pretty sure this isn't the best conversation they should be having in front of her. Although, Hannah hasn't said a word for awhile, so perhaps they're okay.

"It'll be worth it," whispers Emma.

"You're telling me," whispers Manny, smiling triumphantly.

II.

"Real...real...real...fake..."

Blake hovers over a few girls, chatting animatedly with Colin as they read a newspaper, Blake placing a hand over their heads. They glower up at him as he evaluates their expressions, his blonde hair luminescent under the stage lights. Manny's glad she's not among them. Whatever sick game he's playing, she wants no part of it.

"What's he doing?" asks Manny, leaning into Lia.

Lia stops perusing a magazine, watches Blake intently, rolls her eyes.

"Real-real-fake," answers Lia. "Like duck duck goose? He's guessing whether their noses are real."

Manny touches her own nose. "Jerk."

"He'll leave us alone," reassures Lia. "Only does it to the weak. Pompous perv. Probably got the idea since the camp's doing _Cyrano_."

Blake pretends to scalpel his nose, laughs in the direction of a girl with tears at the corner of his eyes. Manny feels the heat growing under her skin.

"I'd love for someone to knock him off his high horse," says Manny through gritted teeth.

"Preferably me," says Lia, happily, putting the magazine in Manny's face. "Those girls are pathetically searching through the classifieds, or CraigsList, I'm thinking. But everyone knows the top industry jobs are in the pages of _Variety. _Novices."

"That's where they have those Oscar for your consideration things," recognizes Manny.

"Yep, but the rest of the year, they've got the juiciest opportunities," shares Lia.

"Does Colleen know you're looking?" says Manny. "I bet she can steer you to a project or two."

Lia shrugs, continues flipping through the magazine. Will take that as a no, thinks Manny. Okay, so admittedly, she hasn't been talking with Colleen either. Camp and the downtime after camp was just taking up too much time to keep in contact with everyone in Toronto, except for Toby. She hasn't spoken with her parents in a week, and no offense to Colleen, but that's who she really wanted to talk with, especially her mother, usually her best calming influence.

"Manny, do you ever think about leaving Bluewave?" asks Lia, still reading.

Manny gives her a puzzled look. No. Bluewave is the first agency that hired her, and they'd gotten her into one of the best camps in Los Angeles, so the thought never crossed her mind.

"No," answers Manny, twirling the snowflake on her bracelet.

"Eh, it's a good stepping stone," sighs Lia. "Now, if I get Ariel, the world's my oyster. We should be getting our parts today."

This is a conversation Manny's clear on, especially since Lia knew the plot of _The Tempest _inside and out. Not surprisingly, Colin elected to try out for the production of _Cyrano, _but since neither of them were singers, Manny and Lia performed their monologues and indicated they'd like to be considered for the Shakespeare production.

"The role's so flashy and iconic," praises Lia. "Every actress has to play it. Scouts would have to pay attention to you..."

"Rooting for you to get the role then," says Manny, grinning. "And Colin for Cyrano."

Lia and Manny cross their fingers, laugh. Their laughter stops when the door parts, and Arissa, clothed in a stunningly bright orange cloak today, approaches the stage, clipboard in her hands. Manny immediately stands, Lia and everyone else doing the same. Hopefully, the clipboard holds what they all want to know.

Arissa goes to the first row of chairs, sits slowly, so slowly it's aggravating. Ugh, it was like a power trip, not that Manny expected any less. However, unlike Lia, she has no high expectations. Arissa routinely corrected Manny through the exercises, and shamefully, Manny got hiccups a couple days ago during a memorization exercise. She had the script down cold, but it sounded like she was stumbling because of her hiccuping.

"Every time an actor is given a role it is a commitment, no matter the role," speaks up Arissa. "Therefore, lines should be learned quickly, rehearsals should not be missed, and any other commitments shouldn't get in the way of this. There are understudies for each role, so yes, you can be replaced. My decisions were based on your monologue, and your improvement from the first day on. Starting tomorrow, you will have every other day off as we will be practicing for _Cyrano_ and _The Tempest _separately. While you will have more time, it is left to your discretion on how you wish to choose that time, and it will be obvious how you utilized it based on your performance."

Her heart pounding, her brow sweating, Manny nervously plays with her bracelet. A call from Toby or her parents would be really comforting right about now. She'd be okay with a bit part, although based on what she's heard, most of the roles were pretty significant.

"The lead role of Cyrano will be played by Colin Andretti," starts Arissa.

Colin shakes himself with excitement, puts his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming aloud. Lia and Manny give him congratulatory smiles. Arissa shares the rest of the cast for the musical, several of Colin's fellow cast members responding in turn, some with sighs of disappointment, most with silent, giddy grins.

"For _The Tempest, _Ferdinand will be played by Blake Willis," says Arissa.

Gross, moans Manny inwardly. Even if she was an understudy, that meant they'd be there on the same day. Why couldn't Blake be a Broadway fanatic like Colin? Plus, Manny's eighty percent certain Ferdinand's a beloved prince, and not a narcissistic freak. Ferdinand's more of a Toby than a Sully. Why Arissa thought Blake was a perfect choice for that is beyond her.

"The role of Ariel...," begins Arissa.

Several girls and Lia breathe in with antiicipation, as Manny squeezes Lia's wrist.

"Will be played by Lia Andrews," finishes Arissa.

Some of the ugliest looks Manny has ever seen are thrown Lia's way by other girls. Lia squeals loudly, losing her more brownie points. Manny blushes.

"Problem, Miss Andrews?" asks Arissa, lowering her glasses.

"Not at all," replies Lia. "Sorry."

"Playing Miranda...Manuella Santos," says Arissa, flipping over her paper.

Miranda? Hmm, the name sounds familiar, Manny scratching her head. She has one of the big lines in the play, doesn't she? It would appear to be true, as Manny notices more mean looks aimed at her. Lia said Ariel was the flashy one, so why are they mad at her?

"I will return with the scripts," says Arissa, turning to see a man in the back holding a medium-sized box.

With her departure, all sense of decorum is lost, Lia jumping up and down in her Jimmy Choos excitedly, Colin running over to hug her. Manny sways awkwardly.

"Why aren't you celebrating?" asks Lia, glancing at her. "Miranda's huge."

"Um...Ariel, I remember. Miranda, not so much," confesses Manny.

"Prospero, the main guy's, daughter," clarifies Colin. "Beautiful, naive, sheltered, falls in love with the first guy she sees. Very good role."

Sheltered? Naive? Don't like that sound of that, thinks Manny. After all the experiences she's had, anyone would hardly buy her as sheltered or naive. She may not be as Hollywood as Lia, but she considers herself more wise and mature. How else did she manage to get through that topless video garbage?

"Script retrieval," explains Manny, going past the two of them.

Her plan to catch Arissa before she addresses the rest of the students goes off without a hitch, Manny cornering her midway in the aisle.

"Uh, I don't think I'm right...right for Miranda," stammers Manny. "Considering I...I've been bad in the exercises and I've only uttered like one word of Shakespearean verse and..."

Yeah, keep on with the excuses to avoid saying what's what, that I don't want to play some naive twit. One of these excuses has to work.

"Miranda is one of the finest roles in Renaissance theatre, Manuella," counters Arissa, eyeing her in a way that makes Manny feel small.

She clearly saw right through me, realizes Manny.

"I'm...I'm not sheltered," insists Manny. "I was...but I broke away from that. It's...I mean, to me, it's like taking a personal step back. Emotional, naive...virgin."

"Miranda's very intelligent," interrupts Arissa, squinting. "She may not be worldly, but Shakespeare uses her for great weight. Notice she's the only human female in the play, and he endows her with wisdom, purity, and humility. The character is lovely, Manny, and not just on the outside. Read her dialogue before you judge."

The man next to Arissa fetches a script, hands it to Manny. Manny holds the script to her chest, sighs. Arissa's right on some level, but after that description, Manny was reminded of her mother. Still, that's Maria, not her...not anymore.

Manny's brought back to the theater when an arm brushes hers.

"Ready to be my bride?" smirks Blake.

"Why?" groans Manny, hitting her forehead with the script.

III.

"Say it again...please," begs the checkpoint person, passport in her grasp.

Man, why couldn't she stamp the passport and let him...pass?

"About," says Craig.

"Oh, it's so cute," praises the woman. "Canadians have the most darling accents. Just lovely."

"It really is adorable," agrees the customs officer next door. "Not too keen on the American ones."

Craig fumbles for his passport after she gives him the okay. Yeah, he didn't want to be in the middle of an international debate on cute accents. Plus, his bags are heavy. He thought Angie was exaggerating when she complained how big the smaller suitcase was, even after Craig tried to take it from her, but now he sees that the complaints were valid. And walking towards the exit of Heathrow, with its patterned red carpeting, tall off-white pillars, and quiet surroundings, he's been validated as an approved visitor of Great Britain. Answering the question of why he was here felt weird, must've felt less weird for Ashley. I'm here for a tour. True, it wasn't his tour. But he liked seeing it as _their _tour, a tour for them.

Stepping through the glass doors, he's immediately met by faint cold air, a chilly summer morning. He's glad he wore his leather jacket. Smaller cars than he's used to drive on the streets, luggage tied to their roofs. Black taxi cabs beep as Craig stands near the curb, massaging his elbows. Eh, he thought using a trolley would be less manly, less impressive, so he lugged his bags all the way from baggage claim to security to here. The pain wouldn't stop him from hugging Ash, though.

Technically, the tour wasn't starting for another two and a half weeks, so he'd be staying in some hostel. Diane helped him locate a good one, one she used in college. Craig sort of smirked when he remembered that it wasn't that long ago when Diane was in college, which Joey caught, so Joey threw a washcloth at Craig. Hey, you can't ignore the obvious. The hostel was supposedly very nice and safe, and some famous musicians stayed there before writing albums. Craig hopes it's not Jamiroquai or something.

A cab parks down the street from Craig, and beeps. Craig whistles, plays with the handle of his suitcase. The window to the cab is lowered.

"Craig Manning!" shouts Ashley, sticking her head out.

Craig smiles widely, his mouth hurting. Weeks don't seem like weeks when your girlfriend's gone, more like months. He packed a week early, which he never does, and no, doesn't regret it as he views Ashley crawl out of the cab, jog across the street. She pulls something from her coat pocket.

"Hello there, governor," greets Ashley, presenting him with a miniature British flag.

Craig laughs. "Cheerio!"

Ashley embraces Craig, kissing his cheek. All that harassment about his accent...so fading from his mind.

"Joey and Ang send their love and...," says Craig, pulling away. "Hey, it's...it's purple."

Up close, he can tell that a clump of hair near her eyes is indeed purple. The rest of her hair flows to her chest, straight and red-brown. He wonders why that's the case, but Ash did like to switch it up.

"Yeah," says Ash, gingerly touching her hair. "It's..."

"Freakin' cool is what it is," finishes Craig. "I like it."

"Really?" beams Ashley. "Me too."

"Did your dad and Chris go mental?"

"Nah, they were surprised, like you," answers Ashley. "Did you pack everything and the kitchen sink?"

Ashley teasingly pinches Craig's thin waist, both of them managing his baggage between them as they cross the street. The cab driver spits near Craig's feet. Hmm, this guy's a real prize, his greedy graze checking out Ashley's butt. Apparently, he has appreciation for his female customer and not me, thinks Craig. Guy's totally dodgy, as the Brits said.

"This doesn't feel right," says Craig, taking up his suitcase again. "We're in London, our first day together."

He'd say anything to get away from this guy.

"People take cabs all the time in...," says Ashley.

"Which is why it doesn't feel right," interjects Craig. "Come on, Ash! With your purple hair and my inexplicably irresistible charm..."

Ashley laughs.

"We shouldn't be cramped in some cab," says Craig. "Let's show London we're not afraid of it."

"Heathrow Express?" offers Ashley, turning red as the cab driver frowns.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, the cab driver gets in his car, turns the engine on loudly, and speeds away. Craig watches his descent in triumph.

"Think bigger...grander...redder," encourages Craig.

"Redder?" says Ashley.

Craig pounds his suitcase softly, then whispers: "Double-decker bus."

Ashley smiles, gasps as she stares at the concrete sidewalk. Hey, if they were going on a true British adventure, might as well start early. He's hoping she's thinking the same.

"Top deck?" whispers Ashley, staring into his eyes.

"Let the purple hair fly," says Craig, nodding.

There are a few seconds of silence, Ashley tugging an earring in thought. She did that when she was day-dreaming too, a warm smile eventually breaking through. And cue smile, thinks Craig when it appears.

"Come on," signals Ashley, grabbing one of Craig's bags.

Using the rest of the energy he has left, Craig follows her to a bus stop, red symbol more visible as they approach. Quite a few other passengers are already waiting.

"Tour buses go to central London," says Ashley, catching her breath. "Advance from the tour should cover it."

"And look," says Craig, pointing to a red vehicle headed towards them. "Luck."

A gleaming red double-decker bus, with advertisements for hair cream and the latest Mike Myers movie, ambles up to the stop, the glass door opening with a solid thud. A cheerful guy in a blue blazer and ironed black slacks greets them with a bright smile as he comes out.

"G'morning, mates! Welcome to fair London, home of the Queen and crumpets. Just watch your p's and q's cause we British are known to bite."

The people in the group laugh, including Craig with the most forced laugh of his life, an action that cause Ashley to laugh too.

"But seriously, we're quite a polite bunch," says the tour guide. "While the bus returns here at the end of the day, there is also another stop in Hyde Park, site of some of the most beautiful foliage in the world, and site of a key scene in one of the most academic movies in the world, _Bridget Jones' Diary_."

"Oooh," murmurs Ashley, elbowing Craig as the crowd chuckles kindly. "Hyde Park's not too far from Dad's."

"So queue up, pay the pence, and we'll be on our way," says the tour guide.

"Top," whispers Craig to Ashley, hurrying to rush his luggage to the side of the bus.

"No luggage," says Ashley, walking quickly to the guide with her money.

"You must travel light," laughs the guide, handing her two tickets. "Go on in, love."

With Ashley securing their seats, Craig grins as he waits for the driver to situate his bags in, climbs onto the bus, zips his jacket. Grey seats attached to the floor stretch from one side to the other. He spots Ashley near the back, and she waves to him.

"We...are...good!" exclaims Craig, glancing at the brick buildings and potted flowers ahead of them.

Ashley sniffs the air. "Ah, the smell of wild abandon."

"Smells like gas fumes," kids Craig, putting an arm around Ashley.

Ashley raises her eyebrows, going through her purse. As she looks, the rest of the top floor is filled by the passengers, some more willing to hear the tour guide as he positions himself in the front, cracking jokes about what Charles and Camilla really look like.

"Here we are!" cries Ashley, quietly. "Digital documentation."

Ashley shows him a state-of-the-art digital camera, Craig peering through the small window. He can see them, so happy together. Not like that lame Turtles song, though. Okay, so it wasn't so lame. Nothing's lame today, because he's finally with Ashley in England, a delayed dream no longer a dream.

"Say cheese!" says Ashley, laying her head against Craig's.

"Cheese!" obeys Craig.

The camera captures the moment, as the bus moves into the waiting city.

IV.

The waves crash against the shore, sunlight warming the deck as the noon hour hits. Spinner props his feet up on the wicker chair facing him, advances his music player to the next track. A seagull's loud call covers the thumping beats of the song, and then another, and another. Spinner groans.

"Birds suck," complains Spinner, tip-toeing over the hot wooden deck.

Wincing, he manages to slide the side door open, quietly shuts it again. Kendra stirs, lazily grabs at the front of her blue T-shirt, yawns.

"You're up?" asks Spinner.

"I'm up," replies Kendra, defeated.

"Sweet," says Spinner, grinning, then increasing the volume. "I can practice my rapping."

"What the...please, no," moans Kendra, covering her face with her pillow.

"Jimmy needs a partner for the talent showcase next semester, man," defends Spinner.

Kendra lazily waves her hand from underneath her pillow. Hee, victory is mine, saith the big brother. Spinner grins, begins to rap along:

"_Shorty I'm there for you anytime you need me  
For real girl, it's me in your world, believe me  
Nuttin make a man feel better than a woman  
Queen with a crown that be down for whatever  
There are few things that's forever, my lady  
We can make war or make babies  
Back when I was nothin  
You made a brother feel like he was somethin  
That's why I'm with you to this day, boo no frontin  
Even when the skies were gray  
You would rub me on my back and say "Baby it'll be okay._"

"Gavin!" calls a matronly voice from another room. "Kendra! Are you sleeping?"'

"Shoot," mutters Spinner, taking out his headphones.

He sits on the sofa with Kendra, moving to put the player under Kendra's pillow after pressing stop.

"Spinner!" protests Kendra, quietly.

Kendra moves from laying down to sitting, glaring at her brother.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't adopted," complains Kendra, punching Spinner in the gut.

"Owww," groans Spinner.

"No fighting, Kendie!" remarks their grandmother, coming into the living room with a grocery bag. "Gavin, make sure to keep that side door shut now. Thought I heard that devilish music streaming in when I first came in. The music these kids listen to today? So glad you two aren't into that, heaven knows."

"Yeah," says Kendra, smirking at Spinner.

"Grandma, I've got the groceries," says Spinner, turning red. "Uh...do you think you're going out today?"

"Oh, I suspect not. My feet are tired," replies Grandma Mason.

Man, he thought coming to California would get him more freedom. As it turns out, their grandmother has more house rules than their mother. The ban on the music he liked wasn't the worst one; that would be the "lights out" at ten-thirty. Ten-thirty. Most teenagers in his neck of the woods didn't go to sleep until twelve during the summer.

His breakaway is the beach. California lived up to his potential there. The water stretched out unto forever, walking on the sand was incredibly relaxing, and the natives were kind enough to let him play a few games of volleyball. He has to do something to entertain himself, so yeah, whenever his grandmother went to work, he'd hit the beach.

Kendra, usually his partner in crime, was content lying on the couch or in her bedroom on her days off. She was usually so active so that concerned him, but the sadness over her split with Sam had to end sometime.

"Great," lies Spinner, carrying the groceries to the kitchen.

The kitchen is his favorite room in his grandmother's house, a stunningly white building with a lot of paintings and plants everywhere. Plants were even in the copper pots hung near the ceiling. But Spinner enjoyed the kitchen, because this window had the best view. The blue water and golden beach were on fully display. He'd love Emma to see it, if he ever saw her. Santa Clara being so far away stunk, and he didn't want to bother her on her summer job. Then again, Emma came to his job more than a few times.

"Oh, Gavin, you're so sweet," compliments his grandmother, coming into the kitchen. "And you and Kendie all cooped up in this house."

"Hey, I'm not working so that's a bonus, you know, to being with you, Grandma," says Spinner.

That was the truth. He liked her, just not her restrictive rules.

"Have you gotten any surfing in?" asks his grandmother. "Our neighbor's son does those little competition things. It's good exercise."

"Dude, I wish!" cries Spinner. "I...uh...no, been meaning to."

He didn't want her to know he'd been going to the beach without her permission. As far as his grandmother knew, he'd only been in the neighborhood and to the beach on the weekend.

"He has a car too," informs his grandmother. "Such a nice boy. Takes Kendie to her clinics when I can't. His name is Boris."

Boris? Yeah, great name, thinks Spinner, shaking his head.

"Boomer," corrects Kendra, coming in and sifting through the grocery bag. "No chocolate chip cookies?"

"That's not his proper name, Kendie," says Grandma Mason. "And you've had too much junk food lately so I got you some carrot chips."

"I don't like carrot chips," whispers Kendra into the bag, Spinner the only one to hear.

Hmm, well, if this Boomer has a car, that'd be a way to see more than these walls and the beach. He can't be all bad if Kendra and his grandmother like him.

"Is he home?" asks Spinner. "This Boomer guy?"

"Yes, I saw him coming in," says Grandma Mason. "It's always nice to meet a neighbor."

A neighbor with a car, adds Spinner, walking from the kitchen to the front yard. He'd been promising to hang out with Manny beforehand, so if he showed at the Andrews', it's not like it would be unannounced.

The rattling sound of a lawn mower enters his ears as he stares across the street. A guy with shaggy blonde hair, a shell necklace over an N.W.A. T-shirt, and cargo shorts shifts the mower to another patch of grass. Based on the style of his dress, this might be Boomer. Or Boris. Or whatever.

Spinner crosses the street, stands on the sidewalk. Boomer looks at him momentarily, shuts off the mower.

"Hey," says Spinner.

"You Kendra's brother?" asks Boomer.

"Uh, yeah. You knew because?" replies Spinner.

"Told me you were coming," says Boomer. "Ever been to Steamer Lane?"

"No!" cries Spinner, excitedly. "But I've heard of it. Kelly Slater went."

"Kelly Slater went there and conquered it," informs Boomer. "That's how you get chicks like Cameron Diaz."

They both laugh, shake hands.

"So you wanna go?" offers Boomer.

"Eh, I know another spot we could go to catch some serious waves," says Spinner.

"Kendra coming?" says Boomer, rubbing his hands together.

Oh, so that's the deal, huh? Well, Boomer seems way cooler than that lunk Sam. He's not sure using Kendra as leverage is a good idea, but he did want to leave for at least one weekend, make good on his promise.

"I can make her," says Spinner, winking.

V.

"Okay, how do you spell Grauman's?" asks J.T., flipping the page of his notepad.

"G-R-A-U-M-A-N," whispers Toby to J.T., then speaking louder. "And what gate are we meeting you and Emma?"

J.T. and Toby reposition their cellphones simultaneously, the buckle-your-seatbelt light blinking with a short beep.

"Liberty, the plane's landing...," says J.T., putting up his tray.

"Manny, we're landing...," says Toby, yanking down the window next to him.

"Bye," they say, clicking off and sighing.

"Girlfriend conference calls are the best," comments J.T., settling back in his chair.

"We're so efficient," agrees Toby, sarcastically. "My mom would be so proud."

What his mom wouldn't be today? Present. Because she wasn't meeting them at the airport. He should've known she'd have some scheduling conflict that prevented her from it. Instead, she was sending a car to ferry the two boys to her home, a home Toby hasn't seen yet. Based on the description she gave him, it was more than twice the size of his dad's house. She sort of rubbed that in, subtly.

Since she wouldn't be meeting him, however, he could meet Manny there, worry-free. He'd love them to meet, but not on the first day. After cleaning the garage, packing, and staying up to watch wrestling with his dad, his eyes had the tendency to droop, and he finally gave in mid-flight. It was clear that whenever his mom was about to spend time with him, Jeff Isaacs would get there first, and try to make some quiet declaration that he came first by spending time with Toby. He almost misses the more innocent days when spending time with him wasn't a competition. However, with Anne Marie improving in that area, he thinks things are only going to get more heated. He's praying he's wrong.

"So you and Liberty are official?" questions Toby, anxious to deter J.T. from any possible mom conversation.

"No. She does want to talk after the trip, though," says J.T., grinning. "And I am sending her postcards of historic landmarks while I'm here."

"She's telling you what to send," laughs Toby.

"Shut up!" whispers J.T. "I'm not Mr. Romance like you, but hello, when was the last time I wrote a girl anything?"

"At camp," informs Toby. "The rap you wrote for that counselor."

"Oh yeah," says J.T., dreamy-eyed. "My name's J.T., got the girls panting for more..."

"Baby, you're so hot I'll make you a s'more," finishes Toby.

"Heh, that was good," says J.T., closing his eyes.

Though the rap is funny, Toby's very aware that J.T. has matured. After what happened with Liberty, how could he not? And if everything went according to plan, he and Manny would take their first mature step. He can do something like this that's huge. Coming to California is huge in itself. Doesn't that indicate that he's head over heels for her? Yes. Then, facing Justin, and his speech, and ...yes, anything else he's prepared for. Totally prepared.

The plane shakes brutally, J.T. and Toby grasping their arm rests.

"A little turbulence, folks," comforts the pilot over the intercom. "No reason for concern."

Toby swallows a lump in his throat, as the plane steadies. He can weather any turbulence coming his way. Any.

VI.

Manny paces the linoleum floor, pink flip-flops bopping against the soles of her feet. She continually checks her watch, slides her hands into the pockets of her fitted white pants. The matching white jacket and hot pink top underneath made her skin all glowy so she went with it. Black aviator sunglasses were above her forehead. When Lia first picked the outfit for her, she was worried she'd look like a peppermint stick, but Manny made it work, as Tim Gunn would say. Why is she thinking of Tim Gunn?

"Why isn't he here yet?" complains Manny, stopping to shake Emma lightly.

"Calm down, Elizabeth Taylor," says Emma, laughing. "He's getting his baggage by now probably."

"I pack my lunchbox when I travel," shares Hannah, coloring calmly in a chair.

"I remember how the boy packs. Ski trip," says Manny. "It's not a lot."

"That was for a weekend, not a week and some odd days," reminds Emma. "Run some Miranda lines in your head."

"Mind's blank...honestly," says Manny. "Except for...o brave new world that has such..."

"Such Toby's in it," fills in Emma, smiling, pointing behind Manny.

Grinning from ear to ear, she spies Toby, smiling just as wide, approaching her, J.T. in tow. He's wearing a short-sleeved, button down green shirt, the color he knows she likes, and jeans, which he usually didn't wear. But the most important thing he's wearing is his smile, and no one picked that out for him, and he's wearing it because of her.

"Yes!" squeals Manny, running as fast as her flip-flops can carry her.

Her feet are nowhere as fast as her heart, thumping wildly. Man, early July took forever to come. Toby drops his bags as Manny leaps to him, both of them tumbling to the ground. J.T. looks around wildly, as Toby looks upward, Manny staring into his face.

"Hi," says Toby, laughing.

"I missed you," says Manny, tugging on his collar.

Toby sits up instantly, kisses her softly on the lips, as good as their last one. Manny can't hear the shuffling of feet of the curious people going past, or the announcements of plane arrivals, only the music of their mouths.

"Guys," whispers J.T., in a warning tone. "Gosh, and I thought Manny tackling you would be the end of it."

They part, faces turning the shade of Manny's top, Toby helping Manny to her feet.

"Hi, J.T.," says Manny, resting her head on Toby's shoulder.

"Hi, Manny," says J.T. "Where's Emma?"

"Here, avoiding the display of hormones," says Emma, holding Hannah's hand. "Boys, this is Hannah."

"Are these your boyfriends?" asks Hannah, staring at the four of them.

"No," say J.T. and Emma, looking repulsed.

"Yes," sighs Manny, starting to kiss Toby's neck.

"He doesn't need another hickey," whispers J.T. to Manny.

Manny rolls her eyes, exchanges a smile with Toby.

"The car is meeting us in the parking lot," shares Toby, gaze still locked on Manny. "So...we better walk."

"We got you guys a trolley," informs Emma, taking one of Toby's bags. "Come on."

They all head to the trolley, start to load, Manny purposefully brushing her arm against Toby's during the activity. Hey, any contact with her boyfriend after weeks apart is welcome. Toby seemed to get the gist of it, too, rubbing her back gently after they're done.

"We've made a suitcase mountain," appraises J.T., proudly. "So...um, Manny, maybe you can help me find the car while Emma and Tobes stay with the bags?"

"I'd rather stay here," shrugs Manny, nodding her head towards Toby.

"It's really important," says J.T., through a pained grin. "Please."

Manny rolls her eyes, takes a deep breath as she walks with J.T. through a pair of glass doors. As soon as the automatic doors close, J.T. launches into talking.

"Alright, I did what you asked," says J.T. "Toby was a little social butterfly."

"A butterfly with a caterpillar that always kept Liberty around," says Manny, cocking her head to the side. "Ulterior motives?"

"You never said she couldn't be included," defends J.T. "Anyways, despite my watching out for him, now_ I'm _worried."

"Okay, you weren't before," says Manny. "What's going on?"

J.T. looks away, shakes his head. Was something happening in Toby's family? Is Bubbe okay? Did the Justin thing lead to something else? Manny should've demanded that he not talk to Justin, though she doubts it would've made much difference.

"I won't say who...but Toby's been taking a lot of verbal abuse about...the two of you," shares J.T.

Verbal abuse. Manny feels her stomach drop. She thought those comments would end sooner or later. If Heather Sinclair, the meanest girl in school, stopped, why didn't everyone else? Toby's so sensitive too.

"What are they saying?" asks Manny.

"Stuff," says J.T. "Like his body...and his lack of experience...and I'm only telling you because the last time he felt inadequate, he ended up unconscious in a wrestling uniform. So I don't think a little reassurance from his girlfriend would hurt."

"Neither do I," says Manny, nodding. "Thanks, J.T."

J.T. pats Manny on the shoulder as the automatic doors open again with Toby pushing the trolley, Emma aiding him. Hannah skips along with the bags. They all stall, as a fancy black limo pulls to the curb, a white-haired driver exiting the vehicle. He holds up a white piece of paper with the name "Isaacs and Yorke".

"Oh man," breathes J.T., looking excitedly at Toby.

"High roller!" exclaims Manny, hugging Toby's waist.

"That's better than the limo we rode in, Emma," compliments Hannah.

"Yeah," agrees Emma.

"Mr. Isaacs and Mr. Yorke, I presume," says the driver. "Mrs. Isaacs will be joining you for dinner. Is this your baggage?"

"Um..um, yeah," says Toby. "Do you need any help?"

"No," says the driver, decidedly. "You may say good-bye to your companions. I will handle these."

Okay, so basically Anne Marie is another Kel, or she's eclipsed Kel, based on the size of that limousine. Definitely intimidated, thinks Manny. But if she's anything like Toby, she'll win Anne Marie over.

"Woohoo!" exclaims J.T., hopping in immediately. "See you girls!"

"So classy. J.T.," says Emma. "Bye, guys."

Emma grabs Hannah's hand, and they reenter the airport. The girls would be taking a cab back to Lia's, and while the fee was pricey, greeting the guy that came all the way from Toronto is priceless to her. And he's here for her. She knows it.

Toby shyly gazes at the pavement, fingering the bottom fold of Manny's jacket. Manny holds her to him, shuts her eyes.

"I can't wait to get you alone," whispers Manny into his ear.

"So glad my mom isn't here," sighs Toby, separating from her, bringing her in for a kiss.

It's a long kiss, Manny confident it's one of their best kisses. She wishes he had confidence in himself, in whatever they can do. They can do it all, she thinks, as the driver finishes loading the trunk, slams it shut.

"Mr. Isaacs?" he asks.

"Five more minutes," says Toby, then going in for another kiss.

"As you wish," says the driver, ducking into the limo.

"Wow, Mr. Isaacs," breathes Manny, taking off her sunglasses before their lips meet once more.


	23. Shy Guy

**XXIII. Shy Guy **

Don't want no fly guy. I just want a shy guy.  
Oh lord have mercy mercy mercy.  
Di man dem in a di party party party.  
Di ole a dem look sexy sexy sexy.  
Watch dem just a follow me follow me follow me.  
Everyweh me go di man dem a rush me.  
Yes a whole eep a pretty boy wah fi love me.  
A me dem love yes a me dem love.  
True them know me sweet and me sexy.  
Everywhere me go me say me ever ready.  
A me dem love yes a me dem love.

But I don't want somebody who's loving everybody.  
I need a shy guy, he's the kinda guy who'll only be mine.

Oh lord have mercy mercy mercy.  
Di man dem in a di party party party.  
Di ole a dem look sexy sexy sexy.  
Watch dem just a follow me follow me follow me.  
Have mercy mercy mercy.  
But none a dem no move me move me move me.  
Shy guy a weh me wanty wanty wanty.  
Only him can make me irie irie irie.  
Roughneck man me no want none a dem.  
Beat up me body lick off me head top.  
Me no want none a dat. Me no want none a dat.  
Big things a gwaan fi all di shy man dem.  
Wat to be my love and wat to be my friend.  
Till the very end till the very end.  
But I don't want somebody who's loving everybody.  
I need a shy guy he's the kinda guy who'll only be mine

Have mercy mercy mercy, mercy mercy come on.

Shy guy Shy guy Shy guy

Shy Guy is the property of Diana King and appears in the film _Bad Boyz._

Here in Your Arms is the property of Hello, Goodbye.

Pausing for a few seconds to admire the Manchester United poster on her door, Spinner takes a deep breath, knocks on Kendra's door.He hears some swift movements, the bed squeaking. 

"Come in," invites Kendra, Spinner detecting a nervous tone.

Spinner opens the door, eyes greeted by an overwhelming amount of light blue. The walls were so bright, and the lamps were the same exact shade, as well as the carpet. His grandmother must've been in a blue mood, but there were Kendra-type additions. Posters of Kerri Strug, Nadia Comaneci, and Dominique Dawes are plastered on the walls, and her rhythmic ribbon wands were positioned next to her bed. Photographs of their parents and himself were on the nightstand. Kendra herself isn't so orderly, her hair unbrushed, one of the shoulders of her white slip askew. She probably raced to get dressed before he came into the room.

"You can't have one male gymnast?" kids Spinner, pointing to the posters.

"I didn't see any female surfers in your bedroom at home," returns Kendra.

"I watched _Blue Crush_," defends Spinner. "Anyways, I was thinking we'd go on a little field trip? Just finished talking with Boomer...and we were like, man, there are some choices waves in southern Cali."

"Can't," murmurs Kendra, throwing the blue comforter over her head.

Spinner sighs. Sure, he'd love to see everyone in L.A., but part of him also wants Kendra to stop lumping around over some guy that isn't worth it. Grandma Mason already gave them the okay too, as long as they returned before nightfall and Boomer's parents gave their permission as well. It was all in the bag, although if Kendra isn't going, Boomer wouldn't go.

"Kendie," teases Spinner, sitting on her bed.

"Only Grandma can get away with that," says Kendra, shooting up and hitting Spinner.

"The Sam...like...mortal...mortar...uh," begins Spinner.

"Moratorium," provides Kendra, lifting her eyebrows.

"Exactly," says Spinner. "That has to end sooner or later. He's all the way in Toronto, man. And our friends are miles away."

"Because Emma, Manny, and I were so close at Degrassi," dead-pans Kendra. "Yeah...no."

"Alright, true," admits Spinner. "Boomer'll be there."

Kendra eyes him suspiciously, which elicits a knowing grin. Meh, it was always so hard to get anything past her. He doesn't know why he tries.

"Boomer is my friend, a chum, a beach buddy," insists Kendra. "You're not playing matchmaker."

"Fine," says Spinner, though he's hoping things will work out anyway. "But...you can help your brother make a match."

Kendra laughs, shakes her head. "You must really like Emma."

"I like...surfing," says Spinner, avoiding eye contact.

"Who all is going?" sighs Kendra, scrunching her knees to her chest.

Hmmm, he hasn't thought of that. If everything works out, it'll be them, Boomer, Emma, and Manny. Maybe Lia and Hannah, if they felt like it. That's not a bad group, although the Toby situation could cause some awkwardness between Kendra and Manny. Still, it's not like Toby'll be there, and Spinner would make sure they kept the peace. One afternoon together wouldn't kill them.

"The lack of a reply tells me Manny might be there," guesses Kendra as Spinner's trying to find a decent answer.

"Would you mind?" asks Spinner.

Kendra taps Spinner gently with her foot. "I may be the youngest out of all of you, but that doesn't mean I can't act like an adult. And you owe me."

"Yes!" exclaims Spinner, jumping up. "Oh...my bad. Uh, I'll make some calls."

"Don't take too long," says Kendra. "I'm calling Nadia later."

After shutting the door, Spinner does the running man, smiling in the hallway. The plan's in motion, and everything will go perfect. It's Los Angeles or bust.

II.

J.T. presses his nose against the tinted windows of the limousine, accidentally kicking Toby in the shin. Toby winces, twirls the key to his mother's house in his hands. J.T. is obviously more excited to see his mother's house than he is. The ride over was fun: viewing a few stars on the Walk of Fame, the stately dome of ArcLight Cinemas, the tall mountain where the illustrious word "Hollywood" is clear as day. You couldn't find anything like that in Canada, and while he thought he'd be bothered by it, he's actually enjoying the journey. Okay, not as much as being with Manny, which is why they were going to meet tomorrow. She didn't have camp, and she suggested it. J.T. wasn't surprised when he heard.

"The Watts Towers reminded me of Christmas trees, except they were like metal," says J.T., writing it on his list.

"I decorated Manny's locker on Christmas," gushes Toby, as the limo veers right.

"Toby," complains J.T.

"Sorry," says Toby. "It takes my mind off the fact that we're going to see my mom."

"Well, your mom's earned major points with me for paying for all this, and letting me stay," says J.T. "Can't you cut her some slack?"

"I love my mom...but I don't know her," groans Toby. "Then, she dislikes my dad, hates Kate..."

"Does she have anyone?" interjects J.T.

"What, with her in the house?" replies Toby. "No."

J.T. gives him an interested stare, says nothing and begins writing again. Toby got the hint. Yes, his mother's probably lonely and he should be thankful. How many guys get random trips to California for their birthdays? Or get to ride in luxury automobiles? Even his dad sounded impressed when Toby called him twenty minutes ago to say the limo came for them. And despite their very stilted bond, he's proud of her for becoming successful in such a difficult field. Of course, he's proud that his father is a first chair violinist in an accomplished orchestra, too. Meh, there's that divide, like he feels guilty for being loyal to both.

"Approaching West Hollywood," says the driver's voice over the intercom, startling the two boys.

"Wow. So she lives in Hollywood Hollywood, not L.A.?" says J.T.

"Fountain Avenue, with the rest of the bigshots," answers Toby.

For the rest of the drive, J.T. reveals his list to Toby, and Toby has to hand it to J.T. that most of the landmarks were ones Liberty would like to hear about. With a slow crawl, the car finally comes to a stop, Toby tentatively taking off his seatbelt. They hear the driver's door open, and seconds later, he's opened the door for them.

J.T. and Toby leave the door, do a collective cry of astonishment. A yellow stone mansion with red, embroidered gates meets their eyes, basically an Italian Renaissance dream house. The garage, painted a clean white, is right next to the house, while the yard is neat, delicately tended to, peppered with geraniums and roses. Tall trees shade the property, a looming balcony under the front window. Toby has no real dictionary word to describe it.

"You have the key," encourages J.T., dragging him to the gate.

The key isn't for the gate, however, Toby noticing a security keypad under the address number. His mother e-mailed him the five digits, and he pulls out the paper, types it in, as their driver goes to them, managing to handle all of their bags. The gate slinks open, J.T. beaming.

"This place reminds me of the ones in Zorro," praises J.T. "Anne Marie Isaacs definitely has taste."

Taste, but not time, thinks Toby, walking with J.T. and the driver, the gate slamming as they go.

"I hear water," notes J.T. as they reach the stoop. "Pool?"

"Like I swim," brushes off Toby.

"I do," says J.T., happily. "Open sesame, Isaacs."

Toby puts the key in the door, turns, and lets it swing open. They immediately view a long, green hallway with a black, long staircase at the end. Toby gulps, not sure if it will echo in such a huge space. What is echoing are dog barks, high and annoying. A white Maltese puppy bounds forward, stops mid-way, barking at the strangers.

"Didn't know she had a dog," admits Toby.

The dog spots the driver, grows quiet and scampers into another direction. Well, it's nice to know she's not all alone. Setting the bags on the hard, green floor, the driver wipes his hands, straightens his back, and nods politely at J.T. and Toby.

"Will there be anything else?" he asks.

"No," says Toby. "Thanks."

Should he tip him? Toby's answered by the driver leaving abruptly, the sound of the door closing slamming in his ears. Having no idea where to put their bags, J.T. and Toby walk nervously to the closest room. It's the living room, full of very modern furniture, including one of those automatic chairs, and a huge plasma TV. Toby feels like his mother went on _Price is Right_ and won big, because he had no idea she had all this. The next room is the kitchen, even more modern, with a lot of metal and black, hard, almost futuristic.

"Oh yeah, you can tell she's your mom," says J.T. aloud.

"How?" asks Toby.

"High-tech luxury," replies J.T. "You can tell."

Maybe, or maybe it's some desperate connection J.T is struggling to make since Anne Marie has been kind to them. He can't find any similarities. For one, he'd be here to greet his son and a guest, not working.

"Oh, look, a taped note to the best microwave in the world," says J.T., taking the note.

Toby leans over his shoulder, reading along.

"Welcome to Los Angeles, Toby and J.T.," reads J.T. aloud. "I hope your flight was acceptable. Let me know if it wasn't. You'll find all the necessary amenities in the kitchen and in your bedrooms. Toby's is the one with the gold bathroom, and J.T.'s is the one with the green. I will be home as soon as I can for dinner. With my best regards, Mom or Anne Marie."

Toby reads the note again. At least it's not totally formal.

"I bet your room is the best!" exclaims J.T. "Come on."

With the dog gone, they have no hindrance in climbing the staircase, not as intimidating once they're on it. However, they do notice the ceiling is fairly high, a large crystal chandelier hanging above the steps. The green scheme has continued upstairs, all of the hall walls the same color. J.T. and Toby glance into several rooms, J.T. locating Anne Marie's room in the center. It's very pretty, with a deep maroon tint to it, a shade Toby believes would compliment his mother's hair.

Finally, they locate Toby's room for ten days, a beautiful blue room with a large bed, deep blue carpeting, and mahogany furniture. It looked like a high-class version of his first room, when he lived with his parents when they were married. She hasn't forgotten what he likes, and that includes a fully functioning computer, the best Dell PC he's ever seen. Whoa, thinks Toby. Something not as new were baby pictures of him on the nightstand, Anne Marie holding his wiggling little body, no sign of his father in any of them.

J.T. is already in the washroom, or as the Americans called it, bathroom. Toby joins him, eyes bugging out. He thought when he read the "gold' bathroom, Anne Marie was simply talking about the walls. So not the case, as he looks at a gold-painted sink and gold-lined bathtub, complete with golden knobs, towels, and soap. 

"We are soooo set," says J.T., cheerfully. "I wonder if my tub's green."

"Everything else is," chuckles Toby.

"Everything else is amazing," adds J.T.

He's right. Anne Marie has gone above and beyond what he anticipated, and maybe J.T.'s right, that he should cut her some slack. What other mom would do this?

"Toby!" yells a voice from far away. "Toby?"

J.T. and Toby glance at one another, quickly walk out of the room, and start down the stairs. At the bottom, Toby does see her, bright red hair brushed back in a professional bun. She's still in her work clothes, a deep purple skirt and matching blouse.

"Hi," says Toby as he nears the bottom.

Anne Marie grins at them awkwardly, clearly at a loss for words. I can relate, thinks Toby. Hmmm, what do you do in those situations? Shrugging, Toby goes to her, hugs her. She is family, and she has been courteous so far. Anne Marie embraces him tightly.

"Couldn't wait to see you so I rescheduled a test screening," says Anne Marie, kissing the top of Toby's head. "Hello, J.T."

"Hey," greets J.T.

She rescheduled a business activity for him? Okay, definitely unexpected. Toby grins.

"I'll give you guys the grand tour after dinner," says Anne Marie. "Ugh, and Fred didn't carry your luggage to your rooms?"

"We didn't ask," says Toby.

"You always ask. These people are paid, Tobemeister," instructs Anne Marie. "Anytime during your stay, he's at your disposal. I'll give you the number. Me, I only use my other car for travel. Less stressful."

"What kind?" asks J.T., excitedly.

"A Mercedes," says Anne Marie, scrunching up her nose.

"Serious?" cries Toby.

"I'm a taxi addict," says Anne Marie. "Anyone in the mood for Chinese?"

"Me...me!" cries J.T., enthusiastically.

The three of them head for the kitchen, Toby still amazed at the size of everything. They enter a room he hasn't seen yet, the dining room, more traditional than the others. A long table stretches from one end to the other end, the table already set. Anne Marie flips on an electronic fireplace, sighs loudly as she collapses into the chair at the head of the table. She takes a Blackberry from her purse, then a cellphone, and a Palm Pilot. While Toby loved electronics, he never carried that much on his person.

"Mr. Chow's must be open," says Anne Marie, going through to find the number. "So tell me, Toby. How are the grades?"

Her usual question, but yeah, parents have a right to know.

"A's and a B," reveals Toby.

"Which subject was the B in?" asks Anne Marie, then evaluating a wine glass. "Mmm, Janet's doing a spotty job with these."

Toby offers an unsympathetic look. Is she going to pick apart his report card the way she's doing with the maid washing her glasses? No thank you. Toby plays with a fork, shakes his head.

"History," supplies J.T., smiling generously.

"Do you need a tutor?" says Anne Marie. "I know some..."

"No," interrupts Toby. "I'm like...still top of the class."

"Oh, sure you are, but you can always do better," assures Anne Marie. "So how is Manny?"

Whoa, she actually remembered the name. That's nice.

"She's...she's good," says Toby, setting down the fork.

"Is she the reason you're distracted from obtaining a perfect average?" teases Anne Marie, winking at him.

"She is in his history class," shares J.T., laughing.

"J.T.!" whispers Toby to J.T.

"Relax, Tobes, we're having some fun at your expense," says Anne Marie. "It must've been hard saying good-bye to her."

J.T. and Toby exchange glances, Toby staring at the fancy tablecloth under the plates and utensils. Given her generosity, he feels he owes her some truth. He can't hide the fact that Manny's out here, anyways. The driver knew. His father knew. Either might spill.

"Manny's...here," confesses Toby. "At drama camp."

Anne Marie puts the glass down, bites her lip. "Oh."

Toby didn't like the sound of that "oh." Not at all.

"That's interesting," says Anne Marie, nodding to no one in particular. "So is she available?"

"She's...she's dating me?" replies Toby, confused.

"No, I mean for lunch," clarifies Anne Marie. "If we're in the same district, don't see why it's a problem unless she's otherwise engaged."

J.T. coughs quietly, Toby able to detect his discomfort because he's feeling just as uncomfortable. This isn't the way he wanted them to meet, with Anne Marie's demeanor growing colder by the second. Unless he's reading her wrong, which may be the case. It's better to test it out.

"You're going to be polite?" asks Toby, staring directly into her eyes.

"Toby, what kind of question is that?" replies Anne Marie. "Certainly."

Her expression is one of mild interest, rather than disdain, so things could go well. Manny hasn't done anything to her, not like his father, and she wasn't rude to Emma when she thought she was Manny.

"Fine, I'll check," says Toby.

"Glorious!" says Anne Marie, a little too excitedly. "Um, so how many egg rolls do you guys want?"

III.

"Hot...hot...hot," whispers Ellie anxiously, quickly putting the pan into Sean's oven.

The crust would be brown in no time, but the rest would take awhile. Ellie whistles innocently as Sean comes into the kitchen, goes for the sink. Preventing her from looking into the oven, he grabs one of her apron strings, kisses her fully on the mouth.

"What are you cooking?" says Sean.

"Nothing," replies Ellie. "It's all in preparation for being independent in the dorms. So I won't live on Ramen and cereal. Domestic practice."

Sean shrugs, retrieves some soap from the counter.

"Do your parents know you've been practicing domesticity with me every afternoon after your seminar?" exclaims Sean, as the water runs.

"Why?" says Ellie, grinning. "Want me to tell them?"

"No," says Sean, turning the water off, drying his hands with a paper towel.

Ellie unties her apron. "That's what I thought."

"I don't see why you need a seminar anyway," says Sean. "Everything you tell me you've covered so far."

"We're refreshing, for the people who aren't as experienced," explains Ellie. "Besides, every little bit contributes to a good resume. I could be watching _The Devil Wears Prada _for journalism instruction, or be training with an esteemed professor."

"Point taken, but the _Devil Wears Prada_?" laughs Sean.

"Marco thing," demurs Ellie, drooping her apron over a chair, blushing.

"Nah, you liked it," teases Sean. "You have that secretive 'I can't say I liked it because then I'd be made fun of' face."

"I have no such face!" exclaims Ellie. "Keep that up and you won't get any pizza!"

"A ha!" says Sean.

Ellie stamps her foot. She'd wanted it to be a surprise. Given the drama Sean was currently going through, a home-cooked meal might lift his spirits. Her dad provided her with a recipe, though she didn't say who it was for.

"Okay, it's John Nash's famously good wood-fired pizza, or some version of it since you don't have the right stove," says Ellie. "According to him, it's the tastiest pizza he's ever had, in any continent."

"That's some reputation," says Sean.

"Hopefully, this attempt will live up to it," sighs Ellie. "There's a distinct lack of ingredients."

Sean offers her a small smile. "There's no such thing as bad pizza."

He puts an arm around her waist, Ellie sliding on a mitt before opening the oven. She realizes she has been too busy talking to really pay attention to what she's been doing, that the temperature is a little higher than she intended. Ah, she really didn't want Sean to know that.

"Going to go shower," informs Sean, dropping his arm. "Grease under the nails."

As Sean leaves, Ellie is about to fiddle with the knob, groans when the phone in Sean's living room rings. Any more interruptions and she'll toss the whole thing in the trash. She could be reviewing her lecture notecards. Matthew suggested that it was the best way to memorize all the information.

"Hello?" says Ellie, picking up the phone.

"Uh...Ellie?" says Jay, on the other end.

"Hey, Jay!" greets Ellie, then hearing the shower being turned on. "Sean's sorta busy."

"Right. Um...can you tell him to come for his check at the garage?" says Jay.

"They can't mail it like they usually do?" says Ellie, going through a pile of bills on the same table as the phone.

"There's some sort of...postal...yeah, a postal problem," stammers Jay.

Ellie stops shuffling, holds an envelope to her eyes. Sean's cable bill...past due. Sean never really watched TV, but he did used to pay, since she and Jay came to visit a lot. Well, with the seminar and Jay working, maybe he decided to suspend the service.

"I'll tell him," promises Ellie.

"Thanks," says Jay. "If he can do it by Friday, that'd be good. Bye."

"Bye," says Ellie, putting the phone in place.

Ruffling her hair, she sits at the table, envelope still in her hands. Was Sean not paying the bills in order to save money for the trip? Awww. What is she sacrificing for it? There has to be something she can do besides a cooked dinner. A dinner she hasn't been keeping an eye on, as a foul smell enters her nose.

"No!" laments Ellie, rushing to the oven, wresting it open.

Grey smoke unfurls, the crust black, the cheese a deep brown, Ellie coughing. Sean returns to the kitchen, drying his hair with a towel, T-shirt drenched.

"Totally ruined this!" cries Ellie, waving the smoke from her face.

"El, let me...," starts Sean.

"I can't let you do anything else!" interjects Ellie, tears casing her vision. "My pizza sucks!"

Ellie closes the oven angrily, sits in a chair. Sean lets the towel hang around his head, kneels next to her.

"Dad wouldn't have let that happen," whispers Ellie.

Sean takes a deep breath. "Well, maybe he could show us..."

"Us?" repeats Ellie.

"Look, you wanted me and him to spend time together, so...like, one dinner maybe? A better dinner," says Sean.

The suggestion of a better dinner really appeals to her, and so does the prospect of the two main men in her life bonding. Even better, Sean had proposed it.

"My dad _does _wear an apron well," says Ellie, managing to grin. "Alright! Oh, and Jay called? To come for your check at Hill's?"

"Oh," says Sean, rising instantly. "Did he say anything else?"

"There's a postal problem or else they'd mail it," shares Ellie. "Which is strange. But you're still getting your pay, so whatever."

"Yeah...still getting it," says Sean. "So let me finish getting dressed and I'll help scrape the pan."

"Nah, I got it," says Ellie.

"You sure?"

"Despite my failure, going to clean. It's good, honest work, right?"

Sean bites his lip, almost looking as if he wants to say something to her. Instead, he disappears and leaves her to do what she said she'd do. Ellie moans as she inhales the scent of charred crust, burnt cheese. Gag. Well, there are less satisfying jobs out there.

IV.

"Are you wearing the lime-green two-piece?" questions Lia, dropping down on the stoop next to Manny.

Manny looks under her blue tank top, making sure the placement of her suit has remained immaculate.

"Yep," says Manny, beaming. "With the right amount of jiggle."

"Alright now, Ms. Sexy Pants," compliments Lia.

"Thanks for taking Hannah for the afternoon," says Manny. "Emma could use a day to herself. And Spinner's arranging this whole beach getaway for her."

"One afternoon will fulfill the spend-time-with Hannah quotient," says Lia, shrugging. "Besides, I need to memorize."

"Taking the script with me to the beach," asserts Manny.

"Like you won't get distracted by your boytoy," teases Lia.

Manny giggles, zips the rest of her beach bag, really her carry-on bag, all the way. Last night, she got a call from Spinner, who made it known that he'd be in town the next day. He said that he'd be hitting the beach, and if she and Emma were interested, they should come too. It didn't take any encouragement on her part; Emma immediately said yes. Something tells her that even with Emma and Hannah seemingly getting along, Emma would much rather be with Spinner. And of course, she invited Toby, because she had no alternative, but wanted to be with him. J.T. was sure to tag along, but Spinner hinted he wasn't coming alone so J.T. could hang with those people.

"Emma!" calls Manny through the parted door.

"Manny, did the white suit show my thighs?" shouts Emma from the foyer.

"Your perfect thighs that make me jealous...yes!" replies Manny, exchanging an amused glance with Lia. "Hurry your cute tush out here!"

A large straw hat with a blue ribbon atop her head, Emma appears in the doorway, jean shorts and a light white jacket covering a white one-piece. The hat was a contribution from Edwina's closet. Hannah insisted Emma wear it because of the risk of melanoma. Manny has to admit it took her awhile to remember what melanoma was, but Hannah told her and the hat was sort of cute.

"Hmph, well, you guys get the thumbs up from me," assures Lia. "You look good."

"I want to look great," whispers Manny, elbowing Lia.

"Ooh, is tonight the tonight?" whispers Lia, winking.

"Not sure," replies Manny. "When I went too fast, he freaked. Then I said we could go slow, and Toby's indicating that he's for it. How do you make the two work?"

"Latent fears and anxieties," diagnoses Lia. "Look, when my mom filmed her first love scene, the guy was very, very shy. And the guy was so hot. But he wasn't hit in his mind, you know? So anyway, she did these like baby steps in rehearsal..."

"Baby steps?" says Manny, exchanging a confused look with Emma.

"A touch here, a touch there. Unwavering eye contact," explains Lia. "Anything to break the reserve. Deep down, I bet Toby's a love machine."

"Uh...yeah," says Emma, smirking.

"Trust me," advises Lia, ignoring Emma. "It's always the quiet ones."

Their discussion is halted by a loud thumping beat as a cherry-red Mercedes comes to a shattering stop, Toby and J.T. going forward with the car. Toby repositions his glasses as J.T. puts a hand on his heart. Manny's jaw drops.

"Or the not so quiet ones," laughs Lia. "That's Toby?"

She thinks so. The only car she's seen him in is Bubbe's unreliable car, and he never turned up the music that high, but she guesses it's J.T.'s influence.

"Ladies!" calls J.T. "Your chariot awaits!"

"Toby, come meet Lia!" yells Manny, standing, shouldering her bag.

Toby undoes his seatbelt, gets out of the car. Yeah, that's her sweet, courteous boyfriend. Lia stands too, a friendly smile on her face.

"The legend lives," says Lia, shaking hands with him. "Hi Toby."

"Nice to meet you," says Toby, taking Manny's bag.

"And the manners?" sighs Lia. "It's not fair, Manny."

"Yeah...it's not," teases Manny, poking Lia. "See you later, eh?"

"Have fun, you wacky Canadians!" says Lia, going inside, closing the door behind her.

Emma, Manny, and Toby approach the car, putting most of the bags in the backseat, next to a cooler the boys brought. Toby and J.T. were both in white T-shirts, and J.T. had on red swim trunks, while Toby had on a nice black pair.

"Shotgun!" proclaims Manny, racing to the passenger seat.

"Que?" disagrees J.T.

"Read the girlfriend rights," insists Manny. "To the rear please."

Groaning, J.T. joins Emma in the back, Emma playfully trying to put her hat on J.T.'s shaggy brown hair.

"Ahhh," groans J.T., laughing as he bats Emma away.

"Fresh ride," says Manny, sliding in next to Toby. "Did you go on Pimp My Ride this morning?"

"Mom's," explains Toby. "I borrowed it."

"Wait a second...you guys can't drive...," starts Emma.

"Are we there yet?" interrupts J.T.

They all laugh, Toby cranking the radio as he begins to drive. Manny claps to the song, letting the wind flow through her hair. Unlike the first day with Lia and Colin, her hair can take the damage because she's with her friends, her friends for years, who've been there for her without fail. There's no drama present, only the likelihood of a totally fun day.

The Mercedes finds the freeway, palm tree fronds waving as they speed past. Emma and J.T. raise their arms, as does Manny, feeling the adrenaline of being free, from school, their parents, their surroundings. Sometimes being sixteen is perfect.

_I like, _

Where we are,

When we drive,

In your car.

I like,

Where we are,

Here.

As the car moves under a tunnel, all four of them shout excitedly, Manny nodding to the beat until they reach a red stop light, speakers blaring the chorus coursing through her ears, her heart. She turns to Toby, plants one firmly on his lips. 

_Where you are the one, the one, _

That lies close to me.

Whispers, "Hello, I miss you quite terribly."

I fell in love, in love,

With you suddenly.

Now there's no place else, I could be, but,

Here in your arms.

Pinch her, because she's pretty much dreaming. Her career, her love life, her family in tact. This may not last forever, but she's loving it. 

V.

Rachmaninoff's second symphony plays loudly as Manny watches J.T. and Toby lift the cooler from the trunk, the boys sweating with the action. Leave it to Emma to have the most prestigious ringtone, thinks Toby, retrieving the chairs next. While he didn't mind doing most of the manpower, it is somewhat trying, considering the stuff Anne Marie recommend they bring. Chairs, blankets, and a cooler...those, he understood. But the radio, portable TV, and boogie boards weren't completely necessary, or light.

"Spinner?" says Emma after checking her cell. "Yeah...you're near the lifeguard? A green and white umbrella?"

Emma clicks off, grins at Manny.

"You can stand under Spin's umbrella...ella...ella," teases Manny.

"Not humorous, Manuella," says Emma.

Toby sighs appreciatively. All the stuff was out of the trunk, and Venice Beach stared back at them. Women in bikinis and shirtless men whiz by them on skates and skateboards, blue sky and sand their background. Gulls lounge in the shade, peering at the pick-up game on a nearby basketball court. Retail stores are full of tourists, admiring everything from patterned skirts to those Troll dolls with the tall hair. The beach itself is beautiful, not crowded, the sand golden and the water blue thanks to a cloudless sky.

"If we each take two, it won't be a hassle," evaluates Manny aloud, grabbing a folding chair.

That meant the cooler was their responsibility, guesses Toby, as Emma takes the radio and the other chair. J.T. and Toby put the boards under their arms, as Emma and Manny make sure their bags are strapped to their backs. Manny gets the portable TV set while Toby locks the door, and they start the long trek to wherever Spinner happens to be. Halfway to the lifeguard chair, Manny and Emma fall behind, so the boys wait for them to arrive.

"Can't believe you talked me into stealing the Mercedes," whispers Toby, anxiously.

Well, J.T. had technically called it "borrowing", then made some grand speech about the call of the open road and the need for freedom with his birthday approaching. Toby bought it, hook, line, and sinker, and now he sort of regrets it, staring at the unharmed car in the distance.

"Toby, did you want a driver with us twenty-four seven?" asks J.T.

"It's illegal. No California driver's license."

"It's ideal. Come on. Manny's reaction to the car was worth it, wasn't it?"

Toby lets a smile cross his lips despite his best efforts. J.T. pounds him proudly on the back.

"Yo, peeps from Toronto!" calls a familiar voice.

Toby spies Spinner, shirtless, long tan trunks the sole piece of clothing on his body. Yeah, suddenly glad I'm wearing a shirt, thinks Toby. Manny wouldn't be measuring him against Spinner. The other guy with him is no slouch either, a Hawaiian-print shirt parted to show off his abs. There's another figure lying on a beach blanket under the shade of the umbrella, her face turned from them. He can tell it's a girl based on the Hello Kitty towel draped over her shoulders. Maybe it was the other guy's girlfriend.

Sand already all over his feet, Toby makes his way to Spinner, weaving with the cooler and J.T. Glad to finally be a hair away from Spinner, they set the cooler on the ground, Manny and Emma breathing heavily while they position the chairs. Spinner's friend is nice to help, undoing the chairs with them, Emma collapsing in a chair once it's set up.

"Dude, Venice Beach is killer," comments Spinner, fetching a soda and giving it to Emma.

"Thanks," says Emma, popping the lid.

"Cool board, man," compliments Spinner's friend, nodding to Toby's board. "Oh, I'm Boomer."

"Toby," says Toby.

"Toby?" speaks up the girl under her umbrella, practically a whisper.

Toby swallows a lump in his throat as Kendra rises, the blanket falling down her chest, revealing a navy tankini. He looks away guiltily, right at Manny, whose gaze falls, as she digs her toes in the sand. This isn't good.

"Hi Kendra," offers Toby after a pronounced silence.

"Hey, Toby," greets Kendra. "Emma, your hat's a little crooked."

Emma groans. "Can you fix it?"

"Um...uh...so you guys brought your own blanket?" says Spinner, nervously. "That's nice. We won't be all cramped."

It feels pretty cramped to me, thinks Toby, running a hand through his hair. Spinner probably didn't know he was in California, so of course, Kendra didn't either. Based on their last conversation, Kendra probably wished Toby was still in T.O. Then, how come her face doesn't read that way? While fixing Emma's hat, she's actually smiling a bit. At him.

"Let's spread out the blanket," sighs Manny, walking past Toby and away from Kendra.

Toby follows, whispers to her. "I had no idea she'd be here."

"Me either," whispers Manny. "It's...it's okay. We came to have fun. We're...on vacation. Well, you are."

"Yeah," says Toby, grabbing the other end of the blanket.

Toby and Manny unfurl the blanket, set their bags on it, Manny pulling out her script.

"What are you auditioning for?" says Toby.

"Oh, that's right," says Manny, turning red. "I haven't told you. I'm playing Miranda in our camp's _The Tempest."_

"No!" cries Toby. "Isn't that a big role to play? That's great, Manny. Really great."

Manny shrugs. "I'm still learning about the character. Her role's not flashy or anything, but we are having our opening performance in a couple days."

"I'm coming...if it's allowed," guarantees Toby.

She kisses him on the cheek, Toby turning scarlet. Alright, despite the weird vibe with Kendra being present, he'd chill, because as Manny says, he's on vacation, with his girlfriend, the reason he got on the plane in the first place. Toby sits on the blanket, stares out at the ocean. It's amazing, the waves churning at small decibels, the sun lighting the clear water. At that moment, as much as he loves Toronto, no other sight can compare.

Or so he thought, as he catches sight of Manny yanking off her tank top, lime-green suit nicely fitted to every part of her body, skin luminous in the sun's rays. Her skin tone was a tad darker, a tan the result of the days she spent here. She pulls her shorts off without any trouble, Toby quietly admiring her lower assets. Manny catches him gazing, grins as she goes through her bag.

"Emma, do you want a snow cone or anything?" offers Spinner. "Kendra's jonesing for one."

"Cherry?" replies Emma.

"Cool," says Spinner. "Anyone else? Toby? Manny? Boomer? J.T.?"

"No thanks," says Manny, sitting close to Toby.

There's no way I'm leaving now, thinks Toby, taking Manny's hand.

Spinner, J.T., and Boomer run to a nearby ice cream vendor, Toby finally noticing that he's left alone with all the girls. Eh, Emma and Kendra were pretty occupied by the looks of things, though he did see Kendra cast glances at him sporadically. He hopes this isn't making her uncomfortable, but he did want to spend the day with his girlfriend, act like he usually does around her.

"Toby, can you put some suntan lotion on my back?" asks Manny, fetching a bottle of Coppertone from her bag. "You know, for protection?"

"Um...okay," stammers Toby.

He'd never done this for a girl before. No, wait, he did it for his aunt once. That was so gross. But this isn't gross, he thinks. How much should he put on her? Toby squirts a medium-sized glob into his hand, decides that's a decent amount. Taking a deep breath, he massages the lotion onto the back of her neck, on her left shoulder, moving down to the small of her back, then her right shoulder.

"Mmmm," sighs Manny, holding his hand steady.

Well, that pause definitely works for him, Toby gently kissing her shoulder as Manny leans back into him. She lays her script on her lap, eyes down.

"Thanks, Toby," she whispers, looking up at him.

All the words he might've said are caught in his throat now, but that doesn't stop someone else close by from speaking.

"Hi Manny!" speaks up Kendra. "How are you? I haven't said hi to yet."

"Fine," says Manny, giving Kendra a wary glance.

"Good," says Kendra. "No camp today?"

"Tomorrow. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays," explains Manny. "I didn't know you were so interested, Kendra."

"I'm interested in a lot of things," assures Kendra, standing, letting the blanket fall to the sand.

She throws Toby a hurt look, goes to collect a lemon snowcone from Boomer. Emma cautiously follows her, giving Toby and Manny an apologetic frown.

"Want to go for a walk?" says Manny, rising. "Be alone?"

Being alone is probably for the best after that painful moment. Toby rises too, loops hands with Manny, and they stroll towards the water. The waves have become increasingly rough, though not as uneasy as the change in the air.

VII.

Walking with him doesn't feel like walking. It's more like gliding, albeit through murky, wet shore mud. The mud is tolerable, as Manny slides her arm around his waist. The sun beats down on both of them, the wind ruffling Toby's T-shirt as the water seeps to their toes. Toby holds her tighter as they move.

"Have I told you how excited I am that you came all this way for me?" says Manny. "Like...two hundred percent."

"I got the general idea, and it's more than mutual," kids Toby.

"Speaking of mutual, we're by ourselves and...important decisions have to be made...," begins Manny, wrinkling her eyebrows at him.

She hopes that by joking around with him she can get him to relax a little. Whenever they were around Kendra, all this unnecessary stress would hover above the scene. Kendra's expressions were so toxic, as if Manny had no right to enjoy her boyfriend's company. Kendra gave that right up two years ago. Toby may be friendly, but Manny would rather just pull him in the opposite direction, as far from her as possible.

"For your birthday!" finishes Manny, trying to forget Kendra's cold demeanor.

"Oh," says Toby, shrugging. "What do you want to do?"

"Toby, that's for you to decide, not me," laughs Manny. "There's tons to do in the city."

"Haven't the foggiest," replies Toby.

"You're so cute when you use those outdated expressions," says Manny, letting her head rest in the crook of his neck.

They stroll further, until they reach a secluded spot, full of smooth rocks and a dirt mound, free of trash and beachgoers. It was one of those spots you happened upon, most likely a prom make-out spot. Then, Manny realizes she never made out during prom, so yeah, not the best comparison. She'd love to do more than make out, and hey, he said green light. Manny stops, leads Toby to the spot, a couple stones shadowing their faces.

"Toby," says Manny, awkwardly trying to make her hair stay still and cute. "Do you...um, have any idea of how you'd like it to be?"

"What to be?" replies Toby.

"Your first time," whispers Manny, kneeling and patting the spot next to her.

She figures she should ask. When she jumped him, that made him amazingly insecure, analyzing his entire image. When she invited him to her room, he was too nervous and they got caught by Snake. And she wanted him to be at ease with the whole thing, even if baby steps is what it takes. But honestly, they should be walking by his birthday; the wait's too agonizing.

"I assume you want it to be private, based on the drive-in debacle, and the barbecue montrosity," says Manny, smiling.

Toby nods, sits. "Private is good. And special. I just want to it to mean...mean everything."

There are those impressive words for the umpteenth time. She's really tempted to forget the private stipulation after that, get horizontal on the sand. No, control, Manny, she thinks.

"Any secret fantasies?" whispers Manny, placing her chin on his shoulder and batting her eyelashes.

"Manny!" exclaims Toby, fiddling with his glasses.

"We all have them," insists Manny. "Come on."

"No...just...you're my fantasy," stammers Toby. "I sound like a dirty phone call."

They both laugh loudly, Manny raising her head. She leans into Toby, who delicately takes her shoulders. He always holds her exactly the way she likes it, not too hard, not too intrusive. Toby kisses her, her stomach in knots. As her fingers dip lower, she's praying she's not being too intrusive, coyly inching up his T-shirt.

"Manny, I don't think...," protests Toby, preventing her from going any further.

"Don't think," whispers Manny. "Listen to the waves...listen to me. I love you."

Manny shrinks back, lifts Toby's shirt slowly, lays it on a rock. Toby grins as Manny rests her hands on his chest. She's glad he doesn't reach for the shirt, Toby putting an arm around her, kissing her intently.

"Manny!" shouts an unfamiliar voice. "Manny Santos!"

Opening her eyes, forehead creased in confusion, Manny breaks her gaze from Toby's, stares at a portly man in a designer denim jacket and black jeans clicking a camera. Toby and Manny flinch as the camera flashes.

"You are her!" cries the man, excitedly. "So much more beautiful in person. Who's the fat fellow? The beau with the belly?"

Her blood runs hot, Manny unable to speak. Who is this guy, and what does he want, and what nerve he has! Every impulse in her body is telling her to chase this coward as he retreats, but she is worried, watching as Toby quickly retrieves his shirt, gets dressed.

Another moment ruined, by some stupid stranger. No way is he getting off the hook.

"Hey!" shouts Manny, running after him, throwing nervous looks back at Toby.

Toby remains rooted to the spot. She'd return, assure him that this guy was a lying idiot that needed to be slapped. The lying idiot laughs heartily, hops into a Ferrari with a license plate that reads SNAPM2. He starts the car, but that won't deter Manny.

"What's your problem?" demands Manny, walking right to the car window.

"Tabloid reporter, baby doll," says the man. "Kevin Smith princess and her burly boy should make for good gossip. You ready for your close-up?"

"I'm not a celebrity!" shouts Manny. "Look, my boyfriend's a little shy...and you're mean and out of line!"

"Then I'm doing my job," argues the man. "Get used to it, sweets."

The man slams his car door hard, speeds away, Manny shaking her head in disbelief. Can't she sue him? She knows people have sued tabloids before. The lack of power and money wouldn't help, however. Then again, hello, she's nowhere near as famous as the people in those magazines. Toby would be so humiliated if they printed anything bad.

Manny viciously wipes the tears falling down her cheeks. This would only make Toby more sad, and she caused it.

She starts towards the spot where she left Toby, hears a loud car screech. Great. Maybe he changed his mind, hopes Manny. Her hopes are dashed, when she views Blake in the driver's seat of a beautiful, silver BMW, grin etched on his smirk-filled face.

"Miranda," greets Blake, driving up to her. "And so...teary-eyed? What's the deal?"

"Why are you here?" snaps Manny.

"Uh...I...I come here to relax," stammers Blake.

Like she wanted to talk to him. Why'd she lead Toby to that spot? This is all her fault.

"This freak took pictures of me and my boyfriend," cries Manny, sniffling.

"What? Like for fun?" asks Blake.

"Without my permission!" exclaims Manny. "For some celebrity mag. A stupid photographer."

"Description?" prods Blake.

"Heavy-set, in black, SNAPM2 plate, Ferrari," lists Manny.

"Ah, celebrity blogger personnel," identifies Blake. "Trash-Talkin' Todd from the sound of it. He is one for picking people apart. Mean to the core."

Mean to the core? Well, she has to do something, if something can be done.

"Any way to stop the press?" says Manny.

"Get in," orders Blake. "They're probably doing a layout now. I've interviewed for them a couple times. I'm influential. We can get those pics pulled."

"For real?" says Manny, her eyes brightening. "Blake, that's..."

"No hassle," assures Blake. "I may ask you for a favor in return."

"Done," promises Manny.

Manny slides into the car, hurriedly putting on her seatbelt. As the BMW leaves the shores of Venice Beach, Blake blasts the air conditioning, whistles, slyly smiles at his onstage girlfriend. She just wants to be a good girlfriend, better than Miranda, and look out for Toby. He wouldn't be verbally attacked anymore, not if she has any say.

Manny stares at Blake from the side, trying not to grimace. His whole body reeks of cockiness, yet he is the sole person that can get her there in no time.

"A promise is a promise," reminds Blake, smirking. "Sit and enjoy the ride."


	24. Splish Splash

**XXIV. Splish Splash**

Splish Splash, I was takin' a bath  
Long about a saturday night, yeah  
Rub-a-dub, just relaxin' in the tub  
Thinkin' everything was alright

Well, I stepped out the tub, put my feet on the floor,  
I wrapped the towel around me  
And I opened the door, and then  
Splish, Splash! I jumped back in the bath  
Well how was I to know there was a party going on

They was a-splishin' and a-splashin',  
Reelin' with the feelin', moving and a-groovin,  
Rockin' and a-rollin', yeah!

Bing bang, I saw the whole gang  
Dancing on my living room rug, yeah!  
Flip flop, they was doing the bop  
All the teens had the dancin bug

There was lollipop with-a Peggy Sue  
Good Golly, Miss Molly was-a even there, too!  
A-well-a, Splish Splash, I forgot about the bath  
I went and put my dancin shoes on, yeah...

I was a rollin' and a strollin', reelin' with the feelin',  
Movin and a groovin', splishin' and a splashin, yeah!

Yes, I was a-splishin' and a splashin'  
I was a-rollin' and a-strollin'  
Yeah, I was a-movin' and a-groovin'...woo!  
We was a-reelin' with the feelin'..ha!  
We was a-rollin' and a-strollin'  
Movin with the groovin'  
Splish splash, yeah!

I was a-splishin' and a splashin' one time  
I was a-splishin' and a splashin'..woo-woo!  
I was a-movin' and a-groovin'...

**Splish Splash is the property of Bobby Darin and appears in the film _You've Got Mail._**

**Thanks to purplebananas777 and Joa for the continuous reviews! **

He'd already bypassed the blanket, staying near the shore, the ocean roaring. It roars so loud it's almost as if it's cracking. From afar, he views Spinner and Emma laughing, Boomer and J.T. tossing a frisbee. Making sure his T-shirt is totally covering his upper body, Toby walks right past the area where minutes before everything was going so well. He felt tempted to hop into his mother's Mercedes, go to the house, and fall into a deep sleep. 

As warm as the sunshine might be, it can't be nearly as warm as the tears cascading down his cheeks. Toby lifts his glasses, wipes his eyes furiously. Hearing insults from his peers, he's used to, but complete strangers? Adults? I must not look decent at all, thinks Toby, and most horrible of all, Manny heard it while he was half-dressed. Before then, they were touching and her lips and fingers felt so smooth, his thoughts dissipating. Manny was fully in his arms, fully with him. The attitudes of Sully, or Justin, or anyone failed to matter. Why'd it have to change?

He spots a picnic table in front of swaying palm trees, crosses the sand, the shade his friend. Not being seen is exactly what he wants right now. Let him cry in peace. Toby sits, hunches his shoulders, stares at the ground. A rolling clatter hits the table, making him turn. His mouth parts as a chess game stares back at him.

"Up for it?" asks Kendra, arching an eyebrow.

Toby looks behind her, sees the footsteps her sandals made in the sand, sure she saw him walking and followed.

"You don't have anything better to do?" says Toby, sniffling.

"No," says Kendra, sitting across from him. "Manny won't mind?"

"She left," replies Toby.

And he has no idea where she went. She chased the photographer, hasn't contacted him in the last hour or so. That's why he decided to leave where they were. When he went to find her, he saw her talking with some tall, model-type guy in a fancy car. Never mind him and the Mercedes.

"Been playing by myself lately," admits Kendra, taking the lid off the game.

"Remembering Rooks and Knights maneuvers of Degrassi, no doubt," says Toby, trying his best to smile.

"Particularly the use of pawns and bishops," assures Kendra. "Hey, keeps my hands busy."

She takes a seat, begins setting up the board, Toby watching her. Her silky, black hair gleams despite the shadows, moves delicately in the air as she sets the black queen on her side. Kendra always chose black. The choice fit her.

"Where'd Manny go?" asks Kendra, shifting the board closer to Toby.

"It's...complicated," answers Toby.

Kendra nods reassuringly, finishes giving Toby all his pieces. "You go."

"Sometimes...sometimes I wish it wasn't...wasn't so complicated," confesses Toby, a lump forming in his throat.

"Manny makes it complicated?" says Kendra, as Toby moves a pawn forward.

"No, it's everything around Manny that makes it complicated," sighs Toby. "I knew that'd be the case before we started dating, but...didn't think it'd be like this. Simple would be nice, every now and then."

A few moments of silence pass, Toby going through the motions, recalling a play he learned in Rooks and Knights, reminiscing a time when their relationship was easy, when they were friends. They weren't concerned with their bodies or what was in their hearts. Kendra manages to knock out one of his knights.

"Curious. What do you guys do on dates?" says Kendra.

"Movies mostly," supplies Toby. "Parties, dances, restaurants. Normal dates."

"Those sound like Manny things," says Kendra. "Does she ever do what you like to do? Comic book stores? The arcade? Anything?"

"She visits Kytel and Computer Club and..."

"Yeah, not hearing what I want to hear," interrupts Kendra, shaking her head. "She can go to an anime convention for once in her life."

"Kendra, she's not like you, okay?" says Toby, too upset to argue anymore with her. "I'm fine...with what we do."

"Sure," mumbles Kendra.

Okay, she did sort of have a point. Their dates were more tailored to Manny, but any date with her meant a lot to him. Plus the stuff like the presidential party and her choreography for the variety show number about their relationship blew him away.

"Princess Mononoke," suggests Kendra, releasing a deep breath.

"What?" says Toby, taking one of Kendra's rooks.

"Manny would like Princess Mononoke," clarifies Kendra.

Toby gives her a soft smile. Manny probably would.

"So are you ever coming back to Toronto?" questions Toby.

"Have no idea," replies Kendra, her forehead scrunching in deep thought. "Toronto has a lot of bad memories. Some good. Mainly with you."

Toby sits up straight, heart moving a little fast. That was the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth after she laid into him at the airport.

"At the airport, you...," begins Toby.

"I was hormonal, irritated," assures Kendra. "It's just...I have so much on my mind. We're having this huge expo in a couple days. Went home to take care of something that needed to be taken care of. It's pretty hard out here, Tobes."

She hasn't called him Tobes in such a long time, and he likes hearing it. The nickname is better than her snapping at him for a mysterious reason. He also hates that the clinics have been hard for her. At Degrassi, she seemed to blossom, and at Gleeson, she became amazing, but Santa Clara, he guesses, is a totally different league.

"You'll do your best, and your best is the best," consoles Toby.

"Still my biggest supporter," sighs Kendra, blushing. "The expo...is open to anybody. You're busy, but if Manny's at camp and you're really, really, really bored..."

They both laugh nervously, Toby moreso. When Manny was at camp, he and J.T. were planning to hang out, but one day, one day wouldn't hurt. He'd have to think on it.

"Absolutely no pressure," promises Kendra, moving her king to another square.

"Really?" says Toby.

"Really...so sick of saying that," says Kendra. "The address is on the official Santa Clara website, and I know you're a MapQuest afficionado."

"Not so much anymore," laughs Toby.

"Pshh, don't try and fool me," waves off Kendra.

"It's true," says Toby. "And...um...checkmate."

Toby motions to the board with his head, his queen in a direct line to take out her king. Kendra lets her face fall into her hands, raises her head, grins at Toby.

"Undeniably brilliant, Isaacs," compliments Kendra. "Unbelievable."

Grinning, Toby gently bumps her king from play, glad he's winning in one aspect of his life today.

"Another game?" he says.

II.

"This whole thing's going to be a game," advises Blake. "It's about who has the upper hand. We'll walk in confidently, go for the gusto."

Manny peers subconsciously into Blake's rear view mirror. How can she be confident? She's wearing a bikini, for crying out loud. When she climbed into his car, she wasn't thinking of her attire, only imagining the pictures gracing a magazine or website, ripping on Toby, her and Toby.

"I can't be smooth and cocky!" cries Manny. "In a bathing suit...no shoes!"

Blake harrumphs, unbuckles his seatbelt, reaching into the backseat for a clean T-shirt and tan swimming trunks, plus designer black flip-flops. Manny takes them, hesitantly.

"Closing my eyes," says Blake, doing so.

Manny hurriedly puts on the clothes and flip-flops, feels like she's wearing her older brother's pool outfit. Pulling the T-shirt over her head made her hair messy too.

"Ready?" says Manny, hand already on the door handle.

"Let's do it!" exclaims Blake, opening his eyes.

Manny and Blake approach a high-price building, resembling a skyscraper in a major city, with grey letters spelling out Juniper Publications on the front. Manny was anticipating a cheesy, inexpensive place, but this looked to be a reputable company. How could such a horrible man be employed there? But Hollywood is full of sharks. She's not that naive to realize he's most likely one of many jerks.

The automatic doors let Blake and Manny pass through, the lack of security very surprising to Manny as the secretary lets them pass through without any trouble. Well, Blake did say he was influential. They go to a see-through elevator, Manny spying a familiar figure in zebra print. Martika.

As the elevator opens, Martika grins widely at them.

"Oh, isn't this a wonderful surprise!" exclaims Martika. "Blake...Manny! I was just discussing both of you."

Blake and Manny glance at each other, Manny awkwardly trying to hike up Blake's trunks.

"Why?" prompts Manny.

"The press package," replies Martika. "The one you guys posed for? It's ready. You two are so stunning together. Camp's definitely going to benefit."

"Has Colleen seen it yet?" asks Manny.

"Um...no one's seen it yet," says Martika. "Except me and the publisher. Blake, I don't have an interview scheduled for you today."

"We're here for Manny," explains Blake. "Some photog creep was bothering her. We're going to make sure they pull a picture."

"No!" cries Martika. "Hmmm, well, there's strength in numbers. I better tag along."

Wow. If Blake was influential, Martika was probably even more influential, and they're willing to do this for her? Manny beams, as all three of them climb into the elevator. Martika presses three, fixes her make-up in her compact as Blake whistles. Neither of them are half as nervous as she is. There's no guarantee Todd will be cooperative. As the elevator reaches the third floor, jumping a little, Manny's heart jumps a little too.

They leave the elevator, Blake navigating past several black cubicles, Manny seeing various magazine covers lining their walls. Brad and Angelina, Reese, Nicole. Yeah, real celebrities. What they wanted with her and Toby, she can't fathom.

"Todd!" calls Blake, going to the very back.

Manny glares at him, baseball cap covering his greasy, curly mop of black hair.

"Blake, baby!" greets Todd. "And...a steaming beach babe."

"Steaming...of course!" shouts Manny. "Ever heard of privacy?"

"Ever heard of making a living," counters Todd. "Releasing it tomorrow on our handy dandy website. Boyfriend should bring it up for ya. He looks like the digital geeky type."

Todd chuckles, shifts the monitor ceremoniously towards Manny. The picture of her and Toby on the sand has indeed been uploaded, but Todd has made some not so nice additions, including arrows pointing to Toby's stomach, eyeglasses, and half-open mouth, Manny leaning into kiss him with a halo over her hair. The headline above reads: What an Angel For Being With A Wimp. Beauty Meets Burly Beach Geek.

"So clever," says Manny, rolling her eyes. "No one pays for you to have a soul, apparently."

"Ouch," groans Todd, playfully. "Hey, I made you look good. For him, it's impossible."

Manny's blood boils, her body going to him. Forget whatever game they were supposed to play. She'd slap him with his own camera.

"Manny," whispers Blake, holding her as she struggles.

Blake's arms are pretty muscular, so it's hard for her to wriggle from his grasp, but she continues to try. Martika, throwing a pained look at Manny, comes forward.

"Todd, surely you can find a more interesting picture," suggests Martika. "Blake and my other clients have provided outstanding interviews and exclusives, helping your magazine gain its popularity in the past few years. Manny is a friends of ours."

Friends? Manny's not sure that's fitting, but if it helps? She'll be their best friend.

"Not a client?" shrugs Todd. "No dice."

"Uh...Manny's interested in being signed with Pinecrest," provides Blake, letting Manny go. "Right, Manny?"

Manny looks from left to right. No, she's not, especially after Lia told her that they weren't the most legit agency. Todd stares at her, waiting for an answer. Manny hikes the trunks again, shakes her head. Maybe if she says yes, that'll get them somewhere.

"Yeah," she lies.

"Got an alternative picture?" asks Todd, gesturing to Blake. "From your club hopping? I want something juicy for a trade."

Blake coughs, unhooks his cellphone from his shorts, pressing the buttons. Scrunching his nose, he finally smiles, presents a picture to Todd.

"Randy Hicks, coke visible," says Blake.

"Wasn't he a co-star of yours?" asks Todd, grinning sheepishly. "That's cold."

"He was a terror on set," groans Blake. "This good enough for a deal?"

Todd strokes his chin, thoughtfully, narrows his eyes at Manny. Please take it, begs Manny inwardly. Please take it. At the same time, she doesn't want this guy Randy to suffer. Talk about being put between a rock and a hard place.

"Wait," says Manny. "This isn't fair to Randy..."

"Done!" interrupts Todd, taking Blake's phone, smacking his lips.

"Excellent," says Martika. "Now, delete the picture, and remember, she has two witnesses that you made this deal."

Todd whistles, the image disappearing as he presses a few keys. Shortly afterwards, Randy's picture appears, a shaggy-haired teenager that resembles J.T. with white powder on his nose and on a nearby table. Manny feels her insides deflate. Lying _and _causing another boy to be embarrassed. Her parents, especially her mother, would be so happy with that.

Blake pats her firmly on the back, steers Manny to the elevator, Martika joining their group.

"We did it," whispers Blake, happily.

"Yeah...yeah," says Manny, half-heartedly. "Thanks...to you both."

"Pinecrest does PR intervention everyday," says Martika. "We take care of our own. I'm not sure what Bluewave does for you...gotten any movies lately?"

Manny shakes herself, trying to get into the conversation.

"No...I'm trying to get more training...," starts Manny.

"Time for training is going to cost you roles," interjects Blake. "I did a pilot on my day off, and memorized Ferdinand's part. You can do that too."

"I'd have to call Colleen," shrugs Manny.

"Or...you could do some auditions for us in the mean time," offers Martika. "I have a lot of contacts."

"Manny, you're not too fond of playing Miranda, are you?" adds Blake. "I've...noticed."

True, Miranda isn't her dream role, but it's a good role. Even Toby thought so.

"Promise me you'll go for some roles you want to," says Blake. "You said you'd do something for me. An audition for a movie with Pinecrest's guidance?"

"Great idea!" exclaims Martika. "I can make some calls."

Calls? Auditions? All of this is happening so fast, not that she's not intrigued. Being with Bluewave wasn't getting her film roles, her ultimate goal. She's struggling with camp, and the scout that was interested in her wanted to do a project that wasn't set in stone. Blake and Martika were kind enough to help her. Then why does it plague her in thinking of saying yes?

"One audition?" encourages Martika, eyes brightening.

"One," says Manny.

Blake and Martika exchange wide grins, Manny following them into the elevator. As the doors shut, and they continue talking, Manny stares at the designer flip-flops, loose and dark on her feet.

III.

This will be her final one. Absolutely her final snowcone, as Emma's frozen mouth slurps the top of the grape ice. Spinner convinced her to try lime, lemon, and grape after a tasty cherry first. In her defense, she believes, she had to occupy herself some way since Manny went missing and the boys surfing. Toby and Kendra split too, and she can't say she's not curious as to why. Did Manny know, and if Manny didn't know, should she tell her? Chances are they're not together.

Emma coughs, massages her cheeks.

"What an innocent addiction," teases Spinner, walking to her, abs glistening behind the blue and black surfboard he's carrying.

"A portion of my paycheck," admits Emma.

"Grape's my drug too," says Spinner. "You ever surf?"

Surf? No. She was more of the staying on the beach variety. Emma figured that Spinner figured that Emma was a beach bunny, what with the blonde hair and the love of the environment. But she's also cautious and doesn't want to drown while hanging ten. Staring at Boomer, securely positioned on a bent board in the distance, Emma grows pale.

"No, right?" understands Spinner.

"You look cool doing it," compliments Emma. "I don't have that kind of control."

"Emma, you're a dancer!" cries Spinner, a wave pummeling the shore underneath his voice. "Requires balance and concentration, same as surfing."

"Water isn't threatening to devour me when I dance," defends Emma.

"Dude, getting hurt dancing and getting hurt surfing are probably equal," consoles Spinner. "Or...not. I don't know the statistics."

Emma laughs, breathes in and out. "Fine. Show me on dry land."

"Awesome," praises Spinner.

Spinner sets his board on the sand, laying it in a secure position. Emma slowly undresses, putting the hat and her jacket on a chair. Taking Emma's hand, Spinner helps her to get on the board, shaking slightly as Emma gets on top.

"After you get a decent position, you begin by paddling, so crouch," instructs Spinner.

Emma crouches, her chin hitting a knee without Spinner detecting it. Good. She doesn't want him to think she's a klutz. Emma spreads her arms, paddling pretend water.

"Nice," compliments Spinner. "Before standing, you should get a sense of the rhythm of the water. That should be easy for you, dancer."

Spinner gently squeezes Emma's nose, Emma instantly shrinking back. It was an involuntary reaction, and Spinner stares at her in astonishment. She's seen that move done...so many times. Snake did that with Jack before he put him to bed. Where did that mental image come from, and why is it making her shake? Emma stands, adjusting her swimsuit incorrectly. Suddenly, not so keen to surf.

"I get it," comforts Spinner.

"You do?" whispers Emma, not sure she gets it.

"Nose...prohibited part of the body," says Spinner, grinning nervously. "Sorry."

"Spin, I'm sorry," says Emma, quickly. "It's not you."

The shaking stops so Emma grabs her jacket and shorts, dressing in under a minute. Is everything going to remind her of the drama she left behind in Toronto? Is she like Manny said...paranoid? Who gets paranoid over her nose being touched by a cute guy?

J.T., Frisbee in hand, jogs to them, making a muscle, barely medium-sized.

"_I am the champion, my friend_," sings J.T., flexing for Emma.

"Can you drive me home?" asks Emma.

"Without Toby?" says J.T., furrowing his brow.

"I can," says Spinner.

"No, don't...don't trouble yourself," says Emma. "Came with my friends."

Spinner's gaze falls, chest heaving sadly. The expression makes Emma's head ache, but she really doesn't feel like getting into it right now. He planned this day for her, and this is what he gets? Her fleeing the scene?

"Toby did give me his keys," says J.T. "Fine. Where's Manny?"

About to speak, Emma's phone rings. A text from Manny, saying she's en route to Venice. Who's driving her? Did Lia and Hannah swing by?

"Manny's on her way back. I'll text her to say we left," says Emma, shouldering Manny's bag and her own.

"Boomer can drop Toby off?" suggests Spinner.

"Thanks," says Emma. "J.T.? Please."

J.T. gives her a worried look, goes to collect his boogie board and a few other items, including Toby's keys, leaving her and Spinner alone.

"We'll make another trip to L.A., maybe," says Spinner, nodding to her.

"Hope so," whispers Emma to him, then walking with J.T. towards the Mercedes.

IV.

Blake's BMW careens towards Sunset, nature's sunset making the sky pink and purple. Normally, she'd love the image, a beautiful display of color before the city came to life in darkness. Whenever she left camp with Lia, she cherished this time of day, because she knows the clubs are prepping, the movie theaters are busy, the actors and actresses are waking from post-business lunch naps. Certainly, Lia knows this world better than her.

Or does she, asks Manny inwardly, staring at a smirking Blake. He's failed to say a word ever since Manny made the agreement. The silence lasts until Blake reaches the Andrews' house. Manny shifts in her seat.

"Is what's his name going to the Starlight Ball with you?" says Blake.

Okay, after the pause in conversation, he asks that? Even if there were no Toby, she wouldn't go with him if he were the last person on Earth. Or rather, in Hollywood.

"I gotta go," replies Manny, jumping out as soon as the car reaches the curb. "Thanks."

Blake's car goes screeching, with no parting words. Still tramping around in these flip-flops that make her feet sore, Manny rings the doorbell. Hannah, blonde hair in multi-colored curlers, answers.

Manny ruffles her hair in Hannah's descent, slowly climbing the stairs. What a bad day. This was her first full day with Toby too. Toby! No, she left her phone in her bag. Emma had to have taken it with her. Manny picks up speed, heading for Edwina's room.

The consistent run of water interrupts her going to her destination, Manny peeking in to see Lia washing her hair in her beautifully decorated bathroom. She had a separate adjoining bathroom to use, glittery and silver and perfect. The mirror was the best attribute, huge and lined in black, like a mirror you'd find in an evil sorceress' room. Hannah didn't like it, since she was princess-addicted, but Lia couldn't get enough of it, checking her hair everyday. Everything appears the same today, except for the smoke coming from a curling iron, resting next to the mirror.

"Coming home to the smell of burnt feathers," says Manny, quietly.

"Hey, Manny," greets Lia, freeing water from her ears over the sink. "Martika Timmons called for you earlier. Why, not sure. Told her you were at Venice."

Press package, thinks Manny. She wonders how nice the picture actually looks, remembering how creepy she found the whole thing. It's possible she had the wrong impression, based on today's events.

"No more straight hair?" says Manny.

"Ariel's more of a curly-haired menace, based on my research," supplies Lia. "Curling because of my perm. Do you think a shipwreck contributor would have sleek tresses?"

"Makes sense," agrees Manny.

"How'd you get home?" asks Lia. "Emma's not here."

"Blake," mutters Manny, sure Lia can detect it anyway.

"Blake Willis!" shrieks Lia. "Manny, that guy's skeevy beyond possible skeeviness. Him and Pinecrest."

Pinecrest didn't seem so skeevy to her, especially after what they just did.

"They're not so bad," says Manny, leaning in the frame of the doorway.

"Barracudas, all of them," condemns Lia, water dripping down her neck. "I'd like to ram Blake with a hot iron, if I ever get the opportunity."

"Or are you mad because Pinecrest didn't give you any opportunities?" argues Manny.

Lia's head immediately shoots up, Manny knowing she's said the wrong thing. And she thought this day couldn't get any worse. Why didn't she tape her mouth shut? Lia angrily shoves the curling iron into its holder, turns the iron off.

"I'm stupid...verbal diarrhea," soothes Manny. "Lia..."

"Be careful, because you have no idea what they do to people," says Lia, collecting a towel and her shower caddy. "Excuse me."

She brushes past Manny, nearly knocking her to the floor as she heads to her bedroom. Manny rubs her forehead, decides it'd be good for her to be far from Lia right now. She goes down the steps, sees the door open, with Emma coming inside.

"Em...is Toby with you?"says Manny, running to her.

"Toby?" mumbles Emma.

Emma's gaze is blank, teary-eyed. Manny puts an arm around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" comforts Manny.

"Ruined my day with Spin...that's what's wrong," answers Emma.

"Seems to be catching," says Manny. "Day with Toby...shot."

"J.T.'s outside if you want to relay a message to Toby," shares Emma.

Rather than continue their talk, Emma runs upstairs, Manny staring after her in confusion. Tempted to follow her, Emma has been all about being alone lately, so maybe later. Besides, if she can catch J.T. and Toby, that'd be good too.

Manny sees the Mercedes starting to pull out, J.T. driving. Where's Toby?

"J.T.!" yells Manny, jogging across the lawn.

J.T. honks, halts the car as Manny reaches him.

"Where's Toby?" asks J.T.

"He left," says J.T.

"Is he alright?"

"Yeah...he called five minutes ago. That driver Fred is taking him to his mom's. Guess we're using him after all."

She desperately wants to see him, tell him he has nothing to worry about with the pictures deleted. He looked so devastated over the Todd incident.

"Wait, so you're getting there before him?" asks Manny.

"Probably," replies J.T.

"Got room for a girlfriend?" negotiates Manny.

"Should be getting paid for this," mutters J.T. "Come on."

V.

Toby fingers the lining of the limo seat, staring past the tinted windows into the evening bustle. If Anne Marie caught J.T. with the Mercedes, he didn't care. If she yelled at him, he didn't care. If Manny failed to call him, he'd care, but pretend that he didn't in front of everyone. The single time he'd felt no pressure? Playing chess with Kendra. By the end, he said he'd look into that website with the expo information. Secretly, he's not planning to go, but after such a good day with her, he could do read about her on there.

Women in high heels and tight dresses go past Toby's line of vision, very attractive women. Were they as beautiful as Manny? No. They are women who want a certain type of guy, however, the guy Manny hopped into the limo with, a guy with a hot car and good looks.

"Mr. Isaacs, we're approaching our destination," says Fred over the intercom.

Not even being called Mr. Isaacs pleases him anymore. Toby uncrosses his legs, views his mother's huge home, stars shining above.

"Thanks, Fred," says Toby into the small window separating them.

"My pleasure," says Fred. "And um...I'd be careful about what you take, if you catch my meaning."

Oh boy, the Mercedes. Why didn't they think Fred wouldn't know? He frequented the garage more than them. Toby chuckles anxiously.

"Uh...yeah," stammers Toby. "Could you not mention that to...my mom?"

"As long as that was the last excursion, yes," promises Fred. "Night, sir."

"Thanks," whispers Toby, leaving the limo.

Going to the gate, he enters the code, then walks to the front door. Ugh, he forgot that J.T. has his keys. Great, he'd be stuck in the yard until his mother came home, unless J.T. is there. J.T. better be there, and the Mercedes better be in the garage. Hmm, he guesses he does care. Toby rings the doorbell repeatedly, J.T. answering after the fourth ring.

"Fred still here?" asks J.T. "Want to go to In-n-Out Burger."

"Okay, weird," says Toby. "Yeah, he's in the driveway."

"Sweet! Um, the Mercedes is safe. And Fred got my call."

"What call?"

J.T. smirks. "You've got company. Upstairs. And Anne Marie's not coming til ten."

Toby scrunches up his face in confusion, moving his mouth wordlessly as J.T. darts past, climbs into the limo, gives Toby the thumbs up. J.T. has either lost his mind or hunger is affecting his brain. Shaking his head, Toby goes inside, closes the door.

"Company?" whispers Toby, as he walks upstairs.

He reaches the hall, hears a small splash of water. From his room? Toby sets his boogie board and everything in his arms near a vase in the hallway. Better to be cautious. Who is in there? Peering past his bed, he sees that the bathroom door is open, the light on, smells a faint, flowery scent. He slowly walks inside, notices that the light isn't really on, only flickers of candlelight making it appear as if the light is on.

Toby sticks his head in, hoping to Adonai he's not interrupting some romantic tryst between his mother and a random guy. He's entirely happy that's far from the truth. Small, shining bubbles line the bathtub, the candles playing against the gold interior of the circle, Manny gazing at him amid warm water and bigger bubbles. Is he still standing, because he feels ready to faint, among other feelings.

"Hi Toby," greets Manny, using a wet hand to tuck some hair behind her soap-covered shoulder.

"This is not happening," breathes Toby.

"Yeah, pretty sure I'm in your tub," says Manny, leaning back against the tub. "Come here."

Toby is motionless, heart experiencing palpitations. He can't move, as much as he'd love to move.

"Nah," says Toby, shifting his eyes.

"I have my bikini on," reassures Manny. "Liberty's hot tub parties. You're used to seeing me like this."

"Not...not like that," disagrees Toby, shyly.

Manny squirms in the tub a bit, Toby listening to the lapping water. She obviously added something to the bath, and the smell is intoxicating. His senses haven't been blinded, and yep, it's roses, the scent that always drove him wild. Sighing, he reluctantly sits at the edge of the tub, focusing on the bubbles opposite Manny.

"I actually want you in," says Manny, moving her body to the right.

The bathtub is huge, and there's space for two. His face turned, he lets Manny undo his watch, set it on the toilet lid nearby.

"Who let you in the house?" asks Toby.

"J.T.," answers Manny. "Do you want to watch me bathe or..."

"Uh," interjects Toby.

"You probably have sand everywhere," says Manny, her wet arm draping over his elbow. "A little soak should do the trick."

Toby sighs, rests his forehead against Manny's. Staring into her eager, brown eyes, he's pretty much lost his resistance. He wishes he didn't have to disrobe, though he knows he's going to have to; he'd never gotten into a tub with a T-shirt on, and didn't know anyone that did. Manny grins appreciatively as Toby stands, takes off his shirt, this time by himself. It was more wonderful when she took it off, but thankfully, the reaction is the same, Manny hunching her shoulders in excitement.

"Not sure I want to smell like flowers," confesses Toby.

Manny giggles, pats the water on the other side of the tub. Toby takes a deep breath, lowers his body into a bevy of bubbles, a couple tickling his nose, glasses fogging up. With Manny this close, he can see the small light in her pupils, the crease of her dimples. He can't help smiling as his trunks bunch around his waist. The water is hot, in a comfortable way. Manny's legs are touching his, their four legs hunched together.

"About today...," begins Manny.

This isn't exactly what he'd like to discuss at the moment. Toby's smile fades.

"There won't be any pictures," informs Manny. "The guy finally got it through his head that we're not networthy."

"It would've been on the Net?" whispers Toby.

"Yeah," says Manny. "Forget him. He's not worth a mention."

That guy may be easy to forget for her, but his words have stayed with Toby. Almost everyone found them a strange fit, laughed at their potential, attacked their differences. Emotionally, it's exhausting, yet emotionally, he wants to be with her. The talk with Kendra didn't come out of nowhere.

His thoughts start to stray as Manny straightens herself, retrieves a loofah, dips it into the bubbles. He can hardly believe when she starts tracing the top of his chest with the loofah, his face going red.

"Do you...do you ever think we're too complicated?" stammers Toby, leaning slightly into the bubbles behind him.

"I like that we're complicated," gushes Manny. "Love isn't supposed to be simple. It's supposed to be flawed, natural."

Toby closes his eyes momentarily, at last finds the courage to meet Manny's gaze, sponge against his skin. Manny comes forward more, her legs over his, sweat at the nape of Toby's neck.

"For instance, everything you're feeling right now...totally natural," whispers Manny. "I know cause I'm feeling it too. You like it?"

"Yes," whispers Toby, leaning into her.

"Good," breathes Manny, gently kissing him.

He's pretty close to breaking right now, the heat of his body a higher temperature than whatever temperature the tub happened to be. As their lips meet, he can see the golden flecks in her eyes, of the candlelight, of the tub. Manny stalls, separating her mouth from his.

"You're so beautiful to me, Toby," says Manny, washing the lower half of his back. "Like your eyes...they search me and I can tell they like what they've found. And your arms are strong and gentle at the same time. Every time you touch me, I keep hoping that's not it."

Toby strokes her neck, staring lovingly at her mouth. How come he believes her, and in the same moment, how can he doubt her?

"Camp's making you into another Shakespeare," says Toby, desperate to kiss her again.

"I wish, Toby Tobes," giggles Manny. "No, but it's honest."

"You like my eyes, even with glasses?" asks Toby.

Manny nods hurriedly. "And your eyelashes."

"Ugh, they're long," complains Toby. "They make me...look innocent."

"Well, the great thing about Shakespeare," says Manny, dipping the loofah into the water, washing his chest again. "Is innocence is very...very sexy."

Toby's breath increases as Manny lets the loofah slide further down his chest, past the bubbles casing the water, below the water. His hands clutch the edge of the tub.

"I mean, people would die to be with the purest person ever," sighs Manny, letting go of the loofah, wrapping her arms around Toby.

"Yeah?" groans Toby, closing his eyes.

"And to die back then?" whispers Manny into his ear. "Meant to be sexually fulfilled."

He can't take it anymore, bringing his hands from the edges of the tub to hold her.

"You're driving me insane," sighs Toby.

"Toby," breathes Manny, pressing into him, letting him kiss her deeper.

Needing no further instruction, he kisses her furiously, water swirling around them with each movement of their lips, each breath in between. She's soft as wet silk in his arms, priceless, petite. He isn't alone. They're alone. Toby cradles her in his arms, Manny sighing against him. Insane may be too demure a word.

"Toby!" shouts a distant voice. "Toby!"

That's not Manny. The call is more shrill. Admittedly, he hasn't lost that much sanity.

"I can't be that insane," mumbles Toby, turning his head from Manny.

Using the last of his willpower, Toby rises out of the water, traipses across the floor, Manny staring at him in confusion. He tip-toes to the top of the staircase, gulps as he views his mother all the way down. No, no, no, he repeats in his head, grabbing a towel from the beach items he deposited in the hallway.

"Toby?" calls Anne Marie. "I...I heard footsteps. Let me know if it's you."

He's trapped, anyway. Manny's more trapped than he is, and he has to help her leave.

"It's me!" exclaims Toby, hearing a small gasp coming from his bedroom, and a big splash of water.

Manny has clearly left the tub.

"J.T. said you weren't coming home until ten," says Toby, hoping it's loud enough to carry.

"I wasn't," says Anne Marie. "We were auditioning, until we noticed one was missing. Had to check the mail for an audition video. The inexperienced little actor mailed it here. Can you believe that?"

"Weird," says Toby. "Um...have you eaten yet?"

"Half a sandwich for lunch," kids Anne Marie. "You want to eat dinner together, like last night?"

"Sure," replies Toby, sight nervously darting towards his bedroom door.

"Let me go to my room and change then," says Anne Marie, excitedly.

She starts up the staircase, Toby's heart thumping, drips of water streaming down his chest. He wraps the towel over his trunks before Anne Marie approaches.

"Toby...you were taking a bath, and I interrupted you?" exclaims Anne Marie. "I am such a goof."

"That's...that's fine," says Toby.

"Your hair isn't even wet," laughs Anne Marie.

"Was going to get shampoo from J.T.'s room," lies Toby. "He was borrowing it."

"Well, you can't very well borrow mine," says Anne Marie, hands on her hips. "So why not take a couple seconds, peruse a take out menu, and finish your bath?"

Anne Marie grins, grabs Toby's wet hand, and they both go to the main floor, headed towards the dining room.

"Glass of wine," mumbles Anne Marie to herself, trudging to the kitchen.

Now's my chance, or her chance, thinks Toby. He races to the foyer, spies Manny peering shyly over the banister on the top floor. He motions for her to come down. Her outfit's pretty strange, what appears to be boys' clothes and pricey flip-flops. She may've borrowed the clothes from J.T., and the flip-flops from Lia. Manny bounds down the stairs, wide-eyed, panicked.

"I'm so sorry," sighs Manny.

"Shhh," soothes Toby, leading her through the front door.

With Manny outside, he retrieves his cell and money from his wallet. He's grateful to find some American money, dials Fred's number. Fred answers in a flash, Toby detecting J.T.'s loud chewing in the background.

"Need you to give my girlfriend a lift," he says. "Huge tip guaranteed."

"Certainly," says Fred.

Before Fred clicks off, he hears the tires squeal, so he guesses it won't be too long.

"Mom, I'll get the chicken salad!" he yells, praying that's on the menu.

"Eh, that's not very good. Have you ever tried their chicken and couscous?" calls Anne Marie.

"No...sounds good," replies Toby.

"Calling!" chirps Anne Marie, hopefully.

Sighing with relief, he steps into the night, finds Manny lurking behind a bush. Manny pulls the oversize T-shirt protectively around her frame. Strange, because that's what he was anxious to do earlier today. They were alike in ways others couldn't see. He grins.

"So embarrassed," whispers Manny. "I wanted to make the night memorable, would've left if it got too awkward."

"Tonight was perfect...until the end," says Toby.

The same white dog Toby encountered yesterday walks across the lawn, stares at Manny for a second, strolls right on past them and into the foyer.

"Hey, he didn't like me," says Toby, securing his towel.

"Probably feels sorry for the poor girl in the shadows," says Manny, smiling slightly.

He's glad she's returning to her cheery self, glad that she came to do this for him, even with the interruption.

"Your mom's so busy," whispers Manny. "It's nice she's making time for you."

"Barely," says Toby, crossing his arms. "She did ask to have lunch with us."

"Then I definitely don't want her to meet her tonight!" whispers Manny, urgently.

"No...yeah, some other time," says Toby, glancing at the front door nervously. "If she can fit us into her hectic life."

"She can't be all business," assures Manny.

"The dog's name is Xerox," shares Toby, sarcastically.

Manny laughs, covers her mouth when the volume rises. They both toss grateful glances as the gate parts, and Fred waves to them from the limo.

"Night, Manny," says Toby.

He takes her hand, kisses it gently. Manny's cheeks go crimson, pushing Toby playfully away. She jogs quietly to the limo, quickly closes the door after her. J.T. gets out, says bye to Manny, and yawns.

"Toby in a towel," jokes J.T. "That'll give me nightmares."

The gate closes as the limo speeds away, Toby watching sadly. J.T. drags Toby to the front door.

"Oh, J.T.," says Anne Marie, as they enter the house.

"Toby was letting me in," explains J.T., giving Toby an amused smile. "Very cautious too. You never know. Could've been one of those uninvited nightly visitors."

"Pests," mutters Anne Marie. "Just...pests."

__


	25. Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

**XXV. Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now**

**Looking in your eyes, I see a paradise.  
This world that I found is too good to be true.  
Standing here beside you, I want so much to give you this love in my heart that I'm feeling for you  
Let them say we're crazy.  
I don't care about that.  
Put your hand in my hand, baby, don't ever look back.  
Let the world around us just fall apart.  
Maybe we can make it if we're heart to heart.  
And we can build this thing together, stand in stone forever, nothing's gonna stop us now.  
And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other.  
Nothing's gonna stop us, nothing's gonna stop us now.  
I'm so glad I found you, I'm not gonna lose you, whatever it takes to stay here with you.  
Take it too the good times, see it through the bad times.  
Whatever it takes is what I'm gonna do.  
Let them say we're crazy.  
What do they know?  
Put your arms around me, baby, don't ever let go.  
Let the world around us just fall apart.  
Baby, we can make it if we're heart to heart.  
Oh, all that I need is you.  
All that I ever need.  
All that I want to do is hold you forever, forever and ever. **

And we can build this thing together, stand in stone forever, nothing's gonna stop us now.  
And if this world runs out of lovers we'll still have each other.  
Nothing's gonna stop us, nothing's gonna stop us now.

And we can build this thing together, stand in stone forever, nothing's gonna stop us now.  
And if this world runs out of lovers we'll still have each other.  
Nothing's gonna stop us, nothing's gonna stop us now.

**Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now is the property of Starting Line and appears in the film Mannequin. **

**Iris is the property of the Goo Goo Dolls.**

"Tough break," sighs J.T., setting his In-N-Out burger on Toby's computer desk.

Toby, dressed in a polo shirt and jeans for dinner, flops on his bed, stares at the blue ceiling. It's hard to believe Manny was here moments before, in his room, in his bathtub. Then, Anne Marie came and botched it. Dinner was uneventful too, with Anne Marie consistently complaining about the actor that made her come home. He has some complaints too.

"Sort of deja vu," says J.T., pulling out a bag of fries. "Liberty and I got busted when her dad barged in on our steamy liaison. Happens to the best of us, Tobes."

"At least we didn't get caught," says Toby, rising. "My mom's definitely the type to get on my dad's case, then she might call the Santoses, who would kill me."

"And gone will be the days that they liked you," laughs J.T.

Toby winces as J.T. lifts the burger bun, smashes a few fries into the cheese of the burger, and lowers the bun. His friend has the most interesting taste in food, especially junk food, yet somehow manages to stay thin. J.T. smacks his lips, bites into it.

"Where were you earlier?" inquires J.T., through a mouthful of meat.

"Huh?" says Toby. "Oh. With Kendra."

J.T. begins to cough, lettuce at the sides of his mouth.

"Eww," murmurs Toby.

"Why would you hang with your ex-girlfriend...with Manny blissfully unaware?" says J.T., after wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"We were playing chess, talking," defends Toby, weakly.

"You and her have been talking for awhile," points out J.T. "Manny still has no idea. Not good, man."

Yeah, he knows it's not good. It's just when he and Kendra got together, it was fun reminiscing about old times and he didn't have to think about huge things, like religion and his body and sex. Sex.

"Also not good," says Toby, standing awkwardly next to J.T. "The mood...definitely right. The preparation...not right."

"Um, no,"says J.T. "Manny and I searched high and low for that flowery bubble bath and those candles. If I weren't friends with both of you, I would've run screaming for the hills."

"Not that," whispers Toby, urgently.

"Be clearer."

"The condoms. I didn't have them on me."

J.T. laughs, wipes his hands, walks to Toby's suitcase. He told J.T. he packed them, but not where, yet somehow J.T. has located the right bag. Unzipping the bag, J.T. finds a side pocket, retrieves the package.

"First mistake, Tobes?" says J.T. "They don't go in your luggage, alright? You never know when it's spontaneous."

"How'd you know where to...," begins Toby.

J.T. shakes his head, finds the other item he's looking for.

"After sharing a locker with you, it was cake," says J.T. "Now, second mistake, you put them on your person where you can easily get one. In other words, you put them in a wallet. That way, you'll have them when you're both ready."

Toby wordlessly views J.T. take two wrapped condoms and place them into the one of the pockets of his wallet. Wow, J.T. was disorganized with everything else, but not this. Toby nods appreciatively as his friend gives him the wallet.

"Thanks, J.T.," says Toby, sticking it firmly in his pocket.

"It's all good in the hood," replies J.T.

They laugh, Anne Marie's voice breaking through. What did she want this time? He swears he can't sit through dessert with her too. He's tired and can actually sleep in tomorrow as Manny had camp and J.T. wasn't an early bird either.

"Great," says Toby, leaving the room, along with J.T., who goes to his own.

Trumping down the stairs isn't as nerve-wracking as it was earlier. That doesn't mean he's more excited to see her. Anne Marie sits on a beautiful, faux leather couch, legs propped on a table, white silk robe over her body. He can see why his father fell in love with her; she looked classy. It was the personality that seemed to grate on his nerves.

"Hi," greets Toby, walking past the table.

"Sit," instructs Anne Marie, jovially.

Xerox waddles into the room, hops on the other side of the couch, stares at Toby. He lays his head on Anne Marie's lap.

"How are you enjoying yourself so far?" she asks.

Well, this conversation isn't starting so bad.

"Great," replies Toby, shrugging.

"Excellent. That's what I told your father," says Anne Marie, letting her arms go over Toby's shoulder.

Toby instantly tenses, not only because Jeff was mentioned, but because her touching him is way too foreign to take. The dog looks more comfortable than he does.

"You talked to Dad? When?" asks Toby.

"Oh, he seemed to believe you'd start acting out here," admits Anne Marie. "Rebellion and what not. I said to him, we know our Toby. He's safe and sweet and respectful."

Okay, what is she getting at, and did Fred tell her anything? Please don't let this be a guilt trip, groans Toby inwardly. The car thing? He promised never to do that again. Manny? Alright, he loved that, but he didn't suggest it. As far as being a rebel, he wasn't that slick.

"So he's bound to have a sweet and respectful girlfriend," continues Anne Marie.

She knows! It is the Manny thing, his worst fears come to life.

"Kendra is a hard act to follow," says Anne Marie, more to herself.

"No one upstages Manny," offers Toby, then producing the dorkiest laugh imaginable.

Even if he got grilled, he didn't want Manny's name to get tarnished. Joseph and Maria would never look at him the same way again. Ever.

"That's why I need to meet Manny," cries Anne Marie enthusiastically, standing and making Xerox leap.

What? So all that worrying for nothing? Toby massages his temple, smiles weakly, as Anne Marie fetches her Blackberry.

"I'm thinking...Koi," gushes Anne Marie. "It's so...you."

He's not certain what that means, but to avoid being under scrutiny, he'll go along with it.

"Sure," agrees Toby.

"We can have lunch there tomorrow," proposes Anne Marie. "What's her camp schedule?"

"She's emailing it to me, actually," informs Toby.

"A proficient girl. I like that," compliments Anne Marie, pressing a few buttons on her Blackberry. "You have my cell to confirm."

"What's Koi?" asks Toby.

"Sushi," replies Anne Marie. "We should get a table in the middle if Jamon is working...yes, that would be satisfactory. Dress should be summery formal. No tennis shoes."

Wow, the way she talked this was one of her casting agency functions.

"No tennis shoes," agrees Toby, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

"I'll make the arrangements and you contact Manny or is it Manuella? Which does she prefer?" remarks Anne Marie.

"Manny," insists Toby.

"Perfect," says Anne Marie, walking towards the kitchen. "Good night, Tobemeister."

Tobemeister? That's more annoying than J.T.'s French fry condiments. What's more annoying, and he hates feeling this way, is that well, there was no hug goodnight. He hugged her yesterday. Maybe it's harder for her to do it. That would make sense.

Once he's upstairs, Toby immediately turns on the computer, closes the bedroom door. In Toronto, Jeff would purposely come into his bedroom and try to eavesdrop on the IM messages between his son and Manny. What did he expect? Toby guesses his dad thought that would be the equivalent of some raunchy exchanges. They were all innocent, however. Which is pathetic, admits Toby, as he types in the password for his e-mail.

Two new messages. One was from Manny, and the other, from an e-mail he's never seen before. He'd clear away the spam first, clicking on the message.

"Testing...testing...1...2...3," reads the mysterious message.

There's no name underneath, and the first words of the address are eaglerabbiofdoom. Toby narrows his eye in confusion, then remembers letting Justin have his address. What a strange first message, though it's a strange situation, isn't it? At least Justin isn't being rude. Better to save it, find out if it's him, and reply later.

Toby brings up Manny's schedule, grinning as he reads the dates for the opening performance, rehearsals, and the Starlight Ball. She bolded the Starlight Ball, so whatever that is, must be pretty important. Seeing that she's working so hard thrills him, printing the schedule as he hits reply. Despite the craziness of her schedule, she did get an hour for lunch tomorrow, and if the theater's not too far, maybe she can go. If not, they'd do it the next day.

"Here's hoping," whispers Toby, pressing the send button after writing the details.

Exactly. Here's hoping they mix as well as Anne Marie and Kendra did, here's hoping she won't be mad when he tells her he's been talking to Kendra, and here's hoping for another night where the wallet will come in handy.

II.

Manny yawns, pours another cup of steaming coffee, sets it gently on a tray. Because of Emma, she'd become more acclimated to the general kitchen area, helping occasionally with the meals, discovering where most people kept their products, dishware, and coffee. The Andrews have a lot. If you piled up all the kitchen items, you'd have a tower taller than Hannah.

The green numbers of the microwave clock read seven fifty-four. That's right. She rose just for Lia, and she better appreciate it. Though, Manny's well aware she didn't appreciate what she said to Lia yesterday. That was a bumbling mess, throwing her history with Pinecrest in her face. She lived under her roof, taking advantage of the Andrews' hospitality, and quite a few gifts from Lia, with no expectations that Manny would pay her back.

Manny hears some light shuffling, puts on her usual cheery disposition, goes to the foyer with tray in hand. She's startled to see Kel Andrews positioning a vase of white and gold roses on the center table. Yes, Lia told her he did that every morning, but Manny was usually asleep at this hour. In fact, he always came in when Manny was sleeping, early morning or late at night. Until this moment, he had been pretty much a phantom, a voice on a cellphone or a name tossed by Lia and Colin. Kel is handsome, tall, brown hair that fell in the right way, sharp-dressed in a black Gucci suit and designer Italian shoes. Thankfully, unlike Blake, he didn't have a smarmy demeanor to go with his good looks. He welcomes Manny with a wide grin.

"The ever talented Ms. Santos!" says Kel. "What made you rise so early?"

"Favor for a friend," answers Manny, shyly.

"Emma, I presume," guesses Kel. "That's sweet. Doing favors in this business is like brushing your teeth. Beneficial to you and healthy in its repetitiveness."

Manny timidly shifts her feet. "Okay."

"Hannah assessed Emma in a pretty flattering fashion, so thanks for that," says Kel, as he finishes fooling with the roses.

"Two blondes instantly bond," jokes Manny.

Bad joke, she thinks. Really bad jokes. Why'd she always do that with guys she found attractive?

"I love roses too," shares Manny to cover the discomfort.

"Ursula loved them," explains Kel, eyes growing distant and sad. "I bought them for her when Lia was born, and then with Hannah. The batch with Hannah...don't think she saw those."

Manny lets the tray in her hands lower, surprised to hear the first hints of what happened to Lia's mother. It vaguely sounded as if she got sick around the time of Hannah's birth. That or she's a pretty bad detective, not that she wants to dig.

Kel clears his throat, smiles jovially. "Well, your mother told me she was a big fan of lilies."

"Yes," says Manny, grateful for the change in subject. "Those were her wedding flowers. White and yellow lilies. They're all over Manila. My grandmother wore one every day."

"We were discussing one of the films my company produces," says Kel. "Maria said there were more likely to be lilies in the film's courtyard than geraniums. Your mom's very smart. A little quiet, but smart."

She's glad he thought so, but now whenever someone brings up her mother, her role as Miranda enters her mind. The lines are all memorized, and Manny has yet to find the enthusiasm, even with Arissa's encouragement.

"It's so nice when you have a family rooted in culture," sighs Kel. "You must be so proud of your heritage."

I am, thinks Manny. Not as much as my parents, or J.J. J.J. has a great Philippines flag hanging in his room, and her mother knows the traditional dishes, and Joseph could tell you any historical fact you wanted to know about his native homeland. It's not like she didn't try, either. She's always nice when they go visit Manila, and she helped make food too. Of course, she didn't know how to make them from scratch and she hasn't been to Manila lately. Manny smiles politely at Kel.

"Dad!" calls a voice from the staircase.

Clad in silk, black pajama shorts, and a matching top, Lia comes down, hair in curlers.

"Hi, sweetie," says Kel, failing to look her in the eye as he gently hugs her.

"I need a gown," returns Lia.

"Send me an image and the cost," replies Kel, straightening his tie.

Lia glowers at him. "It won't be too low-cut. Trust me."

"I want to see it before I buy it," replies Kel. "The dress you wore for your bah mitzvah was too racy."

"Strapless is not racy!" cries Lia. "Are you saying hi to Gremlin?"

"Don't call your sister that," orders Kel.

"At least I call her," murmurs Lia, though clearly wanting her father to catch it.

"I called Hannah yesterday, for your information," defends Kel. "She wasn't feeling too social so it was brief. We're not all like Manny here."

Kel and Manny exchange smiles, Lia rolling her eyes.

"Good thing," says Lia, shaking her head at Manny.

"Show some courtesy, young lady," says Kel, sternly, brushing past Lia. "Manny, I apologize. And I'd be more than willing to pay for your gown as well. They're quite expensive."

Manny doesn't have time to reject the idea, as Kel disappears into the living room, fetching a tailor-made briefcase. Staring anxiously at Lia, Manny offers her the tray. Lia snickers, chooses to instead follow her father. Manny tip-toes to the doorway.

"Dad, tell Manny about Pinecrest," says Lia, grinning from ear to ear.

"Pinecrest?" bristles Kel, finally looking at Lia. "Why?"

"She's fraternizing with the enemy," answers Lia.

"They're very cutthroat, Manny," says Kel, concern etched on his face. "If you're looking for new representation, our company interacts with an agency that is more open-minded and accomplished...their clients are in family fare, like your mother enjoys and..."

"Yeah, so family-friendly," interrupts Lia, smirking. "Particularly family-related affairs. It's nice when the head of the company sets the standards, right, Dad?"

Kel closes his eyes, Manny seeing him seethe from right there. Lia obviously touched a nerve. What's this about affairs? And is Pinecrest that bad? She's lost, completely lost. The only clear expression is the hurt one on Kel's face, as he backs silently from the room, rushing to the front door, slamming it.

"Lia?" says Manny.

Lia approaches Manny, takes the coffee.

"We'll send him an image of your gown," instructs Lia. "I'll make him pay."

III.

"If he tells you to lay down and growl like a panther, what are you going to do?" inquires Craig, holding the door open for her.

"That's only in the movies," dismisses Ashley.

Once she enters the black studio doors, she breathes a sigh of contentment. Grips walk along costume racks, lights, as a photographer checks the light against the backdrop. It's not Ashley's photographer, though, as it's a woman and the phone message said it'd be a man. Wow, she actually has a photographer. From a studio! Black curtains shade other backdrops, cameras moving on dollies, employees biting greedily into bagels. Her dad used to be on television, and they toured BBC when she was an intern, but it's so different when you're going to be the center of attention.

"Ashley Kerwin!" calls a pleased man, shorter than her with a crude, thick, black ponytail.

Starting now, thinks Ashley, excitedly, casting a look at Craig. The photographer kisses her on both cheeks, his camera poking Ashley's chest.

"Oh, you're not a model. You actually have breasts," jokes the photographer.

Ashley laughs nervously, Craig staying silent.

"Um, this is my boyfriend," says Ashley. "Can he watch?"

"I will stay completely quiet," promises Craig, saluting him.

"Then get off my set," says the photographer, then chuckling. "No, we're all compadres on the tour."

"Cool," sighs Craig. "I used to take pictures too."

"Excuse me," protests the photographer, this time not joking. "I don't take pictures. I take moments, media that pokes at the mind, images that inspire. Pictures? Meh. Make-up!"

This guy's a real charmer, thinks Ashley, frowning as the photographer goes to his camera. She wraps a reassuring arm around Craig's waist. Craig pats her hand, and they jump when they hear the woman Ashley noticed earlier.

"Make-up!" she yells in a strong British accent, grabbing Ashley's hand.

With no small talk, she positions Ashley in a chair, moves to let a different man stare at Ashley's reflection in the make-up mirror. Ashley spies Craig peering at her from a distance.

"Hello," offers Ashley.

"Lovely," comments the man. "I'm Pedro."

"Pedro, I'm Ashley," she says.

"Let's make you a little more lovely, shall we?" sighs Pedro. "So what's your story? If you can give it to me in five minutes flat, kudos."

Pedro begins taking out blush, concealer, foundation, and some pretty strong colors in terms of eyeshadow and lipstick. Ashley hasn't worn that deep a red since her first days in London, with Ali.

"Not too strong, please?" says Ashley, nodding to the make-up.

"Nonsense," argues Pedro, cheerfully. "It'll make those lips pop. If you're standing next to Mark Kennick, you're going to need a little pizzazz."

"Oh, no one told me I'd be posing with Mark," says Ashley, blushing.

She hasn't seen Mark since the night at the bar. Wow, to pose with a signed musician? Who arranged that? Perhaps working at BB6 was opening all these doors for her, more doors than the other concertgoers. This just means she has to look amazing in the photographs. They were relying on her for press, like with the TV newscast.

"The usual reaction," diagnoses Pedro, starting to comb her hair. "Mark Kennick sends girls' hearts all a flutter."

"Nah," says Ashley.

"Oh, come on," encourages Pedro.

"Only one guy sends my heart a flutter," assures Ashley.

Ashley waves at Craig, who returns it, slipping into a chair opposite the set. The arrangement stinks. They can't talk from here.

"I asked for the story," sing-songs Pedro, staring at the purple strands. "Hmm."

"Sad truth is I have no story," confesses Ashley. "This is my first big gig. My boss liked the songs, gave me a spot. They haven't been performed live."

"After I'm done with you, you'll look good and that'll be half the battle," consoles Pedro.

Ashley smiles, lets Pedro work his magic. She's never had her hair pulled so many times, her face so attended to, nor her wardrobe so scrutinized by the woman, apparently nameless, who liked to yell. Craig patiently waited as promised, watching the equipment go by, smiling at Ashley when she smiled at him.

"Here's what we're doing," says the nameless woman as Pedro doused her hair with hair spray.

Ashley coughs, tries to pick up what she's saying.

"Mark will be in the Prada leather jacket, and the Calvin Klein shirt and pants. Ashley will be in the blue Betsey Johnson dress with lace sleeves," she continues.

"That sounds good," compliments Ashley, demurely.

"Betsey looks good on young girls," says the woman. "Pedro, her hair's away from the face?"

"Yes, ma'am," guarantees Pedro, spinning Ashley around.

Immediately, her eyes shooting up, Ashley barely recognizes the person staring back at her. The deep pink blush Pedro applied make her cheeks look like targets, and the red lipstick, though expertly done, made her feel twenty-seven at least. She can't blame them, because she tried to look older at the bar. It's okay. Standing next to Mark, she has to look like his contemporary, not his daughter. Plus, during the tour, Aja, someone she was closer to, would be styling her hair differently. Get through today, and all is well.

The nameless woman guides her to a partition where she views the Betsey Johnson hanging on a mannequin. As a few other nameless people, two girls and a guy, help her into the dress she can identify with the mannequin. The dress is scratchy, and Ashley whimpers as they make it as tight as possible by adding a blue belt.

"Mark's on set!" cries the photographer through the curtain.

Ashley winds her head around the curtain, views Mark, already in his outfit, sipping a latte. Yeah, it's obvious he's been on more than one photo shoot.

"Ashley, we're ready for you," calls the photographer.

Taking a deep breath, Ashley steps into a pair of heels that make her toes hurt, wobbles to the set. The set is fairly plain, perfect for a more simplistic tour promo. She totters, falls into Mark's shoulder.

"Ashley Kerwin!" exclaims Mark. "You can't fall from grace before your first album. Don't get ahead of us."

"These shoes," explains Ashley, going to the center.

Mark joins her, sliding an arm around her waist. Uh, yeah. She could do that to Craig, and Craig could do that to her. Strangers? Have to get permission.

"Mark, maybe you could back up a little and...," starts Ashley.

"No, that's what I like," says the photographer. "Mark knows what I like. Go with the flow."

Ashley's eyes fall to his hand, which rests right above her butt. She spies Craig wriggling in his seat from there, a frown forming. Should she say she's uncomfortable? Then, people would think she's a kid. Ashley works up the nerve to smile, face the camera.

"It's looking a bit prim," says the photographer, wincing. "Ashley, place your hand on Mark's chest."

She does so. Eh, that's not bad. When she posed for graduation pictures, she did the same with Spinner.

"And I'd like the dress unbuttoned...two at the top," continues the photographer.

The nameless woman, fast becoming Ashley's least favorite person, scuttles to Ashley, delicately undoes two buttons, a hint of her bust showing. Ashley's cheeks go as red as they can underneath all the blush.

"You're alright," whispers Mark, pulling her closer. "A little sex appeal never killed a show, did it?"

"Gorgeous!" cries the photographer, giving them the thumbs up.

"Now, smile and look pretty," whispers Mark to her, as the first flash bounds across the room.

Every expression she conjures hurts, as much as her feet and her waist. That becomes unbelievably apparent as Craig leans back in his chair, a frown for every bruised smile.

IV.

"Makizushi...kappamaki...chirashi," mutters Manny, pacing the theater parking lot. "Sushi for Dummies 101."

Or that's what Lia called the list she gave Manny. Lia was still pretty mad at her, but softened when Toby was mentioned. Manny opened the e-mail this morning, responded after the Lia/Kel verbal smackdown, and luckily, Toby dialed her right before camp so she could grab a change of clothes.

Manny opens her velvet black purse, her priciest purchase from her movie money, besides all the things for Toby's presidential bash. It went well with her black minidress, silver straps covering her shoulders. The purse also held her lipstick, mascara, her cell, fifty bucks, and her charm bracelet. She hopes Toby isn't too offended by her putting it in there. Looking clean and simple appeared to her, and she'd already put on these huge, chandelier earrings for adornment.

"At least I'll match Fred's limo," shrugs Manny, twisting her lips.

Sure enough, the limo is a perfect match as it stalls in front of the theater. A limo for her! Well, her and Toby, which is better. Fred climbs out of the limo, holds the door open for her.

"You look splendid, Ms. Santos," says Fred, ruffling his white hair.

"Thank you, Fred," says Manny.

As sweet as Fred is, he's not the guy she most wants to see today. Manny hurriedly gets inside, Fred closing the door after her. Toby beams, lacing his fingers with hers. He looks so impeccable in a black suit, white dress shirt underneath with a silk, tan tie.

"I was tempted to get out for you, but was afraid I'd faint," says Toby, rubbing his thumb against hers.

"Dressed like that, maybe I should've opened the door for you," returns Manny, blushing, fiddling with her purse.

"Thanks for coming," says Toby.

"Can't believe I'm meeting Anne Marie Isaacs," sighs Manny. "My boyfriend's mom."

When she received the e-mail, she shook with anticipation, because one, Anne Marie must've cleared her schedule for this, and two, after meeting her, she can honestly say she's met all of Toby's family. That's a huge deal to her. The meeting suggested that he's proud of her, and part of his dearest and closest.

"Do you like sushi?" asks Toby.

"No, but I love you so...," replies Manny, scooting closer to her.

"You'll be hungry," insists Toby.

Manny lays her head on her shoulder. "I'll eat the rolls."

She's really too nervous to eat. Is there reason to be? The vast majority of Toby's relatives were nice to her, and Ashley left her alone. Why should his mom be any different?

"What's this Starlight Ball about?" asks Toby.

"It's like a camp gala or whatever," answers Manny. "I get to choose who to bring and you may've noticed that I bolded it. Hint hint."

Toby grins. "Well, I'd only say no if you used one of those ugly fonts. But really who are you going to invite?"

Manny playfully slaps him, Toby laughing.

"The boy who looks good in bubbles," whispers Manny, draping her leg over Toby's.

That had to be one of the most unforgettable nights of her life, and they didn't even get that far. The rush was bigger than when she won Miss Degrassi, touching him where she usually didn't, where he wouldn't let her before. He was driving her insane too. Manny unfurls her fingers, traces her index finger along Toby's mouth.

"Manny!" whispers Toby.

"Can you raise that divider thing?" whispers Manny, gesturing towards the small window where Fred has his eyes focused on the road.

Toby nods, presses the button, and they hear the electric sound of the window closing off Fred from them.

"You're going to get me in a heap of trouble one of these days," sighs Toby, moving both her legs onto his lap.

"A heap?" gasps Manny.

"A heap," repeats Toby.

"Who me? Getting boys in trouble?" whispers Manny.

"Doesn't mean it doesn't feel good," says Toby, chuckling.

"Yeah, so how much is a heap exactly?" sighs Manny.

Manny pulls him to her by the tie, Toby apparently not minding at all. He places a hand on her waist, as the limo veers left. She arches her shoulders as Toby's hands go through her hair as their mouths find each other. He's ruining it, but she'd fix it later, gently kneading his back.

"So basically heavy-duty make out sessions are part of the heap," says Manny, beginning to slide off his jacket.

Toby responds without words, kissing her neck attentively. Manny grins, twirls his tie in blank euphoria. Ugh, whenever the neck got it, she lost it.

"Koi," says a light voice over the intercom.

"What?" whispers Manny, startled to see the tie come off in her hands.

The short answer to that comes due to a light illuminating them, sunshine from the car door being forced open. A startled gasp enters her ears, a feminine gasp. She was praying it was Fred at first. That was foolish. The hair's red, she's wearing heels, and she has the most disgusted look Manny's ever seen.

"Toby!" cries Anne Marie.

Toby separates from Manny apologetically, eyeglasses askew. Manny straightens her dress, grabs her purse, and leaves the limo, face to face with Anne Marie. Her eyes burn a hole right through Manny's, as she releases a long, heavy breath.

"Mom," greets Toby, as Manny absent-mindedly hands him the tie.

Well, she didn't know what else to do, Toby tying it quickly.

"This is some entrance," says Anne Marie, glaring at Manny.

That glare is ten times worse than any of the ones thrown at her by Heather or Chante or anyone. Why didn't she lock the limo door instead of flirting with him? Plus the drive was so short.

"Um, this is Manny," introduces Toby, patting around for something. "Oh, my jacket."

Both women stare as Toby retrieves the jacket, puts it on, Anne Marie offering a kinder look to her son. She won't be dolling those out to me today, thinks Manny, shouldering her purse. Anne Marie goes past them, starts to talk in hushed tones with Fred.

"Your hair," mutters Toby, indicating to Manny that it's sticking up.

"Oh," says Manny, smoothing the top.

"Nice," reassures Toby. "This is...this is okay. She'll be mad for a few minutes and..."

"Yeah," whispers Manny.

Or a few hours. A few days. A few months. A few years, based on the cold stare Anne Marie supplies before waltzing to the front door of Koi, holding the door for them. Fred appears anxious to leave. Take me with you, she wants to shout at him.

Toby instinctively grabs Manny's hand, his palms as sweaty as hers. Manny detects a low groan as they pass Anne Marie. Man, the lack of sushi knowledge is going to be the least of her problems.

V.

This reminds him of one of these weird family dinners in holiday movies, where there are all these secrets ready to be exposed, like the aunt's in love with the soon-to-be-fiancé of her sister, or the oldest son crashed the father's car. The thing is, of course, that he and Manny were exposed about twenty minutes ago. There isn't much else.

Anne Marie shakes the ice in her glass of water, her expression remaining just as icy. Manny's eyes go down the menu for the millionth time. Toby squeezes her hand under the table, and Manny gives him a hesitant smile.

"What are you guys getting?" questions Toby, finding bravery somewhere.

"Rolls...I mean, yeah, rolls," speaks up Manny.

There's a few moments of silence, Anne Marie leaning forward in her chair.

"What kind?" she asks Manny.

"I guess...whatever the waiter brings," says Manny.

Anne Marie strokes her chin. "Cute."

Toby's tempted to kick his own mother under the table after that, but no, he'd grin and bear it. He's not becoming so rebellious kid, show that his father didn't raise him right, especially in front of her.

"Manny, how's camp going?" says Anne Marie.

Whoa, a polite question. Toby lets Manny's hand go.

"Awesome," shares Manny. "I'm learning things I've always wanted to."

"Excellent," compliments Anne Marie.

"And...everyone's just been so supportive," says Manny, smiling sweetly at Toby.

Toby's own eyes drop to the menu, for a positive reason at least. Anne Marie clears her throat loudly, very loudly.

"Do you have any aspirations besides acting?" prompts Anne Marie.

"I want to see if it works out," says Manny.

"Dear, that's not very ambitious," sighs Anne Marie. "This business is so cruel. It's always good to look at all angles. For instance, besides being a casting director, I'm looking into being a producer."

"How exciting!" cries Manny.

Huh? Toby didn't know that himself. That is exciting, and it made sense since Anne Marie loved to multi-task.

"It is," says Anne Marie. "Toby's got his bases covered too. The computer world is so broad, and he dallies in animation, software, management systems..."

"I know," interrupts Manny. "At Kytel, there was this project he was working on to help make longer-lasting software. Have you seen it?"

No, thinks Toby. She's seen nothing he's done with Kytel.

"Have you?" returns Anne Marie, smirking as she accepts some rolls from the waiter. "Manny paid for Kytel in the first place," shares Toby.

Anne Marie sets the basket of rolls in front of Manny with a pointed thud. Manny shakes.

"All the rolls you can eat," says Anne Marie, smiling at Manny.

Great, never be there, and be rude to my girlfriend? Forget politeness. Forget what she thinks. She promised to be polite, and she's the epitome of passive aggressiveness.

"There are some internships with Disney," offers Anne Marie. "I know people there."

"Toby, you should definitely take her up on that," encourages Manny.

Disney? Like Disney Disney? Kytel's great and everything, but Disney's a household name, a lucrative company. This better not be a bargaining chip.

"How about it, Tobes?" says Anne Marie.

"Maybe," says Toby.

Anne Marie fidgets with her hair, obviously disappointed. What did she expect? For him to jump at the chance as she silently insulted Manny? He should get her out of here right now.

"Manny, who are you staying with?" asks Anne Marie.

"Kel Andrews," replies Manny. "Friends with his daughter Lia."

"I can see how that's attractive to you," sighs Anne Marie. "Big house, fancy clothes, the head of a major motion picture studio..."

That is it. That's definitely it.

"Come on!" snaps Toby, throwing down his napkin.

Anne Marie gasps, Manny watching sympathetically as Toby moves through the restaurant. He stops in the waiting area, colorful fish swimming in aquariums behind him as he stands there, stroking his forehead. Other people with reservations look at him, curiously. His glasses nearly fall as Anne Marie takes his arm, makes him face her.

"I've never been so embarrassed...," starts Anne Marie.

"Try being Manny!" exclaims Toby.

Thankfully, the room is cleared as the party is seated.

"Try being me, seeing my son disheveled because of a girl," says Anne Marie, laughing coldly.

"Like you have a right to be surprised," argues Toby. "You don't know her, and you don't know me!"

"That's ridiculous," says Anne Marie.

"Please," mutters Toby, starting to loosen his tie.

"Don't do that, young man," orders Anne Marie. "And...Manny? What, have your standards gone south? She lacks ambition, she's not cultured, she's carefree..."

"I love that she's carefree," interrupts Toby.

"Flighty!" cries Anne Marie.

"She's not flighty," protests Toby.

"How else am I take the phrase 'I'll see if it works out', huh?" complains Anne Marie.

"Manny's dedicated to acting, or else she wouldn't be here," insists Toby. "You work with actresses everyday! You see their potential!"

"I'm not looking at her as an actress. I'm looking at her as my son's girlfriend!" whispers Anne Marie, angrily. "We haven't gotten to the best part yet."

Best part? Try the worst? What else can possibly go wrong?

"I go to take a shower this morning, fetch some expensive bubble bath from my pantry...oh, wait, I can't," says Anne Marie, coldly. "Not there. Candles, also gone."

Toby turns his back to her, eyes on the fish as they scamper.

"Thought maybe a maid took it," continues Anne Marie. "Then, I find this...with a glossy, black strand of beautiful hair."

Anne Marie's hand goes around Toby's head, flashes a hot pink Scrunchie before his nose. Done in by an accessory. She must've forgotten it when she was changing in there. Toby exhales loudly.

"I have to give her that," laughs Anne Marie. "She's stunning. But sometimes the stunning ones are the most opportunistic."

It's very clear what she's implying, the heat in Toby's chest escalating.

"She's signed," clarifies Toby.

"To a smaller agency, no doubt," says Anne Marie, rolling her eyes. "You're too smart for this, Toby."

Wow, this is the lowest blow he can fathom. Tearing apart Manny's career, horrible, but suggesting she's not in love with him, can't beat that. Sully can say it, Justin can infer it, anyone else can believe it. His own mom?

"I'm in love with her," whispers Toby, strongly. "I'm smart enough to be in love with her, and know she feels the same."

Anne Marie opens her mouth to speak, but Toby silences her.

"She was there for me after Rick, for Confirmation, and she's sitting there trying to be brave for...I don't know, maybe me?" continues Toby. "She's been there more than you. We're leaving."

His mother lets out a sob, as Toby returns to the main restaurant, searches for Manny. Locating her, he pulls out her chair, Manny standing.

"We're going," says Toby.

"That's rude, Toby," whispers Manny.

"She's rude," insists Toby. "Fred can take us..."

"I have to stay here and make a good impression," interrupts Manny.

"Manny..."

"It's important to me."

Toby hits the back of the chair, hard, causing a few patrons to gasp. The basket holding the rolls topples, Manny trying to hold him. Toby shakes his head.

"I can't," he says, brushing past a crying Manny.

VI.

Fred has three daughters, is part of a bowling league, thinks Bazooka Joe is better than Bubblicious. All these and more interesting facts were discussed on a drive that has ceased to end. Anne Marie never returned to the table, and Manny called Fred to take her to camp. Fred didn't ask where Toby was, and she couldn't have answered. He wasn't answering his cell. She tried J.T. too, who promised to find him.

Throughout the afternoon, Manny kept calling "line", forgetting the blocking, causing Blake to snicker. Lia didn't snicker, and Manny took that as a good sign. She'd have the part nailed by opening. Excuse her for having a lost, upset boyfriend on her mind. Fred nicely offered to take her wherever she wanted after camp. Currently, he's driving without a destination.

"Know what's beautiful around this time of night?" says Fred, staring at Manny in his mirror. "Besides yourself?"

Manny smiles weakly. "What?"

"Grauman's Theater," shares Fred. "You put your hands in the cement and it cheers you up instantly."

"Wish I could see it in a brighter mood," says Manny, wiping a forming tear.

"Worth a shot," encourages Fred.

"I'm all dressed to party," kids Manny, sniffling. "Fine."

Fred makes a few turns, Manny feeling restless. It'd be good to go somewhere she's never seen, be with people who didn't know her from a stranger in the crowd. The limo stops, another speedy arrival. Fred is good.

He opens the door for her, smiling encouragingly.

"Thank you," says Manny, approaching the theater.

Grauman's is darker than she expected, the total opposite of the beautiful Majestic where she attended camp. It resembles a black and red lantern stretched to the sky, carefully structured black etching at the sides, small stone lions at the foot of the theater. Faded footprints and handprints in stone line the walk, tourists situating their hands into the prints. She'd love to have a handprint someday, be respected, by tourists and by people in the industry, including Anne Marie Isaacs. The spotlights of the theater would be warm and inviting, and if they held the Oscars there that year, she'd thank Toby for being there for her during the good and hard times.

He's not here to thank, thinks Manny, wiping her eyes as the tears fall harder. Her heels cross the feet of John Travolta, Harrison Ford, Natalie Wood, people she admired. Why isn't this thrilling her? Fred told her that putting your hands in the cement will cheer anyone up. Eh, she'd take a chance.

Skipping the Harry Potter kids, as much as she liked those movies, she locates Meryl Streep, probably the most respected actress there. She kneels, rests her palms in the imprints, lowers her fingers. They fit. They truly do fit. No happiness, only a dry taste in her mouth.

Manny sobs, goes into a nearby gift shop. A cashier blowing a bubble with her gum views Manny as she comes forward.

"Do you...do you have any charms?" stammers Manny.

"Hollywood ones?" asks the girl. "Over by the snowglobes."

Manny thanks her, sees a turnstile with many charms. There's the Hollywood sign, Grauman's, a palm tree, Betty Boop. Her fingers locate the perfect charm, as perfect as the snowflake.

VII.

"Sure you don't want to go home?" says J.T. "Sleep it off."

Toby tugs at the tie, lips tight. He can't sleep this off, but he finally did call J.T. for cab money. J.T. asked where he was, and decided to come himself. Manny must've called him beforehand, Toby wagers. He could see the worry on his best friend's face as soon as the cab pulled up to the bookstore he wandered into after jetting from Koi.

"Let's go somewhere else," proposes Toby.

"I know where," says J.T., darting his eyes.

The cab driver nods knowingly at J.T., both of them apparently having an unspoken agreement. As long as it's not home he's cool with it. Go home to a mom that doesn't get him, respect his decisions? No thanks.

From the less than spotless glass window, he sees the tall building, decorated beautifully, like a temple from an anime. A Chinese pagoda, corrects Toby in his head. Grauman's really is beautiful, ornate. He'd love to take Manny here, discover what actors have the same appendages as them. The way he left, so abruptly and angrily, he doubts Manny ever wants to see him. Last night, they were so tender, and she was so happy, and he thought he was pretty sweet. Today, a total terror.

"You go ahead," encourages J.T. "Making a call."

Toby doesn't argue, leaves the cab. Walking to the footprints, he stares at the feet of Tom Hanks, Steven Speilberg, and Fred Astaire. Astaire, the guy in their last drive-in movie. Sad, meditative music plays, as Astaire is run near the gift shop.

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive  
_

What he wouldn't give to whisk Manny back to Toronto, away from the paparazzos and Anne Maries of the world.

Then again, there were Justins and Sullys, and there's no escape. He'd gladly take hits for her, insults for her, but it's weighing him down. Add his mom to that. He can't lie that it's not getting under his skin. For her, it's worse. There were racial epithets, criticisms of her career, and waiting for some reassurance...from him, of all people. How much more can Manny take?

Toby bends, places his hands in the Fred Astaire handprints, head a little light, breathing normally. Small, nightly breezes blow against his face.

"A golden heart," says a shy voice he loves hearing.

He manages a grin as a heart charm droops into his sight, Toby raising his head. Manny removes the bracelet from her purse, attaches the charm as Toby rights himself.

"Something we both have," adds Manny.

"Sorry I snapped," says Toby.

Toby kisses her wrist, Manny hugging him as the gift shop music plays delicately in their ears. His eyelids lower, the gold lights of the theater at the edges of his sight, their hearts beating in tune. It should be like this for them always, and it isn't.

_And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_

_When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

"Manny," whispers Toby. "I don't want to change what I feel."

"Me either," sobs Manny.

"Then, what do we do?" asks Toby, clutching her tighter. "What more are you going to go through to be with me?"

"Anything," whispers Manny. "Anything, Tobes."


	26. My White Knight

**XXVI. White Knight **

My white knight, not a Lancelot, nor an angel with wings;  
Just someone to love me,  
who is not ashamed of a few nice things.  
My white knight who knew what my heart would say if it only knew how.  
Please, dear Venus, show me now.

All I want is a plain man  
All I want is a modest man  
A quiet man, a gentle man  
A straight forward and honest man  
To sit with me in a cottage somewhere in the state of Iowa.

And I would like him to be more interested in me than he is in himself.  
And more interested in us... than in me.

And if occasion'ly he'd ponder what make  
Shakespeare and Beethoven great,  
Him I could love 'til I die. Him I could love 'til I die.

My white knight, not a lancelot, nor an angel with wings.  
Just someone to love me, who is not ashamed of a few nice things.  
My white knight, let me walk with him where others ride by;  
Walk and love him 'til I die, 'til I die.

**My White Knight was written by Meredith Willson and appears in the film _The Music Man._**

Let's Get Physical is the property of Olivia Newton-John.

Portions of _The Tempest _are the property of William Shakespeare. The characters of Miranda, Prospero, Gonzalo, etc. are not mine and the dialogue has not been changed. 

"Okay, so link Liberty to Craig," orders Ellie, setting some napkins on the sturdy picnic table.

Paige files a nail, takes a deep breath.

"Liberty dated J.T., who is Toby's best friend, and Toby is Ashley's stepbrother, and Ashley's dating Craig," sighs Paige. "Easy, hon."

"You guys shouldn't talk about Craig while he's away," chides Marco, impishly smiling.

"Craig loves being the center of attention," defends Paige. "He'd love it."

Ellie laughs, one of many they were sharing that afternoon, Sean being the noticeable exception. He hangs by the grill, awkwardly fooling with it. They weren't using it, and ever since they arrived, Sean kept separating himself from the group. Perhaps that's because the arrival itself was awkward. Amanda Nash speedily let them in, not exchanging any pleasantries. She did seemingly check for any blemishes on Sean, then retreated to the bedroom. Ellie said nothing, said her father was in better spirits. John Nash was, kneading the dough, allowing Sean to lay out the sauce. Up close, John looked older, seasoned, small lines near his forehead and chin. You could tell he'd seen a battle or two.

Making the pizza was fun at least. Ellie looked really cute covered in flour, the bad cook that she was, and Sean learned what the different cheeses were, not that he currently remembered them. Ellie kept dropping things– the recipe, a spoon, a bag of greens. The funniest moment had to be Ellie offering to carry the finished product to the car, her father and Sean yelling "no" at the same time. That was enjoyable. Being free from doing anything important...not as enjoyable.

He's pretty sure that Ellie invited Marco and Paige to help relieve some of his anxiety, and take the focus off him. Once Amanda retreated to her bedroom, it was a clear sign that the graduation dinner had a long-lasting impact. Ellie wanted some of the fun to continue, so she invited Marco, who couldn't shake Paige. All the weirdness is my fault, thinks Sean. She can barely stand to look at me. Ellie's father is going through the motions of being nice.

After the early morning meeting with the car ring crew, Sean has laid low, accompanying Dale two more times to the garage. He'd yet to go pick up the paycheck from Mr. Hill, and really didn't want to, face his ex-boss when he's doing dirty dealings with his son. Besides, Dale was leaving money in his mailbox. The envelopes looked so sinister, with the address of the business (he'd said it was legitimate, but this confirmed it), Sean's name scrawled in an ugly fashion, and hard cash inside. The camshafts Sean retrieved were a good purchase; a regular buyer recommended the business to a few friends after being pleased with them. Since Dale did the trading with two other guys late at night, Sean never met the customers, which took a lot of joy out of it.

He loved meeting the customers at Hill's: elderly ladies who relied on him to give their little cars one more shot of oomph; eager sixteen year olds who wanted their first cars in prime condition; middle-aged men who knew and loved to talk cars. None of that was present in the early morning interactions with Dale. One interesting part, however, is Ty. Sean can't shake the feeling that this quiet kid knew a lot more than he let on, and Dale wasn't sharing if he did. Maybe the loss of Jay is making him eager for a friend, despite the age difference. Marco and Paige were in Ellie's social group, not his.

"Sean, do you want to play?" calls Ellie. "Marco here is about to link Craig and Darcy."

"Nah," waves off Sean, smiling.

Instead of playing anymore, Ellie leaves Paige and Marco to chat, following Sean to the side of the house. He leans next to a bush.

"Your mom fled," says Sean.

"Headache," covers Ellie.

"Lying," groans Sean. "This was a bad idea."

"They're willing," assures Ellie. "Please."

Ellie strokes Sean's shoulder, as a car door opens, John Nash exiting with a large pizza box. The plan was to make it at home, and for John to locate the wood fired pizza oven at Camini's. He was smart enough to know that the first ovens were actually in Quebec, so the oven had Canadian roots. Camini's in Toronto was a descendent of that, informed John.

"Who wants pizza?" yells John.

"Me!" exclaim Paige and Marco, quickly getting up.

Marco takes the pizza from John, sets it on the picnic table, Paige in tow. Ellie shrugs, glances at her father and Sean as she moves to join them.

"You did a good job on that sauce, Sean," commends John. "Very steady with the ladle."

"Oh," says Sean, beginning to walk with Mr. Nash. "Good."

"I imagine it's because you're used to working with cars," says John. "Cooking and mechanics are more alike than people realize. There's a lot of trust and patience involved."

"Excuse me, sir?" says Sean.

"Well, you go to a restaurant or a garage, and you build camaraderie with various types of people. They rely on you."

"True," admits Sean.

He hasn't really thought about the brevity of what he does, or rather did at Hill's. In all honesty, he was more amped to see people smile after he told them he could do it. That must be where that camaraderie came in, or something.

They reach the backyard, John pausing at the screen door. He parts it.

"Mandy, pizza's here!" yells John.

"My compliments to the chef!" praises Marco, cheese sticking on his lips.

"Pig," teases Paige. "But this is beyond gourmet level, Mr. Nash."

"Thank you," says Mr. Nash, lightly yanking Ellie's ponytail.

The conversation ends with Amanda Nash, jersey sweater at her waist, arriving, clutching two bottles of beer.

"Mom!" exclaims Ellie.

Amanda stares at her, confused.

"Oh!" says Amanda. "They're root."

Ellie releases a huge sigh of relief, takes another bite of her slice.

"One for John," informs Amanda. "And one for Sean."

Sean gently takes the bottle, exchanges a small smile with her. Hey, that's actually nice of her. He wasn't a root beer drinker, but he'd down a dozen bottles to get back into her good graces.

"Have you seen my Cadillac, Sean?" asks John.

"In passing," confesses Sean.

Yeah, he saw it, making out with Ellie in the garage, post-Christmas gathering with her mom. You don't tell your girlfriend's father that, though.

"Maybe you can see it now," suggests John.

Hmmm, uh-oh. They want to get him alone. Ellie's lips part, glancing guiltily at Sean. Suddenly very, very much missing the grill, moans Sean inwardly, as he trails John to the Nash garage. Man, at this point, he'd take the Hill's garage because he's well aware he's on the verge of being grilled.

John lifts the garage door with a single flourish, blue terrycloth shirt showing off a few muscles. A wonderful, light-green Cadillac, possibly from the sixties, greets Sean's eyes. Sean can't help smiling, taking in the fine automobile. It's a classic, immaculately kept, looks tons better in the early afternoon.

"Spent so many years saving for this," sighs John, happily. "Diligence pays off."

"Cads are amazing," says Sean. "They just have that finish...can't explain it."

"Totally," says John, uncapping his root beer.

Sean does the same, takes a swig.

"What kind of cars are you working on now?" questions John.

None, thinks Sean, immediately. He's simply going to the outskirts of town to find stray parts that may or may not work.

"Different ones," replies Sean, his stomach flip-flopping.

"Did Ellie tell you that I worked at a garage when I was younger?" says John. "For two summers. Then basic training."

"Really?" says Sean.

"I had no skills, not like you," shares John. "Was pretty lazy actually. But one of the mechanics liked me, told me I should maybe try a new path. So he suggested the armed forces."

"That's how you got in?"

"Yeah. I was just thankful to listen to anyone that wasn't a parent, you know?" laughs John.

Sean nods knowingly, drinks half the root beer. John is way more easy-going than Amanda, and this talk isn't so scary. He does hate lying, however.

"Listen...sir," speaks up Sean, clearing his throat. "Ellie is great, and I'd never...never hurt her. Not intentionally. I did before..."

"Sean, there's gotta be more than a few scrapes and bruises for me to call in the firing squad, okay?" reassures John.

"Thanks," says Sean, face reddening.

"Still, Ellie is our first priority, so if there's another reason we should be concerned..."

"No, there isn't," interrupts Sean.

They were all so kind to him, and that said a lot given their last dinner. Ellie's parents were trying...for her.

"Pleasing parents is tough," says John, out of nowhere. "Then again, I find that if you please yourself, you'll ultimately please everyone else."

"Lesson from the army?" inquires Sean.

"Lesson from life," says John.

John clinks Sean's bottle with his, each man taking a sip.

II.

A subtle creak sounds as the door opens, his shadow moving against the wall of the room. The creak isn't as loud as the air conditioning, thankfully. July in Los Angeles is sweltering; it must be a crime. J.T.'s chest goes up and down, his figure shaking in the darkness. Toby taps him.

"No...no...I don't need Viagra!" breathes J.T., forehead sweating as he moves in frustration.

Gross, moans Toby inwardly. It's the wet dream all over again. He pokes J.T.

"Bunnies!" exclaims J.T., Toby covering his friend's mouth.

J.T. glances around his green room furiously, steadies himself.

"Bunnies and pills?" whispers Toby. "Do I even want to know?"

'Playboy," whispers J.T. "Hugh Hefner...you know...just...just it was worse than the pump incident, and we'll leave it at that. What are you doing in my room?"

Where to start? He can't sleep. He's upset. His room feels like one big Manny reminder.

"I gotta get away," says Toby, standing.

"From here?" exclaims J.T. "Why? Anne Marie hasn't come back...curiously. She's not here to antagonize you."

True, Anne Marie hasn't returned or called him. Fred did hear from her, and she asked if Toby got home safe, but no direct calls to Toby or J.T. The situation is terrible. Yet, he doesn't want to go home. Manny has all these important things coming soon, and he told her he'd be there.

Getting away still seems like the best option, however. He can clear his head, without being mean to his mother. A couple things he said to her he has to admit were pretty low– that Manny was there for him more than her, which is true, and that she doesn't know him, which is true. But the way that he said them was cruel. He should've talked to her in a calmer tone.

"Well, where are you going to go, huh?" prompts J.T. "Hey, there are a lot of landmarks that..."

"I'm not going on a Liberty-based trip," interrupts Toby. "That's your deal...sorry."

"I was the one that made sure you and Manny wound up at Grauman's," says J.T.

"Look, normally I would," consoles Toby. "I...well, I need to be alone. Like there's all this pressure. With my dad and my mom and Manny..."

"Whoa, I get it," says J.T., releasing a whistle. "This is...like...self-discovery. Your big coming-of-age moment, like in the movies."

"What?" says Toby, scratching his head.

J.T. came up with the weirdest stuff.

"You have to question everything to know everything," says J.T., standing next to Toby. "On the eve of your birthday. It all makes sense."

"You're not making any sense," returns Toby, brushing past him to stare out the window.

"Why do you think all this stuff is happening in one summer?" asks J.T. "In drama class, a central character has an epiphany, where the guy figures out what he truly wants after this big conflict. He has to go through all this mess to figure it out."

"Mess?" says Toby.

"Kendra's secret...your parent's divorce...the relationship with Manny...your faith," lists J.T. "They're all waiting for you to do something about it."

Okay, that's hitting the nail on the head. He does have to act, in all those situations. Not act like Manny acts, but take some action. There is a chink in J.T.'s reasoning.

"I know what I want," says Toby.

"Do you?" says J.T., raising an eyebrow. "For instance, why haven't you told Manny you've been talking to Kendra?"

Toby opens his mouth to answer, but is struck by another J.T. question.

"Are you interested in a relationship with your mom?" continues J.T. "I can keep going, Toby."

"Stop," sighs Toby, removing his glasses.

"I'd say you have as much drama in your life as Manny does, at this point," sighs J.T. "An interesting turn in events. What's the solution?"

Is there a solution? You can't really mend a relationship with a parent you've barely seen in the past few years during one week, and you can't totally stomp out ignorance.

"I can...I can talk to Kendra, though," realizes Toby. "I can talk to her!"

"And get closure," inserts J.T.

"Um...yeah!" says Toby. "There's this expo she invited me to, and we can talk afterwards. She'll be in a good mood."

Kendra played off her secret in their last couple exchanges, even if J.T. didn't know that, so whatever happened, she had taken care of it. This would open up the potential for them to be friends. Manny would feel better knowing that's the case, and they could move on. Problem solved.

"Wait, isn't Manny's opening performance tomorrow?" reminds J.T.

"At three," says Toby. "The expo's at ten. It's two now. If I leave now, I should be fine."

"Want me to go?" proposes J.T.

"Eh, save my seat at Manny's thing?" begs Toby. "I don't want to miss it."

"That's a big distance by bus, Tobes," says J.T.

"Bus...no," says Toby. "Mercedes...yes."

J.T.'s smile brightens in the moonlight.

III.

"Seaweed is the new Diane von Furstenburg," teases Colin, draping a fake piece of ivy over Manny's shoulders.

Manny brushes it past her nose, stares at her bare, clean, tanned feet. One more rehearsal won't kill her, but it's so early. Arissa suggested a dress rehearsal at nine-thirty to iron out the mistakes from Monday. Before lunch with Anne Marie her focus wasn't disrupted, and she delivered her lines well. Even Blake looked stymied that Manny was improving. If she doesn't have distractions, she does fine. Then lunch happened, she fell apart, and she's a tad distracted today.

When she left Toby in the limo, his whole face was crushed. Maybe they were too optimistic. Anne Marie didn't have to like her; it wasn't in the rules. Although, the rules of good breeding meant she should be polite, and despite her forgiving nature, Manny would be more cautious when they met next. Meh, she was patient with everything else regarding Toby, so why not this too? He just mattered that much to her.

"You look so shipwrecked," praises Colin, whirling Manny around.

She did. The costume designer and lead seamstress, Becky, did an outstanding job on all their costumes. Blake, Manny hates to confessed, was handsome in a flowing white shirt, tight brown pants, stockings, and black shoes, like a debonair Renaissance gentleman on vacation. Manny looked appropriately demure and pretty in a pale lavender, brocade dress with hints of lace and ruffles, a corset and bloomers underneath. The dress, however, is torn at the right places, suggesting a rich princess lost at sea. She pinned her hair with Becky and Emma's help, and that took awhile because it has grown fairly long.

Manny remembers one of the first rules of performing, starts removing her jewelry when Lia walks by, nearly clipping Manny with one of her large fiery red wings. Manny flinches.

"There's got to be better reception here," says Lia, holding her cellphone up to the stage light.

"There is," comforts Colin.

"You may want to keep an eye on your wings, Lia," says Manny, pointedly.

"I can't control where they go," defends Lia, glancing down at her costume.

It's very showy, a tutu dyed red and orange to give the illusion of flames. Overly large, red wings, formerly for an over-sized butterfly in another play, were attached to the back, and Lia had to turn very carefully for most of the rehearsals. Manny's grateful she wasn't stuck with such a troublesome costume. More notable was the hair, Lia's curls large and huge, flowing in various directions. She has the appearance of a devilish angel.

"What's the scoop, ma?" says Colin.

"Thought Dad was trying to call," informs Lia. "He usually wishes me good luck. Nope."

Well, after she attacked him yesterday, Manny's not surprised. She won't tell her that. Manny sits at the make-up mirror, tucking her feet under her dress.

"Awww, Manny looks like such a lady," coos Colin.

"Agreed," says Lia, Manny glad there's no iciness in her voice. "Has Manny the lady conquered virgin territory yet?"

Manny blushes, drops her charm bracelet next to some bobby pins.

"You did!" cries Lia. "What...last night?"

"Spill," encourages Colin. "I'm still...waiting for that special someone. So hearing about first times relieves some of my anxiety."

Manny giggles. "Nothing to report yet."

"Shoot," whispers Lia.

"We keep getting interrupted," moans Manny. "Like...by adults, basically."

"That's the problem!" sighs Lia, shifting her way to Manny, nearly knocking over a mannequin.

"Huh?" says Manny.

"You go where there's no adults," says Lia. "How do you think I lost it?"

"Being drunk with a photographer that told you you were beautiful in the Hamptons," supplies Colin.

"Quiet!" chides Lia, flicking Colin's ear. "Manny, adults hover. Okay, most of them...not my dad. Anyways, I got a place that'll be perfect."

Colin leaves his stool, letting Lia sit. She presses a few buttons on her phone, smiles and sighs deeply when she arrives at a picture. Manny stares at her cluelessly, accepts the phone.

"It's a bed and breakfast," explains Lia. "Tucked away, private. Woodsy, elegant. My parents went there when I was small. Dad kept it as a keepsake. If you go under our name, they'd treat you decently. The owner knows me."

This is perfect. They'd be far away from anyone they knew, with no interruptions to finally make good on "greenlight." It fit all Toby's requirements too; the location is private and the trip would be special.

"You say?" prompts Lia.

"I say...give me the directions," answers Manny.

Colin high-fives Manny, then they all hear a grating voice warning them that they have five minutes. Blake, the owner of the voice, strolls to the stool, pumping out his chest.

"Miranda, care to undo my codpiece?" teases Blake.

"You are a waste of space," dismisses Lia.

"Don't fall mid-air, you foxy little spirit," replies Blake, puckering his lips at Lia. "I'll see you on the boards, Manny."

Blake sprays some breath freshener into his mouth, slams it down next to her charm bracelet.

"Cheap stage jewelry," he says, evaluating it.

Manny shakes her head as Blake leaves the backstage area. Why couldn't Arissa cut the nasty kiss they had to share? Manny made her body go numb everytime, and didn't care if the scouts didn't find that part believable.

"Manny!" whispers a nicer voice. "Manny!"

Emma peeps in from one of the backstage door, Hannah at her side. Hannah didn't want to be in the audience, so they had relegated themselves to a side room, where Emma was explaining the _Tempest_'s story. To Manny's happiness, Hannah appreciated the story, and Miranda was Hannah's favorite. At least she has one fan.

"Em?" says Manny, going to her.

"Your cell," shares Emma.

Manny props her phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Manuella?" says Joseph. "Is that you?"

Her heart beats faster. Now she feels like saying awww. Lately, her calls to her parents were very short-lived.

"Hi, Dad," greets Manny.

"Your mother is with me," informs Joseph. "We're sorry we can't come, but we're very happy that you've worked so hard."

"Prospero's daughter!" cries Maria.

"Thanks, guys!" says Manny, a tear coating the edge of her eye. "Our group is about to rehearse so..."

"We didn't know the time," confesses Joseph. "Well, your mother and I know you will do a good job. Emma said she'd take a picture at the end."

"I'll make sure to be up front," promises Manny, jokingly.

"Okay...love you," says Joseph.

"Love you too," says Manny, clicking off.

They called to wish her good luck! And she wasn't expecting it...like Lia. Poor Lia. It's Chante all over again. Manny hands the phone back to Emma, who waves and leaves.

"Lia!" whispers Manny, urgently.

Lia struggles to remove a curl from the cusp of her wing.

"You're the best Ariel I've ever seen," says Manny. "I mean it."

Grinning shyly, Lia shrugs. "I know."

IV.

Faking sick isn't as easy as it seems. Sure, he's done it once before, several years back. That was to get out of an exam, an exam he winded up doing anyway. Spinner holds his breath, dials the number of the Dot. His eyes water, taking in the ongoing blue floor mats, the shiny balance beams, the hoops twirling over the arena. Like clockwork, he starts to cough.

"Hello?" says Pat, his boss.

"Pat...Pat...thank goodness," coughs Spinner. "This...this is Gavin."

"Gavin...are you alright?" cries Pat.

"Fine...a little...a little light-headed...a little underwear...I mean, under the weather," sputters Spinner. "Bug going around."

"Mmmm hmmm," says Pat. "Gavin, how much more time do you want?"

Man. Might as well admit the truth. He'd been asking Pat for an extension ever since the last day in June. Given that he was Pat's best worker, he got it. That was before he had a reason to stay. Emma, for whatever reason, is rattled, truly rattled. Her reaction to him touching her scared him. Did he do something wrong? Did another guy do something bad to her? Paige was skittish after the Dean thing. He came to Cali with her, and yes, would rather leave with her. Camp would be ending soon, and he could accompany Emma and her friends back to Toronto.

"Eight more days?" begs Spinner. "Pat, I'll do anything. Wipe the cheese off the nacho maker. Tell your wife that you aren't playing poker after hours in the kitchen area..."

"How'd you...," begins Pat. "It's gin rummy. Spinner, we're real busy..."

"That's why I feel so guilty," says Spinner. "But...my friend...she's...she needs me."

Pat releases a huge sigh, a sigh big enough to cross continents if he measured it.

"This is that blonde girl?" says Pat.

"She's more than a blonde girl," corrects Spinner. "Dude, she's my friend. And she's been supporting me...so yeah."

"Consider it a reward for your good grades," grants Pat. "You better be back here in two weeks, Gavin Mason."

"Thanks, dude...I mean, sir!" cries Spinner.

"Kelsey, don't touch that! Daddy said don't touch that!" snaps Pat, a dial tone sounding in Spinner's ear.

Okay, his daughter obviously diverted his attention, and that's fine with him. Spinner goes to the rear of the auditorium, where Kendra is warming up, bending backwards under the bright lights. There's something about having a sister that's more athletic than you. Makes you feel blah, moans Spinner inwardly. At least his grandmother, in the stands knitting, can't surf better than him.

A strikingly petite brunette in a gold unitard twirls on a nearby mat, multi-colored ribbon in hand, movements in perfect synch to the music.

I took you to an intimate restaurant, then to a suggestive movie  
There's nothin' left to talk about, unless it's horizontally

Let's get physical, physical, I wanna get physical, let's get into physical  
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk, let me hear your body talk

Spinner beams, stroking his belly with a pleased expression on his face. Kendra punches him in the chest.

"Oww," protests Spinner. 

"You're not coming to the meets to check out girls," says Kendra. "This is a serious event. People get picked up for the Olympics here."

"That's awesome!" exclaims Spinner.

"I'm straggling behind too," whispers Kendra. "A lot of these girls are first division level, and I'm an alternate."

"You got demoted?" says Spinner.

"Shhhh," shushes Kendra. "For a bit. Had to plea for a spot. If I do well, back in the game. Luckily, not a lot of balance beam competitors signed up for this expo. Not as popular as the floor routines.."

"It was popular at Degrassi," recalls Spinner. "You, Emma, Manny..."

"Don't mention Manny to me," snaps Kendra.

Spinner pretends to zip his lips, Kendra murmuring as she reaches for some chalk, white dust flying off her hands.

"Sorry...moodiness strikes for the millionth time," says Kendra.

"Ah, you're nervous," consoles Spinner. "Don't be."

Kendra doesn't reply, sits on the balance beam, letting her head go from left to right. She rights her shoulders, thrusts her hips upward. Spinner turns away, not wanting to see his sister in that position.

"Uhhh," groans Kendra.

"Ewww," complains Spinner.

Then, he finds the courage to glance at his sister, clutching her waist. Beads of sweat glide to her cheeks, Kendra breathing deeply.

"Kendra?" says Spinner.

"Charlie horse," informs Kendra. "There...gone. I'm fine, Spin."

He stares on as Kendra hunches forward for a few seconds, regains her composure. Her mouth is still contorted in pain.

"Are you sure?" asks Spinner.

"I'm the athlete," breathes Kendra. "I know my body. Totally fine."

She is the athlete so yeah, she might know better than him. Kendra had never had an injury before, so perhaps it is a passing thing.

"Good luck, sis," says Spinner, patting her on the back.

Kendra smiles, starts situating her suit as more audience members come into the auditorium, music blaring in their wake. Spinner joins his grandmother on the bleachers, passing some chatting commentators on the way.

"How was your trip to L.A., dear?" asks Grandma Mason.

"Great...uh, may go again," says Spinner. "Grandma, you're kind of...like...a girl?"

"Not as spry as I used to be, but yes," laughs Grandma Mason, setting down the sock she's knitting.

"If you have this feminist chick...ugh, girl...would you be offended if a guy tried to help?" questions Spinner.

"If she's really in distress, it doesn't matter," replies Grandma Mason. "There's far too few good men, Gavin. I know your mother raised you to be one of them."

"Uh, cool," demurs Spinner.

"Why can't you get a haircut, though?"

"Grandma!"

V.

Toby locks the Mercedes, throws a few cautionary looks at the car before starting to the arena. The arena's large, apparently having produced many rising talents. He could barely find a parking space when he got there, sunlight so bright he has to shade his face with his hand. Joining the throng of people, he sees homemade banners, ribbons, cameras, and noise makers. He walks next to a banner championing an athlete named Sarah, her family screaming in anticipation.

Other banners hang prodigiously above the auditorium floor, announcing championship years, the sports where they reigned supreme. A long table with a blue tablecloth has two men and two women behind it, a sign reading "Santa Clara Junior Gymnast Expo" in front. Microphones were inches away from their mouths. The stands were packed, full of excited families. Toby spots Spinner in the center of one row.

The real excitement is on the floor. Ribbons pranced everywhere in a wave of color as small girls danced, most likely a preview to the whole thing. Their high ponytails flopped, their little limbs wiggled. He could barely do leap frog when he was that age. Whatever, he knows he's searching in the wrong place. If Kendra was anywhere, it was near the beam. That's her event. She got so enthusiastic when Hatzilakos first recognized her potential in that category, Toby being the first to receive the news, not her mother or Spinner.

Across the gargantuan blue mats, past the rings, he finds Kendra, anxiously rubbing her wrists. She always did that when she had a sudden case of nerves. Her dark hair is bound in a ponytail, blue unitard over her tight muscles and amazing body, delicate feet tapping the mat. Her nerves disappear, however, when she views Toby, motions for him to come to the other side. Hurrying before the ceremonies began, he reaches her, grins.

"You came!" cries Kendra. "You actually came!"

"Me miss the expo?" says Toby, awkwardly. "Uh...so you're up when?"

"I'm first," sighs Kendra. "They're putting me on before the showstoppers."

"More like showing the best they've got right at the beginning," argues Toby.

Kendra bows slightly, both of them laughing.

"So after the expo, what are you doing?" says Kendra. "I was thinking we could grab lunch...I might not get to see you before you split."

"I can't," informs Toby. "Have to be somewhere at three..."

"You can't reschedule it?"

"It's Manny's...Manny's show."

"Right...Manny," mumbles Kendra. "Guess I'll go resume getting limber. You don't need to do that for chess."

Toby chuckles. "You're mad that I beat you?"

"Why would I be mad at my white knight?" replies Kendra, punching his shoulder gently.

Under the lights, he can see small bags under her eyes, and her skin appears a little pale. Weird, because the only sign of tiredness he's ever seen from her is lying on the beach. Come to think of it, he's never seen her lie on a beach, not being active. No, he shouldn't be worried. It's her business. This is a trip for closure.

She grins, jogs to the rest of the gymnasts, seated on a bench. A commentator coughs, begins to speak, and Toby selects a seat in the front row, near a rather large family supporting a girl named Petra.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" says the commentator. "It's a beautiful, sunny day in Santa Clara, home of the champions. My name is Doug Yeltsin. To my right, Jody McCaffery, chair of the Santa Clara Athletic Conference. To her left..."

Doug Yeltsin goes on to list the rest of the panel, Toby keeping his gaze locked on Kendra. She plays with her hairclip, then rests her palms on her knees. This is all so familiar, watching her like he used to, praying she got good scores (no scoring today, however), sitting with the other parents, waiting patiently for her turn. Having Spinner in the audience reinforced that, too.

Finally, Doug says a familiar name too– hers.

"Kendra Mason is one of the participants in our new top-notch clinics," announces Doug Yeltsin. "She's one of our Canadian imports, direct from Toronto, scoring repeatedly well at Gleeson Academy, an accomplished harbor for up and coming Olympians. In fact, Amanda Borden visited Gleeson on one of her recent tours. Like Amanda, Kendra's main strength is on the balance beam."

Kendra walks across the mat with a host of cheers from the audience, including Spinner pumping a fist in the air. Toby claps until his hands hurt. Kendra grabs more chalk, steadies herself in front of the beam.

"That's right, Doug," says Jody McCaffery. "Now, Kendra started off strong this year, but took somewhat of a reprieve in April following an unfortunate fall during competition. Still, that hasn't deterred her from returning."

"Thank goodness for that, because her acrobatic prowess has earned her a mark of distinction in the Santa Clara community. Definitely a promising upstart to keep an eye on," says Doug Yeltsin.

Taking a deep breath, Toby views Kendra doing the same, her eyes holding the beam in sight. She goes forward, mounts the beam, stretches her arms. Her body tumbles in a perfect ball, as she does a handstand, landing on her feet afterwards. The crowd cheers.

"Kendra!" shouts Spinner. "Yes!"

Wow, she's as good as ever, compliments Toby inwardly, grinning widely.

Mid-beam, she does a couple leaps, which elicits clapping from the audience and the commentators. Her control is still excellent. Hmm, the routine is familiar too. She may've done this at her last Degrassi meet. In fact, he's sure she did. That means a back handspring is coming. So difficult.

Kendra squats, swings her arms forward, and her body goes backward, cheers erupting with premature squeals. None of them are prepared for the squeals coming from her, as Kendra's waist bumps the balance beam and she tumbles to the blue mat. Toby feels his entire body stiffen. The commentators stand pathetically, as a woman, probably her coach, and a few gymnasts circle her.

"Kendie!" cries Grandma Mason. "No!"

Toby shakes his head, moving to the mat at the same time as Spinner. It takes them a few seconds to weave through the crowd, Kendra's head resting in the lap of her coach.

"Aaaah," cries Kendra, softly, eyes shut in pain.

He's in pain, seeing her like this. What happened? She was doing amazingly, and now she's crumpled on the floor? How could that change in a matter of seconds?

"Where does it hurt?" asks her coach.

"I...I can't!" exclaims Kendra, her voice carrying. "I have to perform. I...I have to..."

Her eyes drop, and suddenly she's no longer speaking. Spinner and Toby stoop to her, tears lining her brother's eyes.

Somehow I'm keeping it together, thinks Toby, as Kendra lays motionless to alarmed gasps. She's got to be fine. Kendra's so strong and a fighter and everything he fell for. Thankfully, she's woken up, fumbling for contact.

"Kendra," whispers Spinner, clutching her leg.

"Should we move her?" asks another gymnast.

"It's too crowded...she needs air," insists her coach.

Toby weakly grabs her hand.

"Toby," whispers Kendra.

"Let's get her to my office," commands the coach, trying to help Kendra to her feet.

"Lead the way," says Toby, managing to get his hands under her body.

Carrying Kendra, Toby walks side by side with the coach, Spinner and their grandmother following. She does weigh more than he bargained for, but it's a short distance, Toby laying her flat on an examination table.

"I'll call for the doctor," says her coach.

"We're right outside, Kendie!" reassures her grandmother, Spinner leading her to the door.

Kendra squirms, views them leaving. Toby starts to the door.

"Can Toby stay?" asks Kendra. "Please?"

The coach nods reluctantly. "Til the doctor comes."

She wants him with her? After such a scary ordeal, he can see why, but him? Spinner or her grandmother might be a better fit, and he's about to suggest it.

"I need you, Toby," breathes Kendra, black eyes shaking. "I need my biggest fan here."

There's no doubt in his mind that he should stay. There is a doubt concerning his ability to make it to L.A. today. Then again, she called him his biggest fan, and he's always been there when needed. Always.

Toby wraps his hands with hers. "Squeeze if you need to."

VI.

"Isn't it great not to be in the first scene?" says Blake, appearing from the shadows.

Manny smirks at him, half his light hair obscured by darkness. Sure, it's great to be in the shadows, and view the audience once in awhile. But not when your boyfriend's missing. Where is he? Emma laid her sweater on the seat next to hers and everything. J.T. kept glancing at the back door.

Onstage, Gonzalo is bemoaning the storm, the tempest, that has steered them to the island. The wind, courtesy of two large fans, pounds his frame forcefully. It's a mad storm, and she's mad, because she knows a hurricane or something else catastrophic would be the only thing that would keep Toby away from coming this afternoon.

"Let's all sink with the King!" cries Antonio, as a stagehand clashes two metal boards together.

She sat through his mother's lunch, well most of it for him, so he can sit through the play. In fact, Toby paid attention to all her plays, and was able to offer some key insight every now and then. She likes to think that part of her rubbed off on him. Well, Toby's not taking in anything, since he's not present. Gosh, where is he? What if he missed her entrance, her first entrance in a huge, historic role, a professional theatre role?

"Manny!" whispers Blake.

"What?" snaps Manny.

"Be cool, baby," says Blake, looking perplexed. "Prospero's not the only one that knows magic."

Manny arches an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Shhh, from the props department," explains Blake.

He moves completely from the shadows, Manny viewing a small white rabbit chewing absent-mindedly on Blake's thumb. Manny grins.

"So cute," coos Manny.

"See, I'm not a bad guy," says Blake. "Animals like me...for some mysterious reason."

"What are you doing with her?" asks Manny.

"Had to occupy myself some kind of way since I'm not in this thing for the first eighteen minutes," shrugs Blake. "She's Becky's."

"She should meet Hannah," says Manny.

"Eh, why not?" says Blake. "I'll go introduce them."

Blake smiles at her, perhaps the warmest smile he's ever mustered, Manny returning it. She'd much rather be smiling at Toby. Gonzalo rages against the storm.

"Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground," roars Gonzalo. "Long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! But I would fain die dry death!"

The storm ends with a final rumble of thunder, gust of strong wind. The actors playing Gonzalo, the Boatswain, Antonio, and Sebastian clamber to the right of the stage. Manny repositions her seaweed, stares hopefully into the audience a final time. Waves crash again. Her heart crashes. The seat's empty as it was before, tears falling at the sight of Emma's sweater.

Her father Prospero, really the most talented actor in their camp Travis, grins at Manny as the stage lights go down, then up, signaling their entrance. He walks to the center, stage book in hand.

Manny wipes her eyes, pretends to struggle with the seaweed over her body, much to the amusement of the theater goers.

"If by your art, dear father," cries Manny. "You have put the wild waters in this roar, allay them."

She flips back her hair purposefully to more chuckles, seeing Emma and Arissa laugh especially. Arissa told her to play the first line comedically.

"The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, but that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, dashes the fire out," continues Manny.

Prospero lays a hand on her shoulder. He's touched her like this in practice, a few times. But it's the first touch of comfort, without Prospero knowing that the person she wanted most in the world to be there isn't, and her tears can't control themselves. Hasn't she supported him...in everything? Where's the Toby who was in the front row at the pageant, or who sat with her when her father found out about the trip to the clinic? How could he be so forgetful? How could he forget her?

Her onstage father stares at her in shock as the tears flow.

"O, I have suffered with those I saw suffer," chokes out Manny. "A brave vessel, who had no doubt, some noble creatures in her, dashed all to pieces. O the cry...the cry did knock against my very heart."


	27. You're The Best

**XXVII. You're The Best **

Try to be best  
'Cause you're only a man  
And a man's gotta learn to take it

Try to believe  
Though the going gets rough  
That you gotta hang tough to make it

History repeats itself  
Try and you'll succeed

Never doubt that you're the one  
And you can have your dreams!

You're the best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down  
You're the Best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down  
You're the Best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ow-own

Fight 'til the end  
Cause your life will depend  
On the strength that you have inside you

Ah you gotta be proud  
starin' out in the cloud  
When the odds in the game defy you

Try your best to win them all  
and one day time will tell  
when you're the one that's standing there  
you'll reach the final bell!

You're the best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down  
You're the Best!  
Around!Nothing's gonna ever keep you down  
You're the Best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ho-how-ho-own

You're the best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down  
You're the Best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down  
You're the Best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ow-own

Fight 'til you drop  
never stop  
can't give up  
Til you reach the top (FIGHT!)  
you're the best in town (FIGHT!)  
Listen to that sound  
A little bit of all you got  
Can never bring you down

You're the best!  
Around!  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down  
You're the Best!  
Around!

**You're the Best is the property of Joe Esposito and appears in the film _The Karate Kid. _**

Ariel's Song is the property of William Shakespeare, and is in the play _The Tempest_.

The second hand and minute hand move simultaneously, discussion of the day's event dying down as different people go by him. There were several comments in the vein of "never seen anything like that" or "did you see, really _see_, what happened"? Toby knows perfectly well that they saw what they saw, because he saw it himself. It was like one of those horrific, scary movies where all of sudden, it sped up and you missed the one point where you could've prevented it, you could've acted. 

Toby leans against the wall of the hallway, only hearing silence from the other side of the door. Moments before, he heard some soft wails. Kendra. He also heard some comforting words. The doctor.

After the expo, a few of her fellow gymnasts stopped by the arena hospital, but their families drug them away around noon. Then, Spinner went to retrieve a wheelchair to take Kendra to another room, and lunch for his grandmother. Both of them joined Kendra in the room at twelve-thirty. The time now? It's three, and the _Tempest _is well under way. He'd be lucky if he got to L.A. in time to congratulate Manny before she left. Putting his cell on vibrate, it has been buzzing intensely for the last hour or so. Probably J.T. He's so scared he can't answer, can't move. Was anyone ever coming out of that stupid room?

"Toby?" says the doctor, parting the door.

Straightening his body, he goes to her, hurriedly, is anxious when he views Kendra's grandmother and Spinner exit.

"How is she?" he asks.

"Better," reassures the doctor. "Um, she'd like to see you...with me."

With her? That's a tricky arrangement. Shouldn't her family be in the room if it involved a medical concern? Spinner and his grandmother appear intrigued too, but if Kendra asked specifically for him, he'll do it.

"Fine," says Toby.

Toby and the doctor enter the room, Kendra propped up to his relief. She's in a blue hospital gown, knees revealed, feet dangling over the linoleum floor. The office is standard, with a machine showcasing black and white X-rays. These X-rays, though? Were they Kendra's?

"Hey," greets Toby, warmly as the doctor shuts the door.

"I gave everyone a scare," jokes Kendra.

"You did," says Toby. "We're glad you're okay. Your teammates, some of the fans...all came by."

He's alarmed that the doctor is letting them talk, her focus being on turning on the light to frame the X-rays. Kendra takes a deep breath, grabs Toby's hand.

"What's wrong?" whispers Toby, urgently.

The doctor tuns to them. "Since I'm not Kendra's family physician, it's left to her discretion who she chooses to share this information with, though I have strongly suggested it be made known to them as soon as possible."

This didn't sound good. Toby puts an arm around her.

"Kendra has two stress fractures," says the doctor, pointing to two regions on two X-rays. "I know she trains extensively so it's an unfortunate side effect sometimes. While they're known to heal in due time, what troubles me is that Kendra has told me she's been in pain for awhile, and this new fracture very well could've been prevented."

Toby glances at Kendra, mouth trembling. He remembers that one of the commentators said she had a fall in April. It's possible she had a fracture before then, and didn't tell anybody. Ugh, why, he wants to yell at her, but it's too late to be mad.

"I have an assistant coach at Gleeson that I go to regularly," insists Kendra. "She said all I needed was a long rest."

"You're not resting as much as you need to, I wager," chides the doctor.

"I'm falling behind!" cries Kendra, starting to cry. "My body's always been in top condition."

"Kendra, your body's still going through puberty," says the doctor. "Look, lots of female gymnasts go through this. Yours could be more serious, however, because at the rate you're going, you could end up with more fractures, which can lead to a shattered pelvis, osteoporosis...you told me you had a family history of that. My advice, cut the training, even if it means taking a year off for therapy. Allow the bone to recondition itself."

"A year!" exclaims Kendra. "I don't have a year! Just because I fell a couple times doesn't mean I'm going to sit on my butt all day. I've tried that...it's aggravating!"

The doctor sighs contemplatively. Toby feels tempted to do the same. If she's in a weakened condition, she shouldn't be doing expos or clinics or anything.

"You told me you feel weak a lot during the day, and this pain shows up sporadically...," begins the doctor.

"Low carbs...exhausted," shrugs Kendra. "I'm totally normal and I'm sixteen...this is where you have to start."

"What would have to be done for her to feel better?" speaks up Toby.

"I'd like to schedule a bone scan test, for starters," says the doctor, sitting on the other side of Kendra. "For that, I would need parental consent. I would suggest it, seeing as the fracture near the hip could be more high-risk."

"Kendra," says Toby, looking at her. "What's the harm in doing it? Your parents..."

"Can you excuse us, please?" interrupts Kendra, staring at the doctor.

The doctor nods, stethoscope bouncing against her breast as she leaves the room. Kendra removes Toby's hands from hers, starts to cry.

"I've tried looser clothes... pills...rest," moans Kendra, tears falling. "None of it works. I felt so terrible going to Gleeson that weekend. They expect so much from me."

Toby guesses this is the weekend where she came to the variety show. She was so sad during those two days, and he was so nonchalant with her, saying she could call him if she needed to? I'm a stupid, thoughtless idiot.

"I have to train, Toby," cries Kendra. "I do know my body. Stress fractures go away...no doctor can tell me what to do. I mean, I love gymnastics!"

"Yeah...yeah, I know," stammers Toby.

"As soon as I told Sam, he...he moved on," confesses Kendra. "Apparently, he's not the supportive boyfriend type. I may not have been good enough for him, but I am good enough for this."

Sam, the guy she left him for, yet he does feel sympathy for her. He and Manny were really supportive of each other, and he can't imagine not having that in a relationship. That can't convince him that she doesn't need to rest, though.

"Your health is most important," says Toby.

"But...this is the only way I can make my parents proud," sighs Kendra. "I don't make good grades, but I am a good athlete. Toby, please try to understand."

Toby stands, shakes his head, his back to her. Why is she compromising her health? Not training for a year won't hurt, because if she doesn't, she will get hurt.

"You're usually understanding," compliments Kendra, weakly. "Why do you think I asked you to be in here instead of Spin or my grandma? You came to every sinle meet when we dated. I could use that support, Tobes."

"Why not tell your parents?" says Toby, whirling around. "And your family doctor?"

"She said it was my decision...she doesn't even know how serious it is," defends Kendra.

"But she does know how serious it could be!" exclaims Toby. "Like...a shattered pelvis? That sounds...that sounds scary."

"Never mind...I'm...I'm not budging," says Kendra, starting to stand.

Toby halts her, huffing in silent anger. Her stubbornness is only hurting herself. Was that not clear? The more time she resisted, the less time her body has to heal. Toby helps her back onto the medicine table, Kendra shyly adjusting her gown.

"This has to be a secret," whispers Kendra. "Sorry about how I was...to you. The situation makes me all wonky. And I...I will think about it. Everyone obviously knows something's wrong, anyway. After today."

'What are you going to tell your Grandma?" asks Toby.

"The doctor told her I needed rest. That's all I let her share before ushering them out," admits Kendra. "I just...just need to get away from this place."

He can identify with that, especially after yesterday. Running from pressure, parental expectations, being watched by judging eyes. Hey, he's been in California for less than four days and he's gone through all of them.

"Come rest...with me," offers Toby.

"What?" says Kendra, brow furrowed.

"I'll set you up somewhere...where you can rest for a few days," stammers Toby. "If I'm the only one you trust with this, then...then yeah."

Kendra's lips shape into a smile. "I...I couldn't."

"It'd be like old times," says Toby, rubbing her shoulder. "We can tell your Grandma that you wanted to rest elsewhere, and maybe...you'll realize what you should do. Emphasis on should."

"Toby, it's going to take a lot to convince me," says Kendra, her tone softening.

"Then, I've got a week," returns Toby, confidently nodding.

II.

"Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, Sex Pistols," lists Ashley, shuffling through her CDs.

"Shampoo, conditioner, comb," says Craig, reshouldering his bag.

Ashley laughs, pockets the CDs, presses the traffic signal button. Leicester Square revolves around them, a burst of mid-day energy, cars honking, tourists gawking. The heat is at an apex today. Craig opted to wear his leather jacket anyway, to look cooler, older. Shade from being under two white columnades is the only relief he's receiving. A tall off-white building stares at them from the other side of the street, next to the Gap.

"Someone didn't pilfer your conditioner at the hostel?" jokes Ashley.

"No, left in the nick of time," says Craig. "Young hippies that refuse to shower...smell."

"Thanks for that pearl of wisdom," says Ashley, kissing his cheek.

"Ashley!" calls a cheery voice from down the street.

A young woman with a bright purple mohawk runs past a black Charlie Chaplin statue, two pink duffel bags in hand. Craig raises his eyes as Ashley embraces her.

"Craig, this is Aja," introduces Ashley.

"Craig?" exclaims Aja. "The Craig Manning?"

"There's only one," says Ashley, proudly.

Craig blushing. "I'm sure there's at least one other...well, not in London."

"One on the tour bus," adds Aja. "Blimey! I can't believe the bus they got us this year. Wait 'til you see it. You know that blinkin' bus in the Harry Potter movie?"

"We're not...not Harry Potter people," confesses Ashley, trading an amused glance with Craig.

"Well, rumor has it, it's big and spacious, only black," informs Aja. "Since we got signed, legitimate musicians like Mark this year, reckon the bigwigs were willing to pony up the cash."

Mark, one name Craig definitely didn't like to hear. Ever since the photo shoot, he's kept his mouth shut. But seeing Ashley, with that pose and those clothes, got under his skin. He was actually thankful to sleep at the hostel that night, because whenever he stared at Ashley too long, that memory would come back to haunt him. Okay, business is business and everything. That didn't make it any easier. Craig lets his expression fall.

Ashley apparently noticed, letting Aja walk in front of them as the walking signal appears.

"I didn't like it either," whispers Ashley.

"Ash...it's like an affiliate of BBC," says Craig, cautiously. "They're classy. Why...why would they encourage that?"

"The shots were tasteful," says Ashley. "The photographer showed them to me. Besides, they distribute these things at nightclubs, going for a certain demographic."

Craig lets out a deep breath, nods. There's no sense picking a fight. The shots were done two days ago, and were more likely in circulation. They could've been worse. Besides, it's her career and Ashley's always been brilliant when it comes to any decisions regarding music.

Reaching the other side, they wait patiently at a bus stop, Ashley phoning her parents to let them know they made it their safely. Robert made her promise to call everyday while on the road, and Craig can't help but think, him also being on the bus was the main reason for that stipulation as well. Though less cold than Kate, her father and Chris weren't exactly inviting Craig over for dinner, and were content with him being at the hostel. Being on the bus with their daughter changed things. At least Joey and Angie called to check on him every other day with warmer words.

Craig suspects the other passengers aren't in contact with their parents, the next youngest besides Ashley being four twenty-five year olds, a guy group with identical Celtic tattoos on their forearms, and various shades of neon hair. There were a few lonely female artists, dressed in long skirts, flowy blouses, and carrying guitar cases. Ashley was definitely the tallest. The bus came to Leicester first, and made a couple other stops, so Craig assumes Mark Kennick will be on the route, hopefully the last one to be picked up.

"This'll come in mighty handy," breathes Aja, parting her light blue jacket.

She removes a flask, Craig staring at the shiny grey container.

"To the tour!" squeals Aja, unscrewing the flask and taking a drink.

Okay, it's mid-morning and she's already drinking? He doesn't mean to judge, but that's pretty odd. Looking to Ashley, however, his girlfriend isn't the slightest bit bemused.

"Uh-oh, cops," moans Aja, seeing a police officer in uniform leaving the Gap.

"Um...what's in there?" questions Craig.

"Bourbon," replies Aja. "It's a yearly tradition for me to toast all the tour stops. Like a ground-breaking."

"Interesting," mumbles Craig.

"Don't slag off on me, Craig...it's all in good fun," defends Aja, frowning.

Ashley gives Craig a piercing glare. What? It was weird to him. He likes eccentric people as much as the next person, but yeah.

"Well, not one for tradition, but hand it over," says Ashley.

"Um...," begins Craig.

"Something to say, Dad?" interjects Ashley, unscrewing the cap.

No, not really. She can do what she wants. It's her body. She can pose all sexily with Mark, down a drink with Aja, dye her hair. It's her tour. He doesn't have to like it, however.

"Whatever," sighs Craig.

Ashley grins as she unscrews the top, puts the flask to her lips, sunshine making the container gleam. He notices her grimace, surely not liking the taste, but with the second gulp, her mouth is more relaxed and she wipes her lips.

"Give it a go, Craig," encourages Aja.

Ugh, he'd already fallen out of favor with Ashley today by mildly insulting her friend. He'd had a shot of bourbon too, from a bottle a friend smuggled in at summer camp.

"He's seventeen," demurs Ashley.

"So? And I thought the Americans were the Puritan ones," jokes Aja.

"Pure?" says Craig, taking the flask. "That's so not a Craig synonym."

He downs one huge gulp, liquid burning his tongue, rubs his lips. Woo, stronger than he remembered. That'll definitely wake you up in the morning. Aja offers each of them a pleased grin. Craig's stomach gurgles. He should've ate more at the hostel. All he had was a banana.

"Ay, here it comes!" exclaims Aja, jumping up.

A humming roar sounds from the other side of the street, a huge, black double decker bus rounding the corner, BB6 Line in the destination window. Its driver is wearing a nicely tailored, blue uniform, honking in his ascent. Tinted windows were on the lower and upper decks, large wheels turning as it headed straight for them. The bus is the largest he's ever seen.

"This is...real," breathes Ashley, eyes widening.

"Yep," praises Craig, drawing Ashley closer.

Slowing to a crawl, the door parts, driver grinning, showcasing a few gold teeth. He says nothing, simply hopping off the bus to begin loading the luggage. Unlike the air personnel, the driver is a lot more careful with their bags as he leads each musician inside. Ashley smiles her excitement once the driver reaches her.

"Come on," whispers Ashley, Craig gently helping her inside.

Inside, the bus is even bigger, a kitchen area with a table, fridge, and microwave, and just past there a smaller common room, housing a widescreen TV and DVD player. The lights aren't on, so Craig can't see the brand of any of the electronics, yet he can tell they were pricey. Ashley holds her breath in anticipation as the driver opens a sliding door, leads them to the very back, where there are two rows of medium-sized bunks, black curtains obscuring the beds from view.

"Switchfoot had a similar bus," shares the driver, wresting open a closet next to one of the first bunks.

"They're an okay band," says Craig.

"Yeah, decent," agrees Ashley.

"Good," says the driver. "Enjoy."

He leaves Craig and Ashley, closing the sliding door behind them. In front of a bunk near the back, Craig spies one of the neon hair boys taping pictures of his daughter to the wall of the bunk.

"So who are you taping to the wall?" inquires Craig, winking at her.

"Why not come in and look?" whispers Ashley, opening the curtain.

Craig chuckles, sitting on the bed, inching back, Ashley doing the same. He nearly bumps his head on the top.

"Oh my gosh," sighs Ashley. "Craig, this is really happening. I mean, I can sleep whenever, eat whenever...well, as long as it doesn't interfere with the show, you know?"

That's true. They basically have more freedom than they know what to do with, their first summer as high school graduates, as adults, in the best way possible. Who gets to do this at eighteen? Okay, technically, seventeen for him, but he didn't want to be reminded of that again.

"Um...being together whenever...could happen...maybe?" suggests Craig, sliding the curtain all the way closed.

"We just got on the bus!" whispers Ashley, cheeks going red. "Craig..."

"You'll have to excuse me...the liquor's talking," whispers Craig, pulling off his jacket.

"Craig...you are not...," begins Ashley.

"I see no consequence in breaking in the bed," sighs Craig. "Besides, my head is bumping the ceiling way too often."

"I don't..."

"The way I see it, you don't need pictures if you've got the real thing right in front of you, I say as humbly as I can."

Ashley grins widely, her perfect white teeth glowing in the muted darkness. This is either a yes or a maybe.

"Show me how Puritan you are," kids Craig, letting his nose touch her cheek.

Ashley giggles. "We haven't been together in weeks..."

"In forever," moans Craig.

"You're the only one that can make me do something so stupid," sighs Ashley. "Fine."

Craig claps his hands once, fetches his wallet.

"Silent as a mouse," cautions Ashley, shifting so she can lie on the bed.

Her knee knocks Craig lightly in the waist, and he winces. No matter; the pain is worth it. Making a grab for her belt, he undoes it, brushing his lips with hers, the shuffle of people passing by the bunk quiet. A soft moan escapes Ashley's mouth, Craig silencing her with a fervent kiss. Hey, she was the one who wanted quiet.

"I'm so proud of you," whispers Craig, grazing a hand over her forehead.

"You say that to all your bunkmates," returns Ashley, running a hand through his curls.

III.

"My grandmother's going to kill me," says Kendra, the wind almost covering all her words.

"At least...at least we left a note," says Toby, nervously.

The Mercedes does a sharp right as his nerves grow more intense. He should be calm, for her, but technically, he'd just sprung someone from the hospital. Well, does it count if the person came up with the plan themselves? Kendra elected to leave after they'd talked, return to her grandmother's, pack for a few days, leave a note near the phone, and get in Toby's car.

Actually, they were both being pretty reckless. Well, their type of reckless. They weren't robbing a bank or anything. But if this is the best way to convince her to do what the doctor prescribed, it's helping in the long run.

"Toby, if she calls, I'm taking the fall," says Kendra. "You aren't getting in trouble over me."

"It's my...my decision," stammers Toby.

"Spinner's planning on coming to L.A., anyway," informs Kendra. "Like...it's not like I'm going somewhere where I'm unreachable."

"Yeah," agrees Toby.

They haven't figured out the somewhere yet. The first thought that popped into his mind was a hotel. Then, that idea got tossed once he realized that if she were in pain, she'd be alone. He dare not ask his mother for advice, after everything that went down yesterday.

He better decide fast, because the amount of palm trees is increasing with each mile, and Los Angeles is in proximity. The theatre is in near proximity. Manny. He drove as fast as he could, which was troublesome since he isn't used to this car. Kendra failed to talk during most of the drive, except to offer directions when he looked lost.

"Assuming you missed Manny's thing?" speaks up Kendra.

"First time," confesses Toby. "I'll be lucky if I catch her leaving."

"Plays go on for hours, and you can see the show another day," says Kendra. "We can stop by the theater."

"You sure?" says Toby. "I'd like to, but if you..."

"Go. I'll wait in the car," says Kendra.

Toby beams, drives as the light switches. Thirty minutes later, thanks to his Mapquest directions, he's parking in the theater lot, closing the door and advancing to a pair of expensive glass doors. The lobby isn't so shabby either. Posters for the production line the walls near the box office. There are no pictures, but her name's on display. Manny Santos, and he's missed almost every single minute of it. Maybe not all of it, Toby softly prying open the door.

The darkness is dense, yet the stage is lit, the entire company on stage, Manny beautiful in a lavender gown, holding a small lit candle and another guy's hand. Toby bites his lip at the sight, so hard it stings. Above, Ariel, or rather Lia, hovers in an opaque, painted sky, red wings blinding under the stage light, singing in a lovely voice.

Come unto these yellow sands,  
And then take hands:  
Curtsied when you have, and kiss'd  
The wild waves whist...

Manny's told him enough about Shakespeare that he knows that when the entire group of characters is onstage, the end is near. Whatever conflict there is has been subdued. He wishes he could subdue the conflict is in his heart, be sure that Manny doesn't hate him. 

"_Come take hands!" _continues Lia. "_Come take hands!" _

The singing ends, dozens of candles being blown out to uproarious applause, half the audience rising to their feet. Stage lights deaden, illuminating Lia a final time, the stage finally growing dark. He knows he's missed something special. The boisterous reaction simply confirmed it. 

A long red curtain falls, obscuring Manny, hiding her. Part of him thinks he more than deserves that.

People begin to leave their seats as the theater lights come on, Toby staring sadly at the pleased attendees. Two of the most pleased attendees chat animatedly, J.T. and Emma sharing a laugh. Toby hurriedly joins them.

"Where were you?" demands J.T., shrugging.

"Long story," mutters Toby.

"It better be a good one," says Emma, pointedly. "Gotta get Hannah from Becky."

Toby can feel the back of his neck burn as Emma departs. Was it his fault that Kendra fell? Don't they know he would've been here if things were different?

"I wanted to be here!" exclaims Toby.

"Tell that to Manny, not to me," says J.T., raising his hands defensively. "Look, they've got a press conference thingamajiggy in the lobby. Fred was going to give Manny a lift home, so she told me. There's your chance. Meanwhile, I'm mailing my postcard."

"Thanks," says Toby.

He quickly funnels through the crowd, apparently offending them as he hears various cries of protests. Sorry, but the sooner he got to her, the better. Easier said than done, he realizes, as he's instantly surrounded by a host of people. Reviewers with pad and pencil, a camera crew, and theater representatives were in full attendance, all of them facing an erected podium.

Toby takes a deep intake of breath as a side door opens, viewing a woman in a cloak exit to a host of cheers. She's soon followed by Lia, her wings removed, a guy in a poofy blouse, a guy in what he assumes is Prospero's costume, and thankfully, Manny in her Miranda apparel. Too bad he can barely see her.

"Thank you...thank you!" says the woman in the cloak, cheerfully. "My name is Arissa Cunningham."

She's interrupted by several appreciative cheers and more clapping.

"Please...stop," says Arissa, grinning. "What a wonderful night of theater. We're very humbled by your warm reception. Sadly, our Caliban wasn't feeling too well post-performance, but should you have any questions for Park Stewartson, he's with Paramount."

A few dutious reporters scribble that information, Toby inching between two of them. If he did this a couple more times, he'd at least be able to get her attention.

"But today, we do have our Prospero Travis Martson from Paramount; Ferdinand, played by Blake Willis of Pinecrest; Ariel, played by Lia Andrews of Bluewave; and Miranda, Manuella Santos of Bluewave," introduces Arissa. "They'd be more than willing to answer any questions you have."

"I have one!" yells a reviewer. "Blake, you've been successful in the field of family comedy. Are you secretly pining to do a drama?"

The guy in the puffy blouse approaches the podium. Why does he seem so familiar? The guy in the BMW at Venice, thinks Toby. He's also the guy that held Manny's hand onstage. Toby manages to get past two more people, crosses his arms.

"As a matter of fact, yes," answers Blake. "I'm more than just a pretty face that gets pie thrown at it...way too much."

His comment elicits a few laughs, Toby not finding him charming at all. At least Lia rolls her eyes. Manny, however, looks so distracted, playing with the charm bracelet. His charm bracelet. She should be enjoying this moment, and it's all his fault that she's not.

"I have a comment rather than a question," says a woman a couple feet away from Toby. "Personally, I was very moved by your portrayal of Miranda's innocence, Ms. Santos. It's such a far cry from Kelly, who was slightly dim in that Kevin Smith movie."

Arissa throws Manny a proud look, Blake tapping Manny on the shoulder.

"Who? Me?" cries Manny.

The reviewers laugh, writing as Manny trades places with Blake.

"Yes, the unawareness Miranda has for this strange world was played brilliantly," continues the female reviewer. "Can you tell us what you were drawing from?"

"Um...I guess...like...this is my first time away from home," admits Manny, eyes growing wet. "Hollywood is a strange world to me, like Miranda seeing Ferdinand and the ship. I think it's important to keep discovering things for yourself."

"Do you feel you're discovering yourself in this camp?" chimes in another reviewer after jotting her response.

"That's for sure part of it," affirms Manny. "Miranda's basically like any other teenager, which is why I think our director gave it to me. She wants to please her parents, find herself, and be loved all at the same time. Wow, that just came out of nowhere. See, still discovering stuff."

The second reviewer laughs, nods.

"Why do you think Miranda is attracted to strange things?" asks a reporter.

"I'm always attracted to things that are different, or people," shares Manny. "My best friend's not like me. My boyfriend. Both my parents and my brother...it makes life more interesting. I..."

Manny's eyes travel through the throng, and Toby feels his heart race. Toby's gaze shifts momentarily, Manny's words leaving her. This might've been a mistake. Toby waves awkwardly, sweat at the nape of his neck. Dozens of eyes turn towards him.

"Hey, it's the boyfriend!" exclaims Blake, nudging Manny.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," says Manny into the microphone. "I think I have whatever Caliban has."

Casting a cold look in Toby's direction, Manny lifts her skirts, goes through the side door, hair falling out of the updo and to her waist.

"Eww," shudders Blake. "Food poisoning. That's why I don't eat Kraft services."

Apparently oblivious to Manny's exit, they swarm the podium again, directing questions and comments to mainly Blake and Travis. Toby's not oblivious, walking to the side door, cameras flashing behind him.

IV.

Manny lets her mascara run, no longer subject to the judgement of reviewers, scouts, or journalists. Her cheeks are covered with black trickles of despair, and if she met Ferdinand like this, he'd probably dive face first into the choppy water. Who cares? This day was awful. Every word that came from the reviewers' mouth was so faded, like distant echoes. The brocade gown is really beginning to itch, and her feet are sore.

Dropping into a stool, she cries, lowering her head into her elbows, make-up mirror shaking from the force of her weeping. This isn't like she envisioned it. She wished Prospero would put her to sleep like he did so early on in the play, let her fall into a dream and awake to when Toby made time to be there.

Toby is there, she sees, as she raises her head, swallowing a lump in her throat. He lets the door shut behind him, walking to her tentatively. He moves as if he's tempted to touch her, but she won't let him, standing, and going to the side of the stage.

"You never miss curtain," whispers Manny, her voice echoing slightly.

"I know," says Toby. "I saw the end. You looked perfect."

"This was supposed to be perfect," sighs Manny, leaning against a wall. "Well, you know what? I didn't miss you at all."

Those words...she barely got out. She just wanted him to pay in some way. She's struck by the total lack of movement or response for a few moments, finally finding the courage to turn to him. Her chest aches as she sees Toby's lips quiver, his eyes shut underneath his glasses.

"Please say you're still acting," breathes Toby, opening them. "That..that you're lying?"

What's the use? She lets her legs move for her, dress rustling viciously as her arms encircle him, mouth shaking.

"I'm still acting," says Manny, her tears falling to his shoulder. "I'm lying."

"I so wanted to be with you," reassures Toby, kissing the side of her head.

"Toby, I meant what I said to you," sobs Manny. "It's not an audience without you."

"Won't do it to you again...I swear," says Toby.

"Where were you?" whispers Manny. "Is it your mom? Did something bad happen? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fine," answers Toby, releasing her. "Uh..."

How come she's sensing that this "uh" is leading to something she won't want to hear? Now, that she knows everything's fine with him, what could've prevented him from attending?

"Kendra...," starts Toby.

"Kendra!" exclaims Manny.

"Wait...wait, that started off wrong," says Toby, massaging his temple.

Yeah, you bet it started off wrong, thinks Manny. Why is Kendra even being mentioned? She thought the beach trip would be the last time they interacted. It's not like she keeps in contact with Craig.

"Manny, we've been talking and I should've told you before, which was stupid of me, and I'm sorry," says Toby, his words in a rush.

"Talking? Since when?" asks Manny.

"Since around the night of the presidential party," reveals Toby.

That was months ago! Months! First, he's not coming to her performances, and now he's been keeping secrets? Who is this?

"You talked to her the night I threw you a party!" cries Manny. "Toby, what's wrong with you!"

"I didn't want to talk to her at first," says Toby, resting a hand on her waist. "She has this secret..."

"What secret?" says Manny.

"I can't...can't tell," stammers Toby, lowering his eyes.

"Then I can't tell if this relationship should continue!" snaps Manny, starting across the stage, her feet making loud thumps.

Toby slaps his forehead, stalls as Manny goes down the stage steps. No way would she let another boy keep secrets from her, especially revolving around another girl? Toby must think she's dumb.

"She's hurt!" yells Toby after her.

Manny halts in her tracks, lowers her skirts.

"How hurt?" says Manny, facing him.

"It's career-threatening," sighs Toby, in the center of the stage. "She thinks it's nothing, but...to tell you the truth, I think she's secretly terrified that it's worse."

Kendra's in danger? Wow. She didn't know stuff like that happened to sixteen-year olds in their prime, and based on what she knew, Kendra's dreams were to be in the Olympics and that would threaten her chances. If she lost her voice, or some other ailment which prevented her from acting, it'd chip away at her to no end.

"Now I just feel bad," admits Manny, leaning against a plush theater seat.

"I felt horrible not telling you we've been talking," says Toby. "J.T. kept advising me to, and then we had all those other problems...but that's not an excuse."

"Should've gone with J.T. on that one," agrees Manny.

"She's with me...in the car outside," says Toby. "And I'm telling you this immediately. Kendra's afraid to tell her family and needs a lot of rest."

Manny folds her arms, peers through the shadows at the closed stage doors. The thought of a girl waiting for her boyfriend to return makes her want to start her own tempest on said girl. But she has to be grown up about this. Jealousy has gotten her into some sticky situations before.

"Well, if you're the only person she can rely on, maybe she should stay with you," sighs Manny.

"But...," begins Toby.

"Toby, I'm not twelve," jokes Manny, motioning for him to come to her. "I survived shipwreck and a storm, right?"

Toby steps down cautiously, leans on the chair opposite hers. Gosh, the boy was so gallant and annoying at the same time. He'd come to her aid a lot, but him coming to another girl's aid bothered her. Why'd Kendra have to unload this burden on her boyfriend? Because she knew Toby would bite, moans Manny inwardly. And she knows he'd do it despite her protests.

"She can rest at your mom's," proposes Manny, her stomach twitching.

"Wouldn't it be awkward?" says Toby.

"If you're helping, that's alright with me," insists Manny.

And his mom would keep tabs on them, adds Manny, smiling.

"Only if it's okay with you?" says Toby.

"Yes, Tobes!" assures Manny. "But tonight...and your birthday, those are ours. Promise?"

"Count on it," says Toby, tracing her cheek. "You're the best, Manny. No wonder Ferdinand falls in love with you."

"First sight," kids Manny.

"First love," breathes Toby, bringing his lips inches from hers.

Her gown's no longer scratchy, her feet no longer sore. She's thinking maybe she should've forgiven him quicker, if only to feel this desire. I'm his first love, not Kendra.

"I should so still be mad at you," says Manny, letting her face fall closer to his.

"Really envious that Ferdinand gets to fall in love with you," whispers Toby.

"Well...you know, if you keep falling in love with someone every day," counters Manny. "That's better, isn't it?"

Toby grins sheepishly, kissing her in the calm of the storm.

V.

"For the most part, I was pleased by your efforts," congratulates Professor Williams. "The range of topics was particularly gratifying, as last year's seminar had an unhealthy proportion of articles on binge drinking. If I never hear the expression beer pong, it'll be too soon."

The class laughs jovially, Matthew swinging in his swivel chair to smile at Ellie.

"Of course that doesn't mean I've never played," adds Professor Williams, shyly.

That leads to more believable laughter, Ellie feeling a smile form. Throughout the first weeks of the seminar, they've learned interesting tidbits about the professor, all of them indirect. She figured he was a ne'er do well in his heyday. Yeah, ne' er do well, another random word she's learned while researching for these projects. Can never have too many of those. Eh, being a wordsmith would benefit her in the long run.

"And oh, before you leave today," says Professor Williams, checking his watch.

Ellie and Matthew let their eyes leave their monitor, which holds a write-up on possible examples of antinomianism.

"Some exciting news. The _Core_ was in desperate need of one more article for their first issue," announces Professor Williams. "I can assure you that this is not a regular occurrence. Nevertheless, I recommended one article from your peers for inclusion."

Excited chatter fills the room, Ellie suddenly wishing they didn't do something as dull as first-year driving experiences.

"So Matthew and Eleanor, congratulations," beams Professor Williams.

The rest of the students clap wholeheartedly...well, most of them, since Matthew was so well-liked. Ellie's mouth hangs open, Matthew raising her hand to high-five it.

"Perhaps you should consider doing your antinomianism project on the same subject," encourages Professor Williams. "Class dismissed. And Bianca, I can discuss your project now."

Bianca, the shyest of the students, approaches the professor as Ellie stares wide-eyed at Matthew. A piece of hers is going in the _Core_! A top university paper!

"This is...insane," sighs Ellie.

Matthew chuckles, hugging Ellie awkwardly. Too awkwardly. Ellie pats his back, lets the hug continue for a few moments, then shrugs him off. She hopes he's not getting any ideas.

"I...I have a boyfriend," says Ellie, smiling pathetically.

"Oh...oh, was that weird?" stammers Matthew. "Sorry. I was all excited. No...I have a girlfriend."

"Oh!" cries Ellie. "Sorry. My mind's all funky today and..."

"No...just...," begins Matthew.

He stops speaking, retrieves a photograph from his wallet, gives it to Ellie. It's a picture of an attractive girl with dark skin, wavy black hair, and a warm expression, cross necklace dangling from her neck.

"Ebony," shares Matthew. "I'm...very happy."

"I'm cool with another girl with an E name," kids Ellie, still embarrassed.

"And?" prompts Matthew.

"Sean," says Ellie, quickly. "But not really the type to carry pictures of him around. Does she live around here?"

"Christian private school," informs Matthew. "Yeah, it's hard. We make it work."

"It was hard for me and Sean, and now it's like unbelievably transformed," says Ellie, grinning. "And while I'd love to swap stories about our significant others, we should transform this project based on the _Core_ reward."

"Seconded," says Matthew. "To what, though?"

"Well, as you know I'm taking driver's ed, and one fear I do have...parking tickets? People despise them."

"Especially, college students with little money," adds Matthew.

"I don't have anything planned this afternoon," shrugs Ellie.

"I...do. Call with Eb. But...," says Matthew.

"Don't cancel on account of me," interrupts Ellie. "I know you're dying to tell her about the _Core_ thing."

"Just a little," admits Matthew. "Thanks Ellie."

"I'll collect sources, and we'll hammer out an outline tomorrow," says Ellie.

"Bye," says Matthew.

They bump fists, then laugh.

"We gotta find some contact that's not totally strange," sighs Matthew, waving and heading out of the office.

Ellie grabs her backpack, really wanting to thank Professor Williams for the recommendation, but he's still tied up with Bianca. First thing tomorrow, she decides, receiving a few more "congratulations" as she leaves.

She's so used to riding the elevator, saying good-night to the person at the front desk of the campus building that it's almost like she's already at the University of Toronto. It won't be too long now. Reaching the campus courtyard, she removes a tape recorder from her bag, listens to the whir of the tape. Hmm, a good twenty minutes left.

A girl in a black sweater and grey sweatpants walks by her, and Ellie goes into reporter mode.

"Hi, I'm doing an article on parking tickets and...," says Ellie.

"What are you, fifteen?" she laughs, pushing Ellie to the side.

Ellie moans as she stumbles right into another guy with spiky hair, and a pierced nose. Talk about rude. Just say no comment, for crying out loud.

"Easy, Red," cautions the guy.

"I was actually having a good day," says Ellie, removing some hair from her face.

"Don't let her ruin it," says the guy. "What do you need?"

"A quote, if you can spare," replies Ellie, hopefully. "Parking tickets?"

"My car's damaged...well, it became my brother's car," sighs the guy. "Ugh, now I gotta spend all my weekends at this stankhole."

"Sorry," says Ellie.

"No garage can repair it either," he mumbles.

"Have you tried Hill's in Toronto?" says Ellie, grinning. "I know this great mechanic that can fix practically..."

"Hill's?" cries the guy. "Hotness, Dale Hill was the one that jacked my baby up. Brakes got shot after we installed them."

"Hill's installs things for you..."

"It wasn't that place," explains the guy. "Dale's business. Near the docks."

"He has his own business?"

"Sells parts. Faulty parts. I wouldn't go near no Hills if my life depended on it."

Whoa, thinks Ellie, stopping her tape recorder. Dale has a business? Did Sean know about this? How come he's so lazy at his father's? And he's selling suspect parts?

"Is it illegal?" whispers Ellie.

"Your guess is as good as mine," says the guy, scratching his spikes. "My brother bought that stuff...no receipt, from what I could find."

He starts to leave, Ellie breathing deeply. No, this is my chance to expose Dale for who he really is, not allow Sean to get beat up for some guy that's selling stolen goods.

"Can I ask your brother some questions?" asks Ellie, blocking him. "Like why didn't he press charges?"

"He's dead, Red," says the guy, glaring at her. "Car crash. His life depended on it."

The guy shrugs, shoulders heavy as he departs.

"Whoa," she breathes.

A pain races throughout her arm, her pen dropping to the pavement.


	28. Sweet Freedom

**XXVIII. Sweet Freedom**

_No more runnin' down the wrong road  
Dancin' to a diff'rent drum  
Can't you see what's goin' on  
Deep inside your heart  
Always searchin' for the real thing  
Livin' like it's far away  
Just leave all the madness in yesterday  
You're holdin' the key  
When you believe it_

_Shine sweet freedom  
Shine your light on me  
You are the magic  
You're right where I wanna be  
Oh sweet freedom carry me along  
We'll keep the spirit alive on and on_

_We'll be dancin' in the moonlight  
Smilin' with the risin' sun  
Livin' like we've never done  
Goin' all the way  
Reachin' out to meet the changes  
Touchin' every shining star  
The light of tomorrow is right where we are  
There's no turnin' back  
From what I'm feeling_

_Coz there'll be starlight all night  
When we're close together  
Share those feelings dancin' in your eyes  
Tonight they're guiding us  
Shinin' till the mornin' light_

_**Sweet Freedom is the property of Michael McDonald and appears in the film Running Scared.** _

**_Jump Around is the property of House of Pain. _ **

_The Best Things In Life Are Free is the property of Janet Jackson and Luther Vandross and appears in the film Mo Money. _

_Keep Ya Body Movin' is the property of Thuggie D. _

Her eyes are closed, her body numb. The single sound is a few, demure crickets chirping through the window. 

"Open," commands Hannah.

Emma's sight first finds the lavender canopy, translucent, far away. Hannah's bed feels so huge, giving her a sensation of sinking, sinking into the sheets. The knight mannequin stands menacingly to her right, shield glimmering. He's free of a mace or a sword, though the effect is chilling, strange.

"Is the game over yet?" asks Emma, her shoulders tensing.

"Almost," replies Hannah.

Emma detects a drawer being opened, Hannah's steady feet racing back and forth, returning to Emma in a milisecond. She taps Emma's forehead gently with a wand.

"Awake, Sleeping Beauty," she says, with the kind of authority that only a seven-year old can have.

Dutifully rising, Emma's heart speeds up as she shifts her teal camisole shirt.As much as she likes Hannah's imagination, being still didn't exactly appeal to her. There's a tendency to think about things when you're still. Spike called her after Manny's show to see how things were going. Good, she was glad to report. Then, her mother asked if she'd been in contact with Snake during the trip. No, she was hesitant to report. Of course, she thanked him for the trip before she left, via voice mail message. Whatever other job he has is apparently keeping him from being home too often. Sometimes she wonders if the other job is another woman. What she wouldn't give to really fall into a deep slumber, forget the drama at home.

"You rose real early," compliments Hannah.

"Huh?" says Emma.

"The early bird catches the worm," explains Hannah. "My father rises early too."

She has yet to meet Kel. Manny did, once. It's funny not to meet your boss, but she does know that Hannah spoke favorably of her nanny skills. Honestly, sometimes she's just winging it, and it helped that Hannah was well-adjusted and an easy kid. She'd go off on all these interesting tangents, at times to the point where Emma could just stand and watch. The only thing that made her nervous was that Hannah liked to hide away, so jarring for a kid that likes to talk and have fun. It was almost like she was expected to be that way. The personality definitely isn't genetic, as Lia went out or talked about going out almost every night when she didn't have a commitment. Then, Kel was the head of a company so his name was all over the place. Perhaps she shouldn't dig; that isn't exactly in the job description.

"What does your father do?" asks Hannah.

"He's a teacher," answers Emma, quietly.

"Like Edwina," says Hannah. "Does he love his students?"

In his way, yes, Snake did. How could someone so caring do what he did to her mother? But he did pay for this trip. Part of her is so afraid to let him in again, that she'll sink under all this doubt. You can love people so much and still wind up hurt.

Emma clears her throat. "Let's get you ready for bed."

"Adults never like to answer questions," moans Hannah, walking to her closet.

As Hannah pulls out her pajamas, Emma's phone starts to buzz. Spinner, she reads, raising her brow in surprise. She hopes he isn't calling about the awkwardness on the beach the other day, where, of course, she was thinking about Snake. Such a weird connection. Why make a connection like that?

"Spin?" says Emma into her cell.

"Emma...good!" exclaims Spinner. "I'm like totally freaking out...have you seen Kendra?"

"Kendra?" says Emma, timidly.

Yes, she saw her in Toby's car as she and Manny were leaving the theater. Manny elected to ride with Lia, Hannah, and Emma, and Emma couldn't blame her. Emma's first thought? What is Toby doing with his ex-girlfriend? Well, Manny didn't seem as shocked as her, so she let it pass.

"She's...she's with Toby," shares Emma.

"Yeah, that's what her note said," cries Spinner. "Who leaves the hospital without telling your family members...who?"

Kendra was in the hospital? If Toby helped her leave, there must be a good reason.

"Sorry," offers Emma. "If it's any consolation, Kendra looked fine to me. Actually, a little relieved."

"But she should be resting with us!" says Spinner. "That's why...I'm on my way down there. Boomer's giving me a lift."

He's coming back to L.A.? No, she cautions herself. No, Emma, he's not coming for you again. Because I botched things last time. That doesn't mean she wants him upset when he talks to Kendra.

"Look, calm down, Spin," instructs Emma. "Toby would never do anything to compromise Kendra's health. Maybe she's embarrassed or scared to tell you."

"You mean like...she's...she's pregnant?" stammers Spinner. "Dude, my mom would go mental! Like Saw-level mental."

"Don't jump to any conclusions," cautions Emma. "Do you need someone to talk to?"

"Um...since Kendra's not talking...," groans Spinner. "Alright. Give me your address."

Emma supplies him with the address, helping Hannah crease down her purple nightgown simultaneously. Hannah grins happily, bounces to her bed. Grabbing her wand, she curls it in her hand, lets her head fall against the pillow. Emma bets she has no trouble sleeping.

"Should be there in an hour or so," guesses Spinner. "And...uh, this isn't exactly the way I wanted to see you."

So he did want to see her post-beach confusion? Emma's cheeks grow warm.

"See ya soon," says Emma, clicking off, then smiling.

She goes to Hannah, tucking her in, a chore she misses doing for Jack. Not a chore really. It was nice to feel that closeness for that single moment. Jack must've liked it, too, because he hugged her. Achieving that type of closeness with Hannah, too soon, and probably not likely. Hannah would only hold her hand if the situation called for it.

"Good night, Hannah," says Emma.

"Do you ever think sleeping is like being dead, but your breath refuses to stop so you can't die?" questions Hannah, light eyes fixated on Emma.

That's a pretty morbid thought, but so is coloring the vines around Sleeping Beauty's bed black. Hmmm, she's starting to wonder if rather than being a Manny in ten years, she'd be an Ashley.

"Why are you thinking about death?" returns Emma. "You're seven."

"When your mother dies, I guess you have to," shrugs Hannah.

Oh yeah, her mom. Great, so dim, Emma, she condemns herself.

"No one could save her," continues Hannah, staring at her wand. "And no one can save my dad from being sad.'

Judging by her expression, Emma's sure that Hannah's indirectly speaking for herself, admitting that she's as sad as her father. No wonder they don't talk too often.

"From personal experience, you can do things to push away sadness," whispers Emma, smoothing Hannah's blonde hair. "Keep yourself busy."

"Does that work forever?" says Hannah, suspiciously.

"Well, no...," starts Emma.

"I'm confused," interrupts Hannah, scratching her nose. "Must be tired."

I'm confused too, thinks Emma. She's not tired, however. In fact, she feels as awake as she did before being risen as Sleeping Beauty. Because it doesn't last forever. Home keeps plaguing her despite not being at home. So what's the answer? Maybe the answer has to find her.

Emma nods, deadens the light, standing still as Hannah's room goes dark.

II.

"Ugh!" moans Lia loudly, reapplying the cold washcloth over her face.

Manny ignores her, moves some hangers in her closet to the left. She knows she put that shirt somewhere, the light blue, lacy camisole top. Toby loved it, and the boy definitely needed a reminder that he loved that, and everything else. Man, what sick twist of fate brought Kendra into the equation after two years? They weren't even in the same country and lo and behold, now they're involved. Not romantically, not romantically, repeats Manny in her head.

"And it's staying that way," mutters Manny, locating the shirt.

On Manny's bed, Lia is making more noise, clothed in her black silk pajama bottoms and a cotton white shirt. She sure was making a fuss over something they couldn't change.

"Lia, once the reviews come out tomorrow, you'll see that you're wasting energy in negativity land," assures Manny, finding a pair of cute denim shorts.

"All their questions were for you," sighs Lia. "Ariel's so much more demanding than Miranda..."

Manny's tempted to kick her out after that remark, but no, she still isn't sure she's worked her way back into Lia's good graces, and they have to live together.

"Then, Blake," continues Lia. "His ego didn't need to be fed. Such a ham."

"You're worried for nothing," insists Manny. "Besides, me walking away from the scene...the journalists are so going to tear me apart. I did tell you about the pageant press conference I ruined, right?"

Lia removes the washcloth from her face, turns to face Manny as she buttons her top.

"Please," says Lia, smirking. "Stuff like that so gets you noticed. They're probably discussing you and Toby at the water cooler as we speak."

"I don't want to be a water cooler topic," says Manny.

"If you hang with Blake, you will be," chides Lia. "What was up there? You didn't look too repulsed when he was with you at the podium."

"Was upset," replies Manny.

"While you were receiving all that praise?" blasts Lia. "Yeah...right."

Lia's attitude is really starting to wear thin. It's not her fault that the press didn't ask her any questions, and Blake wasn't doing anything to her.

"For your information, Blake did something kind for me and Toby," shares Manny.

"As kind as me giving you the B& B info?" says Lia.

"No...well, I don't know," says Manny.

As promised, Lia did give her the information, and Manny made the arrangements. It was set for tomorrow, the day before Toby's actual birthday. She called them right after Toby said he was free. Dialing the number...hard, considering she knows Kendra is off with him. Well, she can keep him away from her for at least two nights. Kendra isn't getting in the way of her plans. Forget that. Toby was clueless as to where they were going, so that's one positive. He'd be excited, hopefully. J.T. promised to cover.

"What'd Blake do?" encourages Lia.

"Promise not to say anything?" says Manny.

"Promise on the sanctity of this pink room," guarantees Lia. "Shoot."

"This paparazzi guy took pictures of me and Toby...making out...pretty innocently, for the record," says Manny. "Then, he made some mean comments for this website. Anyways, Martika and Blake helped me get them pulled."

"Wait...wait!" says Lia. "How did Blake know where to find you at Venice?"

"He was chilling at the beach," shrugs Manny.

"Blake doesn't chill at Venice...he goes to like the Roosevelt or somewhere he can be waited on, hand and foot," argues Lia. "And Martika was mysteriously at the office?"

"She was checking on a press package!" defends Manny.

"Manny, you can't be that naive!" cries Lia. "Martika knew you were at Venice because I told her, and she told Blake who most likely looked for you..."

"So you're part of this little conspiracy?" exclaims Manny, smiling coldly.

Lia clicks her tongue. "Of course not!"

Not wanting to be too difficult, Manny presses her lips firmly together. She isn't naive, and Lia's cocky in suggesting so. Lia's predisposed to hate Pinecrest because of her past with them, but she isn't. Anybody that would do that for her earns points in her book. Next thing, you know, she'd be saying that Trash Talkin' Todd was hired by Pinecrest to snap her and Toby.

"No offense, but you weren't there," says Manny, quietly. "Those pictures would've humiliated the guy I love. If you loved someone half as much as I do him, then...maybe you'd...you'd understand."

Lia breathes deeply. "I do...understand, Manny."

Manny's eyes begin to tear, as she fumbles with her top.

"I'm not...not sure why we're going through this," chokes out Manny. "Like...we're both really good people. Now, Kendra's back and...it's not fair."

"Pinecrest is so...," starts Lia. "But I have no proof."

"Is it so wrong that I want to believe someone's looking out for me and Toby...for once?" sobs Manny.

Lia hops off the bed, hugging Manny gently. Ugh, she doesn't want to cry in front of her. All of it's true, though. Her and Toby were working, and all these obstacles were hitting them from so many sides. She told him she loved that they were complicated, but it's taking such a toll on her feelings, and she's never been one to control her feelings for so long.

"What if I take Gremlin tonight?" suggests Lia. "I'm in a foul mood anyway. Sorry. Hang with Emma and Toby."

"Where?" says Manny, grinning slightly.

"Anywhere...it's your night!" says Lia. "Of course, in addition to being the best Ariel ever, I'm pretty reliable when it comes to social outings..."

"Finding something for me, Toby, and Emma on a weekday?" laughs Manny.

"The day before the Fourth of July, too," informs Lia.

"That sounds like a tall order," says Manny.

"Manny, don't question my brilliance," returns Lia.

III.

Toby twirls the keys to the car awkwardly, before setting them on the hook The car sits placidly in its space. A Mercedes never looked so ugly to him. It's only ugly because he said he wouldn't take it, ended up taking it, and all this bad stuff occurred. Kendra injured herself, he missed Manny's show, and most horrible to him, he and Manny had their first real fight in their relationship. If he could rewind the day, he never would've gone to the expo, but if he didn't rewind the day, Kendra would still be unseen by a doctor. You can't have it both ways.

He's not looking forward to leaving the garage, going into the house, where he's sure his mother is waiting. It's not yet eight, but he saw her bedroom light on when they arrived. She may not let Kendra stay, call her grandmother. Then, where would Kendra be, silent and suffering again?

"I'll get the door," says Toby, opening the side door to the house.

Kendra blushes, carries her bag over her shoulder. On the way home from the theater, Kendra kept quiet. She did smile more, thankfully. He supposes the guilt she'd had was starting to lessen, and seeing his mother's house might've put her in a better mood. The house is still beautiful to him after all these unfortunate days.

"When I first met her, I knew she'd be somebody big," says Kendra, as they step into the foyer.

"She's worked hard all these years," says Toby.

Without seeing me, adds Toby, leading Kendra to a sofa in the living room. He realizes this is the sofa where Anne Marie asked to meet Manny, and well, that didn't work out so well. Perhaps they should move. There is swift movement as Xerox bounds into the room, begins to bark in their direction.

"Shhhh," shushes Toby, putting a finger to his lips.

Xerox continues to bark, growls at Kendra for a bit, then scampers back to the foyer. Great. The whole house knows we're here now. Sure enough, he hears feet going down the steps, two at a time.

"Let me do most of the talking," whispers Toby, patting her knee.

"Toby, this is too much...I can't...," breathes Kendra.

"I offered," comforts Toby.

Anne Marie, a deep frown set on her face, enters the living room, black business suit making her more intimidating than usual. Then, Toby's taken aback as her expression becomes less cold, more friendly.

"Kendra!" greets Anne Marie, reaching past Toby to hug her.

"Hi, Ms. Isaacs," greets Kendra. "Nice to see you."

"Same," says Anne Marie, sitting down next to her, purposefully ignoring her son.

Whatever. Did she think freezing him out would make her more sympathetic? She'd been freezing him out before he came to California.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you," says Anne Marie, casting a quick look at Toby. "But...what brings you here?"

This is the moment where I should speak, thinks Toby.

"She needs somewhere to stay," says Toby, palms getting sweaty.

"What?" breathes Anne Marie.

Kendra stares at Toby apologetically, begins to stand. Toby motions for her to sit back down, and Kendra complies.

"You want me to house your ex-girlfriend?" says Anne Marie, standing herself. "After you let some other girl take advantage of my things, my home? Having Manny traipse around my home wasn't enough?"

Toby lets his eyes fall to the carpet. He can feel Kendra's gaze burn into him after that last statement. His mother acted like he treated this house like a brothel. So not the case! He knows this is going to be a cheap shot, but...

"Dad let Manny stay at his house when she was in trouble," says Toby, looking directly into Anne Marie's eyes.

Like he thought, Anne Marie became more frazzled, losing eye contact with him, playing with her skirt.

"He did, did he?" says Anne Marie. "That shows what kind of house your father runs. Letting you stay out past curfew, stealing cars, bringing random girls..."

"They aren't random!" interrupts Toby. "Manny was a friend at the time, and Kendra's my friend. You let J.T. stay here, and he's not nearly as responsible as Kendra..."

"Exactly how many friends do you want me to shepherd, Tobias?" snaps Anne Marie. "Will there ever be a point where I do enough? Gosh, I called Disney to set up a meeting for you, because I felt so guilty..."

She did? Toby's reserve starts to soften, sorry he brought up his dad . That was pretty amazing of her to do, considering the terseness between them. Well, the way things are going, she'd cancel, and tell Kendra no.

"What's the problem, Kendra?" asks Anne Marie after a heavy sigh.

"There's no problem," replies Kendra, exchanging a worried glance with Toby. "It's...I have a few days to rest and I don't know anyone in L.A. so Toby said maybe I could stay here."

"Not a hotel?" says Anne Marie. "Dear, if you need the money..."

A hotel isn't the place for her, thinks Toby. He has to make more of an effort. How'd he get his dad to agree to let Manny stay? Hmmm, Jeff didn't require much convincing because he liked Manny. That said, Anne Marie liked Kendra, so...

"I'm sorry I was a brat," says Toby. "The car...the other night. But I promise to be on my best behavior if Kendra stays. I'll go to the Disney meeting, help Fred, clean the gutters...whatever. Just...let her stay."

Anne Marie strokes her chin, thoughtfully. At least she's not shaking her head.

"Call your grandmother," says Anne Marie. "If we're having a girl in my house, we're doing it the proper way."

Kendra smiles hopefully at Toby, retrieves her cell. Within moments, Anne Marie is on the phone, and Kendra whispers to Toby that she'd calmed her grandmother down before Anne Marie began talking. Apparently, Spinner and Boomer were on their way to fetch her. Anne Marie and Grandma Mason chat animatedly, Anne Marie laughing now and then. Grandma Mason said she could stay, if the doctor said it was okay. That was the one condition, and it meant a call to the doctor. Kendra shook at the prospect, but to her relief, Anne Marie pointed out that the holiday was tomorrow so reaching anyone would be quite difficult. The realization bought Kendra more time. Once Anne Marie handed her the phone again, Kendra had to offer so many reassurances, including letting Spinner see that she was fine.

"That was a marathon call, for sure," sighs Kendra, finally clicking off.

"So the verdict is you can stay," says Anne Marie, pleasantly. "The guest room next to J.T.'s is vacant. Toby, I want your door open, except if you're changing..."

"Mom!" he cries.

Kendra grins shyly, pulling at her pants leg.

"I have every right to make a request...especially that request," defends Anne Marie, raising an eyebrow. "And your best behavior starts tomorrow."

"Um, to let you know, Manny and I are...going on a date," shares Toby.

"Then, enjoy it," says Anne Marie, crossing her arms. "We'll set a curfew tomorrow."

"Curfew?" cries Toby.

"I'm doing a lot for you, Toby," insists Anne Marie. "You can grant me the same courtesy by following my rules. And yes, you are meeting with Disney. Oh, and the car privileges...gone. I assume you have cab fare?"

Anne Marie frowns deeply for what seems like the hundredth time, leaves the room, in a slow and calculated fashion. Toby slams his head against the arm of the couch.

"You're...you're leaving?" stammers Kendra. "Tonight?"

Toby sighs, fetches his wallet. "Yep."

"Oh," says Kendra, sadly.

"This'll be a cheap date," notes Toby, counting the bills.

"Where are you going?" asks Kendra.

"Manny's choice," shares Toby.

"What is it?" chuckles Kendra. "A fashion show? A play? Something that will catch Manny's attention for more than five seconds?"

"Okay...rude," throws back Toby.

After all he's done for her, including having most of his privileges yanked from under him, she's laying into Manny. Manny was the one who said she'd deal with Kendra being there, too.

"You said it was complicated," reminds Kendra. "How 'bout I make it simple for you? Manny likes all that showy stuff, and you don't. You'd be better off staying home."

"No, I wouldn't," insists Toby. "I disappointed her today."

"I know, and I'm sorry," says Kendra. "But Toby...when is it ever going to be your turn? Why does Manny get to decide what you're going to do? Why are all the dates tailored to her? You can't be that smitten."

"Smitten?" says Toby, his jaw falling open.

"It's been...what, six months?" says Kendra. "You can't fall in love in six months. That' s ridiculous! It's infatuation!"

No, no, he's not hearing this right now, especially from her. Manny may like certain things, and make decisions, but what does it matter, if she does them willingly and with her heart?

"I'm trying to be your friend, Toby," says Kendra, patting his shoulder. "You can't move too fast or..."

"You want to be my friend?" interrupts Toby. "Then, start acting like it."

Toby stands immediately, walks through the foyer, slams the front door.

IV.

_Pack it up, pack it in  
Let me begin  
I came to win  
Battle me that's a sin  
I won't tear the sack up  
Punk you'd better back up  
Try and play the role and the whole crew will act up  
Get up, stand up, come on!  
_

The loud music blasts through Boomer's speakers, Spinner grinning anxiously at Emma in the backseat. Yep, the amps are pumping and he can barely hear a word Boomer says as they pull up to their destination. Luckily, the speakers weren't insanely monstrous at the beginning of the ride. That's when Manny shared Toby's address with him, and they went to the Isaacs residence.

Spinner has to hand it to Kendra. There are worse places to rest. Or "rest", as he's thinking. Kendra's inability to tell him what was wrong concerned him. If Sam knocked her up, he'd go Rambo on his pathetic butt, comb Toronto until he located that jerk. When he spoke with Kendra, however, she seemed distracted by another boy, Toby. Rather than answer any of his questions regarding the visit with the doctor, she kept asking if Toby was still mad. Spinner couldn't tell, honestly. He was short in speech when they pulled up to the gate, and he let Spinner in to chat. It didn't take Einstein or another brainy guy to know they were fighting. Already? She had just elected to go there that night. Maybe he should take her home. But no, she insisted on staying with the Isaacs after all the trouble they went through, specifically Toby.

His original plan was to get Kendra, and for the three of them to rent a room for the night. Boomer, probably lead by his crush on her, provided some cash. Now, as it turns out, they have money to spend with one less body to bring to Santa Clara. Manny proposed a fun night for all of them, seeing as the day was so tumultuous. At first, he wasn't so sure partying on the same day as Kendra's fall was a good idea, but Kendra was resting in a comfortable place and she wasn't leaving. If he stayed here, he could check in on her tomorrow. Then, Emma is the other draw. She looks so awesome in her clingy top and white shorts, one hot nanny. Spinner smiles into the rear view mirror, viewing Emma fool with the strap on her shirt.

"Santa Monica Pier!" announces Boomer, shutting off the stereo.

Whoa, feels like I have ears again, groans Spinner inwardly. Ears that work. Emma, Toby, and Manny react the same, each touching their faces protectively.

They exit the car, seeing a whirl of color in front of their eyes. The night is bright due to the many stars, more bright with strings of white, red, and blue lights stretched over the docks of the pier. Young adults move with Roman candles, sparklers, babies shaking miniature flags. Spinner recognizes the intoxicating smell of a grill at work, with hot dogs and hamburgers on the menu. It's one large cook-out among the other attractions, a lit, large ferris wheel, brightly colored carnival games, people of every color and size. One big celebration, which they could all use, frankly.

"Looks like a large party," comments Spinner.

"Patriotic," agrees Toby.

"Why?" says Emma.

"Uh, brain fart?" replies Boomer. "Fourth of July, blondie."

Emma shrugs, nonplussed.

"Guess it's not a big deal for you, Canadians," sighs Boomer.

"That's where you're wrong," insists Manny. "We're in America so let's celebrate. Tobes."

Manny leads Toby away, and Spinner rolls his eyes. Man, he wanted to get Toby alone, try and get some clues regarding the Kendra situation. Before he can catch them, they're off in a separate direction, leaving him with Emma and Boomer. Boomer pulls him to the side, anyway.

"Is this...like a date thing?" whispers Boomer, leaning in.

"Not officially, nah," says Spinner. "But...uh..."

"Eh, I can get a hint," shrugs Boomer. "I'll use my Kendra contribution on the games."

"Sweet," mutters Spinner, shaking hands with Boomer.

Boomer jogs to the Playland Arcade, shaggy hair flopping behind him. Emma stares uncomfortably at the last person remaining, him. Well, what should they do? She's probably eaten at this time of night, and he doesn't know if she likes thrill rides...

"What's over there?" asks Emma, nodding to a row of white boats carved in an odd shape.

Spinner narrows his eyes in confusion, approaches the boats. They weren't just boats...they're swans, sitting calmly on the water. A pink building with a black hole is situated on the other end, a hole shaped like a heart. A female employee tips her bowler hat, adjusts her striped vest as her other hand holds an oar. Oh no, he's heard of these. He can't even bring himself to say it.

"Oh," says Emma, apparently also understanding it.

"It's fifty cents per person," nudges the employee.

"We're not Tunnel of Love people," demurs Emma, casting a wary glance at Spinner.

"That's what they all say," laughs the employee. "Then, you get in the boat and it winds up being a whole lot of fun. There's been a lot of first kisses in there."

"We've already...," begins Spinner.

He and Emma smile, shyly glance in the other direction. Honestly, they haven't kissed in ages, since early spring, when her home life wasn't so busy. The ride doesn't look too bad, and they can't just stand here awkwardly all night.

"Two tickets," says Spinner.

Emma flips back her hair, eyes widening. "Spin..."

"Come on, nature conservationist," teases Spinner. "Don't tell me you're anti-swan."

"No, I'm not anti-swan...," begins Emma.

"Get you away from that hot dog smell," continues Spinner.

"Fine," says Emma, as Spinner hands the employee a dollar.

Helping her into the boat, he notes that she's grinning and nearly as red as he is. Spinner joins her, the hard white body of the swan surrounding them, a red bench in the center. A small red heart hangs above their heads, Emma giggling.

"You look really weird in a swan," says Emma. "Sorry."

"The bench in this bird is hurting my butt," admits Spinner, wiggling.

The swan starts forward as the employee pulls a lever.

"Oh, and here we go," says Spinner, leaning back, Emma doing the same.

Their boat inches to the dark shadow, the hole shaped like a heart getting closer and closer. Spinner glances behind them, seeing a twentysomething couple climb into the next swan. Hey, at least he's not the only guy doing this, giving the husband a thumbs up, which he returns.

"I feel like we need some music or...I don't know," laughs Emma.

Spinner whistles the theme to the Twilight Zone, Emma lightly shoving him.

"Baby, don't rock the boat, baby," sings Spinner.

Emma laughs again, this laugh more relaxed. As the boat travels on its path, they see an erected Cupid, a small boy with a bow and arrow, diaper carved around his waist.

"Arrow's aimed right at me, man," whispers Spinner, feigning fear.

"You're trapped," teases Emma.

Next, they reach two humongous pink hearts where the swan must pass through. To him, they looked like two gigantic bottles of Pepto Bismol.

"Such a Manny thing," says Emma as they pass the hearts.

"Yeah, Toby and Manny would probably be kissing right about...," says Spinner, then stopping himself.

That was the original goal of this ride, wasn't it? A kiss, but only if she's willing. He knows she has so much going on, and when he touched her on the beach, it met with some resistance. Come to think of it, it was a foolish hope.

Spinner folds his hands together, admiring, or actually inwardly gagging, at two pandas sharing an Eskimo kiss. He can hardly believe the shadow passing his own face, not from any constructed object, or the boat, but from Emma's face pressing against his, her lips meeting his. Spinner's stomach does a somersault, as he gently strokes her glossy hair, the bare shoulders under the straps of her top. Emma parts from him, slides to the other side of the bench, grinning.

"So?" whispers Emma.

"Suddenly, have a new appreciation for Cupid, swans and pandas," says Spinner, playfully. "Whoo."

"I'll make sure to tell Jimmy you said that," jokes Emma.

"Aw, man!" protests Spinner. "Come on!"

V.

"Thank you," says Manny, accepting a flag from a man dressed in an army uniform.

Flag in one hand, she takes Toby's with her other hand. She's happy they're finally alone, and not arguing. Nevertheless, Toby has been in a sour mood since Boomer swung by his house. He did tell her that Kendra was staying, and her heart contracted in a way that made it seem as if it was leap-frogging over itself. It's what she expected; Mrs. Isaacs may not be kind to her, but she can't resist helping one of Toby's friends. His ex-girlfriend, really.

"Why so glum, chum?" teases Manny, jutting out her lower lip.

At least that makes Toby grin, releasing her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

"Long day," replies Toby. "No matter. It's about you now."

"Like the sound of that," gushes Manny.

They stroll past several carnival games, a shooting range where you have to spray water in between a clown's lips; a sink-a-three-pointer game; one where you knock down a triangle made of milk cans. Passing hanging red, white, and blue streamers, Manny pulls Toby into a kiss near the wall of a tent, Toby returning it with fervor.

"I feel like I'm seeing fireworks," breathes Toby.

"Got your fireworks right here," sighs Manny, shivering as she feels Toby's fingers through the lace of her shirt.

The kiss moves so fast, Manny presses into him with a little more force than she intended, both of them tumbling into the open tent door. Manny's knee hits Toby's backside as they fall on the tent floor.

"Sorry," she says, righting herself.

That was directed more to Toby than the inhabitant of the tent, an older woman with stringy brown hair under a turban, smoking calmly at a table. Her whole outfit rivaled Arissa's in terms of strangeness, a deep blue, velvet dress under a red, velvet robe. The whole room is dark, a few candles on the center of a short table, cards off to the side. A psychic, identifies Manny, as she stands and views the crystal ball.

"Hi," greets Toby, standing cautiously.

"Sit," she instructs, stamping out her cigarette.

"Uh, we were...um...," he starts to say.

Awww, but she loves psychics, though she had no idea they'd have one. Manny sits excitedly in a stool right in front of her, beaming at Toby.

"Your girlfriend looks ready," says the psychic in a sunny voice, surprisingly unharmed by her smoking.

"What you do for the girlfriend, then," gives in Toby, sitting by her.

"Two fifty for the two of you," she says.

Toby digs in his wallet, hands her the money.

"Thank you," says Manny, scooting her chair closer to Toby.

"No...apart," commands the psychic. "The Great Velma must feel the waves."

Frowning, Manny repositions her chair, exchanging amused glances with Toby. He probably wasn't into this, what with his faith and all, but this is for fun. Most likely, they'd have a laugh about the whole thing. I mean, waves?

"What do you wish to know?" asks Velma, waving her hands around the crystal ball.

"Love life," answers Manny, winking at Toby.

"Do I get a refund if I hear something I don't like?" jokes Toby.

"Oh, I'll give you a refund," assures Manny, kissing him on the cheek. "In more ways than one."

"Apart!" reminds Velma, snapping her fingers.

Manny obliges, shrinking back and letting Velma take her palm. This psychic's kind of rough, she thinks. Her hands are hard, going along the lines of Manny's palm, tracing them as if they had all the time in the world. She gives Manny an affirmative nod.

"You will have two loves in your life," says Velma. "See here."

She points to two clearer lines in the center of Manny's palm, a wide smile spreading across Manny's face.

"One will be a tragic romance when you're young," says Velma. "The other will be your soulmate when you're older. But you will have no regrets. These men will always carry a torch for you."

"Hot," comments Manny, staring at her palm. "Oh, not because of the torch thing."

The first has to be Craig. She doesn't think a romance can be as tragic as their years together. The second...well, it has to be Toby. It has been smooth failing so far, and she is older...not that much older, but older.

"Now, the boy," instructs Velma.

Toby shifts his eyes. "I don't..."

"Please," encourages Manny, leaning in and smiling pathetically.

Giving a resolute sigh, Toby offers his hand, Velma assessing it the same way she did Manny's, though it's taking longer, much longer. Velma's brow is knit in concentration, relaxes after a full minute. Manny raises her head, sees two similar strong lines on his palm.

"Ha, we're the same!" cries Manny. "Skin soulmates."

"No...no," disagrees Velma. "You're not the same."

"What's...what's different?" prompts Toby. "They look the same to me."

"Yours curves upward," explains Velma. "There is distinct separation between your heart and head lines, which means you're more cautious. You do love intensely."

Manny's cheeks turn pink, because she believes that the truth. Toby does love her intensely.

"Does that mean we have the same love life, though?" questions Manny.

"Oh no, dear," says Velma. "You see, caution will inhibit certain things from coming to pass. So...you, uh..."

"Toby," inserts Manny.

Toby throws a confused look at the psychic.

"Toby," continues Velma. "You will fall in love twice, but you will have regrets. At least you'll learn a lot from both of them."

"Wait, one hasn't happened yet?" says Manny.

"Exactly," replies Velma. "I foresee a rocky road for the one you want, and a lifetime commitment with another later on in your life."

Lifetime commitment? That's marriage...to someone he's not in love with? That sounds pretty grim.

"I'm not going to be happy?" whispers Toby.

"No," says Velma, simply.

Toby takes his palm back, shakes his head. Yeah, he's thinking what I'm thinking. She's a quack, moans Manny inwardly. There's no way I could see Toby in a loveless marriage or a relationship he wasn't happy with, and what a killjoy for saying so. Velma doesn't appear too unhappy with her assessment, waving her hands as the crystal ball goes white.

"What are you doing now?" asks Manny, tentatively.

She doesn't want Toby to get more depressed. Better to skip out.

"I sense some darkness," shares Velma. "Around the two of you. Tragedy."

"No offense...Velma," says Manny, growing tired of her now. "We're the most untragic couple in the galaxy, mkay? So...save it."

Manny grabs Toby's arm, leads him outside the tent, fuming. Okay, now I'm tempted to go and get a refund.

"Toby, I'm sorry," says Manny. "She's stupid...and wrong...and my hand hurts...owww."

Manny rubs her hand against the denim, waiting for some sign as to what's going through Toby's mind. Thankfully, he grins, waves her off.

"I don't need a line to tell me I'm going to be with you," says Toby, pulling her closer.

"Because I'll tell you myself, free of charge," whispers Manny, kissing him deeply.

VI.

Emma plucks a handful of cotton candy from the tuft, Spinner making a grab for a bit of it. She holds it away from him, grimaces as she passes a child eating a hot dog.

"If parents knew what those are made of, they'd never let them have it," says Emma. "Jack's never eating those around me."

"Cotton candy isn't much healthier," laughs Spinner.

"Chuck the lecture," says Emma. "I'm paying for it with sticky fingers."

They grin, Emma finishing the rest of the treat, trying in vain to locate a recycling receptacle. Being so close to the sea, you think awareness wouldn't be that hard to find. Aha, celebrates Emma, finding a grey bin. As she leans down, she sees the water brush the legs of the dock, blue and choppy.

"Seas look rough," comments Emma.

"Yeah, try watching your sister fall fast to the floor," mumbles Spinner, loud enough for her to hear.

"Spinner, Kendra's smart," comforts Emma. "She'll tell you when she's ready. I feel like I should watch Jack or Hannah all the time, but sometimes they're going to be fine without me hovering."

"I know," breathes Spinner.

"This holiday's all about freedom," says Emma.

"Now, that your hands are free," encourages Spinner, looping arms with Emma.

Walking, she loves how Spinner's side brushes against hers, how the cool night winds of the pier are wafting around them softly. The wind isn't as soft as Spinner's lips were, blushing as she recalls the kiss in the tunnel. She wasn't opposed to riding that ride. In fact, she was hoping he'd invite her after that mention of "first kisses". Her first kiss was with Sean, at her mother's wedding, kind of an image that might appear in one of Hannah's storybooks. This kiss with Spinner? She went for it, and it was unexpected, and she enjoyed the fact that he didn't try anything. Being in control, she liked. Having no control over her feelings afterwards, she liked that too. What did Hazel call it? An out of body experience, remembers Emma, as they approach the arcade.

"Okay, post-kissing pandas, I need some of my manhood back before we leave this beach," jokes Spinner.

"And you're getting this how?" says Emma, smirking.

"By beating you in any game of your choosing, madame," kids Spinner.

Emma shrugs, totally unsure she can take him in anything. She used to bowl with Snake and her mother, so Skeeball's a possibility. Her lack of a license wouldn't suit driving games, and virtual reality is another world to her. Passing a few guys in skater tees, baggy shorts, and pimples, she towers over most of them.

"Yeah, baby!" cries one of the guys, then barking at Emma.

"Guys, a little respect, eh?" says Spinner.

"That would require brain cells," adds Emma, weaving past them.

"You too skinny, anyway!" insults the guy, then strutting away.

Spinner and Emma laugh, shake hands, continue through the arcade. Emma pauses at the Whack-a-Mole game, grimaces. Banging a fake animal...not cool. Then, off in the corner, she sees some concentrated movements, fun music playing. Turning, a girl a couple years younger is waving her arms, dancing on a lighted platform. Emma nods her head to the beat.

"Ha, Dance Revolution," informs Spinner. "Tis a well-matched challenge, m' lady."

"Oh, I can't dance in front of everybody," demurs Emma.

"Says who?" argues Spinner, warmly. "Emma, it's a memory, body coordination thing. You'd nail it."

While thinking it over, Emma sees a familiar head of shaggy hair, Boomer approaching the two of them as he slurps a soda.

"Dance Dance Revolution...that game's weak," moans Boomer, noticing Emma's line of sight. "My mom could do it."

Well, if Boomer's mother can do it, she for sure can, and the other girl looks like she's getting a kick out of it.

"If you do it with me?" says Emma, nodding to Spinner.

"Spin...don't, man," bristles Boomer.

"It's for a good cause," agrees Spinner. "Stop me if I do the Cabbage Patch, bro."

Luckily, the girl's finished, breathing heavily as she receives some congratulatory pats on the back from her two friends. Spinner retrieves a dollar, inserts it into the machine as it resets. Emma stares blankly at the neon colors and instructions onscreen. Hmmm, this appears harder than she anticipated. Memory and coordination, she thinks.

"Played this with Pai...I mean, played this before," says Spinner, looking grateful Paige's name didn't fully come out.

"Set us up, maestro," says Emma, elbowing him.

Spinner hits all the necessary buttons, music spilling from the speakers. Boomer looks on, curiously, as do a number of passing teenagers. The game announces level one, Emma hopping up on the platform. There are arrows all over the place, numbers, and she assumes she has to follow the dancer with the afro onscreen.

"We'll do it once to get the hang of it," says Spinner, going to the other side of the platform.

Clapping to the beat, Emma focuses on the arrows appearing as the game begins, moving her feet in decent synchronization, Spinner staring at her from the side with admiration as he shuffles his feet.

_Keep ya body movin' uh, keep ya body movin' uh..._

_(Dance Dance Revolution,_ _keep ya body movin')  
Keep ya body movin' left to right  
Keep ya body movin' front to back_

Emma moves her hips more fluidly, lets her legs find the rhythm, raising and dropping her hands with each down beat, smiling as the score on the screen increases. A couple enthusiastic cheers greet her ears.

"Don't hurt 'em now!" cries the previous player.

"Yeah, Emma!" encourages Spinner.

_Now first thing's first, ain't no time to rehearse  
Put your back foot forward now switch your tail in reverse  
Slide to the side, but you gots to do it rightI see you thinking that you on it  
Wigglin' and twigglin' keep your bottom jigglin'  
Work it, twerk it, exercise adrenaline  
Thuggie D. and C-4 got the solution  
Dance Revolution_

Emma beams proudly as her feet go faster, arrows lighting up with each movement, arching her back, dropping her shoulders.She has no hip-hop training, but thankfully, that isn't making her fall behind. A beat is a beat, though, her heart thumping. Spinner sweating to her left, still managing to keep his momentum.

"Emma?" calls a familiar voice.

Mid-turn, she spies Manny, waves as her feet stomps in time.

"That's my friend!" proclaims Manny happily, arms around Toby's waist.

The freedom in her body is so intoxicating, pure drive, pure excitement. She hasn't felt this excited since...ever. No longer sinking in the room, but standing tall, dancing as natural as her pulse.

_Now bump for me, I just wanna see ya hip-hop for me,  
Take it to the top, now stop for me, walk for me,  
Now drop for me, hehe, yeah  
Don't get scared, everybody's watchin' me  
But we don't care, we know what you gotta do  
Up in here, take that chance and get ya step on dance  
Dance Revolution, uh_

After two final kicks, the game halts, declaring Emma the winner, Spinner resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. She hugs him while he's bent over, receiving applause from the crowd.

"She slaughtered you, Spinner," says Boomer. "Like freakishly good for a first go."

"Eh, I can't win," breathes Spinner, looking up and smiling at her.

To her, she's won in another way, because all throughout that level, she never once thought of Snake, or her mom, or Jack. She let her body think for her, and the thoughts were beautiful.

"Next level?" options Emma.

"Uh-huh," says Spinner, lifting his head with a defeated sigh.

VII.

"My little Emma...the B-girl," boasts Manny, leaning against the counter displaying various prizes.

"I was impressed," says Toby.

He wasn't so impressed with that palm reading, though he won't tell her that. The darkness Velma mentioned, he'd been sensing in some way. There was that dream where Rick shot Manny, and the Justin situation that loomed over them for awhile, and the conflict with his mom. J.T. himself said all these things were happening for a reason. Is the reason negative? He was hoping it was part of some grand test, to show their strength. Toby leans against the counter with her, trying his best to smile.

"You've got the fake Toby smile," notes Manny, immediately.

"Couldn't get it past you?" asks Toby.

"Nope," says Manny. "Toby, if you're still worried about that lady, forget it. Don't listen to her and her Scooby Doo moniker.Toby grins. "Velma?"

"Her real name's probably like Ethel or something," says Manny.

Chuckling, Toby glances around the arcade. They spotted Emma and Spinner coming in shortly after their trip to Velma's. Since Toby was running low on cash, he suggested they tag along with them, and Manny agreed. Man, the last time he came to the arcade was awhile ago. He could no longer go with J.T., as he was too busy with Student Council, Computer Club, Kytel, or with Manny. His life sounded so professional, and he's not even seventeen.

"It's beep-y in here," remarks Manny.

The arcade is noisy, with lots of excited chatter, balls being thrown, short and long beeps, light rap music playing

_Boy, when you look at me, boy_

_Do you judge me by my cover?_

_Ya got to be kiddin' me,_

_To think that I'm that kind of lover_

_I don't mean to disagree_

_Sorry you can't buy my kisses_

_Open your heart and see_

True love comes for free"Remember when I helped you put on your robot head for the Science Fair?" says Manny, tugging at his collar.

"That beeped too," says Toby, nodding.

"Well, now I want to make you more than beep," whispers Manny, winding her arms around Toby's head.

_The best things in life are free  
Now that I've discovered what you mean to me_

_The best things in life are free_

_Now that we've got each other_

_The best things in life are free  
_

"Yeah?" whispers Toby.

"Like on your birthday," sighs Manny, kissing his nose.

"What does that mean?" asks Toby.

"Hmm, let's see what they have," says Manny, letting him go and bending down to view the prizes in the case.

"And the winner of avoiding my questions is...," groans Toby, stooping with her.

"I wouldn't want to win any of these," grimaces Manny.

He never really played for the prizes either, though he did like scoring enough points to get some little knickknack.

"It's fun to play, though," shrugs Toby.

Manny rises. "Yeah, I guess."

Well, like Kendra said, this wasn't really a Manny thing. Getting her some charm fit the bill better, but if he's still doling out taxi fare, he won't be able to do that.

_I know you are my baby_

_My one and only baby_

_You said it twice_

_I'll say it thrice_

_My baby baby baby_

_I got so much love for you_

_And it's easy to give it_

_When I know you feel the same way too_

_That's all I expect from you_

_Just do all that you can to be my lover_

_'cause I understand (I do)_

"We can leave," offers Toby.

"Nah, you like this stuff," says Manny. "What's a game that's not too hard? You can show me the ropes."

"Really?" says Toby, maybe too geekily. "A game that's not too hard?"

They'd be better off with something relatively simple if that's what she wanted, and truthfully, a lot of the games in here he's played with Kendra. Skeeball was easy, but they played that regularly. Most of the fighting games, they played that.

"If Emma can shake it like Missy E, I can man...man that!" insists Manny, scanning the room and pointing to a claw machine.

Toby grins appreciatively, leading Manny to the machine. Kendra had steered clear of these. She found the prizes too insignificant and girly. Two quarters won't eat into his cab fare for the rest of the trip, either, but Manny's already placing two coins in, hand already on the joystick.

"It's not moving," complains Manny, rocking the joystick back and forth.

He halts her hand. "No...um, press start."

Manny stares at the blinking red button, embarrassed.

"Guess I need more help than I thought," whispers Manny.

Toby gently covers her hand with his, his mouth brushing her shoulder. Manny blushes as he presses the button, the claw lurches forward. They gaze at each other, but no, he has to concentrate, wants her to do well on her first try. Zippy, light-hearted music plays as they move the claw to the center of the machine, its metallic arms hovering over multiple stuffed cartoon characters.

"I think we're gonna get it," whispers Toby as the claw opens and drops.

Sure enough, it latches onto the head of a character, Manny squealing excitedly as the claw chugs the reward to its original position.

"That like barely ever happens," congratulates Toby. "These machines take money like I don't know what."

Manny removes the stuffed animal, gives Toby a peck on the lips.

"Tweety," she announces, proudly. "And the psychic says we aren't in sync? We're defying the odds, Toby."

"Too bad it wasn't free," says Toby, smiling as Manny hugs her prize protectively.

"As long as your heart's free for only me," kids Manny, kissing him lightly.

"That's a guarantee," assures Toby, hugging her. "Ouch."

"Yeah," says Manny, grinning as she looks down, laughing. "We're kinda crushing the bird."

  



	29. Don't Play Nice

**XXIX. Don't Play Nice **

Uh...Uh...  
Here we go...

I'm just steppin' in the room like,  
waiting for the tune like,  
checkin' for the boom right there,  
I'm just steppin' in the room like,  
waiting for the bassline,  
speakers that can dry my hair,  
I'm just lookin' in your eyes like,  
ready when the time's right,  
poppin' like we pop this here,  
I'm just banging on a beat like,  
checkin' out ya feet like,  
tip it like you just don't care,  
dance like you never did dance before,  
got love for the beat but hate for the floor  
watchu waiting for?  
s'time for ya feet to get sore to the core  
and ya soul is raw

It's got you hypnotized,  
no beat too hard to ride  
like love will be shaking, here we'll be waiting,  
cuz i don't play nice,  
this tune should be hittin' you,  
should be splittin' you so,  
close your eyes,  
cuz love will be shaking, here we'll be waiting,  
cuz i don't play nice,

I'm just checkin' out the battle,  
and checkin' out what's happenin'  
checkin' if the DJ's hot,  
I'm just chillin like a rapper,  
and got my ear's a hammerin'  
DJ put it down one notch,  
boyfriend's showing off the platinum,  
girlie goes a chatterin'waiting for my tune, Then Watch,  
hear these lyrics that I'm yappin' in  
hear the bass 'a-batterin'  
if you really think it's thrust...  
Drop to ya knees over beats like these,  
pick it up bring it back,  
lemme take my siege,  
when i hit the joints, they all wanna piece of me,  
so i spit it to you waiting for this track to cease,

It's got you hypnotized,  
no beat too hard to ride  
like love will be shaking, here we'll be waiting,  
cuz i don't play nice,  
this tune should be hittin' you too,  
should be splittin' you so,  
just close your eyes,  
cuz love will be shaking, here we'll be waiting,  
cuz i don't play nice,  
(no...)  
Yuh, let's switch it up

**Don't Play Nice is the property of Verbalicious and appears in the film _Just My Luck. _**

Yummy is the property of Gwen Stefani.

Black, drying grease lines his fingers, as Sean wiggles the caliper loose, sweat dripping down his arm. The lazy summer sun filters through the garage windows, giving the metallic clips around the brake pedals a luminous sheen. 

This car's almost a sanctuary for him, his last paid gig, ending today. Ashley's Acura, the last car he was finishing for Hill's. Truthfully, he'd held out as long as possible once he got fired, and since Ashley made the deal with Sean, it was up to him whether or not to finish it as early as he could've. His other reason for holding out? Well, it's his last clean job, the last reminder that at one point this year, he was doing something right. The lack of money made it fall apart. Dale made it fall apart. Most of all, _he _made it fall apart.

As he tightens the clamp, his gaze finds the plate of chocolate chip cookies Kate set on a nearby table for him. After Toby went to California, Kate took over the responsibility of letting Sean into the garage, until a couple days ago when she presented him with a spare key. Sean could only smile shyly at her. It was nice to be trusted, even in this small gesture. True, they weren't the keys to a large garage like Hill's, like Dale having his own set to his father's business, but Kate providing the key meant a lot to him. That's mostly because I'm lying, thinks Sean, gritting his teeth as he tightens. The people who show trust in me are completely in the dark. Ellie, her parents, Mr. Ehl, who called the other day to see how the summer job was going. He had to maintain his identity with lies, carefully constructed like these new brake pedals, repairing doubts he believes they might have if the truth came to the surface.

Releasing a deep breath, Sean moves to assemble the caliper as he hears some crunching of the grass. Judging by the lightness of the steps, he can tell it's her boots, her walk. 

"Hey," says Sean, failing to look at her.

"Hey," returns Ellie. "Car's coming along."

"Yeah, called Ashley to say it's almost done," replies Sean. "Finishing installation today. Parts took forever to come."

"Plus working on other cars," says Ellie, quietly.

No, no other cars, groans Sean inwardly. That was another bonus of prolonging the work on Ashley's car, giving the illusion that he's busier than everyone, including Kate, thinks.

"Okay, I'm going to sound really pre-driver-ish, but installing brake pedals? Where do the parts usually come from?" asks Ellie.

"Typical manufacturers," answers Sean, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

Sean places a lug wrench into the toolbox, grabs a white towel to wipe his hands.

"While I was interviewing people, I heard the strangest thing, or maybe...not so strange," says Ellie. "Involving brakes and Dale."

"Not following you, El," says Sean, despite his ears turning pink due to the mention of his new boss' name.

Ellie sighs, walks to stand near Sean. Stray strands of her deep red hair gingerly touch his shoulder. Sometimes looking at her makes his head ache instantly. He remembers when that wasn't the case. Another payment from Dale would cement the bike for the trip. Food and lodging would cost a bit more, so yeah, he was looking at another month or so of "working".

"Dale gave this guy's brother a faulty part...he has some shady business that's getting people killed," whispers Ellie, glancing at the door as if Kate would walk in at any second.

Sean nearly drops the towel he's holding. When did Ellie hear about all of this? Jay's name enters his mind and he shakes his head. Worse is the news she's delivering. Some guy ended up dead because of Dale's dealings.

"How do you know?" says Sean, his eyes going to the hard floor.

"On the field assignment," supplies Ellie. "We're doing an article using antinomianism."

"Sounds like a chemical term," shrugs Sean.

"No, it's like this belief that there are no laws, and that every situation has a different set of ethics," explains Ellie. "And here we have Dale...apparently living that out."

"Are you...are you sure?" stammers Sean.

"This guy lost his brother, Sean!" insists Ellie.

Sean runs a hand through his hair, tosses the towel into the toolbox absent-mindedly. If he ever lost his brother,Tracker, the guy who was pretty much his guardian for four years, he wouldn't get over that. If this is recent...well, if this is recent, he would've had a hand in it. Sean told Dale the parts had to be legit, yet he's not making sure they actually are legit.

"We should turn Dale into the police," says Ellie, breaking through his thoughts.

"No!" cries Sean.

Ellie's lips twist. "Sean!"

"Ellie, we...we have no proof," stutters Sean. "Just a guy's word. I don't want to start anything."

"If people are dying because Dale's screwing...," begins Ellie.

"Leave it alone, Ellie," interrupts Sean. "It's best that you...I mean, we...we don't get involved."

Ellie places a hand on his back. "We are already. You got hit because of him, Sean."

Wiping his brow, Sean walks away from her, feels her hand sliding down his back in the process. Having that fake scenario repeated to him isn't making it any easier.

"Sean, you were the lucky one," whispers Ellie, joining him again. "Maybe if I dig some more, we..."

Absolutely not, he wants to yell at her. Isn't it enough that he's in over his head? Dale's flashing guns, going to Greenville, doing who knows what else. He has to make it less appealing for her somehow

"You can't find another project?" condemns Sean. "You have to go snooping around where it's all dangerous? Sure your parents would _love_ that."

"Is that some type...some type of a threat?" cries Ellie, her mouth dropping.

"It's common sense!" insists Sean. "Your dad would be worried. This isn't a case of ethics, El...this is you having to...being a show-off!"

Ellie's cheeks flash crimson, her eyes reflecting confusion and pain, two emotions that are circulating within him as well. He knows what she's probably thinking. No matter the assignments or exercises throughout school or her seminar, he'd been supportive and encouraging. This was a first, but he can't risk her learning information that might hurt her, or their relationship.

"A...a show-off?" stammers Ellie, her mouth trembling. "Well, to let you know, Matthew and I...we...we're getting an article published. And his girlfriend...very supportive."

Like I'm not, sighs Sean, keeping silent. He hates that she's comparing him to some other guy, however.

"Good for him," mutters Sean.

"I'm starting to pick up that there's something you don't want me to know," says Ellie, crossing her arms. "Either that or you're acting like a jerk!"

Sean averts his eyes from her, popping the hood, putting his head under there. To his disappointment, he can hear Ellie huffing in aggravation behind him.

"Dale is getting away with it and you're letting him," says Ellie, her voice tense.

He's glad he can't see her face, her anger.

"You don't know what you're talking about," whispers Sean, the lie echoing from under the hood.

"For the first time...I do," counters Ellie.

Her heavy boots walk in the opposite direction, Sean glancing up to see the empty doorway. He hits Ashley's bumper with a fist, raises his ringing hand to his pounding head.

II.

Yawning faintly, his socks on the cold linoleum, Toby starts down the staircase, ruffles his hair. Ugh, it's always so bad first thing in the morning. He's thirsty enough to not care. At the bottom, in the foyer, sits Xerox, staring plaintively at him. He wonders if that dog ever sleeps. When he came home from Santa Monica, the dog was awake, running happily from one room to another. For whatever reason, he steered clear of Kendra's room, and so did Toby.

Kendra may not have deserved Xerox's coldness, but she deserved his, after all the insinuations she made last night. Those knocks against Manny may have been made out of concern, because she didn't understand their relationship. She wasn't around when they got together, and Manny is his first girlfriend after her. He knows Kate worried about Robert when Chris came along. Still, did Kendra have to deliver them in such a blunt way? They weren't exactly peppered with sensitivity.

Toby scratches his stomach, yawns once more, and heads for the kitchen. He stalls at the sound of something being poured. Shoot, his mom. Maybe he should've gotten water from the bathroom or something. Craning his neck and looking into the room, to his relief, he views Kendra pouring orange juice into a cup. Dressed in emerald green pajama buttons, and a green T-shirt, she was definitely dressed for comfort. That's what he always appreciated about her– no frills, yet still managing to look pretty. Uh-uh, he tells himself. Don't let your mood soften. Kendra wouldn't get away with this too easily.

"Morning, Toby," says Kendra, moving to the refrigerator.

"How'd you...," begins Toby.

"Your mom already left, the dog hates me, and J.T.'s...J.T.," interjects Kendra. "Once I heard footsteps, figured it was you."

"Why are you up so early?" asks Toby.

"Was going to fix you guys breakfast as a thank-you, but your mom gets up at the crack of dawn," sighs Kendra.

"I noticed that too," says Toby.

That was sweet that she wanted to cook for them, though he doesn't remember Kendra being much of a cook.

"What were you going to make?" questions Toby.

"Eggs and toast, with a side of grapefruit," replies Kendra, smiling demurely.

"I like grapefruit," says Toby, beaming.

"Mmhmm, you're the only sixteen-year old I know that does," laughs Kendra. "Correction. Practically seventeen."

"Don't feel practically seventeen yet," admits Toby.

"It's tomorrow, Toby!" cries Kendra. "Come on. Get with the program."

Toby laughs, sits at the black, metallic counter. At least Kendra's friendlier today, staring at her as she takes a grapefruit from the refrigerator, slicing it in half, putting a half on a plate. Toby quietly accepts it. He's secretly hoping this is leading to an apology of some kind. Rather than fighting, he'd like to talk about Kendra's injuries and her getting better.

"Any plans for today?" says Kendra.

"Tower Records with J.T., and then going to see Manny's friend Colin in _Cyrano_," shares Toby.

"Cool," says Kendra. "I've seen Tower Records in a few movies."

"Yeah, Manny recommended it," explains Toby. "She and Lia are tied up for the morning, though."

Kendra tucks a few strands behind her ear. It must be pretty clear that he's mentioning Manny repeatedly for a reason.

"Does Manny cook?" asks Kendra.

"A few things," replies Toby, chuckling. "She's usually eating the materials when she bakes, though."

Kendra nods. "So do I. Manny said she was okay with me staying here?"

"Yeah," says Toby, staring at the counter.

"That's what...I thought," sighs Kendra. "Which is why what I said last night was stupid. I do trust your judgement."

Toby grins, squeezes the grapefruit. Her saying that really means so much. It reminds him of when he told her she should try out for Gleeson. Of course, she had and has done so many amazing things since then.

"Thanks," says Toby.

"Well, I lost you as a boyfriend," shrugs Kendra. "I'm not losing you as a friend too."

"You won't," insists Toby. "Especially if you..."

"Ugh, I know where this is leading," groans Kendra, quickly filling her mouth with orange juice.

She'd have to swallow sooner or later, Toby rising and standing right by her.

"Toby, you can be a computer genius anytime in your life," says Kendra, after the juice slides down her throat. "Gymnasts have peak years, not the longest career."

"If you don't take care of yourself, those years are going to be full of pain, and not just...not just physical," cautions Toby. "Or maybe it's not as bad as all that. You don't know."

"What if they tell me something I don't want to hear?" whispers Kendra, eyes starting to get misty.

It hurts to see her like this. He used to see her as this bendable doll that couldn't break, one of those dolls, so athletic and gorgeous, that you stare at and admire for a long time. Turns out she can break, and he still admires her. He always will.

"The Kendra I know thrives in any situation," assures Toby. "It's like...biological."

"Wish I believed that," says Kendra, wiping away her first tear. "Really beginning to hate that my body isn't in the shape it needs to be."

Boy, does that sound familiar, Toby sizing himself up.

"I can relate," confesses Toby.

"Please, Tobes," counters Kendra. "You do it for more girls than you think, and you get no sympathy from me."

Toby pretends to readjust his glasses, not wanting Kendra to see his fully red face. Excluding the fact that Kendra left him for Sam, he'd love to believe her. Eh, he shouldn't react to those comments.

"Let me finish this grapefruit," mumbles Toby, sitting at the counter.

"That's a good plan, considering I got up early to do nothing," teases Kendra, her tears subsiding.

"Another plan?" suggests Toby. "Hang out with us today."

"I won't cramp your style?" says Kendra.

"What style?" returns Toby.

They laugh for a few moments, Toby nodding his encouragement. Kendra shrugs, quick to give into it.

"And if you ever need to talk and I'm not here...," starts Toby.

"I have your number," finishes Kendra.

"So I better be hearing that Inuyasha theme if you ever need me," insists Toby, biting into the piece of fruit. "Nice."

"Well, I do like the theme as much as you," agrees Kendra, eating the other half.

III.

"The _Times _said I was majestic...interesting wordplay," says Lia, patting herself on the back as she paces. "_LA Weekly _said I interpreted the desire for independence perfectly. A spirit with promise. With promise!"

Manny lowers the newspaper, grins. As she predicted, Lia's Ariel did earn rave reviews, including a few comparisons to her mother, Ursula. So yes, Lia's basically having a Christmas in the middle of July after realizing what Manny knew all along. The reviews she received herself weren't too shabby either, though she didn't appreciate one reviewer's comment that her face was too round. Who gets away with stuff like that? Whatever. After the slut comments at Degrassi, there isn't much fazing her.

Seated in the Majestic lobby pre-_Cyrano_, Manny lays back against the bench as other camp students who were in the _Tempest _awaited to see their friends in the other production. Manny felt very excited for Colin. Unlike Lia, she hadn't ticked him off yet. However, she gets the feeling he can't easily be ticked off, anyways. He's incredibly kind, a good balance for blunt Lia.

"Took the liberty of faxing them to Colleen," explains Lia. "Oooh, I know the scouts must've seen these. What if Paramount calls? That would be, to quote Victoria Beckham, major!"

"I thought you weren't leaving Bluewave," says Manny.

"Won't sign with them, but I can audition for them," clarifies Lia.

She has no plans of leaving Bluewave either, even with the Pinecrest audition, which she hasn't mentioned to anyone. Come to think of it, neither Blake nor Martika has mentioned their agreement. Perhaps they forgot. Perhaps she's off the hook. And perhaps Lia is continuing to ramble about herself. Actually, there's no perhaps there.

"Rebecca Scott was in the first row," gushes Lia. "She knows Daddy too, has to be familiar with the Andrews."

"Wouldn't you rather get an offer based on talent?" asks Manny.

"Of course...of course," says Lia, waving her off. "Manny, we have to celebrate! Let's hit a club tonight! Feel the urge to shake it like a Polaroid picture."

Manny smirks.

"I'm too excited to come up with a cooler expression, alright?" defends Lia.

"Taking Toby away tonight, hopefully," says Manny, apologetically. "And Toby's not exactly the club type."

"Look, you have the key and you guys can leave early," insists Lia. "Don't tell me you're not dying to view an L.A. club in action. We have the best ones. I mean, Paris, she can't stay away. Pay me back since I have to ride in a smelly old cab while you guys take my car."

Manny smiles, rolls her eyes. Their chatter is interrupted by a few students, including Blake, talking loudly. The volume of his voice isn't what is catching Manny's attention, because Blake appears to be strutting in a wide-legged fashion, as if he came straight out of a cowboy movie. Too bad his leather jacket is ruining the effect.

"No!" cries a girl. "John Wayne?"

"The best, no doubt," says Blake, folding his arms. "Hey...Manny!"

Lia throws Manny an annoyed glance, but whatever they're doing looks like fun. The girl who was speaking, Jade, was nice and sweet, so it couldn't be all bad. Manny tugs Lia to the group.

"What's going on, guys?" says Manny.

"We're playing 'who do you admire'," answers Jade. "Where you imitate someone you love, kind of in a joking way. A playful homage. And frankly, I can't believe Blake picked John Wayne."

"He's an icon!" exclaims Blake. "You like...picked your grandmother."

"This exercise has to be about substance," says Jade. "Not my fault you chose someone flashy. Manny would understand. She got the best reviews."

"Actually, I got the best...," begins Lia.

"Go ahead, Manny," interrupts Jade, standing in front of Lia. "It's all very method, drawing from personal experience. I bet she chooses someone that made a lasting impact on her."

"Whatever," disagrees Blake. "Manny's the same as me. A film star. If you don't know the person, then there's no sense in admiring them."

Not true, thinks Manny. She admires her parents a great deal, and her friends. They've stuck by her through some of her most trying times, through all her tears. Blake sounded like someone had programmed that into his brain. What better way to prove him wrong than by doing this, Manny asking for his jacket.

"Knew it," assumes Blake. "Leather jacket."

Blake helps Manny into his jacket. "Angelina Jolie, right?"

Manny separates her ponytail from the high collar, asks to borrow Lia's shades. These weren't regular eyeglasses, but they'd do in a pinch. She recalls the dialogue as if it were yesterday, the other campers staring at her with amusement.

"Hey, Santos," says Manny in a deep voice, slinging an arm around Lia. "What say you and me blow this popsicle stand?"

Jade and the other campers laugh uproariously, Blake even grinning happily. Toby made her smile warmly when he first did this, too. Them joking about it later was one of her favorite moments too, before the Justin mess, all this drama in California. Well, that and Toby touching her in the bedroom, but she's not going to reenact that...not in front of them.

"Say what now?" says Lia, raising her eyebrows at Manny.

Manny puckers her lips, Lia covering her mouth to keep from giggling. With that last moment, she can hear the laughter muting itself, the creak of a door being opened. It's probably the first arrivals for the show. Manny knows the older theater-goers like to come in early, take their seats with the campers. Might as well let the audience grow.

"Who's this?" wonders Blake aloud.

"Someone desperate, I hope," says Lia, leaning away from Manny.

"Let's get out of here, baby," continues Manny, to another chorus of laughs. "See where the night takes us."

"That's hilarious!" cries Jade. "Yeah, who is it?"

Manny doesn't have time to respond, as she spies who's really come into the theater...early...which he hadn't done yesterday. Toby, frowning deeply, stands at the door with Kendra and J.T., all their eyes locked on her. Toby's gaze is definitely the most intense, her palms sweating. He'd had that effect on her before, although always in a positive way. Manny takes her arm away from Lia, folds the glasses slowly, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Please don't hate me, she thinks, staring sadly at him. Please don't hate me. No chance of that as Toby exits, the metal door slamming behind him. Lia raises her eyes in alarm as Manny brushes past her.

"Nice acting there, Manny," says J.T., glaring at her as she passes him.

"Whatever, J.T.," throws back Manny, going through the door.

The sun is brilliant as she goes into the theater courtyard, state flags for California waving high above her. Toby has to be somewhere. The loss of Fred meant he has to be waiting for a taxi. Manny combs the courtyard. No sign of him. Then, she spies a bent back, all the way across the parking lot, at an incline overlooking the interstate. Toby. It breaks her heart whenever he's alone, and he usually selected the spots where he looked the loneliest to people: Jimmy's locker with the flowers that reminded him that he wasn't as popular as Jimmy; the video store on a dead weekday; Grauman's; the library or the MI lab, when there were no school meetings. This spot was the most strange, she has to admit, so her heart kind of aches doubly.

After crossing the street, she slides her hands in her jeans, walks to him with a lowered head.

"You were...were early today," stammers Manny.

"Got to see an early show, I guess," says Toby, sarcastically.

The wind blows through their hair, swirling through Manny's more furiously. She feels like it's somewhat of a punishment.

"Toby, we were just playing around," says Manny, meekly. "For fun."

"It wasn't funny," mumbles Toby, her ears picking it up anyway.

"The whole thing was an admiration game," says Manny. "Let me explain."

"Explain? You talk about me behind your back...to your friends!" exclaims Toby. "Manny, I'm like...really surprised!"

"Like I wasn't surprised you were talking about Kendra behind my back!" cries Manny. "What's she doing here, anyway?"

"She came along to check out the play," replies Toby. "She's lonely."

"Yeah, I know, but...look, can we stop fighting?" sighs Manny. "I hate it when we fight!"

"You don't understand," says Toby. "Like you don't understand why I'm upset."

What? She always understood him. He should know that, completely believe that. Maybe the joke went too far. She does admire Toby, and they laughed about it earlier, so he didn't think he'd take it so hard. Then again, he is very self-conscious.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," apologizes Manny.

"I thought...thought you'd be the one girl that...," says Toby, his voice trailing off.

"Toby, you know how I feel about you," says Manny, wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling him resist her. "You know it, or else you wouldn't be reacting this way."

"Maybe," murmurs Toby.

Manny moves one hand from Toby's waist to the pocket of her jeans, glad to feel Toby becoming less restless.

"So let me show you how much I care," whispers Manny, dangling the key in front of his eyes.

"This key's for?" says Toby.

"Bed and breakfast," shares Manny. "Although, I am way...way more interested in the bed."

"Where?" asks Toby.

"Everything's set," assures Manny. "I'd love for you to spend the night with me. I'll admire you in all the ways you want...without acting."

Toby shakes his head, takes the key, grins. Finally, a smile on that usually gentle face of his.

"You're amazing, Manny," says Toby, rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry too. I'm not sure what's going on with me. Feel like a giant drag."

He has been going through a lot lately.

"Just to remind you, there was a girl going through that not too long ago," consoles Manny. "Trouble with the rents, an ex that didn't live up to expectations. Then, she met this guy Toby who helped her through. Mysteriously, this girl's willing to do the same."

Smiling weakly, Toby nods, hugs her tightly. Yeah, way better than fighting, Manny ruffling his hair.

"Transportation is provided," informs Manny, pulling away. "Pack an overnight bag after _Cyrano_, and J.T. said he'd cover."

"Yeah, my mom set a curfew...over the cellphone," says Toby. "That's how she handles parental decisions."

"Thorough and technological at the same time," notes Manny.

"It's ten-thirty, which is insane for summer," groans Toby. "But J.T. did work around the Van Zandts pre-baby."

"The Van Zandts are the definition of strict...so props to J.T.," praises Manny. "So we're really doing this?"

"A ski trip sequel," says Toby, leaning in to kiss her.

Manny stops him for a minute. "Does that mean Armstrong's going to be interrupting us for room checks?"

"Don't even play," laughs Toby, Manny squealing as he tickles her.

IV.

Interestingly, the mist has returned. He's only a little aware of how it all works. These guys showed to the shack around the hours of one and two, maybe after a day of getting high, slaving away at their regular summer jobs. Dale got them when they were available. Pounding through the mist are some choice rap cuts, Sean hearing Jay-Z, Nas, Kanye. It's the music he used to listen to while he stole those laptops and DVD players, before he met Ellie. Try as he might, he can't hate this music. There's such a combination of power and sadness, a feeling of collective loss.

He's lost so much too this summer, all with his permission. After their fight in the garage this afternoon, he may be on his way to losing Ellie. Ellie put a lot of effort into their relationship, though, and if she can forgive him for stealing back then, maybe she can forgive him for this, especially if he makes it right. He's not Dale. Ethics, though his have never been clearly defined, are part of him. Why else would this guilt be on his shoulders every five seconds? This guy she interviewed...he lost someone special to him. Sean may not be an angel, but he can't let that keep going.

The shack is as rickety as he remembers from the morning of his initiation, before he got into deep. He's about to get deeper. Cracks in the walls of the shack surely have to be letting in the cold of the late night hours, Sean hearing the pounding of metal, the clanging of bars. The sound of assembly hurts his ears, Sean imagining all the shoddy work they could be doing. Sean stalls when he sees a light flicker in the distance, followed by heavy breathing.

"Sean-y," greets Jay, stepping through the shadows.

"Jay," says Sean. "What's...what's up, man?"

"You," says Jay, jokingly as he smokes. "Surprised you aren't cuddled in your nice apartment bed."

"Got business...with Dale," lies Sean.

"He's in there," informs Jay.

Jay says nothing else, continues to puff in Sean's direction. His eyes are red, his clothes wrinkled. Sean has the feeling Dale's been working him extra hard, because as much as he and Jay have lost contact, Sean knows Jay's a good mechanic.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" asks Sean.

"Yes, Florence Nightingale," returns Jay, rolling his eyes. "You should be concerned for yourself. Hill's upset you haven't been for your check."

"Tell him I was busy with Ashley's car," says Sean.

"Whatever. Just delivering a simple message," says Jay, throwing the roach to the ground and stamping it. "I'm tired so..."

"Fine," says Sean.

Ugh, if he apologizes to Jay, which he should've done awhile ago, this iciness might break. He'd rather keep tabs on him than have Dale keep tabs on him.

"Look, Jay, what I said on graduation day...," says Sean, eyes going to the shack.

"Like I said, I'm tired," interrupts Jay. "How's Ellie?"

Okay, he's not willing to talk, thinks Sean. At least he's asking about Ellie.

"Good," answers Sean.

"Tell her I said hi," says Jay.

Walking to his car, Jay stumbles to the right, Sean viewing him getting in and resting his head against the seat. Looks like he'll sleep instead of drive, sighs Sean inwardly. That might be for the better. Jay obviously didn't want Sean looking out for him anymore.

Breathing in and out, Sean parts the door of the shack, eyes adjusting to the bright light and many noises accompanying his entry. The same several guys, dressed in black, the guys who beat him, were milling around. They were dutifully checking and fixing parts, some parts Sean identified, and other parts they discovered while trading. Ty, black skull cap over his head, is the only one not working, chewing on a Twinkie. Sean waves at him, Ty offering a stony stare in response. Okay, awkward, reasons Sean, searching for Dale.

"Good job on those piston rings," says a guy with bright blue eyes, rolling a tire past Sean.

Sean moves so he can get past him.

"Thanks," says Sean, offering him a puzzled look.

Wow, these guys work fast, Sean noticing some inept handiwork from a couple guys correcting piston rings. They vaguely make him think back to when Towerz would rush with his car, and Sean had to do all the real work if Jay didn't help.

"Um, where's Dale?" he asks the two guys.

"Back," mutters one of them.

Sean walks to the back, finally locating Dale counting money, envelopes on a desk nearest him.

"Came for your cash?" asks Dale, flipping open an envelope.

"Something else," says Sean.

"Spare me the mystery," sighs Dale. "What is it?"

"I want to work on these parts," answers Sean quickly, before he regrets it.

Dale chuckles, brow creasing in confusion. He puts the money in the drawer, slams it shut, and locks it.

"You're trying to get more money out of me," whispers Dale, urgently. "Ain't gonna happen. I pay you to look, not to touch."

"You pay me to look and not be too involved," returns Sean. "That ends...now."

Sean goes to the center of the room, Dale hesitantly following him. If he has to make his point clear, so be it.

"These piston rings need chromium," says Sean, gesturing to them. "Don't do it, and they'll wear. Is it going to cost you some precious cash? Yeah! But it won't get somebody hurt if you make sure the car's tight. And Nikasil might help some of these cylinders out."

Dale's jaw drops, staring at him menacingly. His workers halt what they're doing, all their eyes focused on him as well. They have to know these things, though. They have to.

"Who have you been talking to?" asks Dale, barely above a whisper.

"No...no one," stutters Sean.

"Nah, cause I'm thinking you got a little Jiminy Cricket on your shoulder," says Dale, smirking. "And I don't like crickets."

He's trying to make him say that he's been influenced. I may not be as smart as Ellie, but I'm wise enough to know that Dale wants me to say her name, he thinks.

"Before I took this job, you said the parts would be legit, man," says Sean. "Follow up on your end of the deal. Who's it hurting if your business gets repeat customers?"

"One condition," proposes Dale. "The money? You know, the cash for your trip? That's what's going to me paying for your freakin' Nikasil. Your choice."

"Don't do it, man!" cautions the guy with the tire.

Oh great, another deal that's going to get him more in a rut. That meant less pay and staying longer than he wanted. But if they were parts he found, he's going to see them through. What comforts him a bit is that this deal...well, this deal isn't totally lacking in honor. This deal might save a life, a brother. Sean stands in front of Dale's face, resulting in Dale backing away.

"Buy the Nikasil," says Sean, angrily.

"Get to work, then," says Dale, dropping his eyes.

Dale returns to his drawer, Sean startled to view appreciative expressions on the other guys' faces. He wonders if anyone else has stood up to Dale like that. Ty scratches his nose, grins at him.

"Hey...uh, Sean?" says one of the guys, holding the piston ring awkwardly. "I'm more of a carburetor guy so..."

"Yeah," says Sean, going to him immediately.

Before he knows it, he's hammering, screwing, instructing the guys on the proper method in installing and repairing the parts he dug from the box. To his relief, Dale didn't interrupt, probably still fuming. What should he care? It's Sean's money.

"Thanks, Sean," says the guy after the piston ring has been repaired by their dutiful work. "You used to work at Hill's, right?"

"Yeah," admits Sean, sadly.

"It shows," he says.

V.

"Mood is fabulously Oriental, Toby!" calls Lia over the thumping music, loosening her lime-green Hermes scarf. "You're going to love it!"

Toby offers her a look, half cheerful, half nervous. What he's honestly feeling is total anxiousness and less cheer. The line for the club stretches from one end of the long street to the other, Hollywood Boulevard glowing beautifully under the clear night sky. For him, the whole thing looks picturesque, their feet covering a few Walk of Fame stars, pink and gold in the faint moonlight; glittery dresses and nice suits on young, sculpted bodies; limos pulling up to let in V.I.P.s. He didn't feel very V.I.P. in a black dress shirt and black slacks. The clothes in his overnight bag are casual, a T-shirt and jeans. Lia was kindly letting Manny take her car for the night. Manny wasn't the best driver, but it was sweet of her to arrange that.

Next to Manny, he feels his outfit pales in comparison. All of her hair free, she has on a sequined, pink crop top that hugs in all the right places, and a matching skirt that ends right above the knees. He could barely focus on situating his bag into the trunk when he saw her. Based on her reluctant smile, he could also tell that she still felt guilty about what occurred at the theater. No need for that, because he's having his own guilty thoughts. Very guilty, he thinks, as Manny gently pinches his waist, hopping up and down excitedly.

"Jake Gyllenhaal came here once!" whispers Manny.

"Jake who?" says Toby.

"_Brokeback Mountain_," says Lia, nonchalantly.

"The name sounds familiar...," confesses Toby.

"_Bubble Boy," _clarifies Manny.

"Oh!" cries Toby.

The girls laugh, Lia checking her cell.

"Every video store clerk has to know _Bubble Boy_," says Manny.

"And every cab driver should know where Mood is," groans Lia. "Manny, you sure J.T. and Emma left our house twenty minutes ago?"

"Yep," says Manny. "I checked and double-checked."

"We could be in there by now," complains Lia. "Emma had to come."

Toby bites his lip, exchanges a look with Manny. Lia has a right to be annoyed, but Emma was their friend.

"Dancing is her thing, Lia," says Manny, calmly. "I think...it'd be good for her. Colin said he'd baby-sit, anyway."

"Colin hates missing Mood," mutters Lia. "All I know is I'm having fun tonight, no matter what."

Manny stays silent, Toby detecting that she didn't feel like discussing any animosity between Lia and Emma tonight. Ditto, thinks Toby, tracing her cheek tenderly. Manny smiles.

"You guys are so leaving early," teases Lia.

"Lia!" protests Manny, advancing with the line.

Thankfully, the embarrassment ends with J.T. and Emma making their way to them, J.T. barrelling through the crowd. Emma apologizes to every other person, elbows J.T. once they reach Toby. He's glad to see that J.T.'s in a similar outfit, though his shirt is white. Emma looks pretty in a form-fitting, peach dress, shiny heels digging into a red carpet.

"Always wanted to do that," admits J.T., rubbing his hands together.

"We're all here!" says Lia, happily. "Okay, time to work the Andrews magic."

"Not Hannah's type of magic, though," jokes Emma.

"Err...right," mumbles Lia, turning her back on them.

"Too much?" whispers Emma to Toby.

Toby and Manny shrug, Lia going to the bouncer.

"Lia Andrews," she announces. "Kel's a friend of Dave's?"

"Lia, you know you're getting in," says the bouncer, chuckling. "How many you got tonight? No Colin or Blake?"

"Colin's occupied, and Blake's dismissed," replies Lia. "I got four."

"Four, plus the foxy lady," says the bouncer, undoing the red velvet rope.

"Perfect," says Lia, buzzing the bouncer on the lips. "Onward, troops."

The bouncer opens the door, all of them going in to a much darker space, until they reach another door, where they're surrounded by black and grey furniture, gold light coating the interior. Large, stone Buddha heads are erected at the back of the bar, the walls resembling yellow, crinkled silk, lit candles everywhere. Toby doesn't think he's seen more beautiful Asian decor, except for maybe Grauman's the other night.

"You like it," teases Manny, grabbing his hand. "I can tell."

"Yeah," admits Toby.

They all follow Lia through a host of people, in tight clothing, who look incredibly older than any of them. Lia's the sole person who looks completely comfortable. Toby's glad Manny's holding his hand as they approach the bar. Winding, neon lights from above shine on dancers as they twist and cavort to the loud bassline.

"It feels like I'm listening to three heartbeats all at once!" yells Emma, to Manny's left.

"Same!" agrees Manny. "Do you guys want to dance?"

This is the question he's been dreading all night. Slow dances were never the problem. He has enough rhythm to sway. But dancing to the fast songs? To popular music? Eh, he'd go along with it if Manny wanted, at least for one song.

"Not yet," replies Emma. "Sort of parched. They have water here?"

"Yes, for the more virtuous visitors," answers Lia, giving her a look. "Follow me."

They surround the bar, a guy with several tattoos on his arms, and many rings in his ears winking at Lia.

"A younger posse tonight," notes the bartender.

"That hasn't stopped you before," says Lia. "Okay, water for Emma...who else?"

J.T. raises his hand, and Toby tentatively does the same. Ugh, he didn't want to look uncool in front of Manny's friends, particularly after that moment in the theater. The campers were all polite to him before and after _Cyrano_, but they weren't exactly welcoming. Several of them were self-involved, something Manny's never been, so he acted indifferent right back. Lia's different, though. He'd like her to like him for Manny's sake.

"Water boys," says the bartender. "And you, my lovely?"

"Oh," realizes Manny. "Based on past experiences with alcohol...have to decline on that one."

Good, I won't be the only person then, thinks Toby.

"Man, Colin would indulge," complains Lia. "I want a lime martini. Manny, at least get a virgin daq. We'll match our outfits with our colorful drinks."

"As long as it's strawberry," says Manny, twirling around.

"You got it, girls," says the bartender, reaching for a bottle.

While he's fixing their drinks, J.T. leads Toby away to the side, Toby eyeing him curiously. What did J.T. want now?

"So I'm cutting out of here around ten," affirms J.T.

"Right...right!" whispers Toby. "Are you sure you can..."

"Please," interjects J.T. "I had to maneuver past two Van Zandts and a grandmother with unpredictable hospital shifts. Anne Marie's no big."

"And Kendra?"

He's not sure why he brought her into the conversation. Still, if she were in pain, he'd want someone to be there.

"Kendra?" cries J.T.

"She's not feeling well," explains Toby.

"I noticed she was sadder than usual at Towers," says J.T. "But I'd be more concerned with my girl, Toby."

"I am!" insists Toby. "It's...Kendra needs..."

"Kendra needs, Kendra needs," says J.T., rolling his eyes. "You've got this shining knight in armor complex, dude. Why?"

"Don't have a complex, _dude_," replies Toby, hotly.

"Denial," insists J.T., smirking. "So they are in your wallet, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good Tobes."

"This place?" says Toby. "Do you have any clue if it's ritzy?"

"Who cares? Just enjoy it."

"What if it's some place fancy?" sighs Toby. "I already feel underdressed here. What if..?"

"What if you fell down a well and got amnesia?" interrupts J.T. " It won't happen. Toby, just go with it. Relax, relax, relax."

His best friend's right, a typical occurrence nowadays. Whoa, that's pretty scary. He used to be the one that was always there with the perfect advice for J.T.

"You really have grown up...it's disturbing," jokes Toby.

"See what love will do to you?" returns J.T., sticking his tongue out at him. "Well, love and a whole lot of drama."

The boys chuckle, accept water at the other end of the bar. To their right, he views Manny taking a sip of her drink, waggling her fingers at Toby. Toby stares at her, dreamy-eyed.

"Do you ever feel like there's this mystery?" asks Toby. "Like something you want to hold in?"

"Like gas?" says J.T., unscrewing the cap to his water.

"No...there's this wonder, this anticipation," continues Toby. "Before...sex."

"Ohhh...that's normal," realizes J.T. "There's that moment where you cross from adorable, your current stage, to mature. Yeah, the mystery kind of fades. But the thing is...sometimes it's better. Trust me."

"I'm nervous about crossing," shares Toby, focusing on J.T.

Very nervous, he adds in his mind. The nerves don't mean that he doesn't want to, however. He just wishes he knew what was going to be on the other side of it all, wanted some kind of confirmation. None of this stuff is written down anywhere, because it's how he feels. Maybe he should block them. Feelings shouldn't stand in the way of a good thing.

"Tobes, you're the one with the big brain and the big heart," consoles J.T. "Use both like you usually do, and what's in your wallet, and you'll be fine."

"Yeah," says Toby. "Yeah, you're right."

They take a sip, grimace.

"This tastes like some ghetto tap water," complains J.T.

"Something tells me not a lot of people order water, anyway," laughs Toby.

VI.

"No way!" cries Manny.

"I swear on my love for the British version of _Coupling_," assures Lia. "It's at the Chateau Marmont. That's why the gowns are so pricey."

"Dress to impress," breathes Manny.

"Dad'll take care of it," says Lia. "There's only one Starlight Ball. Toby...well, Anne Marie can help him find a hot tux."

Emma and Manny exchange hesitant glances. Though Manny hasn't given Emma the full details about their disastrous lunch, Emma is well aware that the relationship between Toby and his mom isn't exactly ideal. So hearing the details, the expensive details, of the ball is really going to call for both of them to ask for some elaborate favors from people they barely know, Kel and Anne Marie. Truth be told, she didn't like the idea of that. Part of her wonders if all Lia's gifts to her have to do with Kel spoiling Lia. It all just seems way too giving, but Lia was always so confident and happy to do it. Manny would tell her no for the gown, as a start.

"We'll shop post-performance," insists Lia. "Then, you can give me the full rundown on how hot it gets tonight."

"Actually...I have enough for a gown, so don't worry about that," lies Manny.

Emma drinks her water as her eyes bug out. She hopes Emma won't expose the truth.

"Ewww," comments Emma instead.

"But you will report on the horizontal hotness, right?" says Lia. "Man, I feel like I've been waiting with you. Come on."

Manny giggles, sharing a smile with Emma.

"It is taking forever," sighs Manny, twirling the straw in her drink. "And forever...and ever...and ever. Did I mention ever?"

"Nah," waves off Emma, playfully.

"Good things come to those who wait," says Lia. "I've felt like that, for different things."

"With Toby, it's going to be so different," says Manny. "He makes me feel...new. And innocent. Like it's my first time too. The only thing better would be..."

Manny lowers her head, not sure if she should complete that thought. It might backfire on her, similar to the very depressing psychic she was so gung-ho about.

"What?" encourages Emma.

"I've never...never heard 'I love you' before, _and_ after," shares Manny. "Never. With Toby, I think it might happen."

"For sure!" exclaims Lia. "Pre and post-afterglow."

"I...I wouldn't know," says Emma, turning pink.

"Heh," mutters Lia, smirking.

Okay, no, she doesn't want to ruin this with tension bubbling up between them, not tonight. Mood is packed, with great fun, great energy. She'd like to set her own mood, glancing at J.T. and Toby as they return to the girls. Man, it's only nine forty-five and she's prepared to split. She can't ditch her other friends, though, not so soon.

"Wanna dance?" asks Manny, encircling Toby's waist when he reaches her.

"A slow song?" returns Toby.

"Yes, birthday boy," says Manny, rubbing his back.

"Toby, do you have cab fare?" whispers J.T.

Toby separates from Manny, going off with J.T., much to her disappointment. Being in a club with him isn't panning out the way she wants. The music is booming, he keeps walking away with J.T., and the seconds are ticking. Manny sighs loudly.

"I want to get Toby out of here," she says, then downing the rest of her daiquiri.

"Horny, much?" asks Lia.

That elicits the first joint laugh between Emma and Lia, Manny not so glad to be the butt of the joke.

"Romantic first...horny soon to follow," defends Manny.

"Then, don't wait for the slow song," instructs Lia. "They rarely play them, anyways. Like you said, haven't you waited long enough?"

"I...," begins Manny.

"Don't play fair anymore," says Lia.

"Please don't pull a Manny at the rave," says Emma, patting Manny on the shoulder.

"What are you...biased against bump and grind?" complains Lia, then turning to her friend. "Manny, it's how I landed a thirty-four year old with a private jet. Just saying."

It did work with Craig at the rave, thinks Manny, grinning widely as Toby and J.T. return. This would be a lot less evil, more of an encouragement, without any real deceit.

"Toby, I don't want to wait for a slow dance," says Manny.

"Okay?" says Toby, confusion written on his face.

Manny taps her fingers against each other, going into the moving crowd with Toby. Bodies dip, shake, thrust under the colorful lights, to a fast, hypnotic beat. There isn't much bumping and grinding, at least until the song changes. Luckily, it's a song she recognizes so she can feel confident dancing to it, and she needs all the confidence to do this with him. He is her boyfriend, but he's a lot different from her other boyfriends and she's never done this with him before. Of course, that's the purpose, to get him to do this, which will lead to them doing what they haven't done before, the more important thing. Eh, it's all so confusing. Dance, Manny, she tells herself. Just dance.

She pulls him closer, tugging on his black shirt, which makes him smile shyly. Alright, he kind of digs that. Her face as pink as her ensemble, she presses her body against him, wiggling her waist a bit as the music plays.

I'm feeling Yummy head to toe (you see me)  
Ain't got no patience so let's go (you see me)  
Look, I'm diet drama  
Wanna spend the night? Don't bring pajamas  
Man there's so much heat beneath these clothes (you see me)  
  
Closing her eyes, she lowers her hands to Toby's waist, working her hips side to side. She knows she can't do this with open eyes, not yet at least. She hears a sudden surprised breath, opens them to Toby's startled expression. 

Walk in, the place  
They know, my face  
Encore, sophomore  
Only one solo, I swore  
Big mouth, applause  
Oh please, one more  
Wanna hear it before I say nawLet me check my itinerary

Well, she'd take shock over disgust, Toby's skin growing scarlet with each movement. Thinking it best to continue, she turns around, demurely taking Toby's hand, putting his soft fingers across her bare waist. Toby isn't yanking them away; he's resting them there. Pleased, Manny slides down his body slightly, grinding her hips against him, letting the music control her. It's better to lose control. She'd love for Toby to lose control with her, leading his hands to rock with her waist.

Ummm, alright  
Presto, skintight  
Escaped & I risked my life  
For what? So I can watch them bite  
Only one Gwen you can find like this, I mean blow your mind like this  
Your key won't shine like this, if it's yours then you know it won't wind like this

The beat is hot, fast, like they're the only ones in the room, on the floor. What she wouldn't give to have that feeling for all those previous moments when they could've been together. And despite her seeing Emma and J.T. far away, covering their mouths in amusement, she doesn't let that stop her, turning to face Toby. While some shock has remained, his eyes are shining in a way she hasn't seen since they've been dating. He's melting, Manny congratulating herself. Melting for me.

I'm feeling Yummy head to toe (you see me)  
Ain't got no patience so let's go (you see me)  
Look, I'm diet drama  
Wanna spend the night? Don't bring pajamas  
Man there's so much heat beneath these clothes (you see me)  
I know you've been waiting but I've been off making babies  
& like a chef making donuts & pastries  
It's time to make you sweat  
Sex & sugar is the flavour  
Ovens & beaters & graters  
Beats made of bongos & shakers  
It's time to make you sweat

"Something to say, Tobes?" she encourages, solidly gazing into his eyes.

Toby sighs, unable to find the words. I've got words, thinks Manny. Let's leave. But no, no, she can't rush them. Then, her thoughts are silenced, Toby kissing her, pulse speeding up rapidly.

"Manny," he moans as their lips part briefly.

The rest of the kiss is tender, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't mind being there. She's quick to shake that feeling off, however. Time waits for no man...or in this case, I wait for no more signs.

"I've got the key," whispers Manny.

"Let's go," whispers Toby.

Manny beams, kissing him as they back towards the exit.


	30. Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered

**XXX. Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered **

He's a fool and don't I know it  
But a fool can have his charms  
I'm in love and don't I show it  
Like a babe in arms

I'm wild but not impatient  
Men were not a new sensation  
Couldn't sleep, and wouldn't sleep  
When love told me I shouldn't sleep  
Loving and hugging you know it  
I'm in love and don't I show it  
Like a babe in arms

I'm wild again, beguiled again  
A simpering, whimpering child again  
Bewitched, bothered and, bewildered am I

My heart was lost, I paid the cost  
Cold from the start he played the part  
I must agree the laughs on me  
But he and I we were meant to be  
Anticipating, loving, hating, waiting  
What am I to do  
Bewildered and bewitched  
'Cause I'm so bothered over you

Just the same old sad sensation  
That's the way love feels  
And this half-pint imitation  
Has my head over my heels  
Wishin' and missin' you kissin'  
What am I to think  
Bothered and bewildered  
I can't sleep a wink

My heart was lost I paid the cost  
Cold from the start

I've seen a lot, I mean a lot  
But I like sweet seventeen a lot  
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am II'm wild but not impatient  
Men are not a new sensation  
Lovin' and huggin' you know it  
I'm in love and don't I show it

**Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered is the property of Katalina appears in the film **_Simply Irresistable. _

**Ain't Nobody is the property of Chaka Khan. **

"If I could muster up enough energy to vomit, I would," groans Lia, slumping down, her heels kicking the back of the cab driver's seat. 

Emma smiles sympathetically, stares outside the window. After Toby and Manny elected to leave early, and rather than talk to Emma, Lia started pounding away at the drinks. Emma spent most of the night on a coral-colored couch in the club, watching other people dance. As Lia conversed with the bartender, Emma enjoyed the movement of their bodies. They looked like the fairies in one of Hannah's stories, uninhibited and joyful under the floating, neon lights. To her surprise, she missed Hannah. She was all amped about a night to herself, but she's used to tucking her in and talking with her until she fell asleep, and it's their nightly ritual. The routine is nice, and she'd rather be with the Andrews sister that liked her than the one who didn't, and made sure she didn't.

And now we're stuck in a cab, sighs Emma inwardly, Lia sighing, her head falling onto Emma's shoulder. Amazingly, her breath isn't too bad. Eh, she guesses pretty, Hollywood girls never have bad breath. Her bountiful, red hair is itchy, though.

"So how's the Hannah thing working out?" says Lia, her eyes closed.

"Uh...good," replies Emma, hesitantly.

"She's such a Kel," informs Lia, smirking. "Private...imaginative..."

"About that," interrupts Emma. "Am I ever going to meet your dad?"

Lia laughs. "What part of private don't you understand?"

After that knock, Emma decides to be quiet. Lia, disinterested again, and apparently having realized their bodies are making contact, scoots closer to her window, lays her head against it. Looking away, Emma views the multi-colored, bright landscape of L.A. She's never seen so many buildings glow pink, blue, green, and gold, resembling Jack's Lite Brite. Snake would probably like this, too being the big techno guy that he is. And her mom...well, her mom never got to travel anymore. Emma frowns.

"I'm the only normal one in the family," whispers Lia to herself. "It's...it's hard."

Hmm, she'd find that conceited if Lia wasn't totally drunk.

"Hannah's a...a great kid," says Emma, defensively.

"My sister lives in a fantasy world, but I don't blame her," says Lia. "That's what happens when the last parent you have ignores you."

Emma detects Lia's voice getting more strained, though she doesn't know if it's from sadness or the alcohol. Whatever is causing it, the tone of her voice brings Snake to mind. She's been ignoring him, reaching out to him, then ignoring him again. In turn, Snake reached out to her, and she has pulled away again. Does he deserve it, especially after sending her out here?

"Maybe if you told your dad that she'd like to see him...," starts Emma.

"No," interrupts Lia. "My dad can't bare to be in the same room as Gremlin." 

Who wouldn't want to be in the same room as Hannah, she thinks. She was one of the sweetest kids Emma has ever met.

"Mom died right after she was born," continues Lia, noticing Emma's confusion. "Complications from birth. Surprised you haven't heard yet. It's in the official Ursula Andrews biography."

"Sorry to hear that," whispers Emma.

"That biography...doesn't hold all the details," says Lia, smirking. "Not half of them."

Emma glances at her lap, almost afraid to hear the rest of Lia's drunken ramble. However, Emma's discomfort doesn't seem to be halting Lia. In fact, Lia seems more willing to share, and most likely would regret this whole thing in the morning.

"You see, it doesn't tell you that Ursula Andrews got so desperate for her husband's affections that she got extensive plastic surgery...botched surgeries that helped her body become weak and messed up," says Lia.

Throwing a look at the cab driver, who looks as nervous as her, Emma fiddles with the skirt of her dress. Lia leans in to keep going.

"And why she was so desperate?" whispers Lia. "Because her husband was having an affair. The guy that makes all those wonderful, ooey gooey family films was cheating on his own depressed wife, carrying their second child. Their daughter Lia...walked in one of his trysts one day. She never let him forget it, especially after Ursula died. Thus, ends our tragic Hollywood story."

Lia scoots back over, a blank expression on her face. Emma takes a deep breath, speechless, wishing the cab would get them to the Andrews' residence as quickly as possible. Her dad cheated on Hannah's mother? She figures both sides have to feel this intense guilt, Hannah blaming herself for her mother's death, and Kel for the affair before his death.

"Typical Hollywood," sighs Lia.

"This can't be typical," breathes Emma.

"It can be," insists Lia, smiling coldly. "People get up, put on a fake face here, and walk as if they own the world. Hannah's too fragile so I don't mind her sectioning herself off from all that mess. But I'm not...and no one's stomping all over me."

"I section myself off," admits Emma.

"What could you possibly be hiding from?" says Lia, arching her eyebrows. "Global warming?"

Heh, if she only knew, replies Emma in her own head. Well, why not tell her? Lia's drunk and would most likely forget.

"My dad kissed one of his co-workers," says Emma, averting her eyes. "Then, he left home, my mom, me and my brother...I mean, he's trying to spend time with me now..."

"I'm waiting for the tragic part," encourages Lia.

"That is...that's why we're not speaking," says Emma.

"Let me get this straight," returns Lia. "Maybe the martinis have mangled my mind...but both your parents are alive, he actually wants to be with his kids, and he let you come to L.A.?"

Emma lowers her head. Despite her drunkenness, the meaner Andrews sister is making some sense. Compared to Lia's situation, her family isn't so bad. They were all trying; they were all there.

"Point made," sighs Emma, softly.

"Oh, I wasn't trying to make a point," waves off Lia. "Too drunk for that. I wonder if Toby and Manuella have sealed the deal yet?"

"Judging by their hot hoofing, I'd guess yes, but you never know with those two," says Emma.

"Well, post-bliss Manny better show for the performance tomorrow," sighs Lia. "Colleen's coming down and the amazingly wonderful Pinecrest will be taking snapshots. Gag."

"What's so gag-worthy?" shrugs Emma.

"They're so obsessed with image," says Lia. "And it's been like that with them forever. When my mom was with them, when I was with them. Pinecrest programs people to be that way. Like that guy Blake...used to be decent before they got their mitts on him. They trained us together."

"Trained?" questions Emma.

"What to wear, who to be with, what to say, where to audition," lists Lia, her eyes falling to the floor. "Speaking of gag..."

Lia makes a few lurching sounds, doing her best to hold in whatever's threatening to spill from her mouth, and thankfully, she rights herself, lips clean. Emma stares curiously at the cab driver, who appears miffed.

"Well, I'm glad you guys are with Bluewave," says Emma. "Manny hates people telling her what to do. Unless she's on stage."

"That studio gets you prime exposure," admits Lia. "But the emotional cost...yeah. I told Manny to be careful, and so far, so good."

Emma grins. Even with the annoying awkwardness between them, they were united in one way. They were looking out for Manny, and looking out for Hannah, though she'd love for Lia to be more appreciative of her little sister. In fact, she can't think of one positive comment Lia's made to Hannah.

"Lia," says Emma, clearing her throat. "Do you..."

Her question is silenced by Lia snoring, the cab driver muttering when Lia's heel digs into the back of his seat once again. Hmmm, there goes that one moment of connection. Well, she hopes Manny is safe, concerning her career. And safe tonight, adds Emma, smirking at a sleeping Lia.

II.

"Booyah!" cries Manny, parking the Porsche in a great spot.

The sky is so dark, and the parking lot, off to side, is only lit by a few street lamps, surrounded by trees, shading any views Toby hoped to get. He absolutely has no clue where they are, and was amazed Manny navigated so well in a strange city. All he noticed was that they were getting into woodsy territory around the half hour mark.. The drive was forty minutes.

"No trouble with the directions," praises Toby.

"I MapQuested it," says Manny, patting his knee, then grabbing her purse.

"You didn't!" laughs Toby.

"Your love of it rubbed off on me," replies Manny, playfully. "Seeing the colorful map and the different coordinates made me all swoony."

"Enough," says Toby, smiling.

"But I haven't gotten to the joy of putting in the two addresses yet," kids Manny.

"Uh-huh...joy? Like sitting through all the end credits at the movies," returns Toby. "I get exactly what you're saying."

"What insane aspiring actress would do that?" cries Manny, kissing his cheek. "You know you love it."

"Maybe," says Toby, pretending to leave the car.

Manny giggles, pulls him to her. "You're playing dirty tonight, Isaacs."

"Yep," replies Toby, kissing her softly until it grows into a full-length kiss.

Ugh, why has he waited so long? The feel of her lips against his makes his sixteen years fade fast, though technically it wouldn't be his birthday until midnight.

"That's exactly what we need tonight," breathes Manny, releasing him. "Come on. Get your bag."

They exit the car, Manny opening the backseat for a cloth, black overnight bag, which appears pretty full, and Toby taking a navy blue carrying bag that he found in the back of the closet in his room at Anne Marie's house. He wonders how that's going, J.T. blocking any awareness of Toby's absence from Anne Marie. Well, it's not like his mom or J.T. would know where they were, if she discovered he was gone. Good. Nobody's blowing this for them.

Manny securely locks Lia's car, starting up a dirt trail, gesturing for Toby to follow. As he walks, he's struck by the quiet, like there's this forgotten part of California, though his sight views the faint white letters of the Hollywood sign in the distance, above the trees.

"The entrance should be to the left," says Manny.

Her heels were digging into the rocks and dirt, but she didn't seem to mind. A wide smile hasn't left her face since they left the lot, and that causes him to smile just as wide.

The dirt trail finally ends, exposing a large, beautiful golden cottage, with street lamps lighting its dark blue shutters, and nicely painted white fence, a rose-colored trellis over a cobblestone walkway. In its old fashion, the building is very beautiful with its simple elegance. He told J.T. that he was worried about the place being too ritzy, and not only can he now breathe a sigh of relief, he can breathe a sigh of contentment.

"This is the Artists' Inn," says Manny, beaming at him. "Since we're artists...or on our way to being..."

Toby interrupts her with a kiss, an interruption she doesn't mind as she smiles afterwards.

"You're welcome," whispers Manny.

"No, really, Manny...this is above...above what I wanted," stammers Toby.

It's basically a truth he didn't have to share, Manny nodding knowingly.

"Impressing you and we're not even inside yet," teases Manny, grabbing his hand.

Walking to the front door, Manny enthusiastically presses the button, the two of them seeing a shadow move behind flowery curtains. The person responsible for the shadow opens the door, a happy expression filling her face. A woman with a short, brunette bob, dressed in a floral sundress, and lilac sweater stands before them, spectacles on a chain around her thin neck.

"Hi!" she greets. "Welcome! How are you? Good evening?"

Wow, thinks Toby. How many greetings can you cram into one full sentence?

"Uh...hi," says Toby.

"Are you...Mabel?" asks Manny. "Lia told me you..."

"Yes, yes, I am," answers Mabel, cheerfully. "Gosh! We haven't had any use of the Andrews' room in quite a long time. That room's looking mighty lonely."

"Well, we're here to make it less lonely," reassures Manny.

"That's lovely...charming...wonderful!" cries Mabel.

A lot of greetings, a lot of adjectives, notes Toby. But while hyper, she's sweet, one of the sweeter people he's met during this trip.

Mabel parts the door, allowing Toby and Manny to go in, and the interior is as bright as the exterior. There's a lot of pastel, which is hard on his eyes at first, though he gets used to it after a few more glances around the room. The walls are pink, the tablecloths of the few tables are a very bright blue, and the throw pillows and armchairs are white, with floral designs. Okay, so it's a little more girly than the outside, but isn't that regular for beds and breakfasts? He has no clue. They weren't sleeping in the living room, anyway.

"I feel like Pollyanna," murmurs Manny to Toby.

Mabel laughs, shrill and loud, startling the both of them. Apparently, she'd heard her, and found the comment humorous. Her laugh is as piercing as a whistle, not pleasant. Toby's tempted to cover his ears.

"That's what I told my husband when we bought the place," informs Mabel, after checking Manny's ID. "Boys get used to it before we do. Go figure. Don't you like it, dear?"

Oh, she's talking to me, realizes Toby.

"Yeah," says Toby, turning red.

"See?" cries Mabel. "What's your favorite thing?"

Great, moans Toby, inwardly. I have to pick something from all this pastel.

"Like...um...the space," replies Toby.

"Me too!" exclaims Mabel. "There's so much space to move around. Oh, yes. I can tell you guys are going to be two of my favorite guests."

Mabel turns to head to another room, Manny stifling a laugh as they trail her. Toby can't knock her for that, because he's doing the same. They come to an ornate, wooden stairwell, Toby glad that as they ascend, the colors start to become more neutral and dark. The hallway in which they wind up is actually a deep shade of blue.

"You have the key?" asks Mabel.

"Yes," replies Manny.

"Fantastic...great...delightful," says Mabel. "Breakfast is served on the main porch. Get there early before the pastries run out! The maids did the usual, spotless room check, turn down service, and added a touch of pine scent to the quarters. You sounded like such a pine person on the phone. Are you a pine person?"

"Pine's fine," says Manny, unzipping her purse.

"That's what I said to my husband," cries Mabel. "I knew it...I had a feeling...I've got those good senses."

"Thanks," says Manny, slipping a tip into Mabel's hand.

"Well, enjoy the English Room," says Mabel, clapping happily. "Ring if you need anything."

Mabel disappears, going down the stairs, glasses clattering against her chest. Manny puts the key into the lock, turns, goes into the room, Toby not too far behind. Standing in the center room, Manny sighs gently, squeezing Toby's hand. He knows why. This is the best room they could've hoped for. Sure, the walls contain the trademark flowers, and the curtains are lacy, but there's a nice balance to it. The furniture is serious and beautifully designed, something Toby would probably put in his room if he ever got a house, and it's small and intimate. On the other hand, the room is bright in a lovely way, with striped patterns and colorful, more muted pastels, something that would appeal to Manny's taste. The queen-sized bed sits placidly in front of them, white, wool blanket covering floral bedding and white sheets. Tonight...tonight, they'd be undone.

"Pastel paradise," gushes Manny, going to shut the door. "You know, Mabel? She reminds me of someone."

"No, really?" says Toby, wrinkling his eyebrows.

"Me?" exclaims Manny. "I'm not that...not that positive."

Toby collects her in his arms. "I'm positive you're perfect. This is perfect."

Manny hugs her to him, Toby starting to tense. Man, why does that always happen? These nerves have to be gone if they're going to do this. Hopefully, she won't feel the tightness in his body. He parts from her, glad to see that's the case.

"So the kind of perfect thing about this place is there's no TV...or well, computer and books for you," stammers Manny. "Not much to do except..."

Toby gulps. "Agreed."

"There isn't much to unpack either," continues Manny. "Not like the ski trip...since...it's only one night."

"Right," whispers Toby.

Manny awkwardly plays with her hair. This is tough. She's probably hoping he's the one that suggests it, make the move for the first time. He's not sure how to power the green light, though, even after saying it. Manny bites her lip.

"I can put your toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom for you," offers Manny.

"Uh, thanks," says Toby, hurriedly going to retrieve them.

Anything is better than looking like a chump. As his hands fetch the toothbrush, he can feel the sweat on his arms, his back. He gives them to Manny, not saying a word. Seemingly understanding, she grabs her own bag, and goes to the bathroom.

"Don't worry!" calls out Manny. "I'm not going to hide in here like I did the last time."

That breaks a fair amount of his resolve, Toby laughing and going to the doorway of the bathroom. The bathroom is smaller, with a large tub, toilet, little vanity mirror, and sink. It's a usual washroom.

"Um, kinda want privacy...to change," confesses Manny, spotting Toby in the doorway.

"Oh!" cries Toby. "Yeah...sorry."

Toby shuts the door, scratching his head. Alright, does that mean he should change? Yes, dummy, he thinks. What else is he going to do? Manny's an actress. This is the cue, idiot. Taking a deep breath, Toby drops his trousers.

III.

The zipper of her bag makes a small squeak, hands parting the inside pouch of her bag. Alright, she has the lotion she chose, and the lingerie's in the main part, and the guy who should be viewing it is right behind the door. This plan is working perfectly. Half of her wishes it was more her plan than Lia's, but she can't think about that now.

Manny slides off her pink top, undoes her white bra, then fetches the light blue one she purchased at Frederick's. Then, her skirt falls to the floor, being replaced by the matching panties. As she scrunches down the chemise, her skin becomes flushed as she catches sight of herself in the mirror. This is a bad mirror. She can only see her face, which appears embarrassed. Why is she embarrassed? He's seen her in a bikini, in a robe, in pajamas. That's a lot of skin to show. Manny shakes herself.

She guesses the one thing that's keeping her from totally freaking out is that Toby's loved it so far, absolutely loved it. They were having fun...time for a little more fun. This will be fun. He said perfect, right?

Carefully doing the other preparations, including Lia's suggestions of some lemon scrub on her abdomen, Manny fluffs her hair, crouches to get her CD, hitting her forehead against the bottom of the sink.

"Owww," whispers Manny, stroking her brow.

Ugh, what if a bump is forming? How attractive would that be? Thankfully, when she looks into the mirror again, there's no bump.

Going to the bag again, she locates her cell, turns it off. No one's calling her during this. Straight to voicemail. Finally, she locates Toby's present and a small bakery box she got from Eilat. Finding a match, Manny dutifully lights the contents, cradles the present in the other hand.

If he didn't like the gift, she'd be pretty crushed, but if he didn't like what else happened tonight, she'd be totally crushed.

"Here goes nothing," whispers Manny, walking to the door.

IV.

"If I were an American, I'd be offended," says Kendra, shrugging. "How many people can butcher your national anthem?"

Spinner pretends to grin, assessing Anne Marie's sound system for what feels like the hundredth time as Kendra watches TV. He keeps waiting for his sister to talk. When he arrived this morning with Boomer, she was somewhere else with Toby. Mid-afternoon, with Toby. Now, it's ten o' clock, and as Anne Marie was out at a holiday dinner with clients, according to Kendra, he decided this would be a good time. Too bad, Kendra didn't, instead concentrating on whatever special was on.

"This is the best sound system I've ever seen, and I bet she never uses it," says Spinner, shaking his head.

"I'd have to agree," says Kendra. "I mean, she's rarely home."

Sighing, Spinner sits on the couch with her, gaze going over his body. Kendra notices, covers her chest instinctively.

"What are you doing?" cries Kendra.

"You won't tell me what's going on!" exclaims Spinner. "I wasn't...checking you out or anything. I'm worried."

"There's no reason to worry," says Kendra.

"Really?" says Spinner. "Because you fall, ditch the hospital, run off with your ex...that's not weird to you? You calling the doctor?"

"It's the holidays," says Kendra.

Kendra looks at her nails, an action most girls he knows did, but no, not Kendra. What is she hiding? There's no bump, so if she is pregnant, she can't be that far along. The doctor said she needed to rest, but talked to Kendra and Toby alone. Toby. If he's going to find any answers, he's better off talking to him. Toby wouldn't be the toughest nut to crack, either.

"When is Toby coming home?" asks Spinner.

"Whenever Manny wants, probably," replies Kendra, crossing her legs.

"Kendra...," begins Spinner.

"He has a curfew, a curfew he has to keep," says Kendra. "I don't want his mom going crazy on him."

"If she does, that's his bare to burden...I mean, burden to...it's his fault, okay?" says Spinner. "He's your ex."

"My friend," clarifies Kendra. "And friends watch each other's backs."

"Like he's doing for you?" asks Spinner.

"Not revealing anything to you, Spin," sighs Kendra. They always shared everything. When they were smaller, he was the person she confessed being afraid of snakes to, and he's the first person she used to go to for help when she first started attending Degrassi. Kendra told him about Sam first, that she was leaving Toby for him. He hates that she can't trust him with this.

"Guess I have to ask the most important question, then," says Spinner, his heart heavy. "Are you...are you going to benefit from being here? Because if you aren't..."

"I will," interjects Kendra, putting an arm around Spinner.

"I get that my being protective is annoying, but...I have one sister, you know?" says Spinner, smiling slightly.

"You think I'm pregnant, don't you?" blurts out Kendra.

"What?" says Spinner, astonishment filling his eyes.

"Spin!" laughs Kendra. "No...no uncle duties yet."

Spinner puts a hand over his heart, exhales as her laughter deadens. Yeah, that's a message he'd hate to deliver to his parents and grandmother. That soothes him a bit. He's broken from his reverie by the consistent popping from fireworks on the TV, J.T. appearing in the doorway of the room.

"The Masons," says J.T., a little startled. "Have...have you seen Anne Marie?"

"No," says Kendra. "Toby better be right behind you. Curfew has come."

"Umm...excuse me," says J.T.

Giving them a smile, he races out of the room, and they hear some heavy steps as he goes up the staircase. Strange. The fastest he's seen J.T. run is...from him, back when he was bullying him and Toby. Man, those were the days. He chuckles, then turns to view Kendra's confused face.

"What's wrong?" says Spinner. "Or are you not telling me...again?"

"J.T. left pretty fast," says Kendra. "I...don't think Toby's home."

"So?" shrugs Spinner.

"So he's not keeping his end of the bargain," explains Kendra. "I can only stay if he does. Totally forgetting his other friends. Ugh, he's so with Manny. I know it."

"They _are_ dating," points out Spinner.

"Not after ten-thirty, they're not," says Kendra, checking her watch. "Six minutes and I'm calling."

Okay, whoa. It's not like she and Toby are dating. Wait a minute.

"I don't think you should," warns Spinner. "A good grounding won't kill him, and you know...you can come home if you can't stay at this lovely abowl."

"Abode, Spin," corrects Kendra. "And if he keeps this up, he's going to his abode...in Toronto. ASAP. His mom's totally severe, not like ours."

Eh, he can't tell her what to do, as this whole vacation has proved. Still, it's Toby's life and from what he's witnessed, he doubts that Manny's getting him in any real trouble. Perhaps Kendra feels obligated to protect him, but from this?

"As long as you know, he's in a relationship," says Spinner.

Kendra removes her arm. "Yeah, I've heard that...everyday, as a matter of fact."

V.

Toby bounces his palms against his knees, seated on the bed, cool air ventilating throughout the room. He thought about lighting the fireplace, but it was one of the older ones where you actually have to build a fire as opposed to just clicking it on and having the fire spring upward. Too much work and not enough time, so he turned on the small lamps on a nearby table with his wallet.

Getting undressed? He's done that for years, staring at his white T-shirt and black boxers. The boxers were nice, silk and dark, probably his best, recent purchase. They were purchased for this particular trip, when J.T. went off to get his usual pretzel at the other end of the mall. He basically went in for five minutes, spotted the coolest pair, and got them, telling J.T. he got a pack of socks. Face smeared with mustard, J.T. bought it.

His heart nearly bursts from his chest as the door parts, revealing Manny's dark eyes, solely her eyes, in a small slit.

"Toby, are you...are you ready?" she asks.

Definitely. Yes. Completely. Great, he's starting to think like Mabel. Don't think of Mabel, he chastises himself.

"I am," replies Toby.

Manny closes the door again, Toby glancing at the ceiling, then straight ahead. When Manny appears for the second time, door all the way open, he's fairly sure his heart has burst, or on the verge of its last beat. Black hair tucked behind her ears, a beautiful blue slip with black lace lines her breasts and legs, her soft, gold skin shining in the pale lamp light. He can scarcely come up with any synonyms. Alright, maybe he can, as he grins, like goddess, princess, dream, fox. Fox? That's a new word. It fits. Hey, maybe they all would do.

Though his eyes have barely left hers, Toby manages to stare at her up and down, beaming. That's when he notices what she has in her hands, Manny smiling back. She extends a cupcake with blue frosting on it, approaching him.

"Happy birthday to you," sings Manny. "Happy birthday to you. Happy seventeenth, dear Toby. Happy birthday to you."

Toby accepts it, looking at the tiny flame.

"Manny...wow," says Toby, staring at her. "You look...like every definition of wow."

"Okay, this will be the only time I say this tonight, but...don't focus on me," giggles Manny. "Make a wish."

A wish? Like it's going to get any better than tonight? Well, he'll wish for another night like this, many nights like this. That's a doable wish. Toby blows the flame out.

"Now, you eat that, while I put this in," says Manny, heading to the radio.

He should've wished that she'd stay right in front of him, Toby biting into the cupcake. The lingerie looks even better from the back, Manny kneeling to put the CD into the necessary compartment.

Captured effortlessly  
that's the way it was

happened so naturally  
I did not know it was love.  
The next thing I felt was you holding me close.

"Remember when I did this on the ski trip? Trying to find a song?" asks Manny, as the music begins.

"Anything not to kiss me?" jokes Toby.

"Hey, I didn't know what I was feeling," says Manny, walking to him. "But I kissed you first."

Manny sits on the bed, next to him. Toby remains where is, hands starting to shake. Why? He can't shake in front of her, has to have some level of cool.

"And your present," says Manny, presenting him with a gift wrapped box.

Toby chuckles when he sees the gift wrap design. The Simpsons characters are all over the gift wrap paper. Their first date. Man, Manny remembered everything, cares about their relationship so much, has no fear. It just...just bothers him that he lied to her, missed her performance. A small part of him thinks she should still be angry. Unlike the Justin situation, he's unable to go back and correct those mistakes.

"Open it," encourages Manny.

Toby rips the paper, finally reaching the gift.

"Awesome," praises Toby.

"The USB Plasma ball," announces Manny, grandly. "Adds color and energy to any workstation, including Kytel. Way better than some crystal ball."

Toby evaluates the box, turning it around. He mentioned that he wanted one, ever since he and Manny saw the _Prestige_, one of the few films he really got excited about. She was impressed that he knew who Tesla, the odd scientist, in the movie was, and that was months ago. Now, he'd have something energetic and thoughtful at work, when Manny wasn't around to display those qualities herself.

what was I gonna do  
I let myself go.  
And now we fly through the stars

I hope this night will last forever.

"You touch it and it becomes electric," says Manny, grinning. "And when I touch you, hoping for the same effect."

He nearly drops the gift, but carefully rises, sets the box on the table. Rejoining her, he sees Manny's cheeks getting more and more red, and he can tells his are doing the same. His knee brushes against hers, his eyes find her mouth.

I've been waiting for you  
it's been so long

I knew just what I would do when I heard your song.  
You filled my heart with a kiss  
you gave me freedom

"Manny, I think you're the most beautiful girl I'm ever going to see," whispers Toby.

Toby clasps her hands with his, shyly staring at his lap.

"This almost sounds like a break-up," says Manny, concern in her voice.

"No!" insists Toby. "I'm...I'm not sure how to start so I said something..."

"Amazing," finishes Manny.

Manny provides a warm glance, climbs on the bed, starts to massage his shoulders. Her hands are gentle, steady. Toby releases a pleased sign, the anxiety slowly leaving his body.

"Relax, baby," says Manny, above the music. "That's it. We have all night."

Ain't nobody loves me better

makes me happy  
makes me feel this way.  
Ain't nobody loves me better (than you).

I wait for nighttime to come to bring you to me

Toby closes his eyes, starts to drift away. What is he worried about? Why not be with the girl he loves, if everything's in place? She didn't look repulsed when he took his shirt off, at least. So what if more clothing comes off?

He stalls Manny's arms, looks at her, kisses the fingertips of her left hand. Manny scoots back on the bed, yanks the sheet and blanket back. His pulse racing, Toby smooths the side of her chemise, admiring her waist.

"Mmmm," sighs Manny, letting her head fall against a pillow.

The light from the lamp dances in her dark, brown eyes, plays against the rich hues of her skin. Toby lays by her side, lets his fingers trace her right leg. Her skin's as soft as the chemise, as he inches it to her chest. Manny's eyes roll upward, breath getting more shallow. The response makes him want to move a little faster, but no, she's right. They have all night. That doesn't make him go any slower, prying off the chemise, bra situated perfectly to her breasts, panties visible in the faint light.

"Let me see you too," murmurs Manny, leading his face to hers.

"Okay," whispers Toby.

Manny sits up a little, expertly getting his shirt off. Toby's head starts to throb, in a pleasurable way, a dizzying headache. She tosses his shirt on the floor, begins to kiss him intensely, their breathing mingling, Toby letting his fingers do the talking. He pulls the blanket over them, then gently kneads her hips, Manny fingers dipping to his.

"Are these silk?" moans Manny, touching the side of his boxers.

"Yes," replies Toby.

"I love silk," sighs Manny, gazing past his glasses to his eyes.

Toby grins, letting his index finger trace her bra strap, pulling it down slightly, watching Manny's amusement grow with each motion.

"Unhook it," breathes Manny, nodding.

Moving as Manny shifts, he finds the hook, her bra becoming loose. He views her bust in the near darkness, chest steadily rising. He can't believe this beautiful body is going to be against him, that he's seeing her like this.

Manny reaches for him, chin meshing against hers as they kiss. Sweat trickles past his shoulder blades. She kneads his shoulders soundly, separates from him as she wipes her brow.

"Protection," breathes Manny, letting her fingers graze his chest.

"Covered," reassures Toby, reaching for his wallet.

She grins, watching him, Toby's eyes brightening when he removes it. Admittedly, he hasn't practiced putting it on since health class. Oh boy, he's going to look so stupid if he gets it wrong. He doesn't have time to worry as Manny's kissing him again, hands playing with the waist of his boxers.

"Tobes," moans Manny, starting to wiggle restlessly.

"I can't wait," sighs Toby, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb.

Manny smiles triumphantly, eyes shining brighter in the dimmer light. Toby begins to help Manny slide down his boxers, a piercing noise interrupting their actions. What is that noise, that familiar noise? The Inuyasha theme plays repeatedly in the room, the loudest he's ever heard it. Why didn't he turn off his phone?

"What's that?" whispers Manny.

"Nothing...they'll call later," answers Toby, beginning to kiss her neck.

Manny gasps, neck arching against the pillow. He's just as aroused. The gasp isn't loud enough to cover the consistent theme, however, Toby stopping.

"Let me get rid of them," says Toby.

"I...fine," whispers Manny, rolling her eyes.

Making sure his boxers are all the way to his waist, Toby reluctantly stands, fetches the cellphone from his bag. He throws a glance at Manny, rising, white blanket shading the top half of her body. Whoever this is is about to get smacked, and he rarely, if ever, has feelings like that. Staring at the number, he winces.

Kendra. The excitement in his body starts to fade. She wouldn't call unless it was an emergency. Is she in the hospital? Is she in pain? But he can't tell Manny she's calling. Toby stares awkwardly between the phone and Manny.

"Something wrong?" inquires Manny.

"I'll deal with it later," answers Toby, putting the phone back in his bag. "We were..."

Toby returns to the bed, hovering over Manny as her head meets the sheets. There's no way he can make her wait anymore, not after this amazing night. Kendra would have to wait. She'd have to, he thinks, his body stiffening. His muscles get tight, unfortunately in the same state they were pre-Manny massage. Manny eyes him suspiciously, apparently deciding to continue anyway. Smiling encouragingly, she starts to yank his boxers again, moving her mouth. Too bad his mouth isn't moving in unison. Toby pulls his boxers to his waist.

"Come on, Toby," breathes Manny, gently touching his face with both hands. "We're almost there, sweetie."

"I...um...I can't...," stammers Toby.

"You want this as much as me, right?" says Manny, kissing the top his back. "This is the best I've ever felt with someone."

That comment meant a lot, but he can't stop thinking. Kendra might be in trouble. She wouldn't call unless it's important, absolutely important.

"One sec," whispers Toby. "I...I have to call. Sorry."

Manny lets out a deep breath as Toby rises from the bed, putting the condom on the table, and taking his phone into the washroom. It's probably the most horrible way to have left her in that moment. Would she forgive him? Ugh, why now? Why?

Toby dials the number of Kendra's cell, and she instantly picks up.

"You okay?" asks Toby.

"Toby...I've been trying you for an hour," complains Kendra.

"Manny had the music playing in the car, so must've not heard it," guesses Toby. "Well, you got me. Are you feeling well?"

"What if your mom comes home and sees that you're not here?" cries Kendra.

Wait, that's why she called? To scold him for missing curfew? No, there has to be another reason. There better be another reason.

"I don't care...J.T.'s covering," explains Toby.

"Toby, if you keep this going, you'll be going home early, and that means you won't get to see anybody, including Manny," says Kendra. "I'm just looking out for you."

He hears the door to the washroom creak.

"This was the worst time!" whispers Toby, urgently. "Kendra..."

Whirling around, he views Manny in a white robe, mouth practically hanging to the floor. She must've heard Kendra's name. No, this is the worst time, for everything. He throws Manny a sympathetic look, can't calm her down since she's already walking to the door. Hearing the door shut, Toby drops the phone, shakes his head.

"Toby?" says Kendra's faint voice from the discarded phone. "Toby?"

VI.

Sunlight seeps through the green leaves of the tall trees, warms the white, wicker furniture of the porch. Forks, knives, spoons, coffee and tea cups are spread out on the blue tablecloths, salt and pepper shakers in the center. Manny plays with a sugar packet, as a smiling waiter fills her cup with more tea, leaving her to assist an older man, sipping coffee at the table next door.

Morning is supposed to make everything new, bright. That's what a lot of people believed, but Manny doesn't today. She spent the night in that ugly, pastel-colored living room. Funny thing is she liked what Toby liked, the space, space away from him. Her lower back hurt, though she won't admit that to him, Mabel, or the random, ill-tempered man calling for a different cup.

"It's Pollyanna!" cries Mabel, rushing to Manny.

Man, she doesn't need this cheeriness in the morning, after what's happened. Mabel's in a sleeveless, white cotton dress, her bob brushed away from her face.

"Where's your companion?" asks Mabel.

"Slept in," returns Manny.

Truth is she has no idea, and she'd like to keep it that way. He's probably talking to Kendra, ignoring her, killing time they could be spending together at the bed and breakfast trip she arranged. Ungrateful jerk. But he was grateful last night, so tender, and the things he said? Yeah, she's still a little turned on by those, as mad as she said. No sex, and still no sex, would do that to you. That's Toby. Seducing her and then leaving her hanging.

"I should throw his plasma ball against the fence," mumbles Manny, tearing the packet in her hands, sugar flying everywhere.

"What, dear?" says Mabel, clearly distracted. "Oh, there's my husband over there."

Mabel gives the man Manny was watching earlier a wave, the man sniffing his coffee.

"It's hazelnut, Harry!" she yells to him.

"Don't go for them fancy, pansy brews!" exclaims Harry. "I like my coffee to taste like coffee."

"Oh, Harry," sighs Mabel, going to him. "Try something new."

We were supposed to do something new, last night, thinks Manny, imagining Toby staring at her from their room window. He could probably see her from there, if he wanted. Toby claimed to want to be with her. Yeah, right. On the ski trip, she walked out, and rightly felt guilty. Today, no guilt, no guilt at all. That's all on Toby.

The waiter returns to her table, setting a plate in front of her.

"Dining alone?" he asks.

"Whatever," sighs Manny.

The plate holds two pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a bowl of strawberries. He provides a cup of orange juice too. Maybe she can eat her anger away. Bad plan, she thinks, as an image of a pleased Kendra enters her mind as she chomps her bacon. She pierces her eggs with her fork.

"This seat taken?" asks a voice above her.

"Yes," replies Manny, failing to look up at him.

"I thought you left," confesses Toby. "Then, I went to the lobby and saw you sleeping...then I think Mabel's husband thought I was a stalker."

"Like Kendra?" says Manny, letting her fork clatter to the plate.

"That's not fair," says Toby, calmly.

Finding a sliver of courage, she raises her eyes, sees Toby's brown hair shining in the sunlight, the rose-colored trellis framing his body. The placement of his body makes him look like the most virtuous seventeen-year old ever. There comes a time, though, when you can't be like that all the time. She's getting a little sick of that, since it's taking him away from her.

"Sit. I can barely see you," lies Manny.

As soon as Toby sits, the same waiter sets a plate in front of him.

"Oh, no bacon," says Toby, politely.

That elicits a smile from her, a very short smile as she sees Toby's face brighten when hers does. The waiter apologizes, goes to fetch another plate.

"You came down for me last night?" says Manny.

Toby nods. "Then I saw you from our window."

"Figured you could," admits Manny. "Toby...I don't get it. We're dating and you're not dating her. I know she's got stuff going on..."

Manny glances around, glad to see the other couples are in deep conversation. For whatever reason, they didn't seem to care that Toby and Manny were noticeably younger. Meh, she guesses they aren't as interesting as they think. Plus, most of them were giving each other googly eyes while stuffing their faces. That should be them, too. Why isn't it them?

"Last time, with Clara, I understood," says Manny, in her best, patient voice. "You weren't attached. Toby, you're attached now. To me."

"Whole-heartedly," assures Toby.

"That's getting harder for me to believe, unless I come first," says Manny, squeezing his hand from across the table.

"I came to Cali to be with you," says Toby.

"My heart kinda knows, but my head...," begins Manny.

"How will both know?" interjects Toby.

"Not to be demanding, but...you can't stretch yourself for us both," says Manny, shifting her gaze. "Not at the same time, anyway. And I don't think that's fair to you either."

Toby looks ready to speak, fails to do it.

"Is it?" encourages Manny.

"It's not," agrees Toby, a small smile creeping to his lips. "That's like...the first time that anyone's like..cared that I do that."

Of course, she cares, as upset as she is that their night was ruined.

"I'll talk to her, Manny," promises Toby.

"Toby, I swear your heart's too big sometimes," sighs Manny. "Then again, it made me fall for you."

"Are you still mad at me?" asks Toby.

The waiter sets a new plate in front of him, scurries away.

"I'll be more mad if you don't eat," says Manny, gesturing to his plate. "These pancakes aren't as good as the ski lodge, I'm thinking."

"Does anything beat the ski lodge?" asks Toby, giving her a grateful smile.

"Last night had its moments," reassures Manny.

Toby scoots his wicker chair closer to hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too," says Manny, stroking his back. "Happy birthday."


	31. Little Wonders

**XXXI. Little Wonders **

Let it go,  
Let it roll right off your shoulder  
Don't you know  
The hardest part is over  
Let it in,  
Let your clarity define you  
In the end  
We will only just remember how it feels

Our lives are made  
In these small hours  
These little wonders,  
These twists and turns of fate  
Time falls away,  
But these small hours,  
These small hours still remain

Let it slide,  
Let your troubles fall behind you  
Let it shine  
Until you feel it all around you  
And I don't mind  
If it's me you need to turn to  
We'll get by,  
It's the heart that really matters in the end

Our lives are made  
In these small hours  
These little wonders,  
These twists and turns of fate  
Time falls away,  
But these small hours,  
These small hours still remain

All of my regret  
Will wash away somehow  
But I cannot forget  
The way I feel right now

In these small hours  
These little wonders  
These twists and turns of fateThese twists and turns of fate  
Time falls away but these small hours  
These small hours, still remain,  
Still remain  
These little wonders  
These twists & turns of fate  
Time falls away  
But these small hours  
These little wonders still remain

**Little Wonders is the property of Rob Thomas and appears in the film _Meet the Robinsons. _**

Like A Star is the property of Corinne Bailey Rae. 

It's A Small World is the property of Robert and Richard Sherman.

Author's Note: So unfortunately, Ashley doesn't have many original songs on the show, so even though I said they were original, they aren't. But I do give credit for the songs I use for her.

The bus brakes, then inches past Shaftesbury Theater, glowing lights highlighting an evening showing of _Spamalot. _She has her own show tonight. Okay, so technically, this isn't _her _show, but it's hers in a way. Ashley lets a black bangle slip to her wrist, then fixes it, as the engine of the bus goes off. Alone in her bunk, she can see the different people in the End. Some are dressed casually, in tight-fitting dresses or jeans, and others are dressed a little wilder, in leather, dog tags, with multi-colored hair and tattoos. Hmmm, collect all the styles together and you'd get her styles over the years, Ashley trying to joke with her brain. It's a failed joke as her hands remain jittery.

They're performing at the End, one of the best clubs in central London, and she truly hopes this won't be the end for her music, reaching its first public audience tonight. That's one thing Craig has over her; all his music has been performed and heralded by its listeners. Maybe she should've written more, you know, just in case. Perhaps the chord progressions would be off, or her voice would fade after the second song, or she'd trip onstage.

One of her first memories, memories she could actually remember, happened at age eight, when her mother brought her to her first piano recital. Up until then, all her teachers labeled her as gifted, and so poised for her age. It might've gone to her head a little, because that's really when she became particular and protective about her music. She didn't want anyone to hear her practice until a song was ready. Well, the day of her recital, not only was she ready, she was also being considered for some arts academy in Calgary. Moving to Calgary meant leaving the school she loved, her parents (who were married at the time), and her best friend, Terri. Those things are so important to you when you're eight, so she...fumbled, due to nerves. The act drew a lot of confused faces, especially from her mother and her piano teacher. How could Ashley Kerwin, the so-believed perfect daughter and budding pianist, fall apart on stage? She practiced the Bach sonata for hours. Ashley was usually like the sonata itself, self-sufficient. They were struck that she couldn't tackle it.

She's not so self-sufficient now, her heart beating rapidly. Aja styled her hair with a lot of product, so much her hair felt like a helmet. The tour director called, said he wanted them all to wear black, a mark of artistic solidarity. They clipped everyone's set down to two songs, because a guest DJ was coming through. The lack of control is something she has to get used to, but most of the other performers were already in the club, clearly used to the routine of things. None of them were cowering in the tour bus, watching with trepidation as people go into the club. The young one, Mark called her? She certainly felt like it.

"Get it together, Kerwin," she whispers.

Hearing a few footsteps, she immediately rises from her bed, pretends to stretch. Craig appears in a black, BB6 tour shirt, and dark blue jeans. He offered to help the roadies with setting up equipment, doing so with a joyful expression. She thinks it makes him feel like he's part of the tour, and it made him happy so she encouraged it.

"You're on in ten," says Craig, hands cupped over his mouth. "Kerwin to the stage...I said, Kerwin to the stage."

Ashley grins slightly, then takes a deep breath, lets her butt meet the bunk. If her heart doesn't slow down soon, she wagers she can't go on. The crowd would probably be able to hear it through the microphone, a sound that announces to the world that she's inexperienced and unconfident.

"Big crowd, isn't it?" says Ashley.

Craig shrugs, sits next to her, hitting his head on the top of the bunk for the umpteenth time.

"Half of them are already plastered, and the other half are in high spirits," says Craig. "Either way, I'd say you have every chance of winning them over."

"If they don't like my sound...," begins Ashley.

"Are you kidding me?" interrupts Craig. "Your tonality is the best on the bus."

Ashley laughs. "That's such a music geek compliment."

"Geek becomes me," teases Craig, elbowing her. "You have it all, Ash. I mean, how many people get to play a tour at our age in one of the most popular cities in the world? How many people are personally asked to join a line-up based on an internship? It's basically...basically like, you were meant to be found."

She can't help but think what a wonderful thing for him to say right then. This was the internship that cost them their relationship, and here he is, reminding her that in the end, it's all worth it. So rather than make any cheesy "the End" statements before going into the End, she stands.

"Did the stage managers abuse you?" asks Ashley, straightening her black blouse.

"I like carrying amps," says Craig, rubbing his back. "And yeah."

"Poor roadie," consoles Ashley.

"Didn't mind carrying around a certain keyboard," says Craig, winking at her.

"My keyboard's not heavy," defends Ashley, smirking.

"Psh," protests Craig.

"It's not," says Ashley, grabbing Craig's hand.

Sliding open the door, they weave past the common area, littered with magazines, open beer cans on the table, and go past the bus driver, playing Sudoku. Once they reach the street, a wave of cool night air meets Ashley's face, welcome since she was sweating bullets earlier. She and Craig walk to a side door, where he carried the equipment in before. Many strums from acoustic guitars, and some light ripping from the electric guitars meet her ears. A sax bellows in the background. Most of the other women elected to wear black T-shirts to show off their curves, and denim skirts or black peasant skirts to highlight their legs. Ashley chose a long-sleeved blouse, and dressy black pants instead. At least her hair is the same as theirs, loose and non-fussy.

"Ashley!" calls over Mark Kennick, Aja lightly dousing his face with powder.

Craig and Ashley exchange a look, Craig rolling his eyes. Craig hasn't liked Mark since the photo shoot, and thankfully, Mark's bunk was nearest the bathroom, so he was far away for them, and even then, he left the bus regularly on business. Mark only came to the common room to have drinks with the other musicians. Drinks and a few other things, judging by his occasionally red eyes when they left the vehicle to indulge in something else. But he never did drugs on the bus, Ashley has to admit.

"Hey," greets Ashley, going by his chair as Aja leaves.

"Heard you rehearsing before we all went to lunch," confesses Mark.

Ugh, that's why she waited until they all left. Great, now she'd be getting some criticism before she took to the stage.

"Fooling around," waves off Ashley.

"If that was fooling around, I'd love to hear what you do when you're not," praises Mark. "Very neo-soul. Can't wait to hear you tonight."

Ashley beams. "Thanks. Same...same to you."

She throws Craig a pleased grin, walks further into the backstage area, spying a circular stage from the shadows. Sure enough, Craig has put her keyboard in a prime spot, white lights illuminating the instrument. The lights all seem to collect on the keys. The clubgoers are currently dancing to a loud, booming song she's never heard. Well, they can't dance to her music, but she wants them to enjoy it.

A stagehand in his early twenties jogs to her, sweat lining his brow.

"Ashley Kerwin?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies.

"You're first," informs the stagehand.

No, that's a mistake. Sarah Lincoln, a sweet-faced singer who knew every dirty Irish limerick, was first. It should be on the itinerary.

"What happened to Sarah?" asks Ashley.

"Bit of a head cold," answers the stagehand. "Or what I'm thinking...bit of beer done gone to her brain. And when I say bit, I mean quite a bit."

"I...can't...can't," stammers Ashley.

"Oh, sure you can," encourages the stagehand. "A talented stunner like you. Go on, they'll give you a decent intro."

Ashley has no time to argue anymore, as the stagehand is already talking to the emcee in another corner. Okay, so she's going on a little earlier than planned. Why did Sarah have to drink so much? So unprofessional. Ashley shakes every part of her body, trying to get pumped. That's when two arms circle her waist, and two lips brush her cheek.

"Good luck," whispers Craig.

She tries hard to smile as Craig passes her, takes a seat at the bar with Aja, her purple mohawk glowing under the bright lights. Her eyes break from him as the emcee, a guy with spiked hair and dressed in a white suit and black dress shirt, walks onstage to enthusiastic applause.

"Welcome to...the End!" greets the emcee, doing a dramatic pause in between words.

The crowd cheers loudly.

"Tonight, we're very honored to be a stop on the awesome BB6 tour!" cries the emcee. "Now, these folks have come from all around. I'm talking the States...Canada...Ireland...and a little place called Great Britain! Let me hear it!"

They provide the reaction he wants, fists pumping in the air. Craig and Aja clap politely.

"Up first, we have the lovely musical stylings of an accomplished lass from Toronto," he says, Ashley's stomach aching. "Ashwin Kerley!"

Yeah, that's me, moans Ashley. They can't get my name right? Never mind, she thinks, approaching the stage, her fingers tingling. At least they're clapping, the sound of collective applause accompanying her to the keyboard. Musk, the multi-faceted drummer the tour hired, sits behind his kit, waiting for Ashley's cue. Such a small stage for such a big moment.

"It's...it's Ashley Kerwin," corrects Ashley, when she reaches the microphone.

"I'll call you whatever you want, darling!" cries a guy in the front.

He's met by some whistles of agreement, Ashley focusing on getting her keyboard in order. After making a few necessary adjustments, she can no longer stall. She begins to play, a soft, flowing melody, Musk gently tapping the snare. Not much drumming is required, so they can hear her voice, something she likes. Her voice is her best asset.

"_Just like a star across my sky, _

Just like an angel off the page,

You have appeared to my life,

Feel like I'll never be the same..." 

It may be the best her voice has ever sounded, deep and soulful, the soft rhythm of the keys contrasting nicely with the dark tone of her voice. She can almost feel the perfection of the balance, drum beating as steadily as her heart. There should be no more doubting. She's here, eyes finding Craig, nodding appreciatively to her music.

"_Just like a song in my heart, _

Just like oil on my hands,

Honoured to love you,

Still I wonder why it is,

I don't argue like this,

With anyone but you,

We do it all the time,

Blowing out my mind..."

Wasn't it only yesterday when she was the one nodding, loving his compositions? A nod and smile from him is more important to her than any newspaper blurb that will come from this. The song itself is a subtle nod to their relationship, full of passionate fighting, but the bigger positives, like how he stirs her soul and brain, stokes that fire inside of her more than anyone else, drives her to sing. What better way for her to evaluate them through song?

"_You've got this look I can't describe, you make me feel like I'm alive_," continues Ashley, glancing at the other members of the crowd for the first time.

She's not pleased with what she sees, various looks of disinterest or indifference displayed, a couple teenagers in crop tops checking their watches and texting. Ashley swallows a lump in her throat, the keys getting blurry in her sight.

"Next!" yells the same man who first spoke when she came to the stage.

"Boo!" shouts one of the teenagers. "Play something fun!"

"Yeah, I wanna dance," adds her friend.

Her voice chokes as she reaches the bridge. This is worse than the recital, totally worse, since she's at the mercy of strangers. They weren't listening to the song, or taking her seriously, or anticipating another from her. Sweat crawls on her neck, meets her shoulder blades. She regrets wearing this stupid blouse. The heat is coming from everywhere.

What was she thinking? That they'd immediately love her, embrace her with open arms? They hate her. Her hands tremble as she reaches the chorus for what is, thankfully, the last time. This is the last time I'll be on stage, groans Ashley in her throbbing head. I'm ruined.

"_Like a star_," breathes Ashley, taking her fingers off the keyboard.

The final note is met by slow applause, Ashley wiping her eyes furiously. It'd be humiliating to cry in front of them, not deliver. Musk is counting her down, anyway, stops when he views Ashley fiddling with one of the keyboard wires. If I look at the equipment, the tears will stop, she thinks.

"Get on with it!" cries another voice.

"Where's Mark?" yells someone else.

Ashley looks into the audience again. There isn't any sign of anticipation, or encouragement. Ashley Kerwin, or Ashwin Kerley, or whoever, has made no mark. Glancing at Musk apologetically, she leaves the stage, hurries to the backstage area, her feet stinging in her descent. That's when the tears flow, her breathing growing quick. She places a hand over her face, sobbing softly, as Myra Tonick, a jazz musician from San Francisco, goes to do her set. The cheers for Myra don't make this any easier to take.

"Hey, now," says a calm voice from behind her hand. "You did well."

She's not so out of it that she doesn't recognize Mark's voice.

"Those people have no concept of what original music should sound like," argues Ashley, through weighty sobs. "If they knew how long I worked on...how much effort..."

"They'd be musicians, not blooming idiots," fills in Mark.

Ashley brushes past him, sits in a stool that a roadie abandons for her. She'd thank him if she wasn't so upset. Mark fetches a tissue from a make-up mirror, giving it to her.

"Got booed during my debut," comforts Mark.

"Were you on a prestigious tour?" returns Ashley. "I mean, sorry."

"No, that's alright," says Mark. "It was at a comedy club not too far from here. The thing is...they don't boo you if they know you. That's what I've noticed."

"Why?"

"Well, fancy corporations and marketing influences public opinion. Turns out people like you if they're told to like you."

Ashley dots her eyes with the tissue. "But we...we were in the press and..."

"Your image was in the press," points out Mark. "Music's a different story. What if...what if we played together, on another night, to a more receptive crowd?"

"That's...that's allowed?"

Mark chuckles. "It's not forbidden. A collaboration."

Eh, she's not sure. She kind of liked the idea of showcasing her talents on her own, that whole self-sufficient mentality she cherished. Then again, if the crowds hate her and love Mark, that might help them to appreciate her.

"A collaboration?" echoes a voice to their left.

Craig stands awkwardly by the back door, approaching them tentatively. Ashley drops her gaze. She didn't want anyone, least of all Craig, to view her in this condition, an emotional, failed wreck.

"Exactly," says Mark, taking a beer from a stagehand walking by.

"I'll...I'll think about it," replies Ashley.

Mark smiles widely, hands the beer to Ashley, then leaves.

"How are you?" asks Craig, putting her hair away from her face.

"Inexplicably happy," kids Ashley through her tears. "Craig, I never should've come. This concert... way out of my league."

"Because six drunk people made some stupid remarks?" says Craig. "Ashley, you were amazing."

"My music...guess it doesn't fit today's standards," moans Ashley.

"Don't beat yourself up over this," comforts Craig. "I've been booed too and..."

"On tour, during a live show?" interrupts Ashley, harshly. "No, you haven't."

After saying that, she immediately wishes she never said it. It sounded as if she was almost rubbing it in his face that he wasn't the one on tour. At least, that's what she figures after Craig's cheerful expression falls.

"Suppose you'll want to work on your collabo with Mark then," says Craig, frowning.

"Craig!" calls Ashley after him as he exits.

He doesn't return, Ashley stamping her foot. This has to be the worst night she could've imagined. She starts to hit her forehead with her fist, stopping when she remembers that she's holding a bottle. The cool liquid swirls as she shakes it. Pulling a Sarah Lincoln sounds pretty good right now, and since her music sucked, who cares if she has a hangover tomorrow?

Ashley uncaps the beer, grimaces as the first stinging drops find her tongue, and then it goes down her throat, cool, easy, like cold medicine.

II.

"Ten o' clock on the dot," says Manny, letting her fingers trace the steering wheel.

A few palm fronds blow lazily to the side as Toby undoes his seatbelt. The Porsche is at the end of his mother's street, far from where Anne Marie could see. At this moment, he only cares about the girl,who went to great lengths for him last night. She's done a lot for him these past months, and then in the years before. They weren't friendly gestures anymore, or simple conversations, though he's always loved talking with her. These were huge things, and he's not taking her into consideration...well, not the way he should.

"You're performing today?" questions Toby.

"It's...it's only open to the press and the V.I.P.s, sweetie," explains Manny. "Or I'd ask you to come."

There goes that plan, thinks Toby, shuffling in his seat.

"Not sure when I'm getting back from Disney, anyway," admits Toby.

"That's today?" exclaims Manny. "Ugh, why didn't you tell me? You have to tell me every detail, and every compliment they give you."

"All I know is my mom forwarded my resume, and I have to dress perfectly," says Toby.

"_Perfect, my dear, isn't easy_," sings Manny, playing with the collar of his T-shirt.

"Um?" shrugs Toby.

"_Oliver and Company_?" shares Manny. "Bette Midler as a pampered poodle? Come on. Know the company, Tobes."

"Honestly, just doing this because I have to. I like Kytel," says Toby.

"I know,"says Manny, ruffling his hair. "But having two companies be enamored with you can't hurt, can it? I mean, like total admiration."

She gazes warmly into his eyes, Toby doing the same. The beautiful memories of them almost being together fills his mind, the way her skin shone, the way her lips moved, the way his heart shook.

"Manny," breathes Toby, shifting to her.

"You gotta go," says Manny, reaching over him and opening his car door. "Not screwing this up for you."

"Like I screwed up last night," mumbles Toby, staring at her arm.

Manny blinks a few times, sighs. "Toby, we can't go back. We'll...we'll just move forward, alright?"

Toby offers her a strained smile. "Alright."

"Besides, you're here for only a few more days," reminds Manny, sadness in the tone of her voice.

She's right. He'd be leaving the night of the day after the Starlight Ball, and he wouldn't see her until the beginning of August. There wasn't any way to leave together, either, as her agent, Ms. Dale, was researching possible auditions for Manny that would be held at the end of this month. He shouldn't be surprised. That's how it's always been. They were both very busy, so they worked around...light bulb, thinks Toby, brightening.

"Stop by...at the end of the day," encourages Toby.

"At Disney?" says Manny, giving him a puzzled look. "I...the drive would be long."

"There are buses that run there," says Toby. "It might mean being on there for...

Nah, it would be too long, and she'd probably be exhausted after her performance. He can't ask that of her.

"I'm speaking crazy," says Toby, laughing.

"Luckily, I'm fluent in crazy," says Manny.

He leaves the car, shouldering his overnight bag, shuts the door. A more intense winds blows through the trees. He crouches down to say bye to her.

"Got your plasma ball?" asks Manny.

"Yeah," assures Toby.

"Good, because I know you find those things mesmerizing," she teases.

"Not as mesmerizing as you," says Toby, leaning in to kiss her.

He's grateful she returns the kiss, soft and sure. She could be pulling away. He'd understand why.

"Go get your brilliant butt changed," orders Manny, patting his cheek.

"Call you later," says Toby, backing up.

Manny starts the car, does a quick U-turn. Toby breathes deeply as he watches the Porsche head to the Andrews', then walks to the front stoop of Anne Marie's. He presses the door, raises his eyes as he sees that it's unlocked, as if it were left open for him. How strange. J.T. must've done it. As soon as he reaches the foyer, he bumps into J.T., who grabs his overnight bag, flings it in a closet.

"So Toby, you got the paper?" yells J.T., so loudly it hurts Toby's ears.

"What?" whispers Toby.

His whisper is covered by the clomping of designer heels against the linoleum, Anne Marie greeting her son with a smile.

"Toby, you can't very well go to Disney in a T-shirt," she scolds, playfully. "Shake a leg. We're riding over with Fred."

"Always has to check the stocks," says J.T., putting an arm around Toby. "I swear, this is the most adult seventeen-year old I've met."

"My goodness...seventeen," gushes Anne Marie, walking to embrace Toby.

J.T. moves so she can do so, Toby's eyes bugging out. J.T. gives him the thumbs up behind his mother's back. Mission accomplished...apparently.

"Where's the paper?" questions Anne Marie.

"Uh...didn't see it," replies Toby. "Maybe...maybe the dog got it."

"Xerox does like to hide things," says Anne Marie. "I usually get up before he does. But today, I took the whole day off. Your birthday is a second holiday, as far as I'm concerned."

She took a day off? He figured she'd go insane at the prospect. Then again, she did take some time off for his Confirmation and bar mitzvah.

"Too bad he got a hold of it...reading the horoscopes are always fun," says Anne Marie.

"Manny likes them too," says Toby, hesitantly.

Anne Marie frowns. "Well, they're actually...pretty frivolous. Eh, I shouldn't read them."

Like you shouldn't have insulted my girlfriend, thinks Toby, shaking his head. He wonders if she'll ever apologize for that. She won't. After all, she spent the day after, completely ignoring him. Whatever. He's had enough drama and he has to get dressed.

"Going to get changed," says Toby, heading up the flight of stairs.

J.T. follows, Toby closing the door.

"Okay, either you're a genius, or my mom's suddenly anti-rules," congratulates Toby, bumping fists with J.T.

"The first, of course," brags J.T. "Because only a genius would think to sleep in your bed and my bed at different intervals during the night. Your bed is way more comfortable, for the record."

"And no close calls?" says Toby, fetching a tie from his drawer.

"Oh, there were close calls," informs J.T. "But years of practicing deeper voices in acting exercises got me through. Anne Marie likes to check on you a lot."

Toby rolls his eyes, starts to unfold the pants to his suit. It's kind of hard to do the way J.T. is staring at him.

"What?" says Toby, annoyed.

"It's...it was kind of sad," whispers J.T. "Like...it's obvious she wants you here."

"Not so obvious to me," says Toby.

He pulls off his T-shirt, switches it with an undershirt. Finding some cologne Manny had given him, he spritzes that on, grabs a white dress shirt.

"Do you ever...think you might visit her...like a little more?" says J.T., scratching his head.

He has...before. Before the divorce became final, and Anne Marie still lived in Toronto, that option seemed appealing. They had their own inside jokes they kept away from his father, and he used to show her all the things he'd learned in the computer lab under Simpson's guidance. He and J.T. used to sleep over at her fancy apartment, eating kosher desserts and watching late night chat fests. That's where he discovered his love for hamantaschen. They can't do that, anymore, though, not with the way Anne Marie is acting to his dad, Kate, to Manny. To me, thinks Toby, sadly. Their hugs are like requirements, and since he's been in California, they've had two dinners together and she's always busy.

"Gotta shave," mutters Toby.

"Cause your beard's really filling in," says J.T., sarcastically. "Fine. Don't say anything."

Toby grabs his change of pants, and tie, starts for the bathroom, stalling in the center of the hallway when he spies Kendra brushing her teeth in there. Great. Move from one awkward room to the next. What's also a little awkward is that Kendra's clothing is fairly dressy too, a black skirt and a striped black and white, fitted top. Uh-oh.

Kendra spits into the sink, wipes her face with a washcloth, then turns to see Toby.

"I'm done," she says.

"Good," says Toby, angrily going by her.

"Toby...I...I thought you were going to get in trouble," stammers Kendra. "The old you never liked to get in trouble."

"I've gotten in trouble since I've been...four," clarifies Toby, narrowing his eyes at her.

Kendra folds her arms. "Anne Marie invited me to this Disney thing."

"Why?" asks Toby.

"I don't know why, but it's not my fault," defends Kendra. "So before you say anything..."

"I wasn't going to say anything!" exclaims Toby. "You act like you know me so well and..."

"Because I do!" interjects Kendra. "What, you think Manny does? That was so obvious at the theater yesterday."

For once this morning, he stays silent. Kendra was clearly alluding to Manny's portrayal of him as his leather jacket-wearing, lame line-throwing self. Though Manny told him what was really going on, he still can't say he liked it, or got it. That moment, however nerdy, was for her. He thought she'd find it attractive.

"Water under the bridge," says Toby, buttoning his shirt.

"Your face tells a different story," notes Kendra. "I don't know why. All I know is it bugged you then, and it bugs you now."

"You're bugging me now," mutters Toby.

"Then I'll keep my big mouth closed," says Kendra, her lips tense. "Since that's something Manny loves to do."

Toby glances at her as she leaves the room, stares at the bathroom mirror for a second, before he buttons anymore.

III.

"Is he...is he impotent? Sterile?" sighs Lia.

"Don't they mean the same thing?" speaks up Colin, biting into a chocolate bar.

"No,' says Lia, arching an eyebrow at him. "Okay...maybe. I don't know. Shut it!"

Great. These are the reactions from her friends upon learning that the trip to the bed and breakfast was uneventful. She was going to keep quiet, but Lia just kept prodding and prodding, and since she provided the room, she felt weird not telling her. Plus, she managed to steer clear of Lia before the show, concentrating on her lines and greeting Ms. Dale, so really, Manny did everything possible to ignore her.

"I love being right," says Colin, grinning at Lia.

"Whatever," says Lia. "All that matters is that Manny is being the most patient girlfriend in the world, and that this Kendra chick is horning in on Toby. Does not compute."

Rather than agree with Lia, which she'd love to do, Manny tries in vain to undo her corset by herself. Becky usually helped, but she was busy pandering to the journalists. Colin walks to her, Manny smiling at him as he begins unlacing it.

"He's not letting her horn in, is he?" asks Colin, leaning into Manny briefly.

"Of course he is!" cries Lia. "Ooooh, Toby. So disappointing."

"There are...are reasons," says Manny. "She's not well."

"In the head?" shoots back Lia.

"She doesn't boil rabbits in pots, does she?" asks Colin.

"You know what, guys...not helping!" exclaims Manny, waving both of them off. "Let's fixate on someone else. Lia? Best Ariel showing, for sure."

She knows that praising Lia will steer the conversation, that Lia would go on and on about the highs of her performance today. A few lows, but mostly highs.

"First standing ovation," says Lia. "Including Rebecca Scott in the first row."

"I didn't see her," admits Manny.

"Next to Colleen," shares Lia. "And I saw them talking as the curtains closed. Do the math, Santos."

Manny grins. The whole performance did go well, so much so that she wishes her parents and Toby, the only people who were unable to see it the first time, could crash the V.I.P. event. With the pandemonium beforehand, you never would've known. Everyone, including the ego king Blake, appeared to be nervous. Jade, who played Ceres, misplaced her floral crown. Lia's wings were caught in a backstage pulley. Their Caliban, still on a string of bad luck, found out he just lost a bet at a racing track, courtesy of the agent, who may or may've not slept with Caliban's sister. And her? She had the whole Kendra situation on her mind.

The show is over, though, and there's only one performance left. Then, she'd be done with Majestic. What she told Anne Marie, during their odd lunch, was accurate. The whole camp has been supportive, and the skills she's learned in the past several weeks have served her well. Coolest of all, she'd have some glowing reviews to take home to her parents.

Colin's reviews for _Cyrano_ turned out to be wonderful as well, and he'd already been offered a few things, since the modern-day musical boom. To Manny's knowledge, he desired something smaller, on the stage. He wasn't aiming for films like Lia.

"Dale alert!" murmurs Colin, stalling in his efforts to get Manny sprung from her corset.

Manny and Lia turn to see Colleen Dale, blonde hair luxurious under the stage lights. Like Manny, her hair has grown fairly long, red business suit covering her thin frame. Lia smiles confidently at Manny.

"Excellent as always, ladies," praises Colleen. "Arissa's always had a way of sculpting raw talent into masterful workmanship."

"As long as you're ready to be sculpted," returns Lia, cheerily.

Too cheerfully, in Manny's humble opinion. Lia's charm comes off a little forced.

"Certainly," says Colleen. "I have a few things for each of you. There's a dossier of Mack Patchett, chief director of the Starlight Ball. You'll be meeting him there, and I want you to make a good impression. Have you purchased your gowns yet?"

"Today," informs Lia. "Hit the stores this morning."

"Manny?" says Colleen.

"It's...it's taken care of," lies Manny.

She has no idea where to get a gown nice enough for the Chateau Marmont with the change she has in her account. It would be a miracle if she found anything, and she wagers it's easier to find a miracle, pageant dress in Toronto, than it is to find a miracle ball gown in Los Angeles.

"Additionally, there's an audition the day after the ball you guys be may be interested in," shares Colleen. "The information is in this packet. It's a comedy for young women. Sort of _Sex in the City _for the Myspace generation. _Hearts for Sale._"

"Wait...wait," stammers Lia. "_Hearts for Sale_? This is...this is a remake?"

"It's an updated film, I believe, since the original came from the eighties," says Colleen, nodding. "They're faxing me a summary of it later today, so I'll fax it to you later."

"This is so up my alley!" cries Manny.

This is a field she has experience in, too. The Kevin Smith film had that same low brow, young adult comedic feel.

"There's only one part?" asks Lia, taking the packet.

Colleen says "yes", distributes the other packet to Manny. Manny's a tad shocked that Lia's interested in this. The part is for one of the main character's sidekicks, and Lia is more of a front and center person.

"I guess the most exciting thing I have to share involves Rebecca Scott," says Colleen, beaming.

Lia stops mulling over the packet, Manny glancing at her.

"She was very impressed by you, Manny," informs Colleen, patting Manny's shoulder. "I told her we could possibly arrange a meeting at the end of this month."

Colin clears his throat, elects to stand beside Lia. Manny can't blame him as Lia's mouth falls open. Well, it's not like I asked for this meeting, thinks Manny, blushing. Paramount never even entered her mind before Lia brought it up.

"You know," says Lia. "I think Manny's going to be a little busy hanging with Pinecrest."

Lia didn't, moans Manny, letting her head fall. She didn't.

"Pinecrest?" gasps Colleen.

Better to admit the truth and save face, she thinks. Colleen is curious, anyway.

"I promised to audition for them," says Manny.

All three of them appear shocked now, including Lia, who had no idea about the audition. Then, their shock is replaced by mutual grimacing. Colleen looks the most disgusted.

"Manny, you're supposed to clear all things with me," says Colleen, shaking her head. "And that agency and their studio...very questionable. They've had legal issues in the past...particularly discriminatory disputes."

"Discriminatory disputes?" prompts Colin.

"Let's just say they like to put certain people into certain boxes," clarifies Colleen. "Manny, I'd urge you not to go."

"So did I," speaks up Lia.

She wishes Lia would shut her trap. It's her fault the Pinecrest thing has been revealed. It was supposed to be some favor between her, Martika, and Blake, and chances were, Manny would do it and never mention it again. I don't want to be at the center of any controversy, she thinks. I've had that too much in my life. Gosh, when it's at the point where it feeds a variety show prank, you know it's too much.

"I made a promise," says Manny.

"Are they intimidating you?" whispers Colleen, urgently. "That Martika will use any means to...you know what, I'm calling her. You have no legal obligation to go to..."

"Look, I promised," interrupts Manny. "This is my thing. Let me do the stupid audition, and we'll call it a day."

"I don't like how they run their auditions," argues Colleen.

"Well, I didn't want to play Miranda either, so yeah," shrugs Manny.

"Why do you think I left Pinecrest?" joins Lia. "They suck out your soul. You are so naive, Manny."

That's it...no, that's really it! At school, she had to deal with all these criticisms, from Heather or Chante or random people that know nothing about her. Ever since she's come out here, she's had to deal with Lia's comments, Anne Marie's indirect insults, and people saying she should do this, or that. Can't she make one decision without people jumping on her?

"At least I'm not jealous!" returns Manny. "I'm like so...so tired of people judging my actions and who I am. I'm not some innocent little flower, so don't tell me what to do. Who I should audition for, what's wrong with my relationship, when I should sleep with my boyfriend..."

Colleen's face grows flustered. Alright, too much information there, but it's true.

"If you two tell me one more thing I should do, I'm gonna snap!" exclaims Manny. "You aren't my parents!"

"So this isn't you snapping?" smirks Lia.

"Shove it!" shouts Manny.

"Girls, the press is here so if you two would kindly collect yourselves...," starts Colleen.

Grabbing her street clothes and her materials, Manny walks past the both of them, cheeks as hot as the regular California sunshine. What else is she supposed to do? Lia and Colleen were coming down on her for every decision she made, electing to decide what's best for her. Doesn't she know what's best for her? If she can't audition for roles she wants to, where's the joy in the profession she wants to do for the rest of her life? At least Blake and Martika weren't telling her what to do.

Ducking into the props closet, she begins to cry. The moment hits her. Maybe this is too strong of a reaction. It's just...just her parents used to pull some of the same things. They told her what to wear, how to act. This new freedom she has with them is recent, and today's the first day when she felt like her freedom was being taken away again. She could go back and apologize. Or I can leave and make a statement, then apologize, options Manny.

Manny sniffles, slips a pink, sleeveless turtleneck over her half-unbound corset.

IV.

On his birthday, he feels about seven years younger, as he stands in the middle of Main Street Avenue. Carts carrying mouse-eared ice cream clatter by, toddlers screaming for some. Ears are, as a matter of fact, everywhere, clinging to the heads of children walking past him, in store windows, on the nametag of the park employee giving Anne Marie directions. The whole thing's sort of odd, and definitely more patriotic than that night he spent at Santa Monica Pier. In a booming baritone, a man Toby identifies as Uncle Sam sings "Yankee Doodle Dandy" as men in matching white beards soft-shoe in perfect step. Chimes and rings from a penny arcade to their left grow in volume. Kendra nearly steps on a speaker, playing instrumental ditties.

"Be careful," cautions Toby.

That's the first full sentence he's said to her since their conversation in the bathroom. Kendra weaves to clear it, wordlessly follows Anne Marie as she walks in another direction.

"Tomorrowland...of course," mutters Anne Marie. "The old offices are in Main Street, not the new ones. Get it together, Anne Marie. You'd think I was the one being interviewed."

Toby grins awkwardly as she gives his back an affirmative pat. They start up another street, a waddling Tigger waving dutifully at all visitors. Man, he'd hate to wear that costume in this heat, Toby straightening his suit jacket. Tigger stops in front of Kendra, does a jumping jack, then leaves.

"What was the point of that?" says Kendra, bursting out in laughter.

They all laugh, Toby hating himself for doing so. Hey, he can't help but laugh at weird things. He shares a subtle smile with Kendra as they reach the sign announcing Tomorrowland. Huge, circular buildings are erected in the courtyard, Toby reading the sign for Space Mountain. Wow. Of course, he's heard of these rides, but he's never rode any of them. He wouldn't be able to today, either, so it's best he put it out of his mind.

Approaching a normal-looking, brick building, Anne Marie knocks on the bright blue door, a man with bright red hair, lighter than his mother, answers. He wears a gold shirt, which makes his hair more noticeable. That doesn't faze Toby as much as the man embracing Anne Marie immediately.

"As I live and breathe, Anne Marie!" cries the man. "It's been awhile."

"Yes, Doug," says Anne Marie, wriggling out of his hold. "Nice to see you too. Can we come in?"

Doug clears the door, saying "hi" to all of them individually. They're in a teal-colored lobby, with a lone receptionist. Doug leads them to a glass elevator. Who is this guy? It's strange to think that such a friendly man would get along with his type-A mom, let alone that his mom would let him touch her.

"This is my son, Toby," introduces Anne Marie, happily.

"Oh...oh, yeah, I see it!" cries Doug, boxing the air. "That same quest for success, tough-as-nails attitude."

Tough as nails attitude? Yeah, maybe he's looking at the wrong person. That's more of a Kendra attribute.

"Come on, Doug," says Anne Marie, dismissively.

"Sorry," apologizes Doug. "But I'm so excited that ya'll are here. We're doing preliminary stuff for a film..digital enhancement...oh...I shouldn't say anything! Just...yeah!"

Toby smiles at Kendra. If there's one thing they mutually appreciated, it's the technological aspect of animation. His mom knew that, and that would explain why she invited her along. Besides, as mad as he is with her, he didn't want her to stay cooped up forever in the house. She wasn't like J.T., carefree and collecting postcards for a girl who loved him back home. Her situation was a lot more serious, and he's been acting pretty cold.

"This is my...my friend, Kendra," stammers Toby, then growing more at ease. "Anime expert."

Kendra supplies a confused stare, face growing red.

"That's where some of our most talented artists started," says Doug, breezily, shaking hands with Kendra.

Anne Marie raises her eyebrows at Toby. She probably loved that Toby was spending time with the girl she liked, and not Manny. Whatever. If Manny were there, he'd do the same, though he couldn't call her an anime expert.

"I imagine you'd like to talk with Toby about...," begins Anne Marie.

"There's time for that," waves off Doug. "Plenty of time. Come see what we're doing...come see!"

"Alright," says Anne Marie. "I'll just leave..."

"No, no, Anne Marie...you too," says Doug, leading her out of the elevator as they reach the fifth floor.

Toby fails to stop the amused expression of his mother being lead by this happy-go-lucky guy. He's sure Anne Marie's only playing along for Toby's benefit, and he appreciates that. But honestly, will this guy's exuberance ever take a break?

They're lead to a room with many cubicles, sketched drawings lining its walls, computers with the same screensaver sitting on the different tables. The screensaver holds the Walt Disney logo, Doug pulling chairs for the three of them. Toby lets his mother and Kendra take their seats before sitting in front of the computer. Doug reaches over Toby, taps a few keys.

"Are you familiar with Maya, Toby?" asks Doug.

"The software?" says Toby. "Yeah, from Kytel."

"That's what your resume said," remembers Doug. "We use it regularly here, so it wouldn't be too jarring should you decide to join us. I'm especially trained in it, but your mom knows that."

Anne Marie shades her face from view, and if Toby didn't know any better, and frankly he doesn't know her better, he'd say she was blushing.

"Isn't Alias Power part of it?" asks Kendra. "They're based in Canada."

"Right!" exclaims Doug. "Wow, they didn't teach us all of that when I was you guys' age. Would love your opinion on this."

Doug moves his mouse to the icons, clicks it. A colorful, digitized setting appears, the grass waving as if there is really wind in this tiny window, a blue brook with believable waves in front of the forest. Suddenly, a woman, with long, red hair emerges from the forest, her light, fake voice releasing music. Judging by her clothing, a calico gown and a tall pink hat, she's a princess. Now, he truly wishes Manny were here. She'd love something like this.

"Showed this to my supervisor, and he was unpleasantly reminded of Aurora," sighs Doug. "From _Sleeping Beauty_? Got any suggestions? You guys are younger."

Toby strokes his chin, wonders if something can be done.

"I'd use some shading to make her darker, less fair," provides Toby. "Maybe with PaintEffects?"

"Heh," says Doug, bending down to adjust the coloring of the princess' skin.

After a few bleeps, the princess' face does indeed grow darker, Anne Marie laughing.

"That's the fastest tanning session I've seen," she jokes.

"It really brings out her eyes," appraises Kendra. "That's so not Aurora, either. Seen that film way more times than I will admit."

"Ah, pleasing the female demographic," congratulates Doug, grinning at Toby. "What else you got?"

Toby stretches his hands, smiles. "What else you need?"

V.

Instinctively, Manny clutches her purse to her chest. She might look like a nutjob, but this is her first time on a bus, after six, with no one accompanying her. Part of her wishes she still had Lia's car at her disposal, or that Spinner was nearby so he could give her a lift. What a weird twist of fate if she were to be robbed on her way to the happiest place on Earth. That's what they labeled themselves as, anyway.

What if the place didn't want to be labeled that way, not that large amusement parks can speak. What if it didn't want to be an escape, or to provide happiness to random people? Maybe you'd have a bad day there once in awhile. It's not the park's fault that happened, is it? So what's the sense in labeling it? Ugh, she's thinking with no clear train of thought. Too bad that's been the activity of choice for the ninety minutes en route. She didn't mind the quiet, for the first time.

She wonders what her mother would think about the deal she made. Manny told her that she'd be so proud of her, that she wouldn't change, and currently, she's making backwards deals and going behind Colleen to do it? She hopes neither Toby or her folks find out. Emma might give her a tongue lashing, too. Instead, she chose to release her anger on her agent, and the girl who'd done a lot for her. Such a healthy thing to do, Manny, she groans inwardly. Something healthy and nice she could do? Surprise her boyfriend after his interview. Toby happily agreed to the whole idea, offered to reimburse her for the bus fare when she arrived. No, this is a trip she's willing to make, benefitting her the same as him.

Bidding the bus driver adieu, she goes to the ticket taker at the very end of the station, flagging her down. One thing Toby did do was ask Doug, whoever that was, if Manny could be lead straight to the offices. Manny paid the necessary entries fees, certain a decent dress for the ball is out of the question at this rate, and passes a bunch of overjoyed tourists.

When she was little, the thought of going to Disneyland thrilled her. Unlike Emma, she was a sucker for all the fairy tales and the happy endings in the films, and the songs that promised better things to come. Her mother made her a Snow White costume in the second grade, which she wore every day in October after school, except for Halloween. Today, she doesn't feel like much of a princess.

"Fifth floor," says the ticket taker, when they reach the bright blue door.

Manny thanks him, presses through the door, tells the receptionist her name. She lets Manny enter the elevator. In there, she elects to put on a smile. If Toby's interview went well, he should get a smile, and if it went bad, he should get a smile. The doors clatter open, Manny's sandals crossing the carpet. She spots his glasses-covered face behind a computer, a sight she's very familiar with, as she goes forward. An unfamiliar sight makes her stop. Kendra is in the seat, next to him, writing down information.

Despite her new dislike of Lia, the girl was right on the money. Kendra is around way too often. Manny walks quickly to the cubicle.

"Hey!" she says, draping her arms around Toby.

Startled, Toby instantly grins, kissing Manny lightly on the lips.

"Hi Kendra," says Manny, looking her up and down.

"Hi," replies Kendra, eyes falling to her lap.

"How'd it go?" asks Manny.

"They're definitely interested," supplies Kendra, smiling at Toby. "Um, restroom...yeah."

She nervously glances at the two of them, then ducks out of the cubicle. Manny shrugs, drops into the chair Kendra vacated.

"You got an offer yourself, didn't you?" encourages Toby. "Come on."

"Toby," demurs Manny, then nodding.

"Knew it," sighs Toby. "So what is it? A movie? A play?"

She'd rather not tell him anything, especially how she stormed out on Colleen after the Paramount offer. Why did she do that! Sometimes she lets those emotions overrule everything. Manny massages her forehead.

"Will share later," promises Manny. "So, according to Kendra, they're interested?"

She tried hard not to, but saying Kendra's name comes out colder than she intended.

"An internship for next summer, possibly," explains Toby. "It actually wouldn't conflict with Kytel either. That's fortunate."

"Like..like so fortunate," agrees Manny, nervously.

"What's the matter?" asks Toby, staring into her eyes.

"No...nothing,' stammers Manny. "I'm here for your birthday, silly. The gift of surprise."

Manny can feel her smile weakening, her dimples fading. Why can't she be happy? He just told her this great news.

"It's better to give than to receive," says Toby, presenting her with a manila folder.

Manny sniffles. "What'd you do this time?"

She delicately rips open the folder, slides out a glossy piece of paper. It's a cel, from the film they spoke about this morning, the pink-bowed poodle Manny mentioned earlier, prancing down a staircase as birds swirl around. The poodle's in a spotlight, proud smile across her face.

"They tried to stick me with Oliver, but I was like no, you have to have at least one cel of Georgette," says Toby. "That's her name. Doug told me. Know the company, right?"

Manny traces the edge of the cel with her hands. She has no right to instruct Toby on anything, seeing as she has no knowledge regarding Pinecrest.

"Totally embracing the spotlight...she looks so happy," whispers Manny.

"Gave it to me as incentive. I want you to have it, though," says Toby, taking her hand. "You're more comfortable in the spotlight, anyway. The next Bette or Audrey or...whoever you want to be. Maybe just...just Manny."

Hurriedly repackaging the cel, she starts to cry, softly. The smiling's through. It's all through. Toby guides her bent head to her chest, Manny clutching his dress shirt. How can she be like any of those actresses if she feels like dirt?

"I can't cry on your birthday," sighs Manny, trying to stop the tears. "In front of your mom...Kendra..."

Like a director calling for the actors, who should appear but those very two, Anne Marie looking perplexed as she holds a cup of coffee. Manny releases Toby as Kendra fiddles with the necklace she's wearing.

"We were...we were thinking of eating dinner in the park," says Anne Marie. "Manny, are you alright, dear?"

Chest still heaving, Manny only nods, stands slowly. Toby does the same.

"I'll meet you at the restaurant," says Toby. "Text me where it is?"

"I can," offers Kendra.

Exchanging worried looks, Anne Marie and Kendra walk away from the cubicle, allowing Toby and Manny to go to the elevator by themselves. It's the only time that Anne Marie has expressed concern for her. That should make her feel better, but that fails, too.

VI.

The turrets wave smoothly in the crisp blue sky, afternoon refusing to make way for the night. That's one positive of summer in California she's never grown tired of, that feeling of an endless day and being surprised when the evening arrives. They are under the turreted tent, several rows of people stretching back, a white tower clock marking the hour. At least, the line is moving at a decent speed so Toby would be at dinner shortly. Making him late to meet Anne Marie would just add more guilt to the pile.

She let Toby lead her through a couple lands, which was semi-soothing. Having no clue where they'd end up relieved her, especially since she feels so lost. It's a lost she can't truly explain. She doesn't know. Maybe all the events of this summer have built up to it: her first time away from home, being recognized, getting the part of Miranda, the talk with her mom, and the Justin thing. Man, Toby's Confirmation seemed so far away, so distant, but that feeling when she found out what that word meant, makes it so immediate again. Putting aside everyone else, it's the harshest judgment she's gotten in her life.

Medium-sized, brightly-colored boats amble on the mechanic path, stall at an employee in a gold-striped shirt. Manny suspects Toby chose this ride, because it was one where you didn't have to think much, or talk, and they were tired. They were always tired. Still, you can ask her a hundred times, and she wouldn't change this. When Toby squeezes her hand, she knows he feels the same.

"How many?" asks the employee when they reach the front of the line.

"Two," says Toby.

He gets into the boat, gently helping Manny ease into the seat next to him. Other park goers join them, more excited, more apt to enjoy the ride. Possibly the most familiar song in any ride created, the music plays continuously as the boat lurches forward. Toby puts an arm around Manny, Manny winding her fingers through his.

"It's a world of laughter, a world or tears  
It's a world of hopes, its a world of fear  
there's so much that we share  
that it's time we're aware  
it's a small world after all..."

As the boat churns the water, Manny can feel each bump as they approach the darkness, seeing a doll undulate to a frenetic, tiki groove. It slightly reminds her of a few of the girls who tried out, badly, for Spirit Squad her first year. The high-pitched, girlish voices simply brought it home, Manny giggling. 

"Dancing dolls cure any blues, I take it?" says Toby.

She shrugs, the boat gliding past the Islands section, careening to Europe. Long, platform shoes house the feet of a Dutch boy, a flock of dancing geese surrounding him, as a milk maid winks in perfect synch to the music.

"Manny, I haven't seen you cry since...since I missed your show," whispers Toby, staring at her tenderly.

"It's not you, Toby," assures Manny. "It's...stuff."

Instead of returning his stare, she rests her eyes on the French Can-Can girls, twirling mechanically, their bloomers in clear view. A little boy behind her points at them and laughs. He's laughing because they're different, though it's an innocent type of humor, and he's a kid. Justin was no kid. Okay, he's an older kid, but he knew exactly what was behind what he said, even if Manny didn't.

"Toby, what does goy mean?" whispers Manny, managing to look at him for a quick second.

"What?" exclaims Toby.

"Shhh," shushes the mother behind them.

"Manny, that's not something you need to know," insists Toby, lowering his voice. "He said it to intimidate you, make you feel bad."

"Toby, tell me," says Manny.

"No!" whispers Toby, urgently. "I don't want to."

"If you're trying to protect me, I deserve to know why I'm being protected," sighs Manny, as the boat leaves Europe.

Toby glances at her, takes his arm away. He's not talking. She's not completely sure why she asked. I guess if I'm going to be judged, thinks Manny, I want to know the basis behind it. With Chante, Clara, and Lia and pretty much everyone else, at least she sort of understood, though her agreeing with those things? Slim to no chance of that happening.

The tour enters the Mediterranean now, camels shifting on the moving circle, as Egyptians and dark-skinned dolls play various instruments, greet them with plastic smiles. Toby stares placidly at a couple dolls in the center, weaving their hips in their kittels, white fabric on their constructed bodies. She recognizes the garments from a picture Bubbe showed her of her and her husband during Yom Kippur. It's startling to see it on a doll, and what's more startling is Toby placing his arm where it formally was, pulling Manny nearer to him.

"Bubbe told me what I needed to know, I think," says Manny, apologetically. "Sorry."

"I don't think she told you all of it," whispers Toby. "I don't use the word, period, but when it's used in a bad way, it's basically done to debase someone."

"Debase?" repeats Manny.

"Putting you on a lower level,"explains Toby. "Like Justin knows that you're not Jewish..."

"I told him I was Filipino and Catholic," informs Manny.

"It's us versus them mentality," says Toby. "He thinks whoever isn't like him isn't worth the time."

Manny rests her head on Toby shoulder, plays with the edge of his jacket. Hmm, it's like adding another log to a raging fire. Her loyalty to Bluewave, to her family, to Toby, and this...this is really the first time she's had to show loyalty to her identity, what she is. But Toby had defended her, and as much as she loves him, she sort of wishes she defended herself more. Perhaps Lia's right. She is too naive for this sketchy world, a modern-day Miranda, a part she feels uncomfortable playing.

"That's not how I want anyone to see me, least of all you," says Manny, turning his face to her.

"I don't see you like anyone else," replies Toby.

"Yeah, I know," breathes Manny, teary-eyed, resting her forehead on his. "What do you see?"

"Everything I want," answers Toby, earnestly. "That's kind of scary at seventeen."

"It's not so scary," sobs Manny, joy filling her heart finally, pressing her lips firmly on his own.


	32. When She Loved Me

**XXXII. When She Loved Me **

When somebody loved me,  
Everything was beautiful  
Every hour we spent together lives within my heart  
And when she was sad,  
I was there to dry her tears  
And when she was happy,  
So was I  
When she loved me

Through the summer and the fall  
We had each other, that was all  
Just she and I together,  
Like it was meant to be

And when she was lonely,  
I was there to comfort her  
And I knew that she loved me

So the years went by  
I stayed the same  
But she began to drift away  
I was left alone  
Still I waited for the day  
When she'd say I will always love you

Lonely and forgotten,  
I'd never thought she'd look my way  
And she smiled at me and held me just like she used to do  
Like she loved me  
When she loved me

When somebody loved me  
Everything was beautiful  
Every hour we spent together lives within my heart

When she loved me

**When She Loved Me is the property of Sarah McLachlan and appears in the film _Toy Story 2._**

**Author's Note: Greetings! Okay, so I think one or two of you know I've been working on some other non-Tobanny stuff. I'm actually starting a very brief fic, a Christmas fic, this week. I get to play around with the character of Craig (who I've been neglecting a bit in this one...sorry, his time will come), and it's a parody. So yeah, this fic will probably get back in gear near the end of this month, probably the week before Christmas. Again, it's pretty short, four or five chapters, and they aren't nearly as long as these chapters. Yeah, don't you love these very, very long chapters? ;) Ellie would probably edit my work to death. Okay, enough about me. Thank YOU for reading and reviewing. Hope you like this one too (well...uhhh, most of it)!**

"_I work hard for the money, so hard for it, honey,_" sings the boy to Sean's left.

Sean raises his eyebrows, spotting the guy start to dance to inaudible music as he turns the shock absorber in his hands with a pleased expression. For the first time since he started working regularly in the shack, Sean can say he has reason to be pleased. Pleased that Emmitt, now doing a sashay upon completion, has truly fixed the part, and pleased that he, Sean, was responsible for teaching him how to do it.

Thankfully, Emmitt's not the only one picking it up. Most of Dale's guys had some degree of early talent, so Dale was pretty wise in who could do a decent job. However, it soon became apparent to Sean that Dale was picky in which clients would receive the most attention. The selectivity came down to who offered him the most money. Being a semi-resident of the shack, mostly because no one was at his apartment, he got a better look at the clients themselves. Steering clear of the shack, they entered the office building right next door. The majority of them were between eighteen and thirty, different for him since they got such a variety at Hill's. A few were looking for illegal racing items, others desired cheaper motorcycle or luxury parts, and ninety-nine percent of them left that office building smiling. Sean wondered what the inside of that building looked like, but he was already too entrenched in the labor aspect of this, so why get in deeper?

Yes, why get in any deeper? The trip with Ellie becomes more shadowy with each passing day. She understandably hasn't contacted him in the past two days because of their blow-up in Ashley's garage. He was so bothered by it he has yet to return Ms. Kerwin's keys. Why did she have to interview that guy? There had to have been someone else she could've interviewed. Perhaps it's some sign that he should bail. It's not like the trip is happening, anyway. Ellie's had disappointments, but with her father returning from service, and her mother sober after rehab, they have both done something special for her, complete with making sure they were at her graduation. What has he done? He can't even provide her with her dream getaway. No, he should stay, and he'd find some way to convince Ellie that overall, he's still reliable. When she was cutting, frightened, alone, that's when he proved it. He can prove it a second time.

The small, glowing alarm clock reads three o' clock. Emmitt yawns. He was ditching summer school to do this. Sean, with the lack of any real work to do, came in to lend a hand, and correct miscellaneous parts that required a good tweaking. They were all getting better, but Sean liked to check. It's funny, because when he checked, that's when he got more satisfaction than when Dale coughed up his reduced payments. Dale carefully avoided Sean now, unless he absolutely had to interact with him about going to the docks. Ty kept coming to the docks, too, which Sean always found strange because of his age. Ty remained quiet during all their excursions, except he always did his routine box hunt, peering as Sean waded through the box.

Sean glances at Ty, sitting on a stool, his back pressed against a wall. A Hostess cupcake is in his grasp, cream on his fingers. He wonders if Ty's mom knows he eats all of that stuff, wonders if Ty has a mom. Jay, who only came in during nights and who, like Dale continues to avoid Sean, indicated earlier that Dale helped a lot of kids. That's really the only explanation Sean has for Ty being here more than anyone else.

Wiping his dirty hands with a rag, Sean passes the tables with parts, pretends to search through the pile of junk food next to Ty.

"Know what these coconut things are called?" asks Sean.

Ty shakes his head, polishes off the cupcake. Okay, not the way to get him to talk. In fact, the only point where he talked continuously, though not very much, is when he identified that antenna. Well, car discussion is definitely something he can do, especially after nervously doing a bit of it with Mr. Nash.

"New Lexus has variable valve timing...awesome," says Sean, pulling at his shirt.

Ty closes his eyes, goes further back into the wall. No answer. Sighing, Sean nods, turns to leave. It's not like he didn't try.

"Quieter too," remarks Ty, opening his eyes.

"What?" says Sean, facing him.

"Quieter too," repeats Ty. "The engine? Some models are even going to have a moonroof."

Sean struggles not to smile, amazed that words are coming from his mouth. Ty appears unfazed, tossing the cupcake wrapper into the trash.

"Best way to get a girl, get a moonroof," adds Ty.

Sean laughs. "It's not like I could afford one."

"Me either, and I can't drive it," says Ty. "Thirteen and all."

"So if you can't drive, how do you know about it?" questions Sean. "I guess being around here..."

"Knew cars before I came here," interrupts Ty. "Not that pathetic."

Lowering his head, Sean can't help but think he's offended him somehow. Of course, the kid knows cars. Didn't Dale select these guys based on that? He just figured in Ty's case...with people, it's not good to figure, though. Where would he be if people went by their first impressions of him?

"Come over for a sec?" suggests Sean, gesturing to a nearby table.

Ty offers him a hesitant glance, stands hesitantly. They approach the table, full of coil springs, collected from a couple weeks of Dale's trades. The springs were perhaps his cheapest purchase since Sean came unto the scene. Best of all, they weren't tied to any one vehicle, so they basically had free range as to where to use them. That said, Sean had a good idea which coil spring would fit each car.

"For suspension systems," says Sean. "Um, which spring do you think would work best in a BMW?"

Ty gives the ten different springs a quick look, smirks.

"If we're talking racing, the 2000 BMW 323 CI, the top right springs," replies Ty. "They're phosphate-coated for resistance. If it's a 325 I, I'd go for the two in the center. Came from a kit of four, obviously, but if it's not broke...you know."

Sean's fairly certain his jaw has dropped on top of the table. Of course, it hasn't, because then it'd be between all those coil springs, which would hurt a lot. Where did all of that come from? Dale himself never got that specific.

"You...you know cars," stammers Sean, nodding affirmatively.

"Not like you," confesses Ty. "I can identify stuff...that doesn't get you paid or anything."

He swears the light bulb went off then. Dale always having him around, why he's constantly in the shack, and most likely why he got on Ty that one time he spoke up in front of Carlos, Leon, and himself. For whatever reason, Dale wants it kept secret, which isn't surprising considering Dale's personality.

"How?" asks Sean. "I mean, not to ask...okay, to ask."

Ty grins. "When I lived with my mom, we didn't have nothing but car magazines. My brother was a mechanic...well, before he left."

"Me too," says Sean. "He...he left because...he got offered a good job."

"Wish mine left for that," whispers Ty.

"You stay with your mom?" inquires Sean.

"Kinda sick of talking...actually," groans Ty, brushing past Sean.

Yeah, he is being a bit too inquisitive, especially after getting Ty to talk in the first place. I'm not the most talkative person either, thinks Sean. Ty's already left, sifting through the table of junk food until he finds a pack of Peeps. Hmm.

"Sick of eating?" says Sean to Ty's back. "I'm done for the day."

"Like...like a burger?" says Ty, lowering the Peeps.

"Favor for a favor," replies Sean. "Free dinner?"

"All the food joints stink around here," complains Ty, shrugging.

"You may not drive yet, but I do," says Sean, grinning.

II.

"Okay, this is where you stop," pleads Manny. "Any further and I'm taking you with me."

They pause before the great entrance, fresh greenery, in the shape of Mickey's face, on a raised hill, brown and yellow train clattering on the railroad tracks above. The two of them walked all the way from Fantasyland to here, taking up a good fifteen minutes. Honestly, he was secretly hoping that Manny would confess what was wrong to him in that chunk of time.

It could be the Justin thing. That's not something you get over in the period of a little over forty days, but she hadn't said anything about it for quite awhile, so all those questions during the ride genuinely surprised him. Toby releases a defeated sigh, stares tentatively at the turnstiles Manny would be going through.

"You know where the bus stop...," begins Toby.

"Yes!" cries Manny. "I probably know the bus schedule better than you, don't I?"

True. Fred drove them there, and he's never been to Anaheim before today.

"Mmmm hmm," admits Toby.

He's ready to say more, until a photographer in a white-and-gold striped vest scurries to them, wide smile across his lips.

"It's not too late to get a picture!" exclaims the photographer, beaming.

Man, people sprang out on you everywhere in this place. At least Tigger didn't talk.

"Use these last few moments of daylight?" he encourages. "The mix of gold and pink sky would be so cool in your scrapbook."

"I don't have a scrapbook," waves off Toby.

"I do!" says Manny, the most cheerful he's heard her since she came.

"Are you leaving now, though?" he asks. "Visitors usually pick them up at the end of the day."

"I'm leaving later," shares Toby.

"Stellar!" the photographer says, sticking out his tongue happily.

He positions himself at the other end of the square, fiddling with his camera. Toby knows he doesn't have as much cash as he'd like, but this couldn't cost too much, right? Plus, she was so upset earlier. That's why he halts Manny from digging any further into her bookbag.

"Thanks, Toby," says Manny, instantly understanding.

"When you're ready!" shouts the photographer.

Manny goes in front of the hill, black hair gleaming in the dusk. She drops her bookbag out of the view of the camera, then props herself on the stone ledge.

"Remember to smile big!" says Toby, chuckling.

"Um, crucial element missing? The boyfriend?" says Manny. "Come on, babe."

"Yeah, bro!" cries the photographer. "Get over there. It'll take five seconds."

"I'm not a picture person," sighs Toby.

"Says the animator," argues Manny, crossing her arms. "Don't make me leave this ledge. I just found the prettiest position."

Toby shrugs, makes his way to her. "All your positions are pretty."

Manny draws Toby nearer to her, so he's standing directly in front of her. Putting her arms over his shoulders, she lays her chin on the top of his head. Toby laughs, causing all his teeth to show.

"Say Mickey!" commands the photographer.

"Mickey!" they exclaim simultaneously.

The flash bounds around them, then fades. Manny kisses his head, slides off the ledge.

"Did we look easy, breezy, beautiful Cover Girl?" inquires Manny. "Or girl and boy?"

"More like a totem pole," laughs the photographer. "Not a regular pose, but it worked. You guys are cute."

"Yeah, we get that a lot," brags Manny, holding Toby's arm.

"Pick this up at the booth," reminds the photographer. "Enjoy the rest of your stay."

He walks to an unsuspecting family who've just entered, delivering the same "pink and gold" line about the sky. Toby and Manny exchange knowing glances.

"Are they taking pictures at the ball?" asks Toby.

"The ball...well, I was thinking we could find something else to do that night," mutters Manny, blushing.

"But you...you were so excited about it," says Toby.

"It's not a big deal," says Manny.

"Manny..."

She interrupts him with a very fast kiss, Toby not sure he's standing. He wasn't too bothered by the lack of an answer, yet he does wonder why he's not receiving one.

"Your mom's waiting," whispers Manny, breaking away.

"What?" says Toby, his mind still fairly blank from the kiss.

Manny beams. "I really needed this. You're the best boyfriend."

"Whatever," demurs Toby.

"Best boyfriend in the park!" yells Manny to a few families as they leave.

They offer amused grins directed towards him, Toby's cheeks the same shade as the red roses in the floral display on the hill. Alright, so that's a title he doesn't mind being announced everywhere.

"Also his birthday!" adds Manny.

"Mine too!" exclaims the son of one of the families.

"How old?" asks Manny.

"Nine," answers the boy.

"Seventeen," reveals Manny, gesturing towards Toby.

"Oh...well, I can't beat that," moans the boy, pulling at his ear.

His parents, Toby, and Manny laugh, and they wish him a happy birthday. This has been a nice birthday, his best in his humble opinion. Then again, it's his opinion that matters most, right? Yeah, his best birthday. He hopes eating dinner with his mom and Kendra won't ruin things.

"So I'm following this other birthday boy out of the park," says Manny, kissing Toby on the cheek. "Try not to be envious."

"I will try," remarks Toby. "This _is_ the happiest place on Earth."

"Then, see ya on the dark side, Toby-Wan," jokes Manny, playfully punching his shoulder.

"How many of those nicknames do you have locked away?" laughs Toby.

Manny throws him a final smile, exits, the turnstiles whirring after her. For every wish all those animated characters make, some silly and some serious, he can't help but think that his is most important, for the moment at least: for her to tell him what's really wrong.

III.

The copper-colored orbs and illustrious lights glide in the air, circling above him in the darkening horizon. As he walks past the Astro Orbiter and into the land, the supposedly promising pink and gold sky of the day has died so night can finally arrive. Tomorrowland Terrace, the restaurant Kendra texted him, isn't that far from Doug's office. He figured they would've gone further, but maybe they didn't want him to get lost. That didn't seem too far-fetched, considering his mother's new restrictive outlook on his life.

The restaurant is in the open, palm trees swaying in the dark blue background. Glowsticks being carried by kids and neon clothes light his way as he reaches the spot. Fitting the rest of the area's design, the building is circular, though not as intimidating as the others, white plastic tables dotting the terrace. To the right is a stage that reads Jedi Training Academy, a few younger boys fighting with lightsabers, making the low humming sounds with their mouths.

"Toby!" shouts Anne Marie.

Or he thinks it's Anne Marie, Toby scanning the table. Sure enough, she's in a prime location. When would she ever not find the prime location, like anywhere? Glad to see that he's seen them, Anne Marie returns to her task, reading the back of the various types of sugar packets. The boring activity didn't seem to faze Kendra, dipping a fry in ketchup.

"Hi," greets Toby, sitting down with them.

"We didn't know if you were still coming," says Kendra, pointedly.

"Well, I'm here," says Toby, rolling his eyes.

Anne Marie stares at the space between them.

"As long as you made it," says Anne Marie, gently. "The salad is actually good. I was...pleasantly satisfied."

Starting off this dinner on a good note would've made him pleasantly surprised. Too late for that to be the case.

"Want to order?" she asks.

"I'm not too hungry," says Toby.

"Nonsense...you haven't eaten all day," chastises Anne Marie. "Let's get you something. Kendra, if you'll excuse us."

"Go ahead," says Kendra.

Toby rises to walk with his mother to the cashier. There's a few people in front of them, so unfortunately, that means more talking.

"Is Manny alright?" says Anne Marie.

Heh, is this a mark of compassion or her digging into his business? He guesses the latter. Toby fumbles with a jacket button.

"Don't know...saw her to the bus," says Toby.

"She certainly loves to command your attention," notes Anne Marie. "You'd think she was the only person you knew in California."

She knows me better than you, argues Toby in his brain. Why couldn't she be nicer? Did she not see Manny crying in the office ninety minutes ago?

"I know what you're thinking," says Anne Marie. "That she is. Your diatribe at Koi didn't exactly fall on deaf ears. I'm well aware I could be a better mom."

Toby stares at his mother, who's biting her lips in frustration. Maybe what he said did sink in, after the fact. It wasn't the way he wanted to handle the situation. Ideally, she would've gotten along with Manny, and he would've been more than happy to spend some alone time with Anne Marie, particularly on his birthday. Well, they're alone now.

"And...um, kids can be better, too," says Toby, grinning.

Anne Marie's teeth tuck under her lip, and she produces a smile.

"How do we fix this?" she asks.

"Make amends with her," suggests Toby. "Show her some respect. I mean, what you don't know about her...is like how strong she is. What she's been through. What we've been through."

Or maybe she did, a little at least. She was there when Justin attacked him and Manny.

"I don't want to be the enemy of my son's girlfriend," says Anne Marie. "Alright. I'll extend a hand."

The line thins, and shockingly enough, he's sorry they reach the counter. This is the first decent talk they've had since he's arrived in the States. She was finally making some effort in that department.

"Can I get a chicken filet sandwich and fries?" requests Toby.

"Mayonnaise?" asks the cashier.

"No, he's not a fan," supplies Anne Marie.

He isn't a fan, and she remembered. She actually remembered.

"Seven fifty," says the cashier.

Anne Marie retrieves her check card, presents it to the cashier.

"You know a conglomerate is at its apex when a sandwich costs more than six dollars," complains Anne Marie.

"A sandwich...and fries," points out Toby.

Returning her check card to its pocket, Toby spies a familiar picture in another pocket. Though he's always told everyone that he hates taking pictures, he used to enjoy going with his parents to take them, when he was around seven and eight. Those were the years before he needed glasses, and stuff like zits, facial hair, and how much weight he carried didn't matter. His parents always put him in the center, so he immediately recognizes that that's him in this picture with them, his body in a purple polo shirt and black slacks his mother selected for him. She tended to select his father's clothes, too.

"Did you meet Doug when I was younger?" questions Toby.

"In college, at the same time as your father," shares Anne Marie, twisting her head so she doesn't have to face him.

"He's...friendly," says Toby.

"He's a little too warm, has no sense of decorum half the time," sighs Anne Marie. "At least your father could reign that in in public."

If that remark was delivered any other way, Toby would be disappointed in her, but there's a twinge of well-intentioned warmth to it.

"I suppose he was my other option," continues Anne Marie, fetching some mustard from a container. "Used to leave candy at my dorm door, drew things that I liked, including flowers. Have no regrets about choosing your father, though."

"You and him were...," starts Toby.

"I did have a choice," answers Anne Marie. "Anyway, I got married and he went on to grad school. We crossed paths at a lecture on film preservation, and managed to be friends despite the awkwardness. He's very hard not to be friends with."

Toby could imagine, recalling how nice he was to him, his mother, and Kendra. However, it's all sad, that Doug and his mother had such a bumpy road to a friendship.

"If this is hard, you don't have to say it, but...why...why'd you choose Dad?" asks Toby.

"For all the impractical reasons," says Anne Marie, taking the tray of food. "Because for once, I let my guard down...with him and it felt good."

Toby shrugs. Those reasons sounded good to him, too.

"You always have more than one option, Tobes," insists Anne Marie, peering at Kendra. "And if things don't work with your current option, I can't say the one sitting with us is a bad pick."

Anne Marie beams at him, going to set Toby's tray on the table.

Why, groans Toby, inwardly. They were having the most interesting conversation, and he was getting to know more about her, and she just happens to refer to his ex? It's akin to having a nice picnic, with ants arriving mid-way through the meal. He's not exactly hungry anymore, but he'll eat since the food has been ordered and he might be hungry later.

He and Anne Marie situate themselves in their seats, Kendra eyeing him timidly.

"So what do you guys think of Tomorrowland? Pretty spiffy, huh?" says Anne Marie.

"More like confusing," says Toby under his breath.

IV.

The glass door chimes upon their entry, Ty lowering the collar of his light jacket. Sean could tell he immediately felt uncomfortable, though he's always seen the Dot as the most comfortable restaurant he's ever gone to. The food? You could find it anywhere. The other kids? Around their age. The company? Relatively the same.

Still the same, notices Sean, eyes locking on a head of straight red hair, a black mesh shirt, and the top of black boots hugging her jeans. Like always, several pens are tucked into the front pouch of her backpack. He guess she'll get a new backpack for college. No, he shouldn't even be thinking about her, or should he?

"This place a grill?" speaks up Ty.

"Yeah, just a braggy way to say their meat dishes are good," replies Sean.

"Oh," says Ty. "Been to delis and a pizzeria...not a grill."

To get to the sole empty table, they'd have to pass Ellie's table, which not only houses Ellie, but Paige, Marco, and Alex, who he hasn't seen for weeks. The last time he saw Paige and Marco was at the Nashes, and then Ellie, two days ago, two days that felt longer. It turns out that he doesn't have to lead the way, Ty strolling to the empty table Sean viewed. Hanging his head, Sean starts towards it.

"Sean!" calls Paige.

Ugh, he knew there was a reason why he and Paige weren't really close.

"Where have you been hiding?" teases Alex, poking Sean in the waist. "You've like disappeared from Hill's. Never see you when I go to harass Jay."

Ellie and Marco keep their gaze on their half-full plates, Ellie twirling her fork absent-mindedly. Apparently, Marco is aware of what went down in the garage.

"Scooch your pampered rump, Banting girl," orders Alex.

Paige narrows her eyes. "I'm not working at a theater where I have to stand all day? So sue me."

"At least I got Employee of the Month...twice," smirks Alex.

"Um, hon, there was only two of us that fall because of a mini-mono outbreak...," starts Paige.

"Some of us grew weary of the cattiness before Sean got here," sighs Marco, glancing at the two girls. "How is work, Sean?"

"Yeah, Sean," says Ellie, setting down her fork. "_How is work_?"

Ellie's raised voice makes him want to leave, but no, he promised Ty. This is a promise no one can fault him for making. Ellie lowers her gaze again, Sean spying a small tear on the bridge of her nose. They left on the ugliest terms, and he'd take back what he said...if she'd listen.

"Fine," replies Sean. "I...I'm with a friend."

Alex glances past Sean. "Big brother program?"

"Work acquaintance...really," says Sean.

"Tell him not to get the quesadillas, because now I feel bloated," groans Paige.

"I warned you," sighs Alex.

"Warnings not being heeded if they come from you, hon," returns Paige.

Eh, he'd rather leave and spare himself any more of the girl fighting, that doesn't seem like fighting. Ty, appearing smaller as he sits by himself, is lightly knocking the table with his fists. Sean slides in at the other end.

"Go to the same school as those kids?" inquires Ty.

"Yeah," replies Sean. "They all graduated, though."

"Not you?"

"Not yet."

Ty stares him up and down. "Younger than them?"

"Got...got held back," confesses Sean. "Then, another year, I had issues..."

"Least you going," says Ty, shrugging. "Maybe I'd find other interesting stuff to read if I went."

"More interesting than car magazines?" says Sean, doubtfully.

"Nah," they say at the same time, laughing.

Ty's laughter ends as he stares past Sean. Brow furrowing, he turns to see where Ty's gaze is directed, heart beating faster. Ellie is walking to them, bag draped over her shoulder.

"Something tell me you'd buy a ride with a moonroof for that one," whispers Ty.

"Shhh," quiets Sean.

"Is she...," starts Ty.

"Want to read something interesting?" asks Sean.

Sean plucks a menu from behind the lists of specials, wordlessly gives it to Ty. Ty smiles, starts to read. Ellie stands next to Sean's seat.

"Hi, I'm Ellie," greets Ellie, holding her hand out to Ty.

"Ty," he says, shaking it. "I...uh, hang where Sean works."

He's tempted to breathe a sigh of relief, that Ty didn't reveal where exactly Sean works, presently. But he doesn't get the sense that she's here to collect any information on him, or the job, or even Dale. The tears have vanished, yet he's able to view the sadness that has remained in her eyes.

"How...how are you?" she asks Sean.

Those words are nice to hear, after the loneliness of his apartment which no cash can cure.

"Good," says Sean, barely above a whisper.

"Okay," says Ellie, rubbing his shoulder.

There's nothing else. Those are the only words she says to him, before she starts for the exit, Marco in tow. No judgement, no prying, nothing. Perhaps that's why the hugest amount of guilt he's had since graduation is prickling every part of his skin. Sean massages his forehead.

Ty clears his throat. "You...you can tell her that you need to do it."

"Huh?" says Sean.

"Your Jiminy Cricket...what Dale said she was," says

Alright, Ty is recently a talker and everything, but this is the piece of dialogue that startles Sean the most. Honestly, Dale can't say anything about his living situation or his relationship with Ellie. He simply knew a few details.

"Ellie...she's a good girl," says Sean, shrugging at Ty.

"Sometimes good people understand that you have to do bad," defends Ty. "Like...you're not bad...you just have to do bad things. To get clothes or food...or medicine."

Medicine? Ty disappears behind his menu, apparently ending the conversation right there. What is this kid's story? Whoa, he's starting to sound like Ellie, and like Ellie, he can care without knowing everything. Ty doesn't have to tell anything he doesn't want to tell.

"Can I get a burger with pickles?" questions Ty, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, frowning.

"Sure," says Sean. "In fact, I'll have that too."

V.

"All in all, a very productive day," praises Anne Marie, as they stand near the Astro Orbiter.

This productive day made him exhausted, the chicken filet still being digested by his stomach. He resisted talking for the rest of the dinner, except when he had to. Anne Marie went on and on about how impressed Doug was, with both of them. It was almost as if Kendra was also offered an internship, and Toby wouldn't be surprised if Anne Marie arranged that, based off today.

"Amusement parks wear you out," sighs Kendra. "I didn't even ride any rides."

"Maybe you guys can come another day...on me," suggests Anne Marie, grinning.

Or maybe not, thinks Toby, leaning against the black gate surrounding the Orbiter.

"That's alright," says Kendra, glancing at Toby. "Um...I'm sure Toby's week is packed, anyway."

"A big event I have no inkling of?" inquires Anne Marie.

"Well, there is this ball...sponsored by Manny's camp," says Toby. "I'd need a tux."

"Where is it?" asks Anne Marie.

"The Chateau Marmont," replies Toby. "This huge hotel..."

"Every breathing person in L.A.. is aware of the Chateau Marmont, Toby," laughs Anne Marie. "It'll be tough finding a good tux this late, but I've got contacts. All those tiring fittings for clients. Shouldn't be a prob."

"Do...do you think you could help Manny find a gown?" stammers Toby. "If it's tough to find a tux, then..."

Anne Marie stares at him, long and hard. That's such a no.

"I'm sure her own parents or Kel can handle that," says Anne Marie. "Be with you guys in a sec."

Phone placed against her ear, Anne Marie saunters into a souvenir store, Toby exhaling loudly. At least he'd have a tux in case Manny changed her mind. Did his mother always have to be so snippy? Locating a gown for Manny was his idea, not hers. Okay, perhaps it sounded bad, but if she bothered to check, he would've told her.

Kendra leans against the gate with him.

"Happy birthday," she says. "Bet I'm the last to wish you one."

"Thanks," says Toby.

"That's happened before," recalls Kendra. "Summer before I entered grade eight. You and J.T. went to the grand opening of a comic book store, and I was in Manitoba with my parents. I rang you at nine that night, and you said, better late than never."

He remembers that. While combing through the comic books they obtained that day, the phone rang and he figured it would be Bubbe or another family member, but sure enough, Kendra's sweet voice carried through the wires. They were lonely without one another, and that was the only time Kendra admitted it. J.T. gagged when Toby said the same, started reading Toby's purchases as they chatted. They kept talking until J.T. left, close to eleven. He can't fathom any junior high couple talking longer than they did that night.

"The night I called, Toby...it's...you've done a lot for me with all of this," says Kendra, the words breaking past a visible lump in her throat. "It all feels so natural."

Natural? What is she saying?

"You said at the hospital...that it'd be like old times," chokes out Kendra "I've been waiting for someone to say that...and mean it. Cause I liked who I was then."

"Kendra," consoles Toby, moving closer to her.

"I didn't cheat, or...or do things that would make you hate me," sighs Kendra "You've always looked out for me."

The neon yellow and blue lights brush her face as the orbs swirl, voices and other sounds growing distant. They had been distant, before the accident. Watching her fall? Simply terrifying. The worst may be ahead for her. She looks so innocent, the most innocent he's seen her since their last date. Nothing could make her fall in his eyes then. Nothing.

"I don't hate you," insists Toby, softening his tone. "That's something I can't do."

"Toby," cries Kendra, quietly.

She wraps her arms around his neck, her lips moving closer, closer than they should, because soon, they're on his, trying to initiate something, anything. Toby blinks maddeningly, breaking free from her hold. His lips weren't tingling, yet his heart is, mirroring a sting, a hard sting. A pang of guilt, recognizes Toby. Toby rests his face in the palms of his hands.

"Toby, I'm so sorry," whispers Kendra.

"Why would you do that?" demands Toby, dropping his hands. "I have to..."

Toby starts to walk away, brought to a stop when Kendra calls to him.

"Your mom's coming!" she shouts.

He glances at the store, and Anne Marie is indeed leaving the store, immersed in conversation, completely oblivious. He'd love to be oblivious, to not be here.

"They're getting a lot of calls about the Starlight Ball," says Anne Marie, walking past Toby. "You didn't tell me it was that one. The chief director's a personal friend of mine."

Rather than marvel on how many friends his mother has, he walks beside her, as fast as possible. He can hear Kendra trailing after them, his ears burning. Anne Marie continues her phone conversation, as they head towards the entrance. Toby presses the button to light it, consults his watch. Nine.

"The picture!" he shouts.

"What?" says Anne Marie.

"At the front of the park," says Toby.

"You're not making much sense," sighs Anne Marie. "We didn't take any pictures to my recollection."

"I did with...," explains Toby.

"Manny?" fills in Anne Marie. "Fine. Go get it. I'll go meet Fred."

No, he wants her to stay, though if he hints that that's the case, he wagers she'll become suspicious, ask twenty questions he wouldn't dare to answer. He hears Kendra release a light moan as Anne Marie goes through the turnstile. Yeah, their buffer's gone.

"What kind of picture was it?" cries Kendra, angrily, as Toby walks briskly to the booth.

"A picture with my girlfriend!" snaps Toby. "Who...what, you forgot that I had?"

"One that makes you feel bad about yourself. Yeah, I guess so!" exclaims Kendra.

Toby presents his receipt to a photographer, thankfully a girl he hasn't seen before. He glances at various photographs lining the wall, some on computer monitors. Full of happy couples, happy families. Yeah, those were slipping away, thanks to decisions other people made. It's not like he gets a say in any of it, does he?

"I can't believe you did that," mumbles Toby, glaring at her.

"Let me get this straight," sighs Kendra. "You come to my expo, invite me to stay with you, and tell me you don't hate me. None of those were signals?"

"Signals that I wanted us to be friends!" cries Toby.

"Toby, you act like you have romantic feelings for me," insists Kendra. "You do!"

"So I'm parading Manny around for kicks?" exclaims Toby.

"Finally you two make sense!" shouts Kendra. "She's something to have on your arm...that's how it's always looked to me."

"She's someone to have in my life, Kendra," says Toby, shaking his head at her while accepting the picture.

"And I'm not?" whispers Kendra, tears streaming down her face.

Kendra releases a deep sob, tears cascading down her cheeks, digging furiously in her handbag until she finds some money. She tosses it on the counter, not waiting to hear the amount.

"I'll pay...it's the least I can do, right?" cries Kendra. "Why not use the change for Manny's gown fund, while you're at it?"

Toby closes his eyes as Kendra departs, his head aching. How could the day turn this fast? It went from fun for his relationship to fatal to his relationship. I didn't kiss her back, he reminds himself. I didn't kiss her back. Does that matter? Will that matter to Manny?

"There's like...gonna be five cents in change," admits the employee, popping her gum.

"Keep it," whispers Toby.


	33. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

**XXXIII. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood**

__

Baby, do you understand me now?  
Sometimes I feel a little mad  
But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel  
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good  
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy  
I want you to know  
That I never meant to take it out on you  
Life has its problems  
And I got my share  
And that's one thing I never meant to do  
'Cause I love you

Baby, don't you know I'm just human  
And I've got thoughts like any other one  
And sometimes I find myself, oh Lord, regretting  
Some foolish thing, some foolish thing I've done

But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good  
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Oh Lord, don't let me be misunderstood  
Please don't let me be misunderstood

Baby, do you understand me now?  
Sometimes I feel a little mad  
But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel  
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good  
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Baby, sometimes I'm so carefree  
With a joy that's hard to hide  
And sometimes it seems that, all I have to do is worry  
And then you're bound to see my other side

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good  
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood  
If I seem edgy  
I want you to know  
That I never meant to take it out on you  
Life has its problems  
And I got my share  
And that's one thing I never meant to do  
'Cause I love you

Oh, baby, don't you know I'm human  
I have thoughts like any other one  
And sometimes I find myself, oh Lord, regretting  
Some foolish thing, some foolish thing I've done

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good  
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

**Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood is the property of the Animals and appears in the film _Kill Bill._**

Craig twirls a pair of drumsticks, lays down a steady beat on the snares and cymbals, the rhythm filling the dimmed room. He was finding the perks of being a roadie, after lugging their equipment, not getting much respect, not even from his own girlfriend. Craig wipes his forehead with the top of his shirt. Music always seemed to make his thoughts evaporate, but not his sweat. The process is easier, given that it's only him and a couple others packing up for the next stop. They bandied together against him to take a break, told him he could beat a couple drums if he wanted.

The last time he beat drums this badly was when Ashley ditched him, for the very internship that got her this spot on the tour. Okay, so the collaboration with Mark isn't ditching him. Still, he had been the sole guy she collaborated with, and well, that's territory he doesn't want Mark Kennick to share. He's doing his best to stay calm around Mark, at the very strange photoshoot, on the bus, backstage. No one could call him irrational. He loves that Ashley has this freedom and is embracing it, just as long as she doesn't embrace another guy.

Craig does a simple riff on the cymbals, the clang bounding against the walls. From the corner of his eye, he can make out the heavy black door of the club entrance opening. The figure is so familiar he almost drops his sticks, the girl in black pants and a black trench, although the very large, black sunglasses make her appear much more distant. Her purple hairs shine under the faded house lights. Ashley walks forward hesitantly, stalls in the center of the room.

"Going for the mod look?" yells Craig above a loud crash.

Ashley sighs. "More like hungover look! Can you...stop...playing...please?"

Rubbing her forehead, then her neck, Craig can tell she's not kidding about the hangover. Once he left the club, he walked to a nearby restaurant, ordered a plate of food, and waited until he thought Ashley had calmed down, cooling down himself at the same time. He arrived at the tour bus, seeing Ashley's foot dangling from her bunk, curtain cloaking her from his view. Anxiety can make you say things you don't mean, and she was reacting to the audience's jeers, he knew. However, he wishes she were a bit more kind with her words. She was asleep when he came to move the equipment.

Craig silences the cymbal with his hand.

"Thank you," groans Ashley.

"This isn't Spy vs. Spy, Ash," says Craig, trying not to sound amused. "What's with the secretive look?"

"Going incognito to spare myself the shame," returns Ashley, standing in front of the drumkit.

"Shame brought on by?" prompts Craig.

"People misunderstanding me, as per usual, and you...you know."

"Know what?"

"You're not going to make me say it?" complains Ashley, lifting her glasses.

"I will pound this drum til kingdom come," insists Craig, positioning the sticks over the snare once again.

Ashley nods sympathetically, clears her throat.

"Craig, I'm sorry for being inconsiderate and yelling at you," says Ashley. "Just because I was hurt didn't mean I should've hurt you."

The apology couldn't have been more perfect. He suspected she didn't mean that comment, anyway. Although, he loves that she is willing to voice it.

"Bash a cymbal...it'll make you feel better," offers Craig, motioning for her to come to him.

"No, don't think it will," sighs Ashley, doing so anyway.

She situates herself in Craig's lap, staring at the half-empty room where she played last night. Craig stood behind his compliments. Ashley sounded wonderful. The melody ran straight through his ears, through his body like a sudden shock, though he wasn't shocked that she played that well. Her voice? As stylish and rich as he remembered.

"A few rude people shouldn't shake your confidence," insists Craig, hugging her from behind. "Remember how jittery you got before the Degrassi Christmas show?"

"Out of all the shows we've played at Degrassi, you bring up the Christmas show...," begins Ashley, mouth dropping.

"Shh, listen," soothes Craig, rocking with her a little. "Of course, I was being a two-timing idiot, but despite all that, what did I tell you?"

"If you...if you perform for yourself, that's all that matters," answers Ashley, dropping her head. "But Craig..."

"It's true, Ash," insists Craig. "You have to be satisfied with you at the end of everything, or else you can't fully enjoy it, can you? Promise me you'll play for yourself."

Ashley shifts her eyes, smiling a little. An image of him being at the graveyard enters his mind, when he told Julia that he'd be a decent guy. This could be a start. Ashley needs him more than ever right now. She folds her glasses, tucks them into her jacket pocket.

"Okay, Miss Sauve," teases Ashley, ruffling his hair.

Craig laughs. "We both know I'm hotter than her."

"Lucked out then," says Ashley. "What're you playing?"

"Fooling around," admits Craig. "What're you singing?"

"At the next stop? Have no clue," replies Ashley. "We're going to Oxford."

A wide smile escapes Craig's lips.

"With the smart people! Better brush up on the vocab," says Craig. "How do you say something's awesome in Oxfordian?"

"Like I would know," laughs Ashley, then in a faux British accent. "I wouldn't mind snogging you though, Manning."

"I'll snog you if you sing to me," says Craig, cupping her chin.

Ashley grins, eyes going upward as she ponders what to sing. Craig's pretty sure it's going to be a song they both know, when Ashley delivers a winning smile.

"_Through the mud and the dirt, through the tears and the hurt, it seared, and it burned, and I cried...there was nothing at all, no, nothing at all...there was only a dream of you_," she sings.

Craig holds her tighter, drumming his knees in a steady beat. He instantly recognized the song they played at prom, before either of them made it big, when they got support from everyone, without all this pressure. As they maneuvered through all these alien spots, it's a comfort, maybe to both of them.

"_Only a dream of you_," finishes Ashley, with a dramatic run at the end. "Where's my kiss?"

"Smart men know when to give in," insists Craig, placing his mouth on hers.

II.

Manny clutches her stage bloomers closer to her chest, as she walks to the Andrews' home. She noticed on the bus they were starting to wrinkle, so she took them out. It elicited some looks of interest, though today, she'd rather not be looked at. While visiting Toby was fun, is always fun, reentering the world of Hollywood isn't. Man, there used to be a time when she'd be so excited to see the smallest signs of fame– the fancy cars, the mansions, the clubs. Today, she can't stand staring at any of them.

They were these cruel things that shoved in that she blew it. She ditched the press at Majestic, like she'd done earlier because she was upset that Toby failed to show. Rebecca Scott was probably searching for her, and since she attacked Ms. Dale and Lia, she's betting they weren't too keen on discussing any meeting for her with Paramount. She traded it all in for a moment where she thought she was defending her freedom. Was she? Miranda isn't the most horrible of parts, and got her acclaim. Everyone seemingly loathes Pinecrest. What if they're right? For once, she'd like to be right, though. She'd like to be right.

Two houses to Lia's, she hears the engine of a car, turns. A familiar BMW careens down the street, comes to a grinding halt near Manny. So not up for harassment.

"Go away, perv!" she shouts.

The driver rolls down the passenger window, chuckles.

"That how you speak to your onstage paramour?" gasps Blake. "Evening, Manny."

"Sorry...rough day," says Manny, going to the car.

"We all have those," comforts Blake. "Get in. Got something to show you."

Manny glances to her left and right. While she's been in Blake's car before, it was during daylight. Well, the street is suitably lit, and she's a run away from Lia's. Besides, Blake hasn't done anything, previously. Manny sighs, joins Blake.

"Information for your audition," says Blake, giving her a manila folder.

"Thought you forgot about it," admits Manny.

"About you?" says Blake. "Never. You were tailor made for this part, Santos."

Flipping through the folder, she views a sheet of paper with Pinecrest contact info, the location of the audition (Pinecrest Studios), the time (three o' clock), and the date. The date.

"Tomorrow!" cries Manny. "I...I..."

"Neither of us is performing tomorrow, so I can give you a lift," offers Blake. "Ferdinand and Miranda on a mission."

"Where's the script? The plot summary?" demands Manny. "This info...kinda limited."

"It's a cold reading," says Blake. "We did them during camp."

Yes, they did, but this is for a major movie, Manny notes. It'd be good to have a handle on the character, the situations she's going through, anything truly. Cold readings were never her cup of tea either. That was her most challenging week, having no idea how to color the character when she first read it. She has to suck it up, however. Cold readings happened all the time, especially in theater.

"Used to preparing...but yeah, yeah, okay," stammers Manny. "Thanks for the lift."

"Wanna see something else cool?" asks Blake.

Manny shrugs, Blake already unzipping his seatbelt, reaching into his backseat. His butt was kind of rubbing against her side, and she grimaces. She does see a keychain attached to his belt, curious because it clashed with his other clothes. The keychain held a tiny piece of rope looped on the ring. Manny stops looking, faces forward when Blake returns.

"Press package," says Blake.

"I hope I don't look dumb," sighs Manny, taking it from him.

There were several nice group photographs, with Arissa instructing them how to breathe during a beat, Lia in the midst of a chain improvisation exercise, Colin leading a review on projection. All her friends were pictured. Inside, they had photographs of the actual play, Manny beaming when she sees one of her and Travis/Prospero, staring at the wreckage of the fake storm. On the last page is the sole picture that makes her crease her forehead, her lips open and close in confusion. It's the picture Martika snapped of her and Blake towards the beginning of camp. The caption reads: Blake Willis (Pinecrest) and Manny Santos (Pinecrest).

"Printers must've made a mistake," says Manny, showing it to Blake. "Martika said she'd say I was from Bluewave."

"Must be it," sighs Blake. "Probably got around that you were auditioning with us."

"No...no, I didn't tell anyone," stammers Manny.

"It's going to be really good for you, Manny," says Blake, quickly. "They've done so much for me."

"Didn't do much for Lia," says Manny. "In fact, she and Ms. Dale, my agent, they're saying I shouldn't. Pinecrest doesn't have the best rep."

"Jealous," insists Blake. "Haven't you picked up that Lia's terribly jealous of you? All the reviews love you. And Dale...has she gotten you an audition yet? Pinecrest always gets their clients auditions."

"Not yet, but she's...she's trying," defends Manny.

"Trying isn't helping you," says Blake. "Manny, you're not a Miranda. You don't wait for stuff to happen. You're passionate...fiery, like Ariel at the end of the play."

She'd have to agree with that. Most of the things in her life, whether good or bad, involved her taking some action. She made Spirit Squad despite Emma's objections. Then, she dressed how she wanted to, and dated the guys she wanted to. Lately, she's been waiting, for Toby especially, and currently, Kendra's living with him, so what did good did that do?

"Time to take back some control," says Manny, nodding.

"Great!" praises Blake. "I'll mention that...that mistake to Martika."

"Um, speaking of mentioning," says Manny. "What's with the rope on the keychain?"

Blake briefly avoids eye contact, releases a deep breath as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Manny guesses she shouldn't have said anything following that reaction.

"Brother owns this ranch...it's nothing," says Blake.

"Seriously?" says Manny.

"Yeah, like in Colorado," continues Blake. "Haven't been in like two years. Rode horses, and then my career started heating up, so that's...that's done."

"I've only...only ever ridden a pony," admits Manny.

"Girl!" cries Blake, playfully.

They both laughing, Manny's shoulders shaking. It's nice, the first good feeling she's had since leaving Toby.

"You haven't lived life 'til you've ridden a bronco, and that's just it," says Blake, authoritatively hitting the wheel.

"Hence, why you love John Wayne," offers Manny.

"Totally," says Blake. "Remember when I said I was good with animals? Managed to calm down a wild horse once. Kept a piece of the rope."

"For the first time since we've met, honestly impressed," says Manny, earnestly.

"Well, I just lucked into acting," reveals Blake. "Some woman said I had the look for it, got me in contact with Martika, and the rest was fate."

"Is your brother proud of you?" asks Manny.

"We don't talk...anymore," answers Blake. "Can't say I'm proud of that."

Blake reluctantly touches the rope for a few seconds, instantly drops it when Manny starts to speak again.

"It's...it's late, Manny," says Blake, gesturing to the car door.

That's a huge hint to end this conversation. Manny gives him a final smile, leaves the car, and shuts the door.

"Guess we're going on a road trip tomorrow," says Manny. "Here's hoping it leads to something."

"You've got this part locked," assures Blake, starting the car.

Before she can ask why he's so sure, the window's up, and the BMW is headed in the opposite direction. Manny tucks the folder into her bag, growing increasingly more heavy, and stumbles to the Andrews' door. She rings a couple times, secretly wishing that it's not Lia that answers the door. Emma, she thinks. Emma.

No such luck, and she's not surprised. Lia greets her in a black bustier top and hot pants, her choice of a leisure outfit. She smacks her gum, lets Manny in. Manny's tempted to make some excuse, run to the kitchen, but she's really itching to talk to Emma, then take a shower. That's difficult as Lia plants herself in the middle of the staircase.

"Shower," mumbles Manny, trying to pass her.

"How'd you get home?" inquires Lia, blocking her way.

"Bus," says Manny, which isn't a lie at all.

"Ms. Dale...well, we both saw the press package," says Lia, shaking her head. "After what Dale's done for you? Telling you stuff in your best interest? I can't believe you."

"Why even tell you the truth when you won't believe it?" sighs Manny.

"That meeting with Paramount? Most likely gone," blasts Lia. "Suppose Martika will be arranging all your meetings from now on."

"Hello? Contract with Bluewave," reminds Manny. "And if Rebecca Scott's really interested in me, she won't care who I'm with."

"So full of yourself," says Lia, standing. "And ungrateful! Who housed you, bought you things, has been listening to you whine for weeks?"

Manny crosses her arms. The only thing Lia is holding over her head is housing her. She never asked for anything Lia didn't offer of her own free will.

"I am grateful," says Manny, genuinely. "I appreciate all of that. But since we're friends, I thought all that stuff was natural. Maybe I was wrong?"

A momentary flash of sadness fills Lia's eyes, and then, to Manny's surprise, she slides to the banister, allowing Manny to move. Yes, some headway with this girl. Ugh, finally.

"That favor for helping you talk to Toby before his camp?" says Lia, refusing to look at Manny as tears fall. "I'm calling it in soon."

Manny's entire face grows red, her blood turning warm. What? Never mind that she's tried to support Lia whenever Kel wouldn't, when she thought her acting wasn't good, or when they were celebrating their joint success. Her heart quivers slightly at the realization, the realization that Lia would deliver that reply.

"You can be pretty cold sometimes," whispers Manny, tears casing her eyes.

"So is my father...you get used to it," replies Lia.

Manny wipes her cheeks, leaving Lia to do the same.

III.

"You should feel...blank, or like you're floating," informs Emma, tilting her head to the side, legs Indian style.

Hannah peers at her with one eye open, another closed. Her blonde hair was in two pigtails today, which took forever for Emma to do, but she was so convinced that it's how Rapunzel should've worn her hair, especially if the prince broke her first braid after the first try. Emma didn't feel like getting into an argument so she braided dutifully. Hannah must've felt bad that it took so long because she offered to do whatever Emma wanted.

Emma selected yoga. She's not sure why exactly, except maybe that it was quiet and near bedtime. Twenty minutes in, and she's starting to believe it's not the best activity for restless Hannah.

"I don't like not thinking about stuff," confesses Hannah.

"Well...um, don't you feel calm?" asks Emma, staring at her.

"I feel...numb," shares Hannah. "Oh, have you ever seen the Princess Diaries?"

Hannah bounces up, Emma certain the yoga session is at its end. Too bad because she liked being still. It vaguely reminded her of the last few times she was relaxed, around Spinner. Then, it reminded her even more of the times she wasn't relaxed. Earlier today, she called her mom, and heard Jack screaming in the background. She must be so overwhelmed, with work and Jack, despite Emma picking up that she was playing it off. If she actually knew what Snake's job was, and how often he worked, she'd have that total sense of calm. Perhaps she should be talking to Snake again. The discussion with Lia definitely made her consider it.

"They kind of do this waltz at the end," says Hannah, standing. "Like this."

She moves her small legs delicately, swaying to imaginary music, whirling around with a surprisingly good sense of rhythm. Emma grins. Wow, when she first used to dance, she had less rhythm than Hannah really. She can't even remember the first song she danced to, or how many students were in the class. What she does remember is the technique, reintroduced when she started her classes paid for by Spinner.

"Your hands," says Emma, standing beside Hannah.

Hannah allows Emma to elongate one hand above her head, and position the other to make it look bent.

"How do you know this stuff?" questions Hannah.

"I danced," shares Emma.

"Danced or dance?" says Hannah. "If I could dance like this, I'd never stop."

Humming to herself, Hannah continues to sway around the room, around the two mannequins in knight and princess attire. Yoga didn't help her float, but dancing definitely was making her appear that way.

"Who are you dancing with?" calls out Emma. "A boy?"

"Don't know any well enough," replies Hannah, pretending to curtsy, then dancing again.

"Your father?" asks Emma.

"He'd never dance with me," says Hannah, stalling.

Stupid Emma, she thinks. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You'd figure that after that conversation with Lia, she'd have known better. Emma moves cautiously to her young charge, drops to her knees.

"Whenever fathers don't dance with you, it's because they love the girls so much...like so much, they're afraid they'll cry," says Emma, confidently.

"Uh-uh," says Hannah, smiling shyly.

"True!" reassures Emma. "I have never danced with my father, either."

"At weddings, they dance, which I've always found weird," says Hannah, tapping her chin. "I think I'd rather spend that time opening the presents."

"Me too," agrees Emma. "Hello! They're free!"

They laugh, as they hear a round of knocks against Hannah's door. Emma carefully crosses the fake moat, heeding Hannah's warning regarding the rockiness of it, and opens the door to a startled Manny.

"Hey," says Manny, quietly. "Mind if I crash the castle?"

"No!" answers Hannah, brightly. "We're doing the waltz. "

Hannah shows Manny a bit of the waltz, making sure to do Emma's pointers. While it's sweet, Emma's more concerned that Manny appears crushed. It really makes no sense, as Manny phoned her and told her that the performance went well.

"Hannah, keep practicing and I'll be back in two minutes," instructs Emma.

"Okay," says Hannah, dancing as Emma ushers Manny to the hallway.

They arrive in Edwina's bright blue room, Emma leading her friend to a pair of chairs. She hopes Manny's forthcoming as she does still have to return to Hannah soon.

"What is it?" says Emma. "Your parents? Toby? The performance?"

Manny shakes her head at all the answers.

"Lia's...Lia's not who I thought she was, Em," shares Manny. "I've been crying all day. Yelled at Ms. Dale, lost an opportunity. This huge opportunity."

"There will be others," comforts Emma.

"Not like this," breathes Manny. "Gosh, Em. If something great doesn't happen in the next ten seconds, I'm going to break. Not even you and Tobes could put me back together."

"Manny," soothes Emma, stroking her best friend's hair.

They're interrupted by the phone ringing, Manny too upset to answer. Emma takes it.

"Hello?" she says.

"Anne Marie Isaacs for Manny Santos, please," says an official-sounding voice.

A secretary, wagers Emma.

"Manny?" says Emma. "Toby's mom's secretary?"

Coughing to clear her throat, Manny presses the phone to her ear, glances uncomfortably at Emma. She motions Emma to scoot to her, both their ears on the mouthpiece.

"Ms. Isaacs would like to cordially invite you, Ms. Santos, and a friend to lunch at the Ivy," says the secretary. "Eleven-thirty sharp. Proper attire please."

Manny's eyes brighten, Emma glad that that great thing has happened. Though Manny never told her how the original lunch went, Emma suspected that the failure to mention it was proof in itself. If events turned out great, or she had huge news, Manny always shared. Well, today's great.

"I'll be there!" cries Manny.

"Will you be needing transportation?" asks the secretary patiently.

"Covered," sighs Manny. "I mean...no, we won't."

"Thank you," says the secretary. "Please be prompt. Good night."

As the phone clicks off, Manny squeals, stands, claps to herself. Emma shrugs, pats Manny on the back.

"Em, you have no idea!" exclaims Manny. "Toby must've worked his cute, convincing ways. I am so impressing her this time."

"Who are you taking?" says Emma, hopefully.

"You, of course," says Manny. "Okay, you'd have to ask Lia yourself..."

"Got cute, convincing ways, myself," teases Emma. "Not a problem."

Manny throws her arms around Emma, and while not as collected as a waltz or a typical hug, she's fairly certain it's just as joyous.

IV.

Fred is a cooler guy than he thought. He let Toby stay in the limo for as long as possible, and Toby caught glimpses of the white-haired man slowly wiping dust off the dashboard, assessing his gloves, singing under his breath. Yep, their driver definitely caught that Toby didn't want to go inside, with them.

The them, which included the two women who kept playing with his emotions, Kendra and his mother. Sure, Manny used to do that, but that's because she was confused about them, the them he's quite clear on, Manny and him. Isn't he clear on that? He's unclear what the state of it will be once he reveals this latest tidbit. The whole thing seems so fake. One minute they're talking in front of the Astro Orbiter, and the next minute, Kendra is centimeters away from his nose, her mouth attached to his mouth. Manny already had suspicions earlier, and this would alter any sense of security she had. Toby had to tell her nothing was going on how many times? A couple times? Still, he told her and she believed him. She's always believed in him.

In the limo, he thought of the kiss for most of the ride, and then what Kendra said. She said he gave her impressions, and perhaps she's not wrong for thinking that. How many exes went to expos and carried the girl past a big crowd? Spinner could've done it, maybe should've done it. Then, he invited her into his mother's house, and hadn't he told his mom, right in front of Kendra, that he'd done the same for Manny last year?

"Don't suppose you could drive me back to Grauman's," speaks up Toby, playing with a shirt cuff.

"Your mother's banned your privileges," sighs Fred.

"Yeah," recalls Toby. "I wouldn't know where to go, anyways."

"Might I suggest going to sleep?" says Fred, politely. "I've heard it said things are always better in the morning."

Not tomorrow morning, thinks Toby, waving at Fred and exiting the car. He approaches the open door, already hears Xerox barking at his arrival. That dog would probably hate him forever. Manny would probably hate him forever.

Toby climbs the stairs, sliding off his jacket as he hears some light shuffling from the hall. Staring at the center of the hallway, he views Kendra's open suitcase, clothes being tossed from the guest bedroom to there. Fine, he thinks, angrily. Let her pack, let her leave. Kendra Mason has done enough damage.

Another door opens, J.T. giving the suitcase a puzzled look and then leaping over it to get to Toby.

"She's leaving?" he whispers.

Toby drags J.T. to his room, sets his belongings on the floor, closes the door gently.

"Oooh, I get it," says J.T., happily. "She found out you and Manny had sex last night. Toby? Before me? Before me? I've been waiting patiently for you to return from Disney to hear the R-rated details..."

"No!" cries Toby. "We...we...I couldn't go through with it."

"You came in all happy," pouts J.T. "Should've known it's just any interaction with Manny that makes you that way."

"Well, future interactions are going to suck," groans Toby.

"Break-up?" whispers J.T., urgently.

"A kiss...from Kendra," confesses Toby.

"See?" says J.T., hitting his forehead. "And you said she wasn't a bad omen? She was a bad omen to a bad kiss, that's what she was! You should've gone to the gift shop with me."

"Forget that!" sighs Toby, sitting on his bed. "What do I do now?"

J.T. runs both hands through his hair, paces Toby's floor. Previously, J.T. offered advice, advice he should've taken, so anything he offered now, totally going with it.

"Eh," says J.T., shrugging.

"You run out of advice now?" says Toby.

"I'm good for advice...like for a few weeks, and then it goes, man," says J.T., apologetically. "This kiss...wasn't mutual, was it?"

He wants to immediately say no, that Kendra initiated it, and he barely moved his lips. But the fact remains...he let her. He hesitated for a few and allowed Kendra an easy in. There has to be bonus points for pushing her away eventually, right?

"Scaring me with the lack of an answer, Toby," says J.T., poking him.

"Didn't return it," provides Toby. "Or expect it...or want it. I guess the thing is...I've been doing stuff that's bigger than a kiss."

"With platonic intentions," consoles J.T.

"Gotta talk to her," mutters Toby.

"Manny?" says J.T.

"Kendra first, Manny next," sighs Toby.

"Sounds good to me," says J.T. "Oh FYI, your father's left like three birthday messages. That makes three people you have to talk to."

"Yay," mumbles Toby.

Toby rises from his bed, returns to the hallway, stepping over Kendra's suitcase. He peeps into her room, a room he has yet to see. It was a pretty, cream-colored room, not that different from his own, except that it was a bit more feminine. The sheets had lace lining, and the wallpaper is floral. Kendra has changed from her dressier clothes to a blue top under overalls. Her choice of clothes made her look younger, more vulnerable, despite the fact that she's only a year younger than him.

"You...you don't have to leave," says Toby, standing awkwardly in the door frame.

"I do," says Kendra, briskly.

"Let me pay you back for the picture," offers Toby.

"Could care less," says Kendra.

This talk is going swimmingly, moans Toby, inwardly. Whatever. She's apparently set on going. But if she goes, he can't convince her to go to the doctor, unless she made that decision herself.

"You called the doctor?" says Toby.

"I'm not calling the doctor," replies Kendra. "And I am not staying here."

"What are you going to do?" demands Toby. "Walk the street? This city isn't exactly safe, Kendra."

"Better my body get bruised than my heart," says Kendra, giving him a pointed stare. "Oh, that's right. Body's already bruised."

Toby lowers his eyes.

"They can't damage anything else," adds Kendra, brushing past Toby.

He follows, frowning as she zips her suitcase resolutely.

"You're going to leave without telling my mom?" says Toby, thinking that would make her stay.

"I thanked her for a lovely stay," informs Kendra, sarcastically.

She goes further down the hall, Toby in tow.

"Transportation," says Toby, quickly. "How are you going to swing that?"

"Spinner, you know a guy that actually cares about me?" returns Kendra.

Kendra lets her suitcase fall, turns her head from Toby.

"Haven't called Spinner, have you?" identifies Toby. "You have nowhere to go, so you're staying. Stop lying."

"Stop getting up in my business!" exclaims Kendra. "That's a job for family, friends, a boyfriend, not you."

As she stumbes past him, Toby's head starts to pound. She has to stay. He couldn't get her into a car to go to her grandmother's, and he doesn't know the number. Fred has gone. Why is she so stubborn? Why can't she listen?

"You are my business," says Toby, softly grabbing her arm. "Kendra..."

"Toby," says Kendra, weakly.

Dumbfounded, he stares at his arm on hers. It was instinct, like he couldn't resist. He can't move his arm, as much as he wants to. Kendra tenderly performs the task for him.

"And you say I've been misreading all these signs?" whispers Kendra, eyes growing wet.

There's silence as she leaves him, as her feet go down the steps. He's not clear where she's going, but at that moment, he hates that he wants to follow.

V.

Two red-breasted robins flutter between the branches of ivy-lined trees, large white umbrellas coming into view as the yellow and black cab parks at the curb. Manny closes her eyes briefly, stares nervously at her cotton white top and tangerine-colored clutch. The clutch matches the orange, flowy skirt hugging her waist. It's probably the most Californian she's ever been, and according to Emma, it brought out her skin tone. Emma selected a sleeveless, lavender dress, blonde hair in a high ponytail. They each checked themselves and each other out in the mirror, around fifty times.

Manny's only ever seen pictures of the Ivy, hasn't driven past it, or gone with Lia. Lia wouldn't take her, anyway, unless she's getting something from the deal, thinks Manny, bitterly. No matter. Today's all about Anne Marie, and by extension, Toby. She wouldn't say anything clueless like last time, or run off due to any strong emotions like she'd done in the past. No mistakes were going to be made, and Emma's here for support.

The Ivy itself made her think of the bed and breakfast, which makes her hopeful. A white picket fence encircled the property, a valet parking sign right in front. A guy, presumably an actor, pulls up to the sign, lets a man in a dress vest and pants get in to drive the car. There's a group of paparazzi at the other end of the street, cameras at the ready. Then again, celebrities came to this spot all the time. Her camera's in her clutch, but she has to resist. She's not a tourist today. She's a girlfriend. The furniture is wicker, same as the Artists' Inn, yet it's noticeably more austere, expensive. Manny gulps as they approach the reservations desk.

"Uh...um...we're...," stutters Manny.

"Manny Santos," clarifies Emma. "And a guest."

An attractive man behind the reservation desk smiles, nods.

"Right this way," he says, politely.

Emma and Manny pass other tables, a few people staring at them. Manny checks her skirt a final time, relieved to see that no one looks appalled. Emma receives an appreciative stare from a good-looking man in his forties.

"I'm telling Spinner," teases Manny.

"Ha," says Emma, pretending to elbow Manny. "Are we early?"

"Five minutes," answers Manny, checking her watch. "Oh, this plant is so cute!"

Forgetting her inhibitions, Manny goes to a plotted plant inches away from their table, the man handling reservations staring at them curiously. The plant is darling, peach blossoms growing over the ivy, the stem being held by a silver-colored stump.

"Can I take a picture of it?" asks Manny.

"Manny!" says Emma, trying to hide her face with her purse.

"Certainly, miss," chuckles the man.

Manny quickly snaps the picture, the flash disturbing the patrons right next to the plant.

"Sorry," says Manny, smiling.

They appear disinterested at her response, which Manny doesn't mind. She's proud to have gotten one picture of this place. They're seated at a table with a silk tablecloth, in chairs of black wicker that are surprisingly soft.

"Sit like an adult now," jokes Emma, sitting straight.

Manny corrects her posture, smirking.

"You just had to!" whispers Emma, giggling.

"Now I have a picture of ivy inside of the Ivy," beams Manny. "Any other future actress would've done it."

"Only ones named Manny," argues Emma. "So...how much do you think I should talk?"

"Can you...like talk if I'm ready to say something incredibly stupid?" pleads Manny. "Two failed lunches would be catastrophic."

"More than capable," assures Emma.

Manny rests her chin on the palm of her hand, elbow on the table. She's sick of sitting like an adult, and if Anne Marie shows in the next few seconds, she'll correct herself. The atmosphere is truly beautiful. Wine glasses shimmer due to the strong sunlight, the conversation is barely above a whisper, the sweet scent of the flowers flow past her nose. Maybe the next time she's here, she can pay for herself and dodge the paparazzi because she's a famous actress. Might take awhile, but she'd like it.

"Is Toby coming?" says Emma.

"No, he would've called me," says Manny. "Actually, was expecting a call last night. He usually calls me to make sure I get home safe."

"The House of Mouse wore him out," guesses Emma.

"Yeah, he was tired when I left," says Manny.

A nice-looking waitress with an eyebrow ring, and a perfect ponytail, much more organized than Emma's, arrives with menus. Emma pats her ponytail protectively.

"Would you like anything to drink, ladies?" says the waitress.

"We're waiting for someone," informs Manny. "Thank you."

The waitress nods dutifully, situates her notepad into her small, black apron. This interval allows her think of her conversation with Blake in his car, and then the second one with Emma.

"Em, I appreciate what you did yesterday," says Manny. "Being there."

"Anytime," says Emma. "I am...am concerned, however."

"I know," sighs Manny. "It's just when I'm not perfect, I get attacked for it. Always been like that. Had all these expectations for when I came here."

"Some of them are coming true," reminds Emma.

"Not the way I want," says Manny. "My mom told me not to lose myself. That's impossible because I don't know myself."

Emma smooths the tablecloth, remaining silent.

"In T.O., I was this actress, this director, Miss Degrassi, whatever anxieties came with it," says Manny, softly. "I thought having you and Toby here would keep that going. Nah."

"I...," starts Emma.

"It's not your fault," says Manny, quickly. "If you guys weren't in Cali, I'd combust. Guess what I'm trying to say is that I have to find myself in L.A...take action. Like you always say."

"As long as they're the right actions," warns Emma.

Of course they'd be right, she's tempted to tell her friend. It wasn't as if she was going to flash another camera. Manny smiles wistfully, checks her watch. Anne Marie must be running late. Well, it's something she can't grill Manny for, since she arrived promptly.

"Water at least?" begs Emma.

"Fine," sighs Manny, motioning to their waitress.

"Ready to order?" says the waitress, retrieving her notepad.

"We'll take two glasses of water, please," says Manny. "Also, can you tell us when Anne Marie Isaacs arrives?"

The waitress smirks as she writes, then releases a low laugh, shakes her head. Emma and Manny stare blankly at her.

"Yeah...sure...just...I'm sorry," says the waitress, cheeks growing crimson.

"What?" encourages Emma. "Is that...not the protocol?"

"Oh, no, I don't have a problem telling you," says the waitress. "I don't think she's showing up, though."

Manny pretends to fiddle with her purse, heart beating fast. Why wouldn't Anne Marie come? Her secretary called and everything. This waitress is wacky.

"Why not?" says Emma, Manny grateful that she asked instead of herself.

"She...does this sometimes," admits the waitress, bending to Emma. "Look, she has these...you know, sweet little actresses she humors, isn't really interested in. This past Tuesday, made a similar arrangement for this airhead blonde. No offense, personally."

The waitress points to Emma's hair and her own blonde hair, tucks a few strands behind her ear.

"They go all ga-ga since it's the Ivy. Kind of sad actually, like she's not interested or whatever," sighs the waitress. "Suppose she figures it's a nice thing to do. Then, she ushers them to another party. Don't tell my boss I told you. I just...feel bad for them. You guys aren't actresses, anyway, right?"

Manny closes her eyes, tears threatening to pierce her eyelids. She believed she wouldn't feel any lower than she did last night with Lia, but that was a silly belief as her skin grows colder and colder. Anne Marie Isaacs...business as usual. She shouldn't have counted on anything else. Manny opens her eyes, turns her head from Emma.

"Not an actress...I know her son," provides Emma, weakly.

"Great," says the waitress, nudging Manny. "Had me worried for a sec. Water's on the way."

In her descent, Manny clears her throat, begins to search through her purse.

"Calling Toby?" questions Emma.

"Why would I do that?" chokes out Manny.

"Manny!" whispers Emma, gently. "You know he wouldn't stand for this."

"Em, we're staying for lunch," whispers Manny.

Emma's eyes bug out. "You're going to sit here and..."

"We're going to stay and have a good lunch," interrupts Manny, calmly, despite the fury of her tears. "Then, I'll contact Ms. Isaacs and she'll explain."

"I say we call her this second," says Emma. "Or him, at least."

"I've decided," breathes Manny.

Emma leans back, folds her arms, forgetting good posture. There's every reason to forget, as she's not coming. She's really not coming.

"What happened to taking action?" whispers Emma.

"I am," insists Manny. "I'm acting like I'm not hurt. Basically have to. Doing a good job, right?"

"A little too good of a job," mutters Emma, shaking her head.

Manny chooses not to reply, immediately drinking the water they're given, her throat burning despite the refreshing taste.


	34. No Easy Way Out

**XXXIV. No Easy Way Out **

We're not indestructible, baby better get that straight  
I think it's unbelievable how you give into the hands of fate  
Some things are worth fighting for some feelings never die  
I'm not askin' for another chance I just wanna know why  
There's no easy way out there's no shortcut home  
There's no easy way out givin' in can't be wrong

I don't wanna pacify you I don't wanna drag you down  
But I'm feelin like a prisoner like a stranger in a no named town  
I see all the angry faces afraid that could be you and me  
Talkin about what might have been I'm thinkin about what I used to be  
There's no easy way out there's no shortcut home  
There's no easy way out givin in can't be wrong

Baby, baby we can shed this skin we can know how we feel inside  
Instead of goin down an endless road not knowin if we're dead or alive  
Some things are worth fightin for some feelings never die  
I'm not askin for another chance I just wanna know why  
There's no easy way out there's no shortcut home  
There's no easy way out givin in givin in can't be wrong no  
There's no easy way out there's no shortcut home  
There's no easy no easy no easy way out

**No Easy Way Out is the property of Robert Tepper and appears in the film _Rocky IV. _**

Author's Note: _Happy Holidays! _The best gift--- fic reviews. No, I'm just playing. Lol. But seriously, have a safe, joyous holiday!

Neither of them ate much, the fresh calamari looking so tempting, steaming scallops on the side. The discussion was light, too, and there may've been a movie star they missed, whose appearance couldn't thrill them. It's so easy when you're not there, thinks Manny, leaning against a phone booth, sunshine beating down on her exposed arms. When you're not there to see the person you disappointed. 

Emma flips doggedly through the phone book, purse slung over her shoulder. They were on some street, a street Manny didn't bother to look at, considering how awkward she feels. Emma suggested calling Toby again, but Manny refused. She wanted to hear straight from the casting director's mouth. Besides, last time she let her emotions run out of control, she disrespected Ms. Dale and Lia, losing a so-called friend and threatening her career. Risking her relationship with Toby because she bad-mouths his mom isn't something she's willing to endure either.

"It's all about...about principle," mumbles Emma, angrily, reaching the "I"s in the book and showing Manny. "That's why I'm glad we barely ate."

"There are a lot of Isaacs," says Manny, softly.

"Should go to businesses, anyway," realizes Emma. "She's bound to be in there."

"Okay," says Manny.

Ugh, she hates being like this, so vulnerable she's coming off docile. Still, it's Toby's mom. He was always polite when it came to her parents, even when they were intrusive about his religion.

"Aha!" cries Emma. "New Diamond Talent Agency. Founder and Executive Director, Anne Marie Isaacs."

"That's it?" says Manny.

"Worth a shot," says Emma, dialing.

Part of her doesn't want Emma to actually reach her, because if they did track her down, Manny would have no idea what to say. Perhaps the waitress is completely wrong, a young woman that was a busybody and loved to cause trouble. However, why would she care honestly? And Anne Marie never did come. Manny nervously twists her charm bracelet.

"Hello," greets Emma, brightly. "Is Ms. Isaacs in? Oh, a meeting...is she available at all today? Not leaving a message...we need to talk to her immediately regarding the Ivy!"

Wow, forceful, praises Manny softly. Perhaps she should be on the phone, if she could talk with a clear mind, that is.

"I won't call tomorrow!" argues Emma. "No...no, I'm not Manny Santos."

"What?" cries Manny.

No way, thinks Manny, taking the phone and hanging it up. Anne Marie expected her to call? To thank her for such a wonderful meal? Yeah, dream on.

"What's the address?" exclaims Manny, the heat in her cheeks rising.

Emma hands her the phonebook, smiling. Manny's well aware that the smile is because Emma is getting her wish with Manny taking action, but she's concentrating on finding where she can thank Anne Marie...face to face. Or rather, not thank her. Manny removes a piece of paper from her clutch. She notices it's not any piece of paper. It's Toby's speech, Manny hating that she'd have to mark on it. Eh, he'd print her another copy.

"Hail a cab?" suggests Emma, excitedly.

"Yep," answers Manny, writing the last number.

II.

Ellie cradles an orange pop under her skinny arm, carries a large plate in her hands. On the plate sits a ham and mustard sandwich, microwave french fries, and a wrapped brownie, a lunch she could actually make without a lot of preparation. Well, she had to go to the grocery store to get the mustard, but her father is more than worth it. He's the one guy, sadly, that loves her and isn't currently keeping secrets. Except for Marco, who's barely around since Dylan's home from school.

"I bring provisions!" announces Ellie, viewing her father's head under the hood of his Cadillac.

"How come my unit never got this service?" jokes John Nash, slamming the hood down.

"Have some time before my seminar," explains Ellie. "This latest article...really driving me up the wall."

"Can't wait to read it," says John. "And the one getting published? We're so proud, Ellie."

"Didn't feel like that was my best piece, though," admits Ellie. "Some of my Grapevine stuff is loads better."

"Still want to see the copies I missed," reminds John.

"My writing's getting so difficult lately, like I can't focus," sighs Ellie.

"Come on," disagrees John. "I'm talking to a girl who wrote cogent arguments to us on why we had to extend her bedtime at the age of eight. Don't give me that."

Ellie laughs, leans with her father against the doors of the Cadillac. He was restoring it to its former glory. John Nash believed you could do that, with almost anything. Maybe that's why he joined the army, to be part of a group that helped restore this country, other countries. She loves telling people what her father has done. Other kids were proud of their parents' jobs, but sometimes, shamefully, she thinks she's a bit more proud and seldom feels guilty for it.

"How's Sean?" asks John. "Haven't seen him for awhile."

"That makes two of us," reveals Ellie. "Alright...saw him at the Dot yesterday."

"Uh-oh," mutters John, gently touching her shoulder.

Instead of letting her father console her, she moves to the concrete steps of the door leading to the garage, sits. She doesn't like the idea of looking him in the eye.

"Do you know where we...where we first started talking?" says Ellie, smiling warmly.

"Where?" says John.

"Detention," answers Ellie, rolling her eyes.

They laugh, John moreso, and Ellie's grateful for that.

"What were you in for?" prompts John.

"Strangely enough, it was for a journalism assignment," replies Ellie.

"Or not so strangely enough," chuckles John, shrugging. "Suppose I can't get on you for an academic reason."

"I was a little dishonest," confesses Ellie.

A little dishonest. Those words echo in the deepest regions of her brain, mainly because that's where the problem with Sean lay. He can't be completely in whatever the situation with Dale is, because he's...he's too smart. Sean wouldn't risk his job with Dale's father, or ruin anything else for such a bad person. He would get beat up for his boss' son, though, which is her worry. It's more than possible Sean found out what Dale was doing, and gotten jumped for the new knowledge instead of a wrecked car. Still, all this comes down to Sean telling her something. Her inquisitive skills can only go so far.

"Dishonest with Sean?" says John, breaking her thoughts.

"Discovered he...he was stealing school equipment."

"Oh," mumbles John.

"By the end of the year, he was back on track, though," defends Ellie. "Then, the hero of the school the next year."

"I heard that," says John, grinning. "Your mom told me."

"The thing...the thing about Sean is he gets caught in these situations sometimes where he's backed into a corner," says Ellie. "Then, he doesn't make the wisest decisions."

"I've seen good men do the same...in battle. They lack other alternatives," says John, nodding at his toolbox. "They act first, think later."

Ellie sighs, starts going through the toolbox, until John points to a wrench, which she hands him.

"He's been making all this progress," laments Ellie.

"Progress is known to stall," offers John.

"So what do I do?" says Ellie, glancing at her knees. "I support him with no answers? Trust him with no clues?"

"You talk and you listen," says John, setting the wrench in the backseat. "You're clever and will decide what to do next."

While it's not the most enlightening advice he's provided, it makes total sense. Ellie could give Sean another chance to speak.

"Now...food!" says John, walking to his daughter.

"Wash your hands first," reminds Ellie.

John harrumphs. "Yes, Ms. Nash."

"Good," says Ellie.

"You don't pull this with Sean, do you?" teases John.

"He remembers to wash his hands," answers Ellie, grinning.

III.

"How many books on musical theory can one person own?" groans Craig, Ashley sliding another volume under Craig's chin.

Ashley steadies Craig as he weaves from left to right, finally finding his footing.

"Last show proved I have a lot to learn," explains Ashley, leading Craig to the cash register.

They were at Blackwell's, basically the quintessential, most reliable bookstore on the Oxford campus. When they drove past the honey-colored buildings and the students biking, bookbags attached to their backs, she was reminded of the austere nature of the place. The actual place they were playing at couldn't be that restrictive, though. She senses this city really comes to life at night, dons and students alike dancing in the streets. Problem is none of her songs would contribute to the party. Her fastest song is mid-tempo; they couldn't groove to it.

She removes a fair amount of change from her pocket, pays for the books. The cashier rings them up, fetches a few plastic bags.

"She's playing here tonight," says Craig to the cashier, smiling. "BB6. Ashley Kerwin."

"Craig!" cries Ashley, blushing furiously.

"Brilliant," mumbles the cashier. "Have a nice day."

He wasn't too excited, and frankly, Ashley didn't care. After being publicly rejected, she's not sure she wants a huge crowd tonight. Still, it's mildly cute that Craig is promoting the event.

"There _are_ posters everywhere," laughs Ashley as they exit.

"Nothing beats word of mouth," insists Craig.

Her feet are tired, after helping Craig and the other roadies transport the equipment over the city's cobblestone walks, cursing herself for wearing heels. At least the heels were low, she reasons, lowering herself in the bookstore's archway. Luckily, the brainier, Blackwell visitors were entranced with their respective tomes, so much they weren't leaving anytime soon. Maybe she should leave. Craig joins her on the stoop.

The Oxford streets are small, and the quiet is incredibly noticeable. That said, it's more welcome than the boos she received. Craig consolidates the bags, starts to whistle.

"Wish I had a stray song...any fast song," sighs Ashley.

"You chose to do Pearl, I thought?" says Craig, forehead creasing in confusion. "Intellectual metaphor, tender message, beautiful lyrics."

"What if I doesn't go over well?" asks Ashley. "Deliberately chose not to do a love song, but..."

"Nah, Pearl is perfect," assures Craig.

"Why?" says Ashley.

"Cause I...I teared up when I heard it for the first time," confesses Craig, turning from her. "Any musician would. The song...it's like you."

Ashley takes the bags from him, eyes shining. The song did mean a lot to her, meant more than the songs she composed about her and Craig. Despite loving him terribly, it was a song to herself, and it really did convince her to keep going whenever she floundered. That's something Craig obviously understood himself.

"I'll play Pearl," gives in Ashley.

"Tonight's the night I'm using the lighter," says Craig, kissing her cheek.

"Don't," demurs Ashley, taking a couple bags.

They stand, off-keel a bit, heading to the tour bus, parked near a pub. As they reach the familiar set of wheels, Ashley is able to make out a familiar face coming towards them. It's the tour director, Julian Hobbes. She, her boss, and Julian used to meet for coffee, and she's fairly sure that Julian had a hand in getting her on the tour roster. Ashley exchanges a pleased smile with Craig. Seeing someone else who believed in her talent made her feel ten times better.

"Hi, Mr. Hobbes!" greets Ashley.

"Ashley!" says Julian, hugging her despite the bags. "Been to Blackwell's? Well, I'm not surprised since you're such a good student."

"Prepping for university already," says Ashley. "Um, this is my boyfriend, Craig Manning."

"Nice to meet you, Craig," says Julian.

"You too, sir," returns Craig.

The conversation pauses briefly, Julian playing with his tie in the silence. Hmm, this is odd, thinks Ashley. Julian was a regular chatterbox during the days of her internship. Maybe the presence of Craig is making him nervous? Still, Julian isn't exactly shy.

"Craig, could you put the bags on the bus?" asks Ashley.

"Yeah," agrees Craig, taking hers.

With Craig walking away, she figured the resolve would disappear, but no such luck, Julian leaning in to whisper to her.

"We need to talk."

Talk? Talk about what? Ashley swallows a lump in her throat, seeing Julian gesture to a corner office, obediently following. This is the one time the quiet bothers her.

"Where the camera crew for the tour meets," explains Julian.

The office they enter is cozy, shockingly white with deep blue furniture. It resembled one of the rooms she saw in Willy Wonka, and she feels as out of place as Charlie. Roald Dahl had a darkness to it something bad sure to come. Something bad always came.

"Please sit," says Julian.

Ashley shifts her purse, takes a seat in a hard, blue armchair across from a mahogany desk. Julian lights a cigarette, frowns deeply at Ashley.

"Have you seen the dailies?" questions Julian.

"What daily?" asks Ashley.

"This," replies Julian, fetching one from his drawer, and presenting it to Ashley.

Gazing hesitantly at Julian for a second, she starts to read. There were side by side reviews of the BB6 New Voices concert at the End. Both pieces praised Mark, and a couple other musicians Ashley missed since she was under the weather. Then, it got dicey. The reviewers trashed her set, everything from her style of dress to her song choice. "Dull with dodgy lyrics...a pretty singer with not a trace of performance skills...the best part is when she abruptedly left." Ashley bites her lip, shakes her head. Craig was wrong. Those six drunk audience members weren't the only unsatisfied customers.

"Guess I'm off the tour," whispers Ashley, tears burning her eyes.

"Oh, no...no," says Julian, puffing to his right. "Ashley, it's...it's one opinion. Well, actually two opinions, from the same source."

"Maybe I should mail this to my mom," kids Ashley, tears falling rapidly.

Julian reaches over his desk, pats Ashley's hand. Gosh, the movement came across so patronizing. She almost wants to push him away.

"Both agreed you sing well, have a lovely voice," consoles Julian.

"What good is my voice if I can't keep people interested?" snaps Ashley.

Julian recoils, inches back into his seat.

"I'm...I'm sorry," says Ashley. "It's just...they loved everyone else. That's very hard to swallow."

"Hmmm, what are you playing tonight?" asks Julian.

"Premiering this song Pearl," answers Ashley, wiping her eyes. "Not a snappy number, either."

"Performance skills are something you pick up, Ashley," consoles Julian. "I was...was thinking we could help you in that regard. Soon as he shows..."

Julian is interrupted by a steady knock on the office door, taps his watch authoritatively. Ashley ponders what's transpired as he goes to the door. She really is the young one if she needs help, handling her with kid gloves. Although, if the reviews keep going like this, perhaps it's a good thing.

"Thanks for coming, Mark," says Julian.

Ashley takes a deep breath, straightens herself in the chair, quickly composes herself. Mark actually thought she was good, so she didn't want him in on this meeting.

"Ashley, sure you're well acquainted with Mark by now," says Julian, returning to his chair.

"Yeah...yeah, hi," stammers Ashley, watching Mark sit.

"He played the festival last year, relatively new as well, and managed to score a contract," praises Julian.

"Fortune smiled on me," says Mark, grinning at them.

"Anyways, Mark and I were discussing a possible duet to get you the recognition you so richly deserve," says Julian. "A cover, actually."

"Um, my music's original," speaks up Ashley.

"We know...it'd just be a trial and error thing," explains Julian. "Not at this tour stop, obviously, but maybe in a week?"

"A week sounds doable. Ashley seems skilled enough," says Mark.

"Tell us if we're being too intrusive, Ashley," says Julian, offering her a sympathetic look. "We...we only want you to have the best, most positive exposure. And we believe in you."

"I definitely do," assures Mark. "The audience would love our combined talents."

She glances at one man to the next, recalling the last exposure she'd received for this tour– being dressed in uncomfortable, designer clothes; the assistant unbuttoning her dress without her permission; Mark pressing himself against her. This regards her music, however. What if the bad reviews continue and they really do kick her off? What would her parents say, Craig say? All of them were counting on her. They said it'd be a trial and error, thing, after all.

Ashley sighs deeply. "Let's give the people what they want."

IV.

"Century City...sounds futuristic," whispers Emma, peering at the building from the window of their cab.

"It's paradise for executives," explains their cab driver, flicking his brown, tousled hair. "Uh...sorry."

Emma stares at Manny, continually playing with her earring. The piece of jewelry was played with during the entire drive, and Emma hates the thought of letting Manny go alone. Why is Anne Marie acting so horribly? Okay, so she's not privy to all the details of their first lunch with Toby, but no matter how you spun it, pretty low move by one of Hollywood's finest. She's starting to see Lia's beliefs on the false nature of Hollywood firsthand. Why Manny, though? Gosh, she's so crushed.

"Manny...we'll walk in there, together," says Emma, confidently.

"Em, this isn't the Peter video...this is between me and her," sighs Manny, pushing the cab door open.

"What if...," begins Emma.

"Blake's picking me up, anyway," explains Manny. "Have that audition, remember?"

"I still don't like the idea of you going in there alone," says Emma.

"I'll be fine," insists Manny. "Go home. Hannah's expecting you."

There's no more to say, apparently, Manny walking to the front door of a glass, black building, several stories high. Ugh, it mirrored those buildings she saw where they did twisted animal experiments in the middle of the night. Emma shudders, views Manny's tangerine top disappear behind the glass doors.

"We ready?" says the cabbie.

"Yes," answers Emma.

To her pleasure, the drive to the Andrews' isn't terribly long. Manny paid her half of the fare, so that didn't bother her, either. What does bother her is the person sitting on the stoop of the Andrews' home. Emma stares at the mailbox, checks if the address is correct. Of course, it's correct. After paying, Emma gulps, crosses the lawn.

"Probably the last person you expected," says Kendra, barely above a whisper.

"True," admits Emma. "Kendra, what are you doing here?"

"Staying at the Y was too weird," replies Kendra, shrugging. "Remembered Toby saying you were at the Andrews. Guy selling star maps knew exactly where that was."

"The Y?" says Emma. "I thought you were at Toby's mom's."

Kendra fiddles with the zipper on her suitcase. Spinner insinuated that something was wrong with her, and it's becoming clearer and clearer that whatever it is is serious.

"You're sort of dating Spin, right?" asks Kendra, innocently.

"Um..."

"Never mind," breathes Kendra. "I should go."

"I have to know to help you," says Emma, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Emma, I have like no one outside my family," says Kendra, shaking her head. "Nadia's in T.O. If anyone found out from my gymnastics team and told Coach..."

"Let me call Spinner," begs Emma.

"Don't!" cries Kendra. "I...I shouldn't have come."

"Well, Kendra, you can't stay at the Y," says Emma, sitting with her. "And I guess Toby's wasn't working. So..."

So what am I going to do, finishes Emma to herself. Okay, consider everything rationally. This secret has the potential to alienate her family, maybe? That's why she's hiding? Calling Spin would be her first choice, but that's not fair to intervene. What if she got Spin to talk to her tomorrow? She didn't want him travelling this late in the day, and Kendra might be more open after a good night's sleep. Where would the good night's sleep be, however?

"Come in at least," says Emma, locating her key to the house.

Emma unlocks the door, spying Hannah and Lia in the living room. Lia's viewing some awards program, as Hannah combs a tuft of hair on her teddy bear's head.

"Thanks," says Kendra, carrying her suitcase into the foyer.

"Who's there?" calls Lia, jumping up from the couch.

"Emma...Emma and a friend," calls back Emma.

"This house is getting popular," observes Hannah. "Be with you in a sec, Emma. I'm combing."

Kendra provides Emma with a grateful smile, which unsettles Emma a little. If Kendra knew that she was calling Spin soon, she wouldn't smile.

"Oh, a random stranger," says Lia, twirling a lock of her red hair. "This isn't another of Manny's friends, is it?"

"Definitely not," mumbles Kendra, loud enough to hear.

Emma rubs her neck, pretending she didn't pick up the remark. She's somewhat surprised to see a smirk cross Lia's countenance.

"This is Kendra," explains Emma. "Uh, we're trying to find a place for her?"

"Really?" says Lia. "Bad family sitch? Rebel on the run? Or are they merely redecorating?"

"Rather not say," replies Emma.

"Kendra...name sounds familiar," says Lia, letting her hair go. "Wow...you're...you're Toby's ex!"

Ugh, there's no stopping what flows from Lia's mouth. Complete opposite from Hannah, whose every word has a sweetness to it.

"That's me," says Kendra, gazing past Lia sadly.

"And you don't have a place to stay?" questions Lia.

"Right," confesses Kendra.

"Are there any area hotels?" suggests Emma. "I could use some of my earnings to..."

"Nonsense!" interjects Lia. "Finding a hotel room...so not doable for the week of a holiday. Besides, Kendra's a classy lady and she's distraught."

Well, Emma would stay with her, if the situation called for it. Although, based on the smirk that hasn't left Lia's lips, something tells her this serves her purpose more than Kendra's. Manny did tell her that Lia isn't who she seems.

"What's your suggestion?" demands Emma.

"She'll bunk with you...here," answers Lia.

"Lia!" exclaims Emma. "I...don't think that's best. I mean, Manny..."

The other two girls glare at Emma, Emma letting her head fall. Kendra staying here would really get to Manny, despite the fact that Toby's been nothing but loyal. Manny's already fragile because of Anne Marie. She can already feel the added tension.

"Daddy's away on business," says Lia to Kendra. "Shouldn't be a problem. I'll get you a sleeping bag."

Lia brushes past Emma, climbing the staircase. This is so partly my fault, thinks Emma. She brought Kendra into the house, posed the question, but she didn't arrange it.

"Where's Manny?" asks Kendra.

"Prepping for an audition," replies Emma, half-lying to her new roommate.

"Perfect timing then," says Kendra.

V.

Manny asks herself why she's still in the lobby. The map of the building clearly states that New Diamond Talent Agency is on the fourth floor. She went through security, which took a good five minutes, but she hasn't actually entered the elevator to take her there...not yet. What's that saying? Easier said than done. Technically, she didn't tell Emma or anyone anything, so perhaps that doesn't apply. Nevertheless, she ran a few scenarios in her head, every scenario ending with Anne Marie giving her this blank look where Manny couldn't understand her expression. She could always read Toby's. His mom? A toss-up.

Well, if she doesn't get moving, Blake will be here before she knows it, and nothing will be accomplished. Manny presses the number 4, shakes herself when the door clatters open. As the doors close on her, she at least settles on a greeting: Hello. Polite, yet distant. The elevator parts on the fourth floor, Manny's mouth dropping.

She's been to two agencies– Bernice Fine and Bluewave. They were pretty standard when it came to decor. Black and white photographs of their clients were hung on the walls, whereas here there are a row of monitors Manny passes, showing actual clips of the talented kids. A young actress dodges a sling of bullets in the monitor nearest Manny, delivers a sarcastic catchphrase before a van far away explodes. Then, her name appeared at the bottom of the screen. The hall is long with dimmed light, Manny making out a desk at the end, with an attractive brunette talking fast on a phone. Above her in gold-plated letters was the name, New Diamond, and several, expensive plaques. To the right of the desk stood a glass case, with a reel of film and an inscription, Manny believing it to be some type of historical item. To the left is a fax machine, copier, and water cooler. There are several offices past the desk, where Manny guesses Anne Marie is, not taking calls.

"Hold, please...yes, she's unavailable," says her secretary, adjusting her glasses. "Incredibly busy...yes, we can arrange that. Hold, please."

The secretary releases a slight moan, strokes her forehead. Manny stares at her, empathetically, awkwardly stands a few inches away from the desk.

"Ah!" cries the secretary, upon viewing Manny. "You kids...just pop out of nowhere!"

"I...sorry," says Manny, putting on her best smile.

"Mmmm," brushes off her secretary, retrieving a piece of gum from her drawer. "This... such a bad habit. Piece?"

"No thanks," replies Manny.

"If I didn't chew, I'd be grinding my teeth, I know it," mutters the secretary. "Alright. You're the new find...Kimber, right?"

"Actually, I'm Manny," she corrects.

"Wait, weren't you in a movie?" says the secretary. "Like...a comedy?"

"Yes..."

"Finally a yes!"

Alright, I'm not making any strides, thinks Manny. Time to suck it up and demand to see Anne Marie.

"Here for new representation then?" asks the secretary.

"No," insists Manny. "I'm here to..."

"Can't grant you a meeting then," interrupts the secretary. "Ms. Isaacs is very busy."

Too busy, laments Manny, inwardly. This isn't fair. How come she can never contact this woman? And she made this special trip before her audition? I'm not leaving.

"Tell her I'm here on Toby business," says Manny, folding her arms.

"Toby?" says the secretary. "Wait, you're the girlfriend I called. Awww, he's so sweet. I haven't met him, but I handle her schedule so I hear all these things about him. His e-mails make her day. So much I don't have to...you know, chew like a cow."

The secretary blows a bubble, obviously wanting Manny to go further into detail. Better talk fast.

"It'd mean a lot to Toby if we talked," assures Manny. "And Toby rarely asks for anything. He...he asked me to come personally."

"He did?" says the secretary, narrowing her eyes. "For real?"

"For real," lies Manny, barely able to say the words. "I would hate...hate for Toby to be disappointed."

"Me too," sighs the secretary, glancing at a digital clock. "Alright. You can have ten minutes."

"Thank you!" cries Manny, taking the secretary's hands into hers. "Thank you!"

The secretary grins nervously, watches as Manny goes down the hall. Anne Marie's door is considerably more noticeable. Her name is the largest of the names on the doors, and her title is the biggest. Manny feels her heart pumping, softly knocks on the door.

"Kimber, come in!" calls Anne Marie from the other side.

I'm no Kimber, thinks Manny. But I am someone who deserves an iota of respect. Manny pushes through.

The room is spacious, at a perfect temperature, holding an array of different pieces of plush red and wooden furniture. It set off Anne Marie's hair nicely, her mane free today, and hanging over a navy business suit. Her own personal desk is glass, holding a computer, writing utensils, business cards, and Toby's grade eleven, school portrait. Manny has that one too, a wallet-size. Behind her were various pictures of her clients, including a wide-eyed blonde with Scorcese, and Julia Roberts hugging a blonde boy in a plaid shirt.

Anne Marie is writing, so to Manny's relief, she hasn't seen her yet.

"Kimber, called you in to discuss damage control...," starts Anne Marie, looking at Manny, her voice fading.

Manny lifts her knee a hair, plays with her skirt. Don't fidget, she tells herself.

"Hello?" says Manny.

"Manny!" greets Anne Marie, with a forced smile. "Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"Yes, I...I did," replies Manny, sheepishly.

"Well, I at least knew you'd like the rolls," jokes Anne Marie. "What'd you have? The calamari?"

"That's...that's what they recommended," says Manny, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"It's the best," says Anne Marie. "Coffee?"

I don't even drink coffee, thinks Manny, nodding anyway. Anne Marie rises, fetches a cup for her, and begins pouring. The sound of the coffee hitting the bottom is the loudest in the world. Why hasn't she said anything of value yet? So far, they'd talked about...fish? Manny rolls her eyes. Stupid Santos, she condemns herself.

"There we go," says Anne Marie, walking to her.

Sweet-smelling perfume is left in her wake as she goes back to her desk, takes a seat.

"Um...Emma and I...we were expecting you," confesses Manny.

"Honestly?"replies Anne Marie, eyebrows rising. "I'm quite busy, Manny. The film business is fast-paced during the summer holidays. Sure you understand. You..._act_."

Manny bristles. The last word is delivered with so much malice Manny can scarcely believe this woman is a casting director.

"But I see nothing wrong with treating Toby's special friend," continues Anne Marie.

Anne Marie grins, resumes writing as Manny lowers herself in a chair. Special friend, eh? No, that's not what I am.

"As I said, I'm extremely busy, Manny," says Anne Marie, her grin disappearing.

"Tell me, Ms. Isaacs, do all the no talent actresses you associate with order the calamari?" asks Manny. "Or maybe it was recommended to me because I'm..._special_, was it?"

"Pardon?" replies Anne Marie.

"I may not be as smart as your son, but I am not a fool," says Manny, tersely. "I found what you did rather rude."

Anne Marie smirks. "Do I tell you how to conduct your business affairs?"

"This was a _personal _affair," replies Manny, standing. "I am dating Toby."

Anne Marie leaves her chair as well, Manny's skin glowing pink. Things were getting a tad heated, the perfect temperature of the room increasing.

"I do not appreciate your tone, young lady," says Anne Marie, walking to the side of her desk. "First, you come into my home, disrespecting me. Then, you disrespect me to my face?"

In her home? Oh, the day of the bath incident. Okay, she knew that might come back to haunt her, though she didn't think it'd be in this way.

"Apologies for my past indiscretions," says Manny, gulping. "But Toby and I..."

"Toby and you?" laughs Anne Marie. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around that, for the life of me. He's cultured, considerate, near angelic...and you? Well, I find you a little lost."

"Excuse me?" exclaims Manny.

"The way you carry yourself," says Anne Marie. "I see a lot of girls come through here, lost souls that have no clear concept of reality, so they take and take, and are left empty...stranded. Value system somewhat skewed. It's sad. They don't know who they are."

"I do...I do know...," stammers Manny, unable to complete the sentence.

"And Toby? Well, he's so attracted to you, probably increased by this vulnerability. The damsel in distress. Wasn't surprised at all to see you crying in his arms, eager for his attention."

Manny closes her eyes, desperate to leave. Hadn't she told Emma some of the same things, thought those things on the way to see Toby? That she hasn't found her place after leaving home? That she doesn't know who she is? Still doesn't change that it hurts her to hear the truth. And frankly, at this moment, she can't resist calling Anne Marie out, too.

"At least I give Toby attention back," breathes Manny, staring at her.

That declaration stung, Manny viewing Anne Marie's entire stony expression caving in, her lips trembling. Manny hated saying it, despite the fact that it's just as cold a truth, and it's not like Toby didn't deserve her attention, either.

"I arranged a lovely interview with...," begins Anne Marie.

"Personally speaking, nothing beats quality time," interrupts Manny. "Like real quality time."

Anne Marie goes to her, stares directly into her face. Beneath the current iciness, Anne Marie truly is one of the most beautiful women she's seen since arriving in L.A.

"You are not a hard-working mom, so I don't know where you get off," whispers Anne Marie. "It's easy for a girlfriend who lives in the same town."

"I'm someone who's amazingly in love with your son," says Manny, clearly. "Toby feels very distant from you...if you could just..."

"My son is fine, Ms. Santos," says Anne Marie, coldly. "I'm a little sick of these insinuations from a girl with no vested interest in him."

"I have been waiting and waiting for a guy like him," argues Manny. " Were you or were you not at Confirmation, when you saw what we had to go through?"

"How come you hanging around him always gets in trouble, now that you mention it? Getting pushed, stealing cars..."

"Please!" cries Manny. "Like I'm the cause of all that? Gosh! Maybe if you read his speech, you'd think otherwise."

Manny digs furiously in her clutch, retrieves the piece of paper. Anne Marie begrudgingly takes it. However, she isn't reading, Manny staring at her, frustrated.

"Reading that would take a hot minute...you know, since you're so busy," says Manny, shrugging.

"What agency are you with?" asks Anne Marie.

"What?" balks Manny.

"Because I know scads of people in Hollywood, if that's what you're really after," says Anne Marie, looking Manny up and down.

"Unbelievable," mumbles Manny, heading for the door.

This has to be the worst conversation she's had since her father discovered the papers from the clinic. No matter what she said, it went right through Anne Marie's ears. This explains a lot of Toby's resentment, that's for sure. Or maybe she shouldn't judge, casting a sad look in Anne Marie's direction. Then again, Anne Marie judged her, consistently.

"Half of those things I didn't mean to say," admits Manny, Anne Marie's expression softening. "Sorry."

"Well, you said them," whispers Anne Marie.

"Have you...ever like...like grown so tired of defending who you are, what you want, who you want?" says Manny, releasing the doorknob. "Particularly who you want the most. Especially when...when the guy's so willing...so willing to love you."

"What are you trying to say exactly?" sighs Anne Marie.

"That I'd fight for your son...the most," replies Manny.

Anne Marie clears her throat, plays with her earring. That's what Manny did, in the cab, afraid to face the unfamiliar. Wow, something in common, with their differences in opinion.

"I'd like you to leave," says Anne Marie, turning her back to Manny.

"Yeah," says Manny, pushing through the door. "I figured."


	35. I'm Still Here

**XXXV. I'm Still Here **

I am a question to the world  
Not an answer to be heard  
Or a moment that's held in your arms

And what do you think you'd ever say  
I won't listen anyway  
You don't know me  
And I'll never be what you want  
Me to be

And what  
Do you think you'd understand  
I'm boy, no, I'm a man  
You can't take me  
And throw me away

And how  
Can you learn what's never shown  
Yeah, you stand here on your own  
They don't know me  
'Cause I'm not here

And I want a moment to be real  
Want to touch things I don't feel  
Wanna hold on and feel I belong

And how can the world want me to change  
They're the ones that stay the same  
They don't know me  
'Cause I'm not here

And you see the things they never see  
All you wanted - I could be  
Now you know me  
And I'm not afraid

And I want to tell you who I am  
Can you help me be a man  
They can't break me  
As long as I know who I am

And how can the world want me to changeThey're the ones that stay the same  
They can't see me  
But I'm still here

They can't tell me who to be  
'Cause I'm not what they see  
Yeah, the world is still sleepin' while I keep on dreaming for me  
And their words are just whispers and lies that I'll never believe

And how can you say I'll never change  
They're the ones that stay the same  
I'm the one now  
'Cause I'm still here

I'm the one  
'Cause I'm still here  
I'm still here  
I'm still here  
I'm still here

**I'm Still Here is the property of Johnny Rzeznik and appears in the film _Treasure Planet._ **

This Way is the property of Jewel.

"Is it pronounced Rodeo or Ro-day-o?" inquires J.T., shaking a pair of cufflinks in his fist like a pair of dice.****

A saleslady, dressed in an immaculate black pantsuit, rushes to J.T., retrieves the cufflinks with a huff. J.T. looks nonplussed, goes to the nearby cheese tray on the counter. If pins and needles weren't sticking into every inch of the clothing he's wearing, Toby would do the same. Comfort seems like some distant dream. 

"I'm still trying to say Versace right," answers Toby. "Why...isn't it Ver-sace, like the "sace" is pronounced like lace?"

Their discussion on the mildly interesting names of fashion is halted by a tailor yanking Toby's arm to the side, inserting a pin into the black tuxedo jacket. Toby winces at his reflection in the mirror. Honestly, the tux didn't look too shabby, and it's better than any semi-formal suit he's worn. But when his mom called earlier, and gave them directions to Versace for a fitting, he was way too tired to appreciate it. Plus, he didn't get why they couldn't have gotten a good tuxedo at a less expensive place. He mentioned that to J.T., who agreed, but then J.T. reminded him that this ball was being held at one of the most famous hotels in the country. Toby couldn't argue with that.

Toby yawns, which he knows is rude, although the tailor doesn't seem to mind. The reason why he was so tired...he didn't tell J.T. He tossed and tossed in his bed up until three o' clock, wandering where Kendra went, feeling the guilt in his gut. Then, another wave would hit, where he'd feel guilty about having to tell Manny about the kiss at Tomorrowland. His face looked haggard.

"You look wonderful!" proclaims the manager of the store, clapping his hands, with many golden rings on his fingers.

Milan, another close personal friend of his mother's. He has the shiniest hair Toby's ever seen, and wears an all-black suit, more sporty than formal.

"Um, I'm not sure where to put my wallet," admits Toby.

"Unbutton it!" orders Milan, snapping at the tailor with annoyance. "Unbutton...unbutton..unbutton!"

The tailor nervously obeys, opening the jacket. Sure enough, there's a nice inside pocket to carry his wallet. Heh.

"Uh...neat," says Toby. "Can I have some cheese?"

"Yes," sighs Milan, happily, then yelling at the tailor. "He said go!"

Scampering off, the tailor bumps into a young woman carrying another cheese tray. J.T. hasn't managed to devour the first one, so they really didn't need another. Neither of them has time to protest, the woman setting it next to the other one, and walking away in a flash.

"Is your mom coming?" asks Milan.

"Yeah, she called and will be here in twenty minutes, I think," supplies Toby.

"Excellent!" cries Milan, smirking.

He walks to the front of the store, and Toby sighs with relief. Who knew getting waited on hand and foot would be so mentally exhausting? J.T. laughs.

"You should totally be milking this, Tobes," says J.T.

"I'm not even hungry," admits Toby. "I just wanted to stop being poked. Not to mention I don't know if Manny's going or not."

"So you'll have a fresh suit, regardless," points out J.T. "Mmm, cheese. The food of love."

"If Liberty was here, you guys would go through this in no time, just like at prom," kids Toby. "Or you would."

"I let her eat most of it," defends J.T. "Hey, at least I wasn't clutching Manny for dear life that year."

"Touche," returns Toby, pushing J.T. lightly.

A not so secret part of him would like to take Manny to this ball, because one, she deserves it, and two, it'd be a nice chance for Anne Marie and Manny to get along. His mother announced she was planning on attending, take up the invite that was sent to the top executives in the business. Toby is well aware she may be going simply to network, but that doesn't mean she can't socialize with Manny. Of course, this may be wishful thinking after Toby tells Manny about Kendra.

Toby rubs his eyes, reaches for a piece of cheese.

"Why are you so tired?" asks J.T. "Oh...oh, no, Toby! You're worried..."

"About Kendra? Yeah," finishes Toby. "She's sad and I have no idea where she is."

"And Manny?"

"Have no idea where she is, either," shares Toby. "I dial her cell and no answer. Maybe she's at the theater."

"This is getting a little tiring," sighs J.T., shaking his head. "Kendra or Manny. Manny or Kendra. You can't keep playing ping pong with who to protect."

"It's not that simple," insists Toby.

"Yes, it is!" cries J.T. "Who are you in love with?"

"Not a matter of love," argues Toby. "Or...or maybe it is. I'm not sure."

He isn't. Being with Kendra brings on this sudden softness, and despite the bad Sam incident, all the coldness he could show her never truly remains. She said that she understood him, and he can't deny that. There were loads of memories he wouldn't take back, memories before Manny walked in the video store and everything changed. Wasn't there a reason that Toby didn't go for Clara or any other girl seriously when Kendra dumped him? That's a two-year wait, and with Kendra returning, half of the things he's doing confuses him. Isn't this how it started with Manny actually? Doing sweet things without thinking? It's like a weird reversal he can't get a handle on.

"Sometimes with Kendra, I can't think clearly," says Toby.

"Well, do you get...uh, butterflies or anything?" says J.T. "Goosebumps? Sweaty palms?"

"Sweaty palms...once," confesses Toby. "Nothing else."

"Mmmm, tough to call," mumbles J.T.

"With Manny, though...I like that I can't think clearly," shares Toby, turning red.

"That's it then!"exclaims J.T., startling the saleslady passing them.

J.T. guides Toby to a row of chairs in the center of the store, Toby grateful they're the only customers and that Anne Marie has yet to show.

"There's a difference between loving someone, and being in love with someone," clarifies J.T., glancing around. "It's like a mild potato chip and a spicy potato chip."

"Not another comparison," groans Toby.

"Hey, you're lucky my advice button has been pushed again, mkay?" says J.T. "All I'm saying is that if you love someone, and aren't in love with them, you'll know. That true for Kendra?"

The glass door of Versace springs open, the tailor immediately collecting Anne Marie's handbag and valet slip when she comes through. Toby notes that her demeanor isn't as cheerful as usual, believes it's due to some botched meeting.

"Toby, J.T...treating you well?" questions Anne Marie.

"Yes, ma'am," replies J.T., standing with Toby.

"This suit!" exclaims Anne Marie, a smile finally making its way to her mouth.

She takes Toby's hand, spins him in a circle. The whole gesture makes him self-conscious, but he goes along with it since she's paying. Though full of pins, the black jacket, and the white dress shirt were quite stylish under the store's florescent lights.

"Atticus Finch!" praises Milan, coming forward. "That's what I call him...with the glasses?"

"I most definitely concur," says Anne Marie, shaking her head in awe. "One of the most handsome men in film history."

"Who?" prompts J.T.

"_To Kill A Mockingbird_, dear," provides Anne Marie. "Milan, a mineral water?"

"Ah!" says Milan, hurrying to bother one of his employees.

J.T. resumes lounging in a chair, Toby walking to his mother. This would be a great time to thank her. He could only imagine the cost.

"Mom, thanks for this," says Toby, earnestly.

"Oh, it's no big deal," waves off Anne Marie, avoiding looking at him.

Hmmm, this is the first time she's been off-standish with him after their nice conversation at Disneyland. Did he do something wrong?

"And I appreciate...you know, what you said at the park," continues Toby. "It was cool hearing about your life."

"My history isn't so grand," demurs Anne Marie, refolding a beautiful grey scarf.

"Then, of course, you saying you'd make amends with Manny...that was the best," says Toby, glancing at the floor. "That meant a lot to me."

Anne Marie licks her red lips, stares into space, leaves his side.

"Milan, we'll be taking this scarf, too!" exclaims Anne Marie.

"Yes, Ms. Isaacs," says Milan, politely, then shouting throughout the store. "Get a box!"

J.T. covers his ears, while Toby laughs, and goes to where the saleslady put their things. He could try Manny on her cell again, hint that he'd bought something really grand for a special night. Too bad his jeans are harder to reach, his mother's purse tumbling to the floor. Toby rolls his eyes. Of course, he's the klutz in one of the most expensive stores in the country. Luckily, not too many things have spilled out, her lipstick, a spare pair of earrings, and a piece of paper.

The piece of paper holds Manny's handwriting, though. Weird. It's the address to his mother's work. More weird. Toby unfolds it, instantly recognizing his own pain-staking speech. He's never given his mother a copy.

"Mom, where'd you get this?" asks Toby, waving the paper at her.

Anne Marie stares at him, hesitantly, and her heels clatter on the wood floor as she approaches.

"Firm believer in honesty," says Anne Marie. "I met with Manny two hours ago."

Without him? Eh, he figured his mother would've mentioned that, or invited him, seeing as Toby basically had to act as the mediator the first time they met.

"Why?" says Toby.

"Well, she stormed into my office, to be direct," says Anne Marie, shrugging. "Hollering and carrying on..."

"That doesn't sound like Manny," interrupts Toby.

"She used your name for clearance. That's what Donna told me," shares Anne Marie.

"Wait," says Toby. "I haven't been in contact with her since yesterday. Why would she contact you or Donna, and not me?"

"I did exactly as I promised," explains Anne Marie. "Made amends. Treated her and a friend to lunch, and she was so ungrateful..."

"Was she upset at lunch or..."

"Toby, I was very busy."

Toby's mouth drops. "You didn't go?"

"Sweetheart, it was very difficult for me to get away," defends Anne Marie. "And Manny's schedule is so inconsistent..."

"No, it's not!" yells Toby. "This is how you make amends?"

Anne Marie blushes. "It was convenient for the both of us."

"She isn't worth half an hour?" exclaims Toby. "How can you make amends if you don't talk to her?"

"The mere fact that I paid for two expensive meals at one of the best restaurants in the city is a clear indication that...," starts Anne Marie.

"That you still don't get it," finishes Toby for her.

Hurriedly going to J.T., he begins to wrest off the jacket, J.T. helping him as best he can. He has to find Manny, apologize for a mother that he can barely stand to be around in the present moment. She can't possibly think this is right.

"Toby, you're ruining the tailor's alterations," sighs Anne Marie, taking his arm.

"I don't care!" shouts Toby. "About this suit...your excuses...anything!"

"You're upset...okay," says Anne Marie, taking a deep breath. "Toby, please just listen..."

Toby throws down the jacket, making Milan groan with agony. Who cares about the stupid suit? He doesn't want it, or whatever else his mother offers. They were all empty, uncomfortable things, things that didn't draw him any closer to her.

"When you don't spend time with people...it really hurts," says Toby, coldly.

As he unbuttons the shirt, Anne Marie's lips quake, one hand smoothing hair that has fallen in her face. It's a sadder expression he used to see, when they weren't strangers, when they were better.

"I spent time with you and your father, before things got rocky," whispers Anne Marie. "Being reminded of what I lost...that really hurts, too."

It's a declaration he was expecting for awhile, though he didn't think it'd come here of all places, in this situation. He knew very well that being around Jeff and Kate hurt his mom, and that he himself might've reminded her of the divorce. But that can't last forever. Or she might wind up losing him as well.

"Manny actually told me something similar," says Anne Marie, her voice wavering. "That you...you felt distant."

"Not distant enough," whispers Toby, sarcastically.

He tosses the shirt near her shoes, grabs his street clothes and heads for the dressing room.

II.

The amount of spindles on the table has decreased in size. That was the first thing Sean noticed upon entering the shack today, wiping raindrops that had fallen on his forehead. Today is grim, cold, but today's the first day he hasn't shaken his head before entering Dale's establishment. He doesn't know whether that's a good or a bad thing. Most people would say bad, that this place has worked its way into his routine so much that he isn't considering the consequences anymore. Others, very few, would say good, because of what's in his grip. Ty would say it's a good thing.

"That it?" asks Ty, rising from his traditional stool.

Emmitt and a couple other guys raise their eyebrows, clearly still not used to hearing Ty talk at length.

"Burrito," says Sean, delivering what he promised.

Ty tenderly takes it. "Thanks, man."

"Better than a meal of Twizzlers?" kids Sean.

"We'll see," says Ty, biting into the burrito.

After their trip to the Dot, Ty's whole face became relaxed, and without any prompt from Sean, he became more apt to speak on the way back. What mainly made up his speech was what kind of food he hasn't had in so long. Sean made it a point not to pry. When they returned, Dale was waiting in the doorway of the office building, the building Sean has yet to enter. Dale looked skinner with the sun setting, instantly indicated for Ty to go into the building and not the shack. What followed was the ugliest grimace from Dale Sean has received.

"Best on Degrassi Street," assures Sean. "Emmitt...guys."

The other boys remain silent, odd, especially for Emmitt, who is usually loud. They had something against Ty getting a burrito? Or maybe they wanted one?

"Short on spindles?" he asks Emmitt.

"Yeah!" answers the most disgusting voice in the room.

All the boys and Sean face Dale, baggy black T-shirt and jeans covering his form. His ponytail, for once, is decent and not ratty.

"Come here, Cameron," says Dale.

Sean swallows a lump in his throat, trying to push down words he'd love to say, that would get him fired at this job too.

"What?" says Sean, standing near him.

"The stupidest thing you could do is try and take over my territory," whispers Dale, bending down to Sean's ear. "Got me?"

Take over his territory? Like he desired to take anything of Dale's? He must be crazy.

"No...I don't," mumbles Sean.

"Where'd you go with Ty?" demands Dale, louder, so everyone can hear.

"To a restaurant," replies Sean. "He can't eat or something?"

Glancing feverishly at the other workers, Dale yanks Sean by the jacket collar, Sean feeling the weight of his arm and grabbing at it without totally being aware. Despite his skinny appearance, Dale is able to get Sean outside, the other boys and Ty staring at them from behind a window. The rain has created a muddier ground, Sean's shoes squelching.

"Ty is not to be messed with!" whispers Dale, urgently.

"He's a kid," says Sean, quietly.

"He tell you?"

"Told me nothing."

Dale releases Sean, Sean staggering backward before gaining his footing. The colors of their respective cheeks are revealing as any words, Sean's pale and Dale's a vibrant red. Sean steps towards Dale.

"What's wrong with him?" whispers Sean.

"What's wrong with you?" returns Dale.

"Obvious why you're so protective of him!" shouts Sean. "So you can get more money...get more clients..."

"Shut up!" shouts Dale, shoving him hard into the mud.

Sean winces, watches cold mud seep into his shirt, onto his skin. It's sticky in his hair. Cursing under his breath, Sean props himself to a sitting position, glares at Dale. He'd love to fight, throttle him like he did at Hill's, but that got him in trouble and he still, unfortunately, needs cash.

"Think you got all the info," says Dale, spitting at Sean's feet.

"I don't," moans Sean. "Only...only know that...you have a smart kid that's not in school."

"Then he's like a lot of kids," shrugs Dale.

"No, that's the thing," says Sean, rising slowly. "He's not like a lot of kids."

"If you tell...," whispers Dale, menacingly.

Dale makes a fist, extends two fingers, making the shape of a pistol. Sean notices the other boys run away from the window, Ty remaining. Sean's sweating, a bit, on the back of his neck, won't let Ty see.

"He can't go to school during the day?" asks Sean.

"Shut up!" repeats Dale. "I'm so sick of your rebel with a cause act. Time I put you in your place."

"Like how?" says Sean, smirking.

"Spindles," says Dale, quickly. "I want...a shiny...relatively new...Acura spindle. One of my buyers been asking for awhile."

"Sure," remarks Sean. "Carry them on me."

"Trailer trash, I meant from that Kerwin car," clarifies Dale. "Record says you were working on it. Dad hasn't seen the money."

"She's paying me tomorrow," says Sean.

"Perfect opportunity," says Dale.

Heh, that's impossible. He returned the keys to Kate after he took Ty to the shack. No doing, Dale.

"Don't have the keys," says Sean.

"Get 'em or I'll get you," promises Dale, tapping his belt.

"No," says Sean, strongly.

"Or I'll get someone close to you," adds Dale. "Ellie...Jay. Haven't decided yet."

Scowling, Sean's whole body grows heated, the most intense heat he's ever felt. He'd kill Dale. It's one thing to push him in the mud, and it's completely another to threaten people he cares for.

"You don't go near them," says Sean through gritted teeth.

"You interfered with someone I care about," says Dale, nodding at Ty, who then disappears. "Get the spindle."

Dale smiles widely, especially when Ty, Emmitt, and the other boys cram to view them again. They all stare at Dale, whispering amongst themselves.

"Remember I said this would earn you respect?" laughs Dale. "Guess who they respect more now?"

Sean shakes with anger as Dale retreats to the shack, staring at the sky as the rain falls without delay.

III.

Pinecrest Studios is five times larger than Degrassi. In fact, Manny wagers that the satellites dishes on top of the roof are larger than half the caf. Other buildings in California have been intimidating, including the Majestic theater, and she became accustomed to that. However, with the hard, grey exterior, and the movie lot behind her, getting that acclimated so fast seems like a real chore. Blake told her they were filming a new version of a classic Western, a stagecoach erected in the center, with fake tumbleweeds moving along in the light summer wind. It felt like a fantasy passing by it, and once they got to the actual studio, everything came across as modern in comparison.

The door to the studio is the only non-scary part of it. Manny pauses as Blake walks ahead of her.

"Can't do the audition without being inside," teases Blake, returning to Manny.

"Um, I'm not in a good mindset," admits Manny.

Boy is that the understatement of the year. How can anyone be in the right mindset when they were publicly degraded two hours ago by one of the best casting directors in L.A., let alone the mother of your boyfriend? Blake reasoned there was something wrong, let Manny stew in silence during the drive.

"Look, you got this in the bag, Manny," says Blake. "You're the most natural actress at Majestic, you're charming, and...you're pretty."

"That last one makes a difference?" says Manny.

"Never hurts," replies Blake, grabbing her hand.

They trudge up the stairs, knock on the door, which is immediately answered. For a few moments all Manny can see is darkness, and then a light flickers on, and she breathes deeply. Wow, an actual soundstage, praises Manny, inwardly. She hasn't seen a non-Degrassi soundstage before and she can't help but feel she's been missing out. Lights hung above a domestic-styled set, with a living room of pea-green and white furniture. While it isn't the most attractive furniture, it gleams as if were brand new, and there were a cute pieces, a glass armoire and a grandfather clock hanging over a couch. In front of the stage stands a man and a woman, talking in between gulps of bottled water. Manny reasons they're the casting agents by their less than formal dress. Seated in chairs opposite her and Blake are more than fifteen girls, all her age, all quite striking in appearance. She would've thought she were entering auditions for a beauty pageant, something she had experience in, if it weren't for one glaring reality.

"This like a Filipino convention or something?" jokes Manny, glancing at Blake.

"Funny," mutters Blake, leading her to the group.

It's true, however. All the teenage girls are Filipina, in varying degrees of dress. Some, like Manny, were in dressier clothing, and others were in casual wear.

"I'll swoop by later," promises Blake.

"Blake...," begins Manny.

She goes unheard, Blake passing the agents and waving to Manny before he exits. Manny puts a hand over her brow locking her eyes on the set. What kind of scene called for this setting? Maybe a family comedy? She could pull that off, no problem. Or at least, she hopes so.

"Hi," says the girl to her left.

Petite shoulders clothed by a multi-colored shawl, the girl has luminous, brown eyes and very light skin, lighter than hers at least. Under the shawl, she wears a denim miniskirt and a fitted blue top. Her dark hair hangs in waves over the yellow, orange, and red wool, legs dangling.

"Um, hi," greets Manny. "Nervous?"

"Always," shares the girl. "These parts are hard to come by."

"Right...Pinecrest," whispers Manny.

"Anywhere, actually," breathes the girl. "Done like three guest spots on TV. A couple indie films, and I've yet to be personally invited to a reading until today."

"Yikes," says Manny.

Okay, this actress has more experience than her, and is as pretty, if not prettier, than her. Manny lets her head fall.

"One movie here," says Manny, raising her hand awkwardly.

"That's fine...all depends if you can embody the part," soothes the girl.

"My drama camp teacher said I was good at that," says Manny, more cheerfully. "Your resume beats mine, though."

"Course it's harder on us," assures the girl, warmly staring at the other girls. "Elena."

"I'm Manny. What do you mean?" asks Manny, doing the same.

"Well, how many scripts for Pinoy actresses are there?" replies Elena.

Manny shifts in her seat, forehead creasing. Scripts for Pinoys? Why would she say that? They were doing a cold reading for a major movie. A script is a script. Then, she feels dumb. This movie must involve Filipino culture. That would make her parents and J.J. so proud, and what a role to begin her L.A. career with. It sounds serious, like she can truly test her wings.

"Not many," acknowledges Manny. "Great thing we..."

"That's why we have to start off with these parts," sighs Elena, adjusting her shawl. "Take what you can get."

"Saying I know way too well," agrees Manny.

"Cold in here," complains Elena.

"With that pretty shawl? Honestly?" balks Manny.

Elena giggles. "Made in Filipinotown. Volunteered at this mission. They can sew anything in a few hours. Those women were miraculous."

"Have nothing like that...it's beautiful," compliments Manny.

"My acting good luck charm," whispers Elena. "Reminds me not to get too far away from myself. Know what I mean?"

No, thinks Manny, creasing down her hair as the stage lights go up, highlighting herself and all the girls vying for the role. The two agents she sees earlier are clearer, greeted by the girls' applause.

"Thank you, thank you," says the man, silencing their applause.

He's near balding, with a slight smile, and a red sports jacket. The woman has strawberry blonde hair and taps her lips with a jewel-encrusted pen. Their eyes scan the girls, and they do a collective "hmmm."

"Third row, thanks for coming today, but we won't be needing your services," announces the man.

"Yes...yes, good night," adds the woman.

Manny glances behind her, watches the girls stand. That's it? They didn't read the script yet. Maybe they did before she got there. She checks for Elena's expression, and her newfound associate isn't at all surprised. The young women pass the agents, the female agent grimacing behind them as the doors clatter when they've all left.

"They _so_ had the look we wanted," smirks the female agent, a couple girls to Manny's right giggling.

"We'll start with the auditions," says the man. "Elena Cruz with Vista Agency."

Elena makes the sign of the cross, lowers the shawl onto the back of her chair, and smiles at Manny.

"Good luck," whispers Manny.

Elena straightens her shirt, goes to the soundstage.

"Right near the couch," advises the male agent. "Yes...there...thanks."

The female agent fetches the script, hands it to Elena. Elena glances at the script, takes a few deep breaths.

"Ready," she says.

"The character's young and fresh...funny, too," informs the female agent.

Young, fresh, and funny, catalogues Manny in her mind. So capable of that.

Each agent takes a seat at a set-up table with paperwork and two cups of coffee. Elena nods her understanding.

"Go," instructs the man.

"Why I...I don't know how that got on the floor, ma'am," reads Elena, affecting an exaggerated accent. "I cleaned and cleaned. No...my English isn't that bad, at least not as bad as my husband's."

This is the script? _The _script? She's not hearing these lines, these lines that sound like...like she can't explain how cold they make her feel inside. It's as if her whole body is being pinched, every muscle tensing, every pore throbbing. Manny's heartbeat becomes more rapid.

"The maid agency said you were the best," reads the female agent, staring at Elena.

"I am the best!" insists Elena, her accent heavier. "Like my mother was in Manila. Please don't fire me. Eighteen with no other experience. This is all I know."

Manny tries to hug herself, too frozen to leave. These words...words that can pierce. Her heart flip-flops in pain. She tries to find solace in the other girls, hoping for a shared reaction. No, their faces are blank as they view Elena.

"Well-done," cries the male agent. "Cruz, is it? Do you also speak Spanish?"

"Yes, Mr. Timmons," says Elena.

Timmons? Martika's husband? Though she can't jump to conclusions, Manny wouldn't be surprised.

"Good," says the female agent. "We're unsure if we want Gabbi to be Filipina or Hispanic. Filipina's more avant guarde, don't you think, Roger?"

"Hispanic's more current," says Roger, scratching his nose. "_Ugly Betty_'s proof positive. Go with the flow. Who do we have next?"

"Umm...calling by agency, so...oh, Manny Santos of Pinecrest," replies the female agent.

Manny lets her clutch clatter to the floor, still unable to move. Elena returns to her seat, shakes Manny gently.

"I can't," mouths Manny.

Elena politely smiles at Roger, helps Manny to stand.

"We've got a shy beauty," remarks Roger, motioning for her to go to the stage. "We don't bite. Go on."

Manny takes a step, the first one the hardest, her knee throbbing. Her mom said her knee did that too, whenever she felt anxious. As she passes the table with the agent, she detects a few sentences.

"Kevin Smith's film...did relatively well," whispers the female agent.

"Highly recommended by my wife, too," whispers Roger. "And she's lovely. Press would go ape over her."

"A little fragile, you think?"

"Put her through Pinecrest's PR...easily handled."

Manny glances at them and climbs the stage. She uses as little movement as possible to take the script she's handed, eyes growing teary under the oppressive stage lights. The furniture has become an eyesore, the floor is hard, and she can barely see the people she's supposed to impress.

"This should be easy for you, Manny," comforts Roger. "Start when you're ready."

She isn't ready, hearing the girls shift in their seats, the scratching of pens, the studio settling in the quiet. How could she explain this to anyone?

"What movie is this for?" asks Manny, fumbling with her shirt.

"You weren't told?" says the female agent, rubbing her temple. "Oh, it's a film about this blonde girl named Karen who's training to be the first, female teen wrestler in her high school. Her family's very well-to-do, enough for a few domestic workers, including Gabbi, a young maid."

"She gets quite a number of scenes," adds Roger. "Karen and Gabbi are close."

"Could I...could I read for Karen?" questions Manny. "I've done a couple sports at my school..."

"Manny, we'd have to recast the parents, and...it'd just be tricky," interrupts the female agent. "Gabbi is a prime part. Please...read."

"When you're ready," says Roger.

"Honestly," mutters the female agent, sipping her coffee.

Well, if they'd have to recast the parents...wait, what is she saying? That doesn't change these horrific lines. But...she understands, sort of. Elena's right. How many scripts for Pinoys are there? What if these are the only film roles she has the chance to get? Kevin Smith gave her a bit part because he was at Degrassi, didn't search much further. Then, she blew the Paramount meeting, her other big chance. Manny clears her throat, resisting every urge to cry.

"Why, I don't know how that got on the floor, ma'am," she reads, confidently. "I cleaned and cleaned."

The female agent appears disinterested, to Manny's alarm, surprisingly. She's got to do a better job, because this could be her only job.

"No, my English isn't bad," says Manny, looking from left to right with anxiety, then whispering dramatically. "At least not as bad as my husband's."

A few of the girls in the audience laugh, Roger doing the same.

"The maid agency said you were the best," reads the agent.

"I am the best!" insists Manny, staring straight at Roger. "Like my mother was in Manila."

Manny takes a huge breath, letting the tears come. They were right on cue, real, and she hates the reality of them. Why is she letting this unfold? It's worst than not standing up for herself with Justin, because it's a betrayal, a betrayal of herself, and they're enjoying it. They have to fake like they're enjoying it, that this is them, to get a film role.

"Please don't fire me,," begs Manny, her voice wavering. "Eighteen...without any experience. This...this is all I know."

"Brilliant!" cries Roger, everyone in the huge studio applauding.

"That's how it's done, ladies," compliments the female agent, glancing at the group.

"Do you speak Spanish?" asks Roger, making a few notes.

"No," answers Manny.

Roger raises his head, abruptly.

"I...I speak Tagalong," clarifies Manny. "Not as fluently as my parents."

"What's Tagalong?" asks Roger.

"Oh, it's a language in the Philippines," says the female agent. "Gabbi won't be speaking that, dear. We'll be giving your agent a call, Manny."

Manny nods, gives the script to the next girl they call. She doesn't hear the name, barely hears anything as she takes her seat. With each passing girl, the dialogue becomes more imprinted in her mind, almost like a recording. It becomes more dry, more far away, like a dream, or a nightmare. Elena remains entranced, scoping out her competition. Manny stares at her as Elena stands after the last audition is done.

"Good we can support our sisters," says Elena, adorning her shawl.

"Support them...support them this way?" stammers Manny, blinking madly.

"It's like I said, Manny," replies Elena. "How many well-known Filipina actresses are there?"

"That can like...like change," says Manny, timidly.

"Someday," concedes Elena. "I'd love for it to change, but...today, this is the best way to make a living for what we love to do."

This is a ton to digest, thinks Manny. Alright, she'll give it to Elena that most of the actresses she's seen in the magazines don't look like her, or not forthcoming with their Filipina heritage. But going through this audition seems a hard bargain.

"I felt how you felt at first," confesses Elena, patting Manny's shoulder. "We all do. Pinecrest looks out for us, though. They know who will hire us."

"Fine," breathes Manny, massaging her forehead.

No more talking, she moans. Enough with the talking. She wants to go.

"A great place to relax post-audition that's not too far from here? Hermosa," advises Elena.

It's almost like she read her mind. Plus, it's not like Lia's is a sanctuary after the past couple days.

"Sure," says Manny.

"Have to go home...my parents are expecting me," says Elena. "I'll show you, though."

She realizes she has to tell Blake. Where is Blake? Luckily, he's in the room, parting through the ladies to get to Manny.

"Overheard Roger," whispers Blake. "Very impressed with you and some girl named Elena."

"Eh, actually headed somewhere with her?" says Manny.

"Ditching me?" laughs Blake. "So offended. Nah, as long as you got a ride."

About to speak, Manny's interrupted by some continual buzzing. She looks at her cell, the first moment of genuine happiness crossing her face.

"Toby," explains Manny.

"Yeah...him," says Blake. "See ya."

Manny answers as Blake exits.

"Toby?" she says. "Haven't seen you in awhile. Yeah...I'm heading to Hermosa...you can meet me? Okay...call for exact directions."

As she clicks off, her face falls. Ugh, encountering Toby wouldn't be as pleasant as usual, especially if he was upset with her for going to his mother. He at least has to hear her side of the story, to be fair. Besides, would it be any tougher than this audition? Manny shakes her head.

When she passes the agents' table, both agents talking with Elena, she catches sight of another script. All Karen's lines are highlighted. Manny places her clutch under her arm, flips to a page, any page.

"No one can tell me I'm not strong," reads Manny, her voice barely above a whisper. "That a girl can't do what you think she can't."

Pretty words that she'd never utter onscreen, she thinks, tossing the script on the table. She walks past Elena, the agents, into the warm summer air. Leaning against a stray light, she views the Western set, a lonely tumbleweed wafting past her.

IV.

At last, there's no more restriction. His jeans are loose, his glasses on, and his T-shirt is flapping in the soft, beach breezes. The only thing weighing him down is his backpack, lighter due to all the things he removed. He was in a hurry to leave the house, get in a cab, but didn't want to forget what he went there to get. Hopefully, this will make her smile after such a tough day.

Toby walks along the boardwalk, views the waves rolling to the sand, then back into the ocean. The terra cotta buildings have a stagnant, golden glow, while the volleyball nets across the way are bustling with activity. Palm trees shade his passing. Perhaps that's why two inline skaters nearly bump into him.

"Sorry," they apologize, the teenage couple joining hands as they leave.

He should be looking up, anyway, for Manny. Perhaps it's that stinging guilt that makes him wary to find her. She didn't sound too mad on the phone, more startled that he called, actually. And strangely, this is the longest he hasn't thought of Kendra.

Reaching a row of benches, he pauses, recalls Manny saying something regarding a blue bench near an ice cream stand. He spies her black mane and orange top from there, quickening his steps. She's sitting, head turned towards the sandy beach.

"Manny!" he calls.

He isn't expecting to be greeted with a smile, sighs when he sees that's what he gets.

"Don't tell me you brought your textbooks to the beach!" exclaims Manny, waving.

Toby reaches her, loosening his pack. The smile has remained, though it's one of those smiles that could collapse at any moment. Manny rarely gives those.

"No textbooks," says Toby. "I do, however, have your Disneyland picture."

"Sweet!" cries Manny, a bit too enthusiastically.

He unzips the bag, retrieves the picture and hands it to her. Manny assesses it, pats a spot for Toby to sit with her. Watching her with so many things to say, regarding his mom and Kendra, is this type of crushing torture, like little slaps across his mouth. Instead, Manny plants her lips on his mouth.

"Thanks, baby," she says. "I have something for you."

Manny puts a finger up, turns to her left, and settles a tray holding two ice cream cones into her lap. They were pretty well-hidden or he didn't notice right away, and he's relieved since her surprising him is such a Manny thing to do.

"Vanilla," says Toby, taking his.

"A flavor we both like," says Manny. "Though yours...melting. I couldn't resist. The stand was calling to me."

"Thank you," says Toby, kissing her cheek.

The ice cream is indeed dripping, white cream seeping through his fingers. Toby chuckles.

"Eat, Toby," kids Manny. "It's melting..._melting_..."

They eat, Toby casting an embarrassed glance at Manny as he grows messier and messier. Manny seems to be getting some delight out of it, so he's glad for that.

"You're all clean," laments Toby, cone crumbling in his hand.

"Every lady knows how to eat ice cream," teases Manny, going to fetch him a napkin.

While she's gone, he starts mapping a possible way to bring up today's events. The Anne Marie incident is most immediate, so yeah, better to go there than start a whole new wave of emotions with the kiss. That would be easier.

"Spic and span," says Manny, Toby taking a napkin from her.

"Um...were you at the theater today?" asks Toby.

Great, he punked out. Toby could kick himself.

"No," answers Manny, dropping her gaze.

"Bluewave audition?" says Toby.

"Toby...could we...not mention acting or theater or...drama?" says Manny, softly.

"Are you Manny Santos?" kids Toby, glad to have clean hands.

That elicits a pained grin from her, and yes, he'll drop it. Although, her reaction makes him more antsy than they were at Disney to hear what's wrong. Forcing her to tell him would be bad, especially today. Today. Now's as good a time as any.

"Manny, what my mother did was unforgivable," says Toby, putting an arm around her. "I'm not going to talk to her."

"Toby, you have to talk to your mom," insists Manny, patting his knee.

"She was horrible to you!" cries Toby.

"Don't do anything you regret, okay?" says Manny, closing her eyes.

They remain closed for a full minute, and Toby hears all the sounds around them– the whirr of skates, a helicopter overhead, ice cream being scooped for an impatient toddler.

"Manny, is something the matter?" asks Toby.

"I...I just don't want to talk about huge stuff today," says Manny, looking at him.

"Let's walk," suggests Toby, getting his bag.

Toby rises, holds his hand out to Manny. Manny stares at it, pathetically.

"Please," encourages Toby.

Manny reluctantly takes his hand, and they start down the boardwalk after dumping their trash. Seagulls perch on a nearby stone wall, as a Frisbee soars and hits a full blue trashcan. They pass the paved strip, the first spots of pink in the clouds.

"How come when I'm with you, the view is incredible?" asks Toby, stalling to stroke her hair.

"My beauty rubs off on the beach, obviously," jokes Manny.

For the rest of the evening, he'd believe that. It's not a stretch.

"No one stands up for me like you do, Manny," whispers Toby, staring into her eyes. "You do things I can't...bravest person I know."

"Toby," murmurs Manny, letting her head fall into his chest.

"I'll stand for you, just as strong," assures Toby.

Hopefully, she'll believe that, that it's not a stretch. Manny might, raising her lips to his, kissing him intently. There's no hesitations, no second guessing, nothing but her. It's every kiss he wants, and has had with her.

"Needed to hear that," reveals Manny. "Mmm, your lips are all dairy tasting."

Toby laughs as she drags him further down the street. He stumbles, regains his composure to wrap his arms around her waist. They come to a group of street performers, including a young woman in tattered clothing, patches on her pants, strumming a guitar that's seen brighter days. Brighter days is what he and Manny could use.

"Struggling artists," whispers Manny. "Can relate."

Rather than ask what that means, Toby fetches a couple dollars from his pocket, tosses them in her guitar case. The combination of having a musician for a stepsister, and an actress for a girlfriend probably played on his soft spot. The guitarist isn't soft, playing louder and happier when she sees the dollars. She sings brightly too:

Love be still, love be sweet  
Don't you dare change a thing  
I want to photograph you with my mind  
To feel how i feel now all the time

Toby and Manny exchange a smile, walk to a nearby sandy spot. The sun is growing less visible as it sets, the most visible object in the sky an aquamarine-colored kite skittering above them. The tail flaps as the song continues.

"_Let's go fly a kite_," sings Manny playfully, Toby laughing. "_Up to the highest height..._yeah, not getting paid for my singing."

"We can fly a kite, though," proposes Toby, dropping his bag.

"What are you...," begins Manny.

He jogs to the owner of the kite, a grey-haired gentleman of around fifty-five.

"Excuse me, sir," says Toby. "Would you be willing to sell your kite? No pressure or..."

"Taking this one for its last flight, as a matter of fact," says the man. "You can have her for ten."

"Nice!" says Toby, retrieving the ten and paying him.

Say that you'll stay forever this way  
Forever and forever  
That we'll never have to change  
Don't move, don't breathe  
Don't change, don't leave  
And promise me  
Say you'll stay  
Oh, we'll stay  
This way

Toby returns to Manny, presents the kite with a flourish, Manny clapping her hands.

"You have the face where people cannot say no," says Manny.

"The ten dollars helped," brushes off Toby. "Alright, I've flown...one kite before. Let's see if that amounts to anything."

Toby maneuvers the string, gets it tight, presents it to Manny, who stares at him flabbergasted.

"Have to get a running start," instructs Toby.

"Well, I'm a decent runner," concedes Manny.

They jog through the sand, until Manny releases the kite into the air, at the right moment where the winds of Hermosa catch it, support it. It weaves to the side, grandly, bright blue kite against the twilight.

Don't move, don't breathe  
Don't change, don't leave  
Promise me we'll always be  
The sky's so sweet  
It's good to me  
Promise me we'll always be

"All the good things in the world stay afloat," comments Manny. "Cruise ships, businesses, you and me."

Toby collects her in his arms, making sure not to disturb the kite, still majestic in its flight. They would stay afloat if everything comes together, all the problems fall away. He has to tell her, eliminate one problem, the kiss that shouldn't have happened.

"Manny, I have to tell you...," says Toby.

She isn't listening, as the wind lifts the kite higher, and he's silenced by the change in height, too.

"You make me feel like my feet don't touch the ground," whispers Manny, leading his face to hers.

Toby lets the kiss eat any words that would've killed what she said. Who is he to argue? When he feels the same?

**__**


	36. The Sound of Silence

**XXXVI. The Sound of Silence **

Hello darkness, my old friend  
I've come to talk with you again  
Because a vision softly creeping  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
And the vision that was planted in my brain  
Still remains  
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone  
Narrow streets of cobblestone  
'Neath the halo of a street lamp  
I turn my collar to the cold and damp  
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light  
That split the night  
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw  
Ten thousand people maybe more  
People talking without speaking  
People hearing without listening  
People writing songs that voices never shared  
No one dared  
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools," said I, "you do not know  
Silence like a cancer grows  
Hear my words that I might teach you  
Take my arms that I might reach you"  
But my words like silent raindrops fell  
And echoed in the wells of silence

The Sound of Silence is the property of Simon and Garfunkel and appears in the film _Bobby._

Pearl is the property of Paula Cole.

Ashley was right about the night. Tan buildings with a golden glow shine all around, streetlights remaining stark and steady, as the corners become more crowded and loud. The stage is yards away, though, to her, it seems as distant as Canada is from England. Glowsticks have made their way into the courtyard, green and burning to her blue eyes. A couple posters with her face, make-up heavy and alien, flutter against the cobblestones, image bumping against the rocks.

The camera crew arrived shortly before the show began. All of them had British accents, black T-shirts, and eager hands. So far, they've interviewed Mark, Sarah Lincoln (currently on her second song), Julian, and a few other musicians. It came as no shock that they haven't gotten to her, if they'd even include her after the scathing reviews. Perhaps that's best, being removed from the limelight, because this time, she can really concentrate on the music, play the best to her ability. She was pleasantly surprised when Sarah Lincoln opened with a slower song. The audience truly appreciated it, too, with no calls for dance tunes. Ashley was secretly relieved. A part of her figured that an Oxford audience would be more intellectual, patient, open. Sarah's performance seemingly confirmed this.

From the other side of the audience, she views Craig, chatting with a cameraman taking a break. Craig shifts his gaze, finds her and grins. The sight makes her smile, relax. She has yet to tell him about the reviews, only told him that she told Julian what she was playing tonight. He may've picked up that something was wrong, because he stuck by her until the show, unusual because he typically gave her space to think every day. In any case, she liked the closeness today, the show of support. It meant a lot, especially after receiving both verbal and written disapproval.

"Ashwin!" shouts Aja playfully, joining her in the back of the crowd.

Instinctively, Ashley checks her look from head to toe. Aja left her hair straight again, and thankfully less hair spray. Ashley ditched the pants, going for a dressy black, V-neck blouse and long, denim skirt. It gave her enough shape, and came across as classy. Aja's clothes were definitely wilder, a red, lace bustier top and micromini, mohawk several inches high.

"Please don't call me that," begs Ashley.

"But it's so cute!" teases Aja. "Sounds all androgynous."

Ashley shrugs, stares at the stage. Sarah Lincoln's final song elicits boisterous cheers from the excited concert goers.

"Some people make it look so easy," sighs Ashley.

"Mark?" poses Aja. "Eh, I remember he couldn't pick up a crowd to save his life when we first met."

"Serious?"

"Like a Spice Girl."

They both laugh, Aja removing her grey flask from her purse, the pockets on the side stuffed with stray pins. Ashley always liked that Aja had a stray pin, is less decided about the ever present flask.

"To Ashwin!" toasts Aja, then taking a swig. "You're going to kill tonight."

"I'm more anxious here than I was at my first performance," admits Ashley. "I mean, some of these people are the smartest in the world."

"What? Some of these people are bums," says Aja. "How else you think I got on campus? Don't pee your pants. Have a sip."

Hmmm, lately, she's been sipping a lot, or more than sipping. It's just it's always around, and helps her not to stress too much. The taste isn't horrible to her anymore. In fact, she likes having something coat her throat, that's smooth as a song, sharp and electric to her tongue. She likes momentarily being out of the skin other people don't appreciate, the buzz.

"A sip," concedes Ashley. "I am performing."

Checking to see if anyone's watching, Ashley tilts the flask, the familiar bourbon meeting her taste buds. Ashley shakes herself, widens her eyes.

"Still not used to bourbon," comments Aja, giggling. "Oh, you better shake a leg. You're on next. I'll be next to Craig if you need someone to stare at pensively. I maintain that I'm more interesting to look at than him."

"Not to me. Sorry," kids Ashley, then walking to the stage.

II.

"So I'm totally ditching drama training for kite flying training," announces Manny, absent-mindedly winding the kite tail in her fingers.

Toby nods sympathetically, then tries to identify the street they're on as the cab makes its way to the Andrews house. This would be his last cab ride, his funds consisting of five dollars after this. Eh, he had to run out of cash sooner or later, especially given the miscellaneous expenses. Truly, the only expense he's dreading is the cost of the kiss he hasn't told Manny about. On the way, he kept cataloguing possible conversations in his mind, a couple so exhausting that his brain throbbed from the pressure.

Then, there's this competing notion that Manny isn't telling him something either. Manny loves to make jokes, and he loves that she does, but a few of them, including this last one, definitely made him worried. Is Majestic taking its toll? As far as he knows, the critics and the ticket buyers were more than pleased with her. It could be that she misses her parents, misses Toronto. Whatever it is, he's glad that she's happy with him, and not glad that his actions have the potential to change all that. Tell her, he scolds himself. Tell her.

"Manny...," starts Toby.

"It was a joke, Toby," says Manny, quietly, after trying to read his expression.

"Yeah...yeah, I know," says Toby.

"Are you free tomorrow?" questions Manny.

"I got my _Tempest _ticket after Colin's _Cyrano_ bow," brings up Toby, cautiously. "Can't wait to see you."

"Oh...the show," mumbles Manny.

Wow, she forgot? He's been anticipating it for the past several days after missing the debut performance.

"Was thinking if you were available...we'd go out," suggests Toby. "Have a congratulatory dinner."

Where he'd get the money for said dinner, he has no clue. Maybe if he called his father, who promised he was getting something big for his birthday? He just wanted to do something to cheer Manny up. Luckily, it appears to be working.

"A date?" says Manny, beaming. "There's a cast party that night, but..."

"Never mind," interjects Toby. "I don't want you missing any big events."

"No, no," insists Manny. "I would love to spend the evening with my boyfriend instead."

Toby grins, without really meaning to. His mind becomes less cloudy, as he goes in for a gentle kiss, then pulls back. To his disappointment, the Andrews house is straight ahead, visible through the cab windshield.

"We're here," groans Manny, starting to gather her things.

"Lights are all on," notes Toby.

"Knowing Lia, she's inside trying on her ball gown, fretting as only girls can fret," says Manny, as the cab halts.

"Have you gotten your gown yet?" asks Toby.

Manny grimaces. "Not going."

"Manny, that's such a special night for you, to celebrate all your hard work. We should go."

"There's no harm in skipping it, Tobes."

"Why?" exclaims Toby. "If it's because I can't find a suit without my mom's help, I'll comb the streets of L.A. to find the perfect, inexpensive suit."

"Well, your suggestion of a date got me thinking we could do an 'alone time' sequel the night of the ball," says Manny, smiling.

She leans in, massages his knee.

"Without clothes," she whispers.

Alright, no need for a gown or suit for that, thinks Toby, warmth filling every part of his body. This time, he grins with no apologies.

"Lia wouldn't be home," adds Manny.

"I bet your bed's really soft," whispers Toby.

"Soft and pink,"sighs Manny, kissing him intently.

It takes him a few moments to remember that they're in a cab with someone other than themselves. The driver releases an annoyed sigh, prompting Manny to stop the kiss, open the door. Meanwhile, Toby's trying to stop all the blood from going in one direction as he shyly watches Manny exit.

"I love you," says Manny, winking at him and shutting the door.

"Love you too!" calls Toby after her.

Manny gives him a final grin, disappears inside the Andrews house. And, of course, that's when he realizes that he's wasted another opportunity to be honest with her. Ugh, what is it about being around her that makes him incapable of doing the right thing? What if he tells her after dinner? Perhaps it's best, since she's already upset, and has a performance tomorrow. He'd hate to ruin it with this.

"Fountain Avenue, please," says Toby, still lost in his thoughts.

The drive isn't so long as he ponders different places he could take her. When they arrive at his mother's house, it's the contrast of Lia's. Most of the lights are off, and the foyer is uncharacteristically quiet. Then, he recalls that Kendra is no longer there, and J.T. told him he was returning to Grauman's to purchase souvenirs for himself and Liberty. He has the house to himself.

His first thought is to call his father regarding the possibility of getting any money, so he goes to his room. That's halted by his own cell ringing. Clara's on the other end. Toby's brow wrinkles in confusion.

"Hey," he answers.

"Toby!" exclaims Clara. "I was sure you'd be out, and I'd have to leave a message on your voicemail."

Hmm, they always talked in person. Clara wasn't into leaving messages, unless she was mad with him.

"You caught me," says Toby. "What's going on?"

"I...I have to talk to someone," stammers Clara. "Like...huge stuff's been going on...to answer your question."

Toby tosses his bag into the closet, hesitantly sits on the bed. This didn't sound good.

"Okay?" prompts Toby.

"Justin...Justin's disappeared," says Clara, Toby detecting that she's starting to cry. "He's not taking my calls. We got into this fight...this intense fight."

"Over what?" asks Toby.

"He wanted me to go with him...like to actually leave," answers Clara, sniffling. "I mean, we talked about going to Israel when I was older and we'd both graduated. I couldn't."

"Wait?" cries Toby. "He wanted you to go to Israel with him?"

'No," clarifies Clara. "This mystery place where we'd live together. He and his grandfather had this massive fight, worse than ours, and he didn't want to leave without me."

This sounds surreal, Toby barely able to believe what he's hearing. All this occurred while he was in California? He knows he hasn't talked to Clara, or Matthew, or Justin, except for maybe the weird e-mail message that he never discussed with Clara. Now, Justin wants to run away with her? That's insane.

"Does Christian know you guys are still dating?" says Toby.

"Been really great at hiding it," replies Clara. "Toby, I feel like I let him down. He looked at me with such disgust...then he..."

"Did he touch you?" demands Toby.

"He'd never do that," defends Clara. "Just...just, he burst into tears. Justin's so scared. Has he e-mailed you yet? I was hoping..."

"Does his email begin with eaglerabbiofdoom?" asks Toby.

"That's it!" confirms Clara. "Toby...Toby, could you please e-mail him and tell him that I didn't mean it, that I have to stay. I knew he'd reach out to somebody who showed they care."

Truthfully, he'd like nothing better to keep ignoring Justin. Matthew and Manny were against them interacting post-fight, and he isn't committed to the idea either. But Justin does sound like he's in some kind of trouble, and whenever Clara cries, he must admit it, his resolve gets weaker. How much damage can one e-mail do?

"I will," says Toby.

"Thank you, Toby!" exclaims Clara. "I appreciate everything you've done."

That's nice to hear, considering everything he's done has come back to haunt him lately. Toby turns on the computer monitor, the little red light blinking madly, then changing green.

III.

"Glowstick, mate?" asks a vendor, a chain of glowing tubes around his neck.

Craig's eyebrows shoot up, and he pays for a couple. The outside concerts are apparently a lot more friendly, two high teenagers offering him a drag of their joint, and a twenty-year old woman "mistakenly" pinching his butt, or bum, or whatever. She smiled when she "apologized". He guesses the freaky Oxford scholars must come out at night.

Situating himself on the right, near the camera crew, gave him a better vantage point. The crowd numbers around three hundred, twice the size of the audience at the gig at the End. Ashley should be enthused, if she's gotten over her fears. It didn't take an academic to pick up that she was insecure, moreso after she returned from talking with Mr. Hobbes. There's no need for that, in his opinion, because Pearl would put Ashley on top. It was soft, humble, meditative, beautiful. This song epitomized Ashley, and they'd fall in love with her, like he has.

Aja, finding Craig, taps him on the shoulder.

"Our girl's next," she says, her breath heavy with alcohol.

Doing his best not to make a face, Craig smiles.

The stage lights dim, causing the surrounding buildings to take on a shadowy, Gothic look. Ashley's greeted by polite applause, Craig clapping more enthusiastically. Aja whistles. Her keyboard, black and gleaming, stands in the center, Musk twirling his drumsticks. A demure silence replaces the noise.

"_Ooooh ooooh ooooh,_" coos Ashley into the microphone.

Ashley nods at Musk to start, Musk playing a relaxed, smooth rhythm. An anticipatory grin on Craig's face, Ashley touches the keys, begins to sing, her solid voice echoing across the courtyard:

Humility on Bleecker Street  
Exposed my faults until I'm left defeated  
It's been three years into this relationship  
This is longer than I ever could commit

But I feel I'm near  
But I feel my fear

His personal interpretation of this song may not match hers, may never match hers, but whenever he hears it, he's aware of the relationship that she's referencing. This is the story of her first love– her music. People who didn't play wouldn't completely get it, though they would definitely appreciate it. You lay yourself bare in these precious moments, share the emotions, the discomfort. He's always been proud of how Ashley allows for that, embraces that. So hard, but it's refreshing, cleansing, an awkward journey. 

I'm standing at the edge of another precipice in life  
Gotta face my steppenwolf  
Gotta drag you through the mud  
When I get there I will see myself

Craig exchanges an enthused glance with Aja, resumes watching his favorite songbird. The melody always exposed the rawness of her voice, a honesty he wishes he had himself. Sometimes when he played acoustic, it would come through, but most times, he found that his need to perform would betray it, and his voice would waver, change. To him, there were so many ways to perform, but the best one, the one Ashley possesses, is to perform with authenticity.

_I will look for strength within  
I will be a better woman  
Hang in there baby, I'm the grain of sand  
Becoming the pearl  
_

When Ashley performed this song privately for him, her parents and Toby having left the house, it was fairly dark because they lit candles. Ashley was very insistent that the move fit the mood of the song. Craig's small confession? The reason he put the Christmas lights in Joey's garage before the Squatch's first practice was to create a mood as well. Craig didn't think it that weird, because when you watched old movies, you'd see writers writing by a single candle, or artists working in strangely lit rooms.

Nevertheless, he got the metaphor, no matter the lighting. If you are rough around the edges, and work hard for what you want, you can become better, despite a few stumbles. A grain of sand can be a pearl. That's how he sort of felt receiving his diploma, how he wanted Julia and Albert to see him. A messed up kid can become a pearl. There may be a more masculine metaphor, but he doesn't feel like doing that much soul-searching.

Returning to the moment, Craig sees a few groups of people in deep thought over the song. Yes! Way better than the End. Near the back, alarmingly, some are milling around, while others are deep in conversation. They aren't paying attention. Craig sucks his lips.

"Rude," comments Craig.

"Forget them," agrees Aja. "If it's not on their precious Top of the Pops program, they don't give a..."

"Pardon," speaks up someone, halting Aja's more colorful speech.

"Yes?" says Craig.

A young man with a red shirt and blue jeans manages to get between Craig and Aja. He holds his cellphone in line with Ashley's breasts.

"Just trying to get me a shot of this lass' chest," says the man, chuckling. "I'd love a private session with her."

"What?" shouts Craig, starting to step forward.

"Craig!" whispers Aja, urgently, holding him back.

"Her poster?" says the man. "Mark Kennick's one lucky..."

"Oy, that's enough from you," exclaims Aja, nudging the man to the side. "We're here for the music, you wanker."

Craig tries to follow, Aja having to yank him again. What kind of pervert takes pictures of his girlfriend? She's playing a song, not stripping! He'd beat him, leave him bloody on the cobblestones. Nope, he tells himself. I can't during Ashley's performance. Craig crosses his arms, tries to cool his head.

There are no role models in rock 'n' roll  
No women who could have it all  
The long career, the man, the happy family  
And here I stand and God I do demand it

And I feel I'm near  
But I feel my fear

What, she can't play a simple song without being harassed? Craig furiously runs a hand through his curls, retreating from Aja's side to stand behind the camera crew. Great, he moans, inwardly. Now, the beautiful memory of them sharing this song will have this negative connotation since a creep was trying to photograph her body with his cell.

Then, something fairly amazing happens, and Craig can't help but feel privileged to be there. There's a sea of green, glowing green, as dozens of green glowsticks reach the sky, held by hands. They move to the music. Ashley closes her eyes. He wishes she could see, believes she may have before he did.

It's dark in here-don't know who I amMemories come-I'm wading through the moon  
Evil side-wants to drag me down  
Will power-God, please give me some  
(I'm hanging onto hope now)

The effect is almost like some weird, lovely neon night. I get to be in the middle of it, too, thinks Craig. Although not everyone's doing it, it truly feels like that's what's happening. Craig beams when Ashley opens her eyes, greets the audience with a surprised smile.

"_I'm the grain of sand becoming the pearl_," finishes Ashley, brushing her locks of purple hair from her face. "Thank you."

"Yeah!" shouts a woman, possibly twenty-one or a little older.

"Awesome!" praises her boyfriend, his response joined by their group near the front.

Ashley spies a smiling Craig through the crowd, shrugs her shoulders. Craig lets his head fall to the cobblestones, refusing to cheer, glad he doesn't have to.

IV.

As soon as the expensive white door of the Andrews' closes, she collapses. She was bordering on collapse at the studio, the beach, in the cab, any place where she can lay down and feel defeated. Her heart shivers under her shirt, eyes growing misty. For too long, she's said nothing. Joking, grinning, laughing, all filters for her pain.

Her going through the motions was the joke. They asked her to do it, and she did it. No points for the few seconds of resistance. Manny wipes her eyes, hugs herself as the kite lays flat on the floor. The linoleum is cold against her knees. After that experience, she tried to be brave, for Toby more than herself, pretend all of it was some dream. More like a nightmare, a nightmare she might have to face again is she got the part. Can't think like that, she scolds herself. Elena was better. There won't be any calls. She'll forget the whole thing.

She'll forget, until she talks to or sees her family. Gosh, what would they have thought? Her parents were diligent workers, a respected contractor and a committed nurse. J.J.'s printing business was doing wonderfully. The people who worked with them loved them. She loved them...so much. Manny releases a quiet sob, cheeks hurting as she holds in tears. Her whole face feels like it might break.

"I'm okay...I'm fine," she whispers, using all her strength to stand.

Her wrist aches as she rises, collects her things, slowly ascends the staircase. About to enter her bedroom, she hears a chorus of laughter coming from Lia's room. She found that peculiar since Lia liked going to bed early before performance days. Then again, the peculiarity is beneficial, because Manny definitely doesn't want to face her after Lia was right about the Pinecrest auditions.

"Manny!" cries Lia, peeping from her doorway.

"Hi," says Manny, quietly.

Lia comes into the hallway, silk, navy pajamas on her nice frame. Her red hair is curly, flowing over the material. Manny's seen the look before, but not with a wine bottle, held in Lia's right hand.

"Listen," says Lia, hiccuping. "I wanted to apologize...personally...in my own house. Like for...for real."

Somebody's been hitting the liquor cabinet, thinks Manny, scratching her neck. She's guessing that wine bottle is about half full by the looks of things. However drunk she is, Manny's relieved that Lia hasn't detected how upset she is. Part of her would like to believe that the apology is genuine on some level, though.

"We're performing tomorrow," reminds Manny.

"So?" laughs Lia. "I'm done trying to impress them. There are other scouts...and movies...and wine bottles. Excuse me."

Lia attempts to bypass Manny, Manny stopping her in her tracks. The least she can do is drop Lia off in her room, then go to bed herself. Once they get there, she nearly drops Lia onto the plush maroon floor. Kendra, in a white T-shirt and sweatpants, sits in the center of the carpet, staring peacefully at Manny.

"Kendra!" exclaims Manny.

"Hi, Manny," greets Kendra, playing with her pants leg.

"Uh...um, hi," returns Manny.

Of all people, what is Kendra Mason doing here? There is no plausible reason, no possible circumstances that would allow for...unless, Emma. Emma's semi-involved with Spinner, so perhaps Spinner asked Emma to hang with his sister, help ease Kendra's depression.

"You two know each other?" asks Lia, earnestly, then laughing. "Almost sounded halfway believable. Such a good actress."

"Never known she was in here," mutters Manny under her breath. "I...gotta..."

"Hey!" protests Lia. "Manny, we have to all get reacquainted. You have to tell me all about the lunch you had with Toby's mom."

Lia fumbles for her bed, sits, slides down anyway to the floor. Kendra, meanwhile, appears just as interested. Like she'd tell them. No way. It might be better to turn the spotlight on someone else, namely her boyfriend's ex.

"Why aren't you at Toby's?" questions Manny.

"Didn't work out," says Kendra, eyes dropping.

Really? Huh, she figured Ms. Isaacs adored Kendra, and Toby? They must've fought. Okay, despite the events of the day, that actually eased her a bit. She wasn't too concerned since Toby consistently showed his devotion to her, but if she had to choose among a slew of options, she'd rather Kendra stay with Emma for the night than any vicinity that's near Toby.

"You guys are totally dragging me down," whines Lia.

Rushed footsteps sound through the hallway, Emma appearing in cotton, blue pants and a matching tank top.

"It's the expert of fun! Emma!" cries Lia. "Come...sit. Relax."

Emma instantly stares at Manny, offering her an apologetic grin. They'd have to talk later, preferably as soon as Manny could finagle an exit.

"I should go to my room," demurs Emma.

"Nelson, my dad's paying you...sit!" commands Lia. "A proper toasted...toasted hostess...whatever I am, entertains her guests. Hannah's asleep."

"Maybe you should go to bed," suggests Emma.

"Manny's here...we can't go to bed!" exclaims Lia. "Kendra's wide awake...aren't you, Kendra?"

"Uh...sure," replies Kendra, shrugging.

Tentatively, Emma sits next to Kendra. Manny won't give in so easy, figuring there has to be a way out. Call her horrible, but she's not up for spending time with either Lia or Kendra after this stunningly bad day.

"Manny...we're waiting," sing-songs Lia.

"Kinda promised to...," begins Manny.

"The favor you said you'd do?" reminds Lia. "Relatively simple, right? Stay, have fun, hang."

The day can't get any worse, moans Manny inwardly, taking a seat in between Emma and Lia. Lia's room is remarkably spacious, ridiculously more adult than Hannah's. The bed is queen-sized, with red, throw pillows, a glass writing table with a computer, cherrywood bookcases, a plasma TV, and a walk-in closet (an L emblazoned on it). The plasma TV is part of a huge entertainment center, rows of CDs and DVDs in cases next door.

"Wanna watch a movie?" says Manny, hoping they will since they wouldn't have to talk.

"What happened to the good ol' days of conversation?" says Lia, drunkenly, slinging an arm around Emma, who wrinkles her nose.

"Alright," says Manny, drearily.

"You guys are so shy!" condemns Lia, releasing Emma. "I know...we'll play a game. Truth or Dare."

"Oh no," says Emma, getting ready to stand. "My life is not an open book."

"My life's in a book," comments Lia. "Page one hundred and seven of my mother's biography...first mention of Lia, whoever she is."

Truth or Dare? She's played tame versions of it with the Spirit Squad, and a lame version with J.J. once, merely to see if he'd eat the gummy bear they found behind the fridge. He did. There isn't much most people don't know about her life, so she could humor Lia there.

"Ugh, fine," sighs Manny. "Lia, you can go first."

"Cool," says Lia. "Um...Emma, truth or dare."

"Truth," answers Emma, quickly.

"Wuss," laughs Lia. "Besides Spinner, who would you date in you guys' little Canadian group?"

Emma blushes, smiles to herself. Manny pushes her.

"Who is it?" says Manny, giggling.

"Well, after...when the baby was born, I noticed that you know, J.T. was mature and he started looking nice..." stammers Emma.

Manny, Kendra, and Lia laugh for a whole minute, Emma trying to disappear under her tank top.

"That's sick," teases Manny, receiving a playful punch from Emma.

This isn't so bad, thinks Manny. Lia's most likely too drunk to ask any seriously wrong questions, Emma too polite, and Kendra, Manny barely glancing at her, too nervous.

"Uh, Manny, truth or dare?" says Emma.

"Truth," replies Manny, putting her hands on her hips.

"So...how far have you and Toby gone, exactly?" questions Emma, winking.

Manny lets her mouth fall open, hears Kendra clear her throat. The answer won't kill her, if that's what Kendra's anticipating. The waiting to go further with Toby is killing her, however.

"No stalling," says Emma. "Has he seen you naked or...?"

"The top region," confesses Manny. "Briefly. Other than, pretty chaste. There...you satisfied?"

Lia raises Emma's hand to high-five her, Emma laughing. Okay, now that they all got a good laugh, time to move on. Kendra isn't laughing, though. Instead, she's talking.

"Emma, truth or dare," she says.

"It's my turn," points out Manny.

"Awww, let her be included," says Lia. "I don't even remember who was speaking last."

So, Manny wishes she could yell. The look on Kendra's face is hard, her eyes burning through Manny's. Manny's own face grows flustered with each passing second, and she's not the one that has to answer.

"I'm a woman of action," says Emma. "Dare."

"I dare you to ask Manny how far she's gone with Spinner," supplies Kendra, smirking.

"What?" cries Lia. "You got Manny's leftovers, Emma?"

"They barely kissed," waves off Emma. "I don't need to ask that."

Please don't ask that, thinks Manny, sweat covering her palms. She could lie, definitely still lie, but Emma has picked up when she's lying in the past.

"Ask," encourages Kendra.

"Whatever," says Emma. "Manny, how far did you and Spinner go?"

Manny opens her mouth to speak, and realizes that after lying to herself in that audition, to get inside Anne Marie's office, she's fresh out of deception. She's the actress who can't pretend. Manny lets her lips meet, shakes her head. Emma's frown deepens, her shoulders getting stiff.

"Manny!" whispers Emma, urgently.

"It was...only two times," mumbles Manny.

"Gross!" cries Lia. "That saying...you're sleeping with everyone he's been with? So if like Emma slept with Spinner..."

"Shut up, Lia!" exclaims Manny. "Em..."

"I have nothing to say to you," sighs Emma, scooting closer to Kendra.

Kendra smiles triumphantly, sits Indian-style. She has some nerve making her friend ask her that question. What is her problem?

"Manny, truth or dare?" says Kendra.

"Someone's monopolizing the game," observes Manny, laughing coldly. "You can't just..."

"You afraid?" interjects Kendra.

"No," replies Manny, gritting her teeth. "Truth."

"Excellent," says Kendra. "When Toby first asked you out, did you say yes?"

Their first date? Well, she asked him. Toby's first time asking her occurred after his computer camp, and she said yes immediately. Ha, no dirt there.

"Yes," answers Manny. "We went to a beautiful movie. _Love Story_."

"That's not true," argues Emma. "And you know it, Manny."

Hold the phone. Emma's jumping on her like a cat on catnip. It's not like the sexual experiences with Spinner were so mind-altering that she thought she was in love with him, so why can't Emma back off?

"That's the truth," insists Manny.

"Grade ten. Toby asked you to prom, and you wiggled your way out of it so you could date Marco," recalls Emma. "Then, you gave him a pity dance."

"So classy, Manny," says Kendra, narrowing her eyes. "A gay guy?"

"Ouch," agrees Lia, then burping. "Was the gay guy cute?"

"You are so superficial," condemns Kendra. "Slumming around with Toby until you find the next available superstud, no matter his sexuality?"

"Better not be Blake," inserts Lia. "Ewww."

"Clueless as usual, Kendra," says Manny. "Have you been around us for the past two years? No, I don't think you have."

"Did you suddenly change from a bubbly boyfriend-stealing, thong-wearing girl to someone with substance?" asks Kendra, incredulously. "Must've missed that."

"Yeah, you were too busy cheating on Toby, I guess," throws back Manny.

"Manny!" cries Emma.

Red-faced, Kendra smirks, stands. Her effort to get up suggests she does have some degree of pain, legs wobbly. Emma has noticed too, biting her lip. The movement almost makes her regret saying it...almost.

"No one's asked me anything," says Kendra. "I choose truth. Ask me the last time I kissed someone."

"Is it embarrassingly bad?" questions Lia. "Like by a middle-aged man with three teeth?"

"Actually, it was quite good," admits Kendra. "Go ahead, Manny."

Why does she have to be the one to ask? And why can't Kendra just shut up and leave? She can't defend cheating on Toby, or her out of line statements.

"Will you leave then?" exclaims Manny.

"Yep," says Kendra.

"When was the last time you kissed someone?" asked Manny, rolling her eyes.

"At Disneyland, last night," replies Kendra, a smile crossing her lips.

Disneyland? She's lying, has to be lying. Because that would mean that the boy she was around after Manny left...that would mean it was Toby. Toby wouldn't do that to her, to anyone, but especially not her. Manny touches her skin. Ice cold.

"You should believe it," adds Kendra. "After he sent you away."

Manny holds her throat as tears fill the side of her eyes. All the disgusting moments of today, and this...this she has no words for.

"Liar!" screams Manny.

Kendra chuckles. "Wasn't too long after you left."

"He was...was there for me that day," sobs Manny. "He invited me...to come on his birthday."

"I invited him personally to my expo, and he came," says Kendra, grinning. "And when I fell, he carried me in front of hundreds of people. He held my hand when I needed him most. He took me in. Manny...none of those are lies."

Toby did all of this for her? He couldn't have. He carried her in his arms, held her hand when she needed him most, and took her in at his father's house. Those were _their _things. They had to be. Suddenly, it makes sense, as to why he'd stop making love to her to talk to his ex. If he's off kissing her!

"Emma," breathes Manny, turning to her friend.

She shouldn't have been surprised that Emma's not receptive, after the whole reveal regarding Spinner. Lia's too drunk, eyes drooping as her head meets the carpet.

"Game over," says Kendra, bumping into Manny as she leaves.

Emma silently follows, the hairs on the back of Manny's neck prickling. She's come to know that the only lie that's been told in this room is the one she told herself– that her relationship with Toby was fine. This is the guy she defended more than any other, who told her that he loved her more than any other, who she trusted with her heart more than any other. Manny bangs Lia's wall with her fist before running to her room, slamming the door.

She collapses on the bed, no pep talk to herself. This day is the worst day of her life. Thank goodness it all goes black, sleep overpowering her, the charm bracelet clinking softly after a final, silent cry.

V.

Three a.m. That was usually the hour when she'd eventually be knocked out, waterfalls filling the room, considering what to give Jack for breakfast. Chances were her mother was on the sofa, TV wasting energy. She never watched the shows that were on, at least not enough to know how to describe them to you.

Emma is up, more than up. Why hadn't she considered it? True, Spinner and Manny were very casual, and in comparison to her and Toby, they might as well have just gone on one date and called it quits. Right now, in the dark, with Kendra sound asleep in her sleeping bag, she's wondering if she has the right to be mad. It's so tiring to be angry, with everyone. Manny didn't know that Emma would be interested in Spinner, nor did Emma. Like Toby and Manny, they were beautifully surprised, happy with the unlikeliness.

It's three-fifteen, and she's trying to imagine, imagine what to say to her best friend . She's well aware that Kendra didn't have the right, that Toby, his secret upsetting her too, should've been the one to tell Manny. That's actually something she regrets, like Toby might regret that kiss. After all, didn't Snake regretting kissing another girl? Spike had to know, but Snake had the right to tell. And if she didn't abandon her mother, she can't abandon Manny. Not tonight. Later, her feelings could change, and yes, she has the right there.

Emma pulls the cover off of her, passes Lia's room, reaches in the dark for the knob to Manny's. Manny is awake too, blinking as she lays on her side, clutching her blanket. Emma gently joins her, massaging her shoulder through the outfit Manny has worn all day, to lunch, her audition.

"This day couldn't have happened," whispers Manny, tears falling off her nose.

"Manny," soothes Emma.

"Emma!" sobs Manny, her chest heaving.

"Shhh," says Emma, resisting the urge to cry as well.

Cradling Manny's head, Emma strokes her face, feeling the tears. It'd be awhile before the sunlight came, to remind them that a fresh day is coming.


	37. Everybody is Someone

**XXXVII. Everybody is Someone **

Stumbling I fall away it's hard to make a change  
Easy to be who you are when no one knows your name  
Walking past the lonely walls with eyes as cold as stone  
Climb inside the emptiness it's safe when you're alone

Don't be alarmed  
Don't be afraid of what you are  
Just look around  
Everybody is someone  
Everybody is someone

All this time you lived alone without a memory  
Built your life upon the ground that sinks beneath your feet  
Step outside the misery for once you feel alive  
Second chances only come around once in a life

Don't be alarmed  
Don't be afraid of what you are  
Just turn around  
Everybody is someone  
Everybody is someone

Don't be alarmed  
Don't be afraid of what you are  
Just turn around  
Everybody is someone  
Everybody is someone

Don't be alarmed  
Don't be afraid of what you are  
Just look around  
Everybody is someone  
Everybody is someone

**Everybody is Someone is the property of Lifehouse and appears in the film _Wicker Park._**

He spies her shuffling in the kitchen like his own mother used to do, or really, the room that acted as both kitchen and dining room. The table was sort of in the middle of their trailer. Still, the motions were the same: wiping down the table, wringing the rag, turning on the sink. The streaming water hitting the center of the sink made him shake. He's not sure if the water's cold, but he's definitely cold.

Rehearsing the lines didn't help. The keys have to be taken, and the spindle has to be removed. After Dale threw him in the mud, Sean went home. He couldn't sleep; no, he fought himself so he wouldn't sleep. His leg kicked his other leg, his fingers tore at the sheets, and the win resulted in him being red-eyed and frustrated. Why did he make that deal? Now, he's so deep in the deal, he can't see or think straight. Jay and Ellie were entangled, and he was concerned for them, and Ty. The day of Ellie's graduation, Jay said that the better Dale knows you, the better he treats you. Sean believes that's probably a lie, because it seems the better Dale knows him, the better he can hurt him.

He barely knows Kate Kerwin or her husband, and just recently has gotten to know Ashley as more than Ellie's best friend. Honestly, he's more acquainted with her car, the black Acura he had been working on throughout the summer, the last reminder that he worked at Hills'. How can he do this? It was far easier when he was angry, younger, stealing the school equipment. After all, the laptops and DVD players didn't mean anything to him. Nevertheless, today, at seventeen, that felt like some of the stupidest things he's ever done. Until today, groans Sean inwardly.

Knocking on the side door, Kate jumps a little, straightens herself. Her being startled increases the speed of his heart. She was going to be a lot more startled if she found out what he did. His plan is to act as if the car isn't as complete as he originally thought, lie and say the carburetor needs more adjustments. That would give him or Dale time to find a replacement he'd install as quickly as possible. When the men at the docks delivered, Sean would put a different spindle in Ashley's car. Kate grins, Sean lowering his head.

"Up bright and early?" greets Kate, opening the door.

"Hi," returns Sean.

Sean glances at the clock. Eight in the morning. Yeah, if he was going to do this, he wanted to do it and get it over with.

"That Sean?" calls a second voice.

Jeff Isaacs walks in cheerfully, provides Sean with a friendly wave. He grabs a cup of coffee and flees from the room.

"Don't mind him," says Kate. "With Toby and Ashley gone, we're experiencing empty nest syndrome. Get excited when young people come through. Especially Jeff. But at least we have Toby for another year. You're graduating too, right?"

"Can't wait to leave school," admits Sean, coming into the kitchen.

"Know the feeling," admits Kate. "Jeff and I are thinking of taking a trip once Toby gets home. A tad restless myself."

"Not going to see Ashley in England?"

"If she asked me," sighs Kate, softly.

Something tells him he's getting into touchy territory. He should be hedging towards the car, anyway. The biggest hint comes when Kate digs in her purse for the check.

"Listen, Ms. Kerwin, I'm...I'm not sure the car is ready yet," says Sean.

The lie is simple, and tastes bitter. What's more disappointing than the lie itself is how these false words just roll from his tongue. It's becoming a stack of lies, to everyone who thinks highly of him and his talent. Dale is right about the respect aspect. He can't muster any for this Sean, hates the power Dale has over him.

"Oh?" says Kate.

"Have to remove a part, install a new one," says Sean. "You...you want Ashley to have the best model..."

"Certainly," assures Kate.

The real task he'd be doing once they obtained the new part wasn't difficult in the least. Getting the new spindle would be the hardest part, and Dale said they'd be coming soon.

"Hmm, you sounded so sure the car was in tip-top shape, and you told Ashley," says Kate, with a soft smile. "Guess our excitement was short-lived."

"Just...just want Ashley...to have...have the best," stammers Sean, grabbing at the cloth of his jeans.

"Consider me sold," says Kate, patting Sean's shoulder. "But is Mr. Hill expecting payment today?"

"Yeah, but I can tell...," starts Sean.

"Sean, I have no problem giving you this with full confidence," shares Kate, handing him the check. "I know you and Ellie...I don't want you to get in trouble."

Sean turns the check in his grasp, his throat hurting. The sum is the same as the weekly payments he's receiving from Dale. After all these weeks, he hadn't factored in the price, diligently went about his work. Mr. Hill, before he got fired, did give Sean and Dale the prime projects, albeit with lower pay. Technically, they are working on projects. They're projects with more deceit thrown into the mix and better pay.

"Thanks," mumbles Sean.

"Jeff!" shouts Kate. "Bring Sean my key ring!"

A newspaper tucked under his arm, Jeff reappears with the keys. He plants them firmly in Sean's sweaty palm. The sharp edges of them poke at the lines of his hand. The keychain holds a small picture of Jeff, Kate, and Toby, with Ashley in her graduation robe. That was the day she helped him, the day he was initiated into Dale's world. Ashley had been so kind to him, supportive of his relationship with Ellie. Then, her parents were equally nice. He wonders if he'll wear a graduation robe someday, aid someone who deserves it. Ashley doesn't deserve this, but Ellie doesn't deserve being at risk either.

"Going to remove the old part," lies Sean, backing towards the door.

"Would you like a donut?" offers Jeff. "We have some in the fridge."

Sean shakes his head. "Nah."

He isn't hungry, even with his stomach suggesting otherwise by gurgling. No, he can't let hunger interfere with the job. Job? Any other job, like burning trash or licking asphalt clean would be more appealing.

Walking to the garage, he raises the door with the button on the keychain. It exposes the Acura, black metal and silver bumper gleaming. He takes no pleasure in viewing it full and perfect. Instead, he slides in the key, hears an unpleasant pop as the locks give him entry.

II.

Emma situates a few grapes into the half of cantaloupe on a plate. Manny would actually eat the grapes, and they were small so if she wasn't totally hungry, those would at least disappear. Settled in a pink beanbag chair, Emma awoke to the busy flow of a shower. Manny must've gotten up around six or six-thirty. She did the same, would shower after Manny.

The night was tough. Luckily, Hannah was asleep. Emma envied her. Seven-year olds got to be knocked out through all of this, not getting caught in the relationship drama or the huge wave of jealousy or the sordid pasts. Ugh, Spinner. Emma strokes her elbow, lets her gaze fall to the counter top.

She had no grand allusions. She never thought Spinner was a virgin or doubted that she knew who he lost his virginity to, although she was so sure it was Paige. That definitely wouldn't get to her as much, and might've made more sense. He lost it to Manny? Emma grabs at the back of her hair, glances at the ceiling. Okay, history can't be changed. Still, so weird. Can anything be more weird than Snake kissing her principal, though? Yeah, she'd have to give Manny and Spinner the edge there. They weren't betraying her by being together a year ago.

But yeah, weird, thinks Emma. How is she going to act around Spinner the next time they're in the same room? Suddenly, she wishes, like Manny probably is, that Kendra hadn't come to the Andrews' house.

"We'd be blissfully unaware," says Emma, taking a deep breath and grabbing the plate of fruit.

Exiting the kitchen and then the living room, she sees a young florist rearranging the roses in the foyer. Kel always got that done. Emma, staring at the beautiful array of white and gold flowers, realizes that she's never seen Ursula. Not pre-surgery Ursula, post-surgery Ursula, no Ursula. She's half tempted to go scoop in Lia's room, since there's no pictures of her in Hannah's room or anywhere else. It's likely she can search the Internet, but this is the first time she's considered it.

"Nice," compliments Emma.

"Only the best for a legend," says the florist, happily.

Emma climbs the staircase. She wonders if Hannah looks at all like her mother, and if she does, if that bothers Kel. Watching Jack reminds her of Snake...a lot.

Advancing to Manny's room, she preps herself for whatever she might find. She doesn't hear Manny cry as deeply as she did last night. It was like her heart was breaking against those blankets. Emma made sure not to cry as hard, convincing herself she was a tough cookie.

When Emma parts the door, Manny's back is bent, her legs Indian-style. Manny is flipping through a book, mumbling incoherently. Her hair remains wet from the shower.

"Manny?" says Emma, lightly.

Manny glances over her shoulder, eyes glistening. She looks so sad that the situation with Spinner fades from her mind, at least for this minute.

"I'm not sure I want to have any memories from here," says Manny, turning her head from Emma.

Emma views the familiar cover of the scrapbook she gave Manny when she closes the book, then opens it again. What should she tell her friend? That there were some good memories from here? True, there must've been, but would Manny believe her?

"He...he kissed Kendra," whispers Manny, reaching to take out the first picture in the scrapbook.

Kendra, presumably not at all bothered by last night's game, is sleeping peacefully in Edwina's room.

"You should get his side of the story," insists Emma. "My mom at least heard Snake's. It'll be hard..."

Emma moves to the bed, sets down the plate of fruit. Her eyes scan the floor. Manny has removed only one picture, the picture Emma put in there, of the two of them. Manny tugs a picture of her and Toby, smiling happily in front of Disneyland, from the front flap of the scrapbook. She obviously switched them. And I obviously put the picture of me and Manny in there for a reason thinks Emma. I went to Manny last night for a reason! And she's doing this?

"Unbelievable," says Emma, placing a hand on her hip.

"What?" says Manny, blankly.

"You switched pictures, Manny!" cries Emma. "Toby can be disloyal, and meanwhile, I try to be the best friend you could have..."

"I was just seeing how it looked!" defends Manny.

"Who comforted you last night? Who made you something to eat?" asks Emma, tearfully. "With Manny Santos, the boys always come first!"

"Emma!" exclaims Manny.

"Don't Emma me," shoots down Emma. "You've ditched me for Craig when I needed you. For Toby when I needed you. Guess your hormones prevent you from being a good friend."

Manny stands, tucking wet hair behind her ears. Despite her drowned rat appearance, Emma resolves not to waver. The scrapbook is symbolic of their friendship, and she made that clear.

"I have been there for you...like countless times!" says Manny.

"Really?" says Emma. "You said you'd call when you got to California...nope. Guess Lia took up too much of your time. Why don't you put a photo of her in there, make it a done deal?"

Raising her eyebrows, Manny remains silent for a few seconds, reaches to retrieve the scrapbook.

"Excuse me for being busy," sighs Manny.

"Yeah, you're either being busy or horny...depends on the day," says Emma, coldly.

"You did not say that!" exclaims Manny. "What's your problem? I've been trying to include you since we've got here. Got you a job that you enjoy. Is this about Spinner or..."

"No, it's not about Spinner," interrupts Emma. "I've known you longer than him, and you've known me longer than Toby. This is about you being inconsiderate every time you have a boyfriend...being a bad friend."

"A bad friend?" says Manny, her jaw dropping.

"Yep...you hurt me," says Emma.

"You threw my pregnancy in my face when you were with Jay!" cries Manny, letting the scrapbook fall. "Emma, I swear...you say the coldest comments sometimes."

Emma rolls her eyes. "I was hurting so your point..."

"My point is you have to watch it, because when you judge somebody's actions...who they are, they hurt that person just as much," says Manny.

Looking at Emma from head to toe, Manny brushes past her, Emma massaging her forehead. That's the last conversation she wanted in this room. Maybe the Spinner thing is making her more combative, but on a certain level, she's sure she's right. And maybe it's one of those fights where no one's a winner. As she glances at the scrapbook, with both pictures taken from the book, she can't help but think it's the latter.

III.

Fifteen minutes pass. She spent the majority of that time drying her long hair, seeming to feel each strand, the heat from the air. The noise drowned out everything. What she wants to drown out the most is all the questions that are running in circles in her brain. When? Why? Did he love that kiss with Kendra as much as the many they've shared? Does he still love me? That's the most painful, the last one.

Toby Isaacs isn't one to disappoint. Manny shakes her head, recalling that was one of his presidential campaign slogans. The slogan hurts because it's basically true. Whether it was the Computer Club members, the Student Council, or his friends, Toby had the faith of many. A good guy has exactly that. Perhaps him being a good guy is what lead to all of this. She should've seen the signs, especially the night of the bed and breakfast. All that time with Kendra...he defended her on the occasion...she was losing him.

Manny leaves the bathroom, checks to see if Emma's in her room. No. Speaking of letting people down, she thinks. Yes, sometimes she could've been more available for Emma, or called her while in California. The distractions out here were significant, though that's not an excuse. Kendra uncovering her actions with Spinner certainly wouldn't help matters. Why did Kendra have to be here, anyway? You'd think she'd be turning to her parents instead of Toby and Emma, she thinks. Those are the two biggest people in my life, thinks Manny, besides my own parents.

Hearing some light movement as she passes Lia's room, Manny looks inside. A cold compress on her forehead, Lia groggily starts laying out clothes. It must be nice to be her– no ruined relationship, her best friend Colin loves her, and her career wasn't confusing. To think Lia envied her at one point. No, she'd much rather be in Lia's shoes.

"You're not ridiculously tired?" speaks up Manny. "I am."

"The show must go on," shrugs Lia. "Besides, the performance isn't 'til five. That's practically a whole day to do whatever."

"Mind if I come in?"

"Is this some effort to apologize?" asks Lia, raising her eyebrow.

Manny would rather Lia apologize to her, especially since she made some accusations that weren't true, but she wanted one friend in this house, at least today.

"Yes," replies Manny.

"Well, considering that I let Kendra stay due to not so pure intentions...," admits Lia, her voice fading.

Manny walks cautiously to Lia's bed, sits. She guessed that their fight lead Lia to agree to Kendra being here. However, it just doesn't seem as brutal as her boyfriend betraying her. How could he?

"Toby...lack of pure intentions too," says Manny, lowering her head.

"That has yet to be confirmed," says Lia. "Believe me, you could have it a lot worse."

Her heart throbs, remembering that yes, things were worse yesterday. At least with Toby, even if his heart is with Kendra, she had moments when she was herself. The audition, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She let the moment rule her, being passive, influenced, weak. It was so easy and fast, which scares her the most. Manny blinks back tears.

"Colleen call with any auditions for you yet?" questions Manny.

"She faxed info on _Hearts for Sale_," informs Lia. "For both of us."

Oh yeah, recalls Manny. That's actually an audition she'd be excited about, if the last audition wasn't so painful. It was nice of Colleen to remember her, too.

"Don't know if I'm going to do it," admits Manny.

"Your loss, but the sheet's on my dresser," says Lia, ducking into her walk-in closet.

Two sheets of white paper are between a jewelry box made of red glass, and a framed photo of a stunning woman, with shoulder-length red hair and calming blue eyes. The older version of Lia could only be one person. You could see traces of Hannah's features in Ursula, especially the mouth and ears. Her thin frame is draped against the fence surrounding a movie lot, purple dress blowing demurely in the wind. The photograph looked very classic Hollywood starlet.

"Never seen a candid of your mom...she's gorgeous," compliments Manny.

"That's actually pre-surgery," boasts Lia, walking over.

"Pinecrest told her to...told her to...," begins Manny, hating to have to mention the studio.

"Get work done?" finishes Lia. "Yeah, but my dad's affair was the extra push. She was blonde when she had Hannah, and her nose and chin were different. It's so weird to see your mom change."

Lia stops talking, wipes her eyes on the way back to her closet. Manny can't imagine seeing her mother change that rapidly, or her father being with anyone else. She's surprised when Lia exits with a bright smile.

"But she told me she wanted it red again right before she died...her own little personal rebellion," brags Lia. "Yeah...that was my mom."

"Cool," agrees Manny.

"That's why I'm always, always keeping my hair how I want to. I mean, Bernice Fine wanted me to get a nose job so I walked."

"Boob job here," admits Manny.

"Be so thankful you didn't do that Pinecrest audition...they're ten times worse, and...," says Lia, darting her eyes from Manny.

"If you knew what they did to your mom, why'd you sign with them?" whispers Manny.

"They make everything look so attractive...at first," explains Lia, sitting on the bed.

Manny reluctantly joins her, somewhat hopeful that what she's done herself isn't part of Pinecrest's shady past. Elena was so sure that the studio was supportive, and so was Blake, and didn't that mean anything?

"Pinecrest loved saying I was Ursula's daughter, promoting me that way. And I thought...like that would've made her proud. Like I'd be the Andrews daughter that followed in her footsteps... without changing. Blake and I were the two new finds, so they treated us like total A-listers."

"You guys are talented enough," says Manny.

"Yeah, but I never got any roles," sighs Lia. "Blake took what he got...maybe that's what I should've done. The first role they offered, though, I..."

"What?" encourages Manny.

Lia took a huge breath, her shoulders heaving. Manny's clear that whatever story she's about to tell is difficult, and can see the reserve all over her face. Manny wraps a solid arm around Lia.

"They were having this photoshoot up at the Hamptons," begins Lia, her blue eyes red. "I was going to play the daughter of this socialite...not too much of a stretch, I know. But the photographer wanted to do some promo work. So we were alone at the end of the shoot, and Manny...Manny, he made me feel so beautiful."

"Lia, you don't have to...," begins Manny, smoothing Lia's hair.

"He told me my hair looked like autumn leaves, which is so not impressive now, but at like, fourteen, when you feel lonely...you like that stuff, I guess. He even said I was prettier than my mom, that I was sophisticated and acted older. We went upstairs and..."

"Lia," breathes Manny, her eyes growing wet.

"The bed was so cold," whispers Lia. "I was so scared. He recommended some seventeen-year old the next day...she was probably more experienced anyway. Martika said her resume was too good to pass on, and she must've been better in bed, too."

"Your dad didn't..."

"Oh, he was more than anxious to see me leave," interrupts Lia. "Helped me get out of the contract. It took me a whole year. I just couldn't leave at first. They had me convinced I shouldn't go."

"But if they weren't treating you decently...," says Manny, giving her a concerned gaze.

"Sometimes when you're so deep in something, you start believing that's what's best," insists Lia. "Manny, you haven't been there."

Yes, I have, thinks Manny, wiping her cheeks. She's been around the same people, had some of the same feelings.

"You're the only person who I've told," shares Lia.

"Colin?" says Manny.

"Thinks it was a beautiful first time in the Hamptons," clarifies Lia. "Gave him some spiel about it being nice and elegant. Made it seem very Toby-Mannyish."

"Well, we didn't technically...," starts Manny.

"Yeah, I know," reminds Lia. "Which is why I said it could be worse. Manny, you have someone that thinks you're beautiful for the right reasons. That's hard to find out here."

Manny nods, pretty sure she has a blank expression on her face. She hadn't thought of Toby all throughout the discussion, was thankful for it, but she's forced to in this moment, and can't really come up with anything.

"Tell me they got this photographer in the end," says Manny, gently.

"I was too embarrassed to say who it was," whispers Lia. "I know you think I'm brave, but with some stuff, I...I can't."

"You're brave for telling me this," assures Manny.

Lia grins timidly, letting Manny take her into her arms. It's the first time Lia's ever felt as petite as her, as frail. In fact, when they part, Lia almost looks smaller too.

"Have to go," announces Manny.

"Where?" asks Lia.

"Where I think I should be."

IV.

"Salamat," says Manny, inching out of the blue bus seat.

The man sitting next to her gives her a polite nod, resumes reading his paper. Manny peers over the heads of two, black-haired women in the opposite seat, as the wheels hit a bump, making her stomach jump. Being on the bus makes her realize that she took all those days of riding around in cars for granted. Los Angeles' bus system was confusing too, with all the criss-crossing lines, and alien names, and despite the friendliness of the people, she can't say she wouldn't rather be in Lia's Porsche.

What was more difficult than navigating the L.A. system was tracking down Elena's number. Unaware of her last name, she finally caved and dialed Blake, who referred her to Martika. Manny grit her teeth as Martika cheerfully gave her the contact info. She also mentioned being there tonight at the play with good news, which was aggravating. She hoped the good news wasn't related to the audition, but she really did want the number.

A robotic voice announces "_Echo Park, Echo Park"_ as the bus makes a turn.

"Manny, that's the stop you want," informs Elena on the other end of Manny's cell.

"This stop looks pretty bare," says Manny. "There's not a stop closer to..."

"No," interrupts Elena. "If you want to be speaking Japanese in Little Tokyo instead of Tagalog in Echo, I suggest you listen."

Manny chuckles. "Fine."

She tugs the yellow chord, signaling that it's her stop. The bus halts, allowing Manny to go to the front. A stone-faced driver doesn't return her grateful smile. The door closes with a clatter behind her.

"Thanks for all your help, Elena," says Manny.

"Anytime...I really hope you like it," returns Elena. "Good luck with the play, too."

"Yeah," replies Manny as Elena clicks off.

The truth is that the play is the last thing on her mind. Her description about things being bare was pretty appropriate. The stop was in a typical neighborhood, complete with an ordinary playground, grey and brick apartment buildings, and a stop sign with graffiti on it. When she heard the word Filipinotown, she thought she'd be seeing something more drastic as soon as she stepped into the street. No such luck. In fact, the whole area looked rather modest, urban, unattractive. Thankfully, the sun is bright and she's wearing a comfortable pink minidress with white flats. She isn't sure how much walking she'll be doing so she picked good shoes.

Crossing a narrow street, the brick buildings start to desolve into a couple fast food restaurants and apartment buildings. The lone attractions are a couple carefully placed flags of the country that her parents are so proud of, and eateries with dishes she remembers coveting in Manila: bistek, chicken adobo, pancit. To her dismay, most of the place reads Californian. She had high hopes after seeing pictures of Little Tokyo, though Elena told her it was more of a residential spot than a tourist spot. The next street she reads is Beverly Boulevard, and she sees a wide, black gate circling an area. She figures gates are usually in front of special places so she walks quickly to it.

Manny pauses, finally happy in her hunt to find something that's worth taking in, worth the trip. Beyond the black gate are a multi-colored jungle gym; wooden arches shading children playing tumbang preso, attempting to knock down a can with their shoes; grey stone benches, an elderly man sitting on one while feeding noisy robins; a large wall with the most beautiful mural she's ever seen. Her flats pound the concrete as she goes to the gate. Standing behind it, she reads the dedicatory plaque: Beverly Unidad Park, _Gintong Kasaysayan, Gintong Pamana,_ mural by Eliseo Silva. "A Glorious History, A Glorious Legacy."

One of the little girls playing giggles as she manages to kick over the can with success. Her two black ponytails remind Manny of days when she wore her hair like that, with the many colorful barrettes her mother let her wear. The whole scene looks sort of private, despite there being only five people in the park. She wonders if it's alright to go in. A park is a park, right?

As if to give her an answer, the black gate parts as the mother of the children opens it, grants Manny a warm smile. Manny returns it as the two boys and the girl skip to the gate. The girl with the ponytail grins too. It's the smallest, sweetest grin Manny's ever received. Somehow it pushes Manny into the park as the family leaves. The only other person is the man feeding the birds, and he isn't paying her any mind. Manny walks past him.

The mural is long, rich, colorful. A small, golden ship sails in the sky toward a yellow and orange sun. A tan-faced, black tied-businessman glowers above a scene of workers with gold, wide-brimmed hats. Soldiers yell their rebellion in the background, brandishing a blood-red flag across from strikers set out to reclaim some justice. Under the painted emblems of the Phillippines, she sees dancers, musicians, educators, kids. Most of the people, with their carefully painted, golden faces are happy, proud, well aware of who and what they should represent. They know who they are, will always know since they're forever captured.

Tears form in her eyes because she wishes she could be among them, twirling with the dancers, marching with the protestors, fighting with the army. What has she fought for? Fighting with Kendra seems so unimportant in this moment. How much does she know? The amount of history she can recall about the Philippines can be written in two paragraphs. Didn't this all stem back to the same event, when Justin called her what he called her? When he touched her in the video store, that was the first instance where she felt so small, weak. She felt so wonderful before with the pageant, and with her friends and her relationship. Strange how a word can make such an impact, weeks later, a month later. So no surprise that her knees are bending down, in the grass and in front of the mural, the sun beating violently against her skin. The only surprise is that her sobbing is quiet. When she's alone, when she has time to think, she can' find the answers or the power. This silence, this inability is most disheartening at all.

A few blowing, red petals sweep across the grass in front of her. One fat robin hops along the same passage, staring at Manny momentarily. The man who was feeding them, wearing dusky jeans and a grey T-shirt, approaches her. He scatters bread crumbs for the robin. The bird immediately eats it. Manny rises awkwardly.

"Nagdaramdam," apologizes Manny.

"Hoy," greets the man. "Anong pangalan mo?"

"Manny?" she says, happy she recognizes the phrase, but weary to be talking to a stranger.

"Ah," says the man, nodding.

He seems nice, resuming his task of feeding the birds. She'd really rather him keep speaking, as she's exhausted most of the Tagalog she knows. Things would be different if Joseph were here. He knew the language incredibly well.

"Uh...um...ibon?" she says, cluelessly, than shaking her head.

"You speak English?" he asks.

"Yes...yes...thank you!" cries Manny. "Oh my gosh!"

The man laughs as Manny wipes her forehead in fake frustration.

"Well, you did very well in the other language," comforts the man. "My cousin and her friends don't even try."

"I have cousins that don't speak English in Manila," explains Manny.

"Depends on where you go, I guess," says the man. "Never get tired of looking at this mural, though. Artists want to say so much, you know?"

Manny wrinkles her nose as the sun shines brighter.

"I know what you mean," she replies.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he says.

"From Toronto...Canada," shares Manny.

"Far away!" he says. "Are you enjoying your time in L.A.?"

"Yes and...no," admits Manny. "See, I came here, because...I thought I'd grow as an artist, or a person actually. But I kinda let California win over me."

"Don't feel slighted for that, Manny," says the man. "I think we all are overcome by our surroundings sometimes. Then, at the end, if we win over them, there's something to be said about that."

In the back of her brain, Manny has stored all those scenes from movies, when a sage/stranger gives the young woman a huge piece of advice. She always found that weird, because who were these guys? They just showed up out of nowhere. So forgive her for doubting this nameless person, anyway.

"You're a painter?" asks the man.

"No, an actress," replies Manny, staring at the mural. "I could never paint something that amazing."

"Thank you...or if you prefer, salamat," says the man.

"You...you painted that!" cries Manny.

"Eliseo," he introduces himself, chuckling. "When you had such an emotional reaction, I couldn't resist meeting you."

"Okay, embarrassed now," concedes Manny.

"Embarrassed?" laughs Eliseo. "Oh, try being an artist coming by to admire their work. But really...it's been vandalized a few times. Come by to check on it."

"Aw, really?" says Manny, sadly.

"Sad, but true," says Eliseo.

"It's...it's still beautiful. They must've fixed it."

"I fix what needs to be fixed," explains Eliseo. "That's all you can do."

That's one lesson she can take to the bank. Despite all this mess with Pinecrest, who she believes is intimidating, she can't be quiet like Lia. She can't be their mousy little maid. All her realizations come to a shattering halt, however, when her stomach grumbles.

"No breakfast?" asks Eliseo.

No, she didn't even eat Emma's fruit plate. The drama kept that from happening.

"There's a McDonald's a block down," says Manny.

"Just say no to junk food," insists Eliseo. "If you want some good Pinoy grub, I can tell you precisely where to go."

V.

The spicy, sweet smells of food greets her before anyone. Eliseo gave better directions than Elena did, Manny arriving at the Filipinotown mission in no time flat. Like the park, she wasn't sure how she felt about entering alone, but Eliseo told her that strangers went in all the time to view community events. Still, this wasn't like the community center in Toronto where she was a former employee.

On the way, Manny wondered if this is the same mission Elena mentioned at the audition, with the miraculous, weaving women. That may not be the case as there are more than a dozen, preteen girls filling the main room. They're all dressed beautifully, in billowy, white blouses and full, yellow skirts. Manny recognized the shirts as camisas, or angel wings as Maria sometimes called them. Despite their love of them, neither of the Santos women had one or made one. It was part of the national costume, the Maria Clara, inspired by a beautiful, modest heroine. She can't help but think that Maria Clara and Miranda would get along.

The room itself is also elaborate, white tableclothes covering twenty or so tables, holding kangkong salad, fried lumpia, apple bread pudding, and more dishes than she can name. Red, hand-made lanterns are strung across the dim room, giving more than enough light. Bamboo baskets hold red, yellow, and white flowers. Eliseo didn't tell her they were throwing a party.

"We're just finishing up, dear," says a female voice behind her. "Party ran a bit late."

Manny turns to see a pretty woman with a tight, black bun. Two roses were tucked into the band that held her hair.

"You're here for the daily brunch?" continues the woman.

"Well, yeah, but I was going to get a plate to go," explains Manny. "A friend told me I could do that."

"Certainly," assures the woman. "You can head in, though. Get a seat while we clean."

"Thanks," says Manny.

Manny walks to the back, spies a long empty table near the food. If she sits there, it's possible for her to leave without being noticed. Looking closer, she does see someone there, an elderly woman crocheting away, seated in a wheelchair. Manny takes a seat anyway. It shouldn't be too long.

"These hands," whispers the woman to herself.

Manny shyly glances to her left. The woman has long, lovely grey hair slightly covering her shoulders. Her lap is covered by a bright orange blanket. She wears a cotton black dress underneath. She's knitting a very pretty shawl, with hints of reddish-orange, rose, and gold. The mix of colors resembles a desert sunset with various types of sewn flowers.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but that's really pretty," compliments Manny.

The woman stares at her, startled.

"Sorry," says Manny.

" I needed something to do while those girls gossiped about TV shows I've never seen," explains the woman, cheerfully. "Why aren't you with them?"

"Just visiting," answers Manny.

"What a strange place to visit," says the woman.

"Well, I'm a friend of Elena's. Do you know her?"

"Elena! Yes, sweet girl. You'd never know she was an actress."

Manny decides not to take that as an insult, considering this woman didn't seem interested in pop culture. Besides, she's friendly otherwise.

"I made a mantone for her...for helping us out here," says the woman, showcasing the shawl.

"Saw it," reveals Manny. "She totally praised your handiwork."

"Nice to be appreciated," laughs the woman.

"Can knit a bit," shares Manny. "Mainly costumes for plays or to spice up my own clothes."

"Is there a young guy you're trying to impress?" chides the woman.

Well, there was, but he kissed some other girl and kept it from her. That day at the amusement park was so what she needed to, especially when Toby said that he didn't see her like everyone else. Or maybe, honestly, what she needed was to believe that herself. Part of her has to believe that she's all Toby needs. No more doubting or waiting...simply a reassurance. She's reassured him since they've been out here.

"No young man?" guesses the woman.

"Ummm..."

"You don't have to say."

"I haven't been impressing people lately," answers Manny.

The reply from the woman is covered by a couple scurrying feet, heavy footsteps pounding across the floor. Two of the costumed preteen girls jump excitedly in front of Manny.

"She's here...like in the flesh!" screams one girl.

"Kevin Smith's Kelly!" shouts the other. "It's one thing for Elena to come in, but like...this is too cool!"

Manny guesses they've seen her film, smiles nervously. These girls wouldn't be so excited if they knew what this business was really like, especially for girls that came from their culture.

"Hi," says Manny.

"You're an actress too?" says the grandmother. "Well, isn't that something?"

"Listen...you don't have to, but...," begins the first girl, her voice trailing.

"What?" encourages Manny.

"It might sound corny, but we're hitting the papier mache parol to end the party, and we'd like you to take the first whack," she finishes.

"Would mean a lot to us," adds the other girl. "My mom thought it'd be all cute, even though we were against it. But having you hit it would more than make up for the cheesiness."

Manny glances past their bodies to view a large blue, red, and yellow star made of papier mache hanging from the ceiling. They were decorated in the colors of Manila, instead of the Christmas ones she usually saw.

"I'm pretty short," demurs Manny, then grinning. "But I'll try."

"Here," insists the woman.

Manny's jaw drops as she's given the shawl, so soft, yet so strong in her grip. The fabric is every bit as beautiful in her fingers. Before Manny can protest, the woman motions her forward, planting a small kiss on Manny's forehead.

"Impress yourself, then impress the rest," she gently instructs.

"Okay," says Manny, turning pink.

The girls lead Manny to the center of the room, where the parol sways ceremoniously. It's almost too pretty to whack, papier mache glowing under the florescent lights. They asked, though. Apparently, the two girls weren't the only ones aware of Manny's occupation. She can hear light buzzing about what role she played in the background as she steadies the stick. Manny puts on the shawl, and then the tallest girl whirls her around a couple times.

"Here goes nothing!" she says to the ladies.

With a defiant whack, she hits the side of the star hard, papier mache parting, the lantern lights entering her eyes with a waning glow. Exuberant cries follow as the contents spill. The inside gifts are beautiful, coating Manny and the girls with candy and color.


	38. King of Wishful Thinking

**XXVIII. King of Wishful Thinking **

I don't need to fall at your feet  
Just 'cause you cut me to the bone  
And I won't miss the way that you kiss me  
We were never carved in stone  
If I don't listen to the talk of the town  
Then maybe I can fool myself..

I'll get over you.. I know I will  
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking  
And I'll tell myself I'm over you  
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking  
I am the king of wishful thinking

I refuse to give in to my blues  
That's not how it's going to be  
And I deny the tears in my eyes  
I don't want to let you see.. no  
That you have made a hole in my heart  
And now I've got to fool myself..

I'll get over you.. I know I will  
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking  
And I'll tell myself I'm over you  
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking..  
I'll get over you.. I know I will  
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking  
And I'll tell myself I'm over you  
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking

I will never, never shed a tear for you  
I'll get over you

If I don't listen to the talk of the town  
Then maybe I can fool myself..

I'll get over you.. I know I will  
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking  
And I'll tell myself I'm over you  
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking  
I'm the king of wishful thinking  
I'll get over you.. I know I will  
You made a hole in my heart  
But I won't shed a tear for youI'll be the king of wishful thinking  
I'll get over you..  
I'll pretend my heart's still beating  
'cause I've got no more tears for you  
I'm the king of wishful thinking..  
I'll get over you.. I know I will  
You made a hole in my heart  
And I'll tell myself I'm over you  
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking

**King of Wishful Thinking is the property of Go West and appears in the film _Pretty Woman._**

Spinner rights his surfboard as the waves unfurl on the muddy shore. Beside him is an open container of polish, two towels, and a bag of chips. His grandmother made a joke about what he was carrying, "all that and a bag of chips". Yeah, outdated slang is not too funny. He and Jimmy could crack better jokes in their sleep.

He called Jimmy the other day, currently chilling with Hazel back in Canada. Their Caribbean vacation sounded amazing, with the bigger beaches, fancy cruise liner, and expensive food. That said, he believes he's having the better time...once you factor in the time spent with Emma. Then, there was the kiss. She kissed him, just to make the clear. _She kissed him._ Spinner popped his collar, proudly, to no one in particular, since Boomer was out in the water. But really, he shouldn't be so confident. A kiss actually has to go somewhere, and he'd bet that most people wouldn't see him and Emma, of all people, going far.

Sighing, Spinner begins to polish his board, staring at Boomer as he trudges to his blanket. Boomer was a decent guy. It turns out he listened to Kendra, kept up with her likes and dislikes, like actually paid attention. Spinner can't lie and say he's never tuned out his sister; it sort of ran with the sibling territory. Well, he was always there for the big stuff in Kendra's life, and Boomer couldn't claim that was the case with him. His fellow surfer shakes his wet, shaggy hair, collapses on the cloth.

"Man, I'm going to be killing that pipeline in Santa Monica," says Boomer, happily. "Thanks for the lead, Spin."

The lead was a result of Spinner seeking info from the surf shop owner, wanting to be back in the same area as Kendra, and well, Emma, too. Toby hasn't been doing much in the way of convincing her to come home. So it's time for him to give it a go, using Boomer's participation in an amateur surfing competition as the excuse. If that didn't work, he'd have to call his parents.

"It'll be cake for you," agrees Spinner.

"You should surf, too...you've got awesome torque skills," compliments Boomer.

"What I need is some awesome convincing skills," insists Spinner.

"Ohhhh," teases Boomer. "In the ladies department? Dude, ride a wave. Get Blondie faintin'."

Spinner chuckles. "Was talking about Kendra coming home. Anyways, Emma isn't into being impressed physically."

"Hmmm...what's wrong with her?" asks Boomer.

They both laugh, Spinner kicking a small bit of sand in Boomer's direction. Thankfully, the directions to Santa Monica are just as easy. They'd be leaving shortly, with Boomer wanting to get in one last practice. Now would be a good time to call Kendra and try to arrange a meeting.

"There are other ways you can impress her physically," says Boomer, winking.

"I'm on the phone," silences Spinner, grinning despite himself.

After a couple rings, a familiar voice answers, though it's not Kendra. What is Emma doing answering Kendra's cell?

"Emma?" cries Spinner.

A tense pause is her reply, though it thaws after a few crashes from the ocean.

"Umm...hi," she says.

"Where's Kendra?" he asks. "She okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She's in the shower."

"Why are you at Toby's so early?"

"We're not," replies Emma, sharply. "She...she stayed with us last night. At Lia's, with me and Manny."

"What?" shouts Spinner, startling Boomer.

"Look...don't ask for information, because I'm as clueless as you are."

Why was Kendra jumping around California so much? He thought things were going alright at Toby's. Not perfect, but alright. Also, what's with the iciness in Emma's tone? They were on good...no, great terms when he said good-bye to her the night at the pier.

"Okay?" says Spinner. "Anyways, are you guys doing anything today? Was hoping to talk to Kendra."

"Well, I did promise to take Hannah to La Brea before the play," shares Emma.

"Awesome! Kendra can maybe tag along?" says Spinner.

"Um...yeah...yeah, I'll see and call you back," agrees Emma, more distracted than cold this time.

Before Spinner is able to utter another word, he hears the dial tone. Boomer raises his eyebrows, anxious for any clues. There's no way he's telling him that he got hung up on so he shrugs.

"Gotta miss the contest, man," apologizes Spinner. "Know where La Brea is?"

"That's an educational place," says Boomer, grimacing.

"For real?" sighs Spinner.

"Like fossils and stuff. Went on a class field trip there," explains Boomer. "How about blowing it off, coming with me?"

"Nah," says Spinner.

Boomer frowns, starts to collect his things. Surfing did sound fun, compared to a sister who wouldn't tell him anything and a girl he's into that is mad with him for some mysterious reason. Man, sometimes girls are more unpredictable than riding the waves.

II.

Mixed smells of oil, rubber, and wood filled the garage, almost suffocating Sean. He used to love those smells, prefer them to the weird, chemical scents from the Degrassi science labs, or the nice and not so nice body odors in the school halls. Plus, Mr. Hill never changed a thing. If you needed to know where a lug nut or a screwdriver was, it was always where it was supposed to be. Everything was ordered, checked, rechecked by Mr. Hill himself. He ran a tight ship, and Sean looking around now, wishes he were on it.

It was still early in the morning, the Kerwin-Isaacs' clan a ten minute drive away. The check rested safely in his pocket. The stolen spindle lay sinisterly in his trunk. During the drive, he heard the spindle rattle for a few minutes, and then nothing. It almost felt like it was in the other person's car after that.

There were only two cars in the garage. One was a rusty, cream-colored sedan, the hood popped up, and the other was a newer, blue Toyota Camry with a dent in the windshield. Tracker was the guy who taught him all about windshields– installation, repair, suitable charges. Wow, he must've been working on cars or motorcycles since Ty's age? Actually, a year or so before. He never did anything shifty when he started. Never.

Sean releases a deep breath, walks into the open garage. Usually, Mr. Hill was alone at this hour during the summer. A supply truck came with deliveries and Mr. Hill jovially greeted them, asked the suppliers how their wives and kids were getting along. It was very different from Dale, packing heat, and Sean and Ty meeting their suppliers at the docks. Sean wagered this was the best time to catch him since his mood was good.

Mr. Hill is visible behind the glass partition, pacing and reading a list. Probably the inventory. Sean rolls his eyes. Half of him hates how he knows this place so well after being fired for something Dale did. The other half wishes he was working on that Camry. Sean walks closer to the window. Mr. Hill looks up, nearly drops his list. Sean throws a glance at the Camry, then returns the look.

Without a word, he raises the check for Mr. Hill to see. He's here to do business. Reminiscing isn't going to get him out of here sooner.

"Sean!" calls Mr. Hill, opening the door to his office.

"Hey," replies Sean.

Mr. Hill indicates that he should come inside. When he was working there, it seemed like such a big deal at first to be in there. Sean felt awkward the first several times, but then it became easier. Walking in, Sean notices a mound of paperwork on the table, neatly distributed in different piles. Near the right was a picture of Dale, in cap and gown, holding his diploma with Mr. Hill smiling with pride. Best of all, Sean spots his last paycheck, laying there as if it has been there for weeks. That was probably the case.

Sean hovers before Mr. Hill asks him to have a seat. He does, the hard seat of the chair making his hips tingle. Mr. Hill had the far more comfortable chair, another bonus for owning the place. Although, Mr. Hill appears about as comfortable as Sean today. His cheeks are rosy, and he purses his lips across from Sean.

"So...uh, Russell's leaving," stammers Mr. Hill.

"Oh...oh," says Sean, putting his knees together.

"Yeah, got that sports scholarship at Montreal...training camp," continues Mr. Hill. "Gone 'til December. Down one worker."

Russell was one of Sean's older, former co-workers. Nobody could do a better paint job, thinks Sean. Except maybe me.

"Good for him," says Sean, retrieving Kate's check. "I've got the..."

"Thanks," says Mr. Hill, reaching for it.

As the check passes between hands, Sean can feel his wrist stiffening, his fingers run cold. His body is betraying him, basically telling him what his mind is telling him. Sean barely realizes when the check is gone. Mr. Hill nods appreciatively.

"That's all I came by for so...," says Sean.

"Wait...your final pay," interrupts Mr. Hill.

He finds it, presents it to Sean.

"Was hoping you'd come for it earlier," admits Mr. Hill. "Asked Jay to..."

"Yeah, got the message," informs Sean.

Mr. Hill stares momentarily at the picture of him and Dale, turns to Sean. Sean starts to slide out of his chair, not knowing if he should leave or not.

"Look, Sean...the hardest thing for a man to do is...admit when he's done wrong," says Mr. Hill, a firm crease in his brow.

"Um...I guess?" blanks Sean.

"It's just when they're your kid, your son...you automatically go into protective mode. You assume the other kid is the bad guy, when truth is...truth is, he was the best worker you ever had."

"Mr. Hill...," says Sean, starting to shake his head.

"I apologize," insists Mr. Hill. "Seen Dale work up the nerves too many a time. Hasn't been right since my wife left us. Was thinking you could be a good influence on him so I put you two together. Mistake on my part."

All his skin is growing hot. He's apologizing? That was the last thing Sean expected him to do. Maybe he underestimated Mr. Hill. Maybe he should come back. Maybe...no, there's no maybe to think about, thinks Sean. He already made a deal with the greater of two evils, and he didn't want to see Dale any more than he had to. Plus, it just wouldn't be the same after...

"Sean, I'd like to offer you your job back," says Mr. Hill. "Excellent, hard-working mechanics are hard to find. Jay's great and all, but you...you're a real pro."

He wasn't Russell, going off to some sports internship and returning to the garage in a blaze of glory. No, he was a guy returning from a stolen car parts gig in a fog of shame. If only Mr. Hill asked him sooner.

"I...I can't," says Sean, softly.

"Can only offer you a small increase in salary, but it's an increase, you know," insists Mr. Hill. "Mr. Ehl said he referred a few driver's ed students to you specifically."

Sean looks at the paycheck, the corner of his eyes stinging.

"I don't know what...," begins Sean.

"We both believe this is the best place for you," says Mr. Hill. "Is there another garage you're working..."

"No," replies Sean, quickly. "I mean...I just got...have things to do."

"Haven't I always made it a point to work around your schedules?" says Mr. Hill. "If..."

"I said I can't, alright?" exclaims Sean, standing.

Frowning deeply, Mr. Hill nods. Great. Be rude to a guy who basically respects you, always has on some level. Sean runs a hand through his hair.

"Sorry, Mr. Hill," says Sean, backing away. "I'm...I'm not..."

"You're in trouble?" asks Mr. Hill, making his way to Sean.

Sean immediately wrests open the door, walks in a hurry to the cool morning.

"Sean!" yells Mr. Hill after him.

The shout is faint by the distance Sean has made between them, rushing in and out of his ears like a warm whisper.

III.

"Now I know why Mom never took me to museums as a kid," moans Emma, reaching high for what has to be the millionth time.

Hannah scrambles against the fence, digging her small pink tennis shoes into its holes. She weighed a fair amount for a seven-year old. Emma manages to get hold of her waist and set her down on the safe pavement.

"I wanted to get closer to the tar!" laments Hannah.

"The tar is not meant to be closer to," says Emma. "Besides, you have to eat your lunch before we go inside."

"To see the saber-toothed tigers?" asks Hannah, making her hands into long, pretend teeth.

"And a few other things," says Emma.

She nods to the bench where they sit. Kendra, while there, had elected to go into the museum early. The taxi ride there was pretty tense, even though, strangely, they were both upset with Manny. Chances are that Kendra's sour in general, however. Obviously whatever was going on with Toby wasn't making either girl happy. Hannah is the best company she could ask for.

Too bad it's so tense because the La Brea Tar Pits is a beautiful setting. Well, to her it's beautiful. There's a natural, historical presence to the place. The museum is off-white, circular with a shadowy entrance, resembling a more modernized Pueblo home she saw in a documentary once. Several groups of children have gone in, while Hannah seemed more content in taking in the fake elephants planted in the tar.

Emma retrieves Hannah's lunchbox from her knapsack, then gives it to her. Hannah begins eating her sandwich as Emma puts a straw in her juicebox.

"The tar is dangerous," remarks Hannah.

"Really?" says Emma, lifting her eyebrows.

"Lia said the tar was like the River Styx, and that all creatures who are bad end up in it," explains Hannah.

"She has an overactive imagination," comments Emma.

"I guess so," says Hannah. "That's why I thought I should test it. I don't want any elephants to suffer."

Awww, just the thought of Hannah valiantly trying to save the fake animals makes her heart soften.

"Well, they won't," reassures Emma, handing her the juice.

Hannah polishes off her sandwich while Emma takes out some knitting.

"What's that?" asks Emma.

Emma stares at the red pair of socks she was knitting for Jack. She figured she could make him a couple of sets before school started.

"It's for my brother Jack," shares Emma.

"How many kids have you been a nanny for?" questions Hannah.

"Well, I baby-sat for Jack, and for my friend Craig's little sister, Angie," replies Emma.

"Were they good or bad?"

"Good and bad," laughs Emma.

"I'm the first blonde girl you've baby-sat for, right?" asks Hannah.

"Yep."

"Good. I like to be different," says Hannah, then slurping her juice.

Emma smiles to herself, her eyes wandering to a group of schoolchildren exiting the museum with a frazzled teacher in front. She's betting this is one of those bad days for the poor teacher, leaning against a wall as she counts the kids. Most of the children are carrying miniature fossil replicas, tinier than their arms. A red-haired boy separates from the group, makes whooshing noises as he makes his vulture fossil fly. He moves in a rush, makes a circle around Hannah and Emma as he goes. He lands it on their bench and grins.

"Hi," he says to Hannah.

Hannah grips Emma's arm protectively.

"Marty Fischer, if you don't get over here...," says the teacher, sternly.

"Do you go to Cavalier Elementary?" he asks.

Instead of replying, Hannah squishes Emma's arm tighter. Emma taps her to speak. No doing as Hannah looks away.

"She doesn't," says Emma.

"I like it," says Marty. "They got summer programs where you go places. They got games. They got..."

"They've got," corrects his teacher as she puts her hand over his mouth. "I swear, he's not a walking advertisement."

Blushing, the teacher pulls Marty to the rest of the group. Marty waves to Hannah before boarding the bus. Hannah gently takes her hand from Emma's arm.

"Hannah, it's rude not to speak," chastises Emma.

"He was a stranger," defends Hannah. "That's a rule you should follow."

"With me around, there was no reason to worry," says Emma. "Anyway, let's go to the museum...meet Kendra."

"Are there other kids in there?" asks Hannah, quietly.

"Yes," replies Emma.

"Then I don't want to," says Hannah, tears welling in her eyes.

She promised she'd meet Kendra in there, and that Spinner should go in there when he arrived. There was absolutely no guarantee that he'd be able to find her. He'd have to be looking to the far right.

"Kendra's expecting us," reminds Emma.

"She wasn't supposed to come, anyway," groans Hannah. "It was going to be me and you. I don't like her. She's moody."

"Hannah!" cries Emma.

"What?" says Hannah. "Lia said the same thing."

"Look, we're going to Kendra, and that's final," says Emma, standing and crossing her arms.

"Please," begs Hannah. "Don't make me."

"I'm not leaving you," says Emma.

"What if I try to climb the fence again?" asks Hannah.

"Hannah," sighs Emma, bending down. "I know you like to be alone, but it shouldn't keep you from doing things..."

"I do a lot of things," argues Hannah.

"Not like a regular person," says Emma, shaking her head.

She wishes her words could fall right back down into her throat, that they would've never been uttered. Hannah's lips start to tremble as Emma's heart shakes a bit.

"What...what would...I am regular!" shouts Hannah. "I'm regular in a different way. I am!"

Emma tries to touch her shoulder. "No, what I meant was..."

"There's no other meaning!" exclaims Hannah, running past her, her blonde pigtails bouncing on her small back.

"Hannah!" yells Emma.

Sure enough, Hannah heads right for the museum, Emma racing to it herself. Emma knows Hannah is completely right, that there is no other meaning. Her eyes are too blurry to locate Hannah. Her face is too hot from all the anger she feels towards herself. Why'd she say that? Why?

Emma hits her knees in frustration, wipes a couple tears.

"Emma?" says a voice behind her.

She wishes it were Hannah, but she turns to face Spinner, clothed in a navy blue shirt and cargo shorts. The Truth or Dare game seems like it was minutes ago. It's as if Manny is standing right next to him, and they're dating all over again. Somewhat glad that Spinner is a blur, Emma sniffles.

"The sight of prehistoric animals in black tar makes you emotional?" wagers Spinner.

Emma fans her face with her hand, tries to catch her breath. Meanwhile, Spinner hands her her knapsack, and her knitting.

"Degrassi button on the pocket," identifies Spinner, pointing to the button on her bag.

"Degrassi seems like paradise compared to here," breathes Emma.

"Uhhhh...yeah?" says Spinner in disbelief.

With clearer vision, Emma's able to finally see the room. It's quite a sight. The museum is a mix of archeological treasures, artwork, bones, and interactive exhibits. There's no wonder the kids looked so pleased when they left. It seems more fun than most of the museums she went to, and more kid friendly. Why couldn't she be friendly?

"Manny was right," cries Emma. "I say the most insensitive things sometimes!"

"What do you...," begins Spinner.

"To Hannah," explains Emma. "She's only seven, and I said something so horrible...and she's gone..."

The pressure in Emma's chest builds steadily, her breathing growing rapidly. There were tall, erected fossils set up in various corners, their brown bones glistening in the dark. An early age camel bent its head towards the floor. Stuffed antelopes stand behind medium-sized cases. That's how she feels– stuffed, trapped, tense. Emma makes a pathetic grab for the black railing separating visitors from a display of a mammoth skull.

"Emma...Em, calm down," whispers Spinner, touching her hand.

"Let me go!" she snaps, her voice echoing against every wall.

Spinner's mouth falls open, a whole group of students and their teachers staring at them with shock. She had no idea her voice would be that loud, and she definitely didn't want what she said to come out so badly.

"Need some water, dear?" asks a woman to her left.

Emma nods, dumbfounded. Apparently ignoring her command not to touch her, Spinner helps her to a chair near a rock exhibit. She's glad to be held, doesn't resist. Spinner thanks the woman as he takes the cup. Emma's heart starts to slow down after one gulp of water. People were still gawking at her, though they were slightly starting to move on with touring the museum. She feels like such a freak.

"Can you talk?" says Spinner.

Emma gasps for a few seconds, her pulse returning to normal.

"I think so," says Emma. "Yes."

"More water?"

"No...I just felt smothered for a minute," explains Emma. "So embarrassed."

"Need a doctor or something?" says Spinner.

"It's over," reassures Emma, clasping her hands together. "I was upset...it's passed."

"Emma, I'm not sure...you looked pretty out of it."

She felt out of it, but she wasn't about to let anyone get concerned for her, especially with Hannah missing. Emma stands, tries to get by Spinner.

"What's going on with you?" asks Spinner, blocking her.

"Nothing!" replies Emma. "Lately when I'm stressed, I get these weird...sensations?"

"Sensations?"

"Like I'm sinking or being crushed or...overwhelmed with emotion, that's all it is. It goes away on its own."

Emma attempts to move, but is halted by Spinner again.

"That doesn't sound good," says Spinner. "It...it was scary to watch that."

"This isn't the paleolithic era, Spin," assures Emma. "Not actually sinking or in danger. They're quick little moments."

"When was the last moment you couldn't breathe?" inquires Spinner.

"I don't know. When...when Snake came to Craig's party," brushes off Emma.

Emma is successful this time, effectively dodging Spinner and heading to where she thinks the saber-toothed tigers might be. It's sweet of Spinner to be concerned. There are more important things, though. If she lost Hannah, she'd never forgive herself, and neither would Kel Andrews. She spies Spinner in her peripheral vision.

Glancing back at him, she accidentally bumps into a couple students following their teacher to the exit. The teacher smiles in front of the long line of kids, who had to be Hannah's age. Emma stares at the kind teacher's face, shivers. Her forehead is throbbing. She can't let Spinner see because he'd hit her with more annoying questions.

"Emma?" says Spinner.

"Go away, Gavin," says Emma, hoping that by using his name he'd get agitated.

"At least let me help find..."

"I can do it myself!" barks Emma. "I'm fine!"

"You're not fine," argues Spinner, gently.

"You are getting on my last nerve!" exclaims Emma.

"I wish you'd let me in for once!" says Spinner. "Then at least I'd have a clue."

"I wish I never kissed you!" returns Emma.

She doesn't mean that, but it's the one thing Spinner believed. He walks ahead of her to a darkened passageway, the sole room Emma hasn't entered. The sight of his shrinking figure makes her eyes wet. At least she's able to breathe, although she's not sure she wants to do it.

Emma collects herself. There must be a security office somewhere near the front. She told Hannah that it was the place she should go if they were ever separated. Making her way to the entrance, she spies a familiar crown of blonde hair, Hannah awkwardly playing with her shoelace as she leans against the rocky wall.

"Hannah, I'm sorry," says Emma, leaning with her.

"Lia says mean stuff to me...I'm used to that. I'm not used to it with you," says Hannah, starting to undo one of her pigtails.

"I know and I shouldn't have said it," says Emma. "Been doing that a lot lately."

"Oh," murmurs Hannah.

"I love that you're regular in a different way," compliments Emma. "I think we could all be a little more individual."

Hannah stares at her with a small grin.

"Well, you look sad enough for me to forgive you," decides Hannah.

Emma gets on her knees, pavement hurting her skin, but it's worth the first full, true hug they shared. Hannah doesn't pull away, lets her own blonde hair touch Emma's.

"Thanks," says Emma.

"If you ever get tired of being a nanny, you should be a teacher," says Hannah. "The kids would like you."

Her head ceases to throb, a distorted image of a red-haired man lecturing in front of a bunch of computers entering her mind. The other students are just as hard to see, even a black dot she thinks could be Manny. A bell rings, and she can spot herself clearly. Clearly. She's the only one in the classroom. They've all left. Furthermore, the classroom is replaced by Kendra and Spinner coming toward them, museum in the foreground.

"Spinner!" calls Emma.

Spinner pretends to ignore them, Kendra shrugging and following him to what she guesses is Boomer's car.

"Would you like to teach, Emma?" says Hannah.

Emma bites her lip. "Not when I've got a lot to learn."

IV.

"Ahem," says J.T., clearing his throat.

"Oh boy," mutters Toby.

J.T. grandly lifts the eight by eleven frame, a carefully penned letter behind the glass. If Toby has to see this letter one more time, he'll scream.

"No more," he pleads.

"I'll read it to you then," says J.T., elbowing Toby. "Dear J.T., you must be having a sublime excursion in Los Angeles. I've crafted a collage from the assemblage of your thoughtful, informative postcards. I particularly enjoyed the one of the Kodak Theater. Did you know the seating capacity is near three thousand? Maybe we'll see Manny accept her Oscar there one day. Needless to say, our house is fairly quiet during the day, but I am managing to cover all bases regarding Student Council, the newspaper, and preparation for the Academic Decathalon. Toby and Emma may rest easy. Of course, I expect them to be productive come September. Have fun on the rest of your vacation. Your friend, Liberty."

Toby opens the door of the Majestic Theater for himself and J.T., entering a large group of theatergoers ready to view the last production of _The Tempest. _J.T. stares at him eagerly. It's difficult to hold the door due to what he's holding.

"What...you didn't catch it?" asks J.T.

"Liberty's love for five-dollar words?" guesses Toby.

"No!" protests J.T. "Friend..._friend?_"

"Yeah, after more than five years, I'd say we're friends, J.T.," says Toby.

"No, Liberty put the word friend in quotation marks," explains J.T. "It's a subtle, grammatical hint. Like...like we could be _more_."

"I smell what you're stepping in," says Toby.

J.T. wrinkles his forehead in confusion.

"Sorry, Manny taught me that...I always liked it," confesses Toby. "That's good, though. What are you going to do?"

"Make my move as soon as we get home," shares J.T. "Ask her out...with only the two of us."

"When Danny isn't around," reminds Toby, chuckling.

"Whatever," says J.T.

Toby breathes in deeply, sets the basket on a bench under a _Tempest _poster. Jeff kept his word by forwarding some cash to him this morning. He'd make sure to buy him a thank-you gift as soon as he got back to Toronto, maybe a new Maple Leafs sweatshirt.

His mother, on the other hand, was as cordial as could be. Ever since Toby disrobed in the clothing store, yelled at her, Anne Marie acted curt or reserved. Whenever Toby walked into a room, she was busy or was pretending to be busy. There were definitely no hugs, only brief hellos or "do you need this"? The car privileges were still suspended, but the refrigerator was always stocked and the hired help made sure J.T. and Toby were well taken care of.

If he talked to her, he really wouldn't have known what to say. How do you ask your mother to respect your girlfriend for what has to be the tenth or twelfth time? Why should he be the one to convince her that Manny's special to him? Why couldn't she trust his trust that he and Manny will make it?

"That's the world's biggest basket," comments J.T. with an impressed whistle.

"For the world's biggest star," says Toby, signing the card and setting it inside.

"Now all you need is Goliath to carry it backstage for you," jokes J.T.

Toby scans the crowd, hoping that a stray actor is wandering around. He'd also take a props master or a costumer...or Colin, who conveniently has access to where Manny is before curtain. After asking J.T. to guard the basket, Toby parts the excited crowd and says hi.

"Hey!" cries Colin. "Toby, right?"

"Yeah," replies Toby. "Listen. You were really good in _Cyrano._ If I could sing like you, maybe I wouldn't be behind a computer."

Colin smirks. "Some obvious sucking up, but thanks. What's the deal?"

"I have a gift for Manny..."

"Say no more," interrupts Colin, raising his hand. "When should I put it there?"

"How about in the dressing room...during intermission?" suggests Toby.

"A little booster before the second half...genius!" says Colin. "Consider it done."

V.

She has been doing an outstanding job of it. Basically, every other person would mention the name and she'd run. Martika's looking for you, Manny. Martika's looking for you. Then, she'd duck into the nearest crevice, or pretend to have stage fright. The last time she had stage fright was the pageant and they'd run through the play so many times it was like snapping your fingers. Manny spots Blake and runs for cover. They'd be kissing in the next scene, which was already awkward, but hearing that she'd gotten the maid role would be a way more awkward exchange.

Lifting her tattered, lavender skirts, Manny weaves through some extra stage lights and a hat rack until she's in the dressing room. Ariel, also known as Lia, is chatting with the other spirits, all decked out in their colorful, mystical wings and crowns. Prospero is flipping through the prop spell book while munching a cookie. The lone person with a normal appearance is Colin, who sets something huge on her dressing room stool.

"Colin!" cries Manny, excitedly. "You shouldn't have!"

"I...I didn't," sighs Colin. "Man, I was hoping you didn't see me."

As she comes closer, she identifies it as a basket. What it holds makes her warm all over. Obviously, someone put a lot of thought into the gift.

"Who...," starts Manny.

The "who", the most likely suspect, hits her like a bunch of sand bags above the stage. Manny swallows a lump in her throat, awkwardly plays with a loose strand of her hair. Colin throws her a curious, warm gaze. Manny shakes her head and opens the card.

"This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet," reads Manny.

"Aw, _Romeo and Juliet_...the ultimate tragedy," praises Colin.

Manny lets her forehead fall against the basket handle.

"Toby," she murmurs.

He deceived her, and yet he writes this? This amazing quote he must've searched for? Then, she opens her eyes, views the rest. There were various types of roses– white, red, and pink, pink flowers outnumbering the others. In the middle of the flowers, there were boxes of chocolate, Sour Patch Kids, wrapped caramel. Most noticeable of all is a green four leaf clover charm, sitting in a tiny gold box. She assumes it's for her bracelet.

"My parents only send me care packages," complains Colin. "That's what you get when you're an actor and your sister's at Yale Medical."

"Yeah?" says Manny, absent-mindedly.

If Toby thought this would make up for what he's done, he's definitely wrong. Her eyes go to the shawl the kindly, elderly woman gave her. She spent a half hour at the mission. They talked in general and she shared tidbits about the Kevin Smith film. It was all so nice. She felt more assured than ever, more confident, that she belonged. No one saw her as someone who betrayed who they were, like Justin, and she didn't have to act differently. She was Manny...is Manny. And Manny has to stand strong, she thinks.

"Manny!" shouts Blake.

Her co-star, stroking the front of his breeches, approaches them.

"If this is related to Martika, then...," says Manny.

"No, we're almost on," clarifies Blake. "Besides, you'll see her at the cast party."

"I'm not going to the cast party."

"Why?" demands Blake.

"Plans," answers Manny.

"Plans...that beat a party?" says Blake.

Yeah, plans to get Toby to fess up for something she still can't believe he did. Perhaps she should go to the party to spite him. No, that's not her style and it wouldn't solve anything.

"Leave her alone, Blake," says Colin.

"Was I talking to you?" asks Blake, folding his arms.

"Guys," interjects Manny. "We have a show to do...the last. Let's make it good."

"Your wish is my command," sighs Blake.

"Want me to get some cellophane for the basket?" suggests Colin.

As much as she loves that basket, she hates it, too. It represents some silent peace treaty, an apology that's not an apology. She can only think to...yes, that makes the most sense.

"Trash it," says Manny.

"Why would you...," begins Colin.

"I said trash it!" exclaims Manny, taking two roses and throwing them in a nearby trashcan.

Manny takes a surprised Blake by the hand, not looking over her shoulder. They'd be on in a few minutes.

"You heard the lady," he says to Colin as the lights backstage darken.

VI.

Ever since he sat down, he's been practicing. He selected a place with a positive atmosphere, with a lot of flash and color. J.T. offered to find Manny after she got out, hail a cab, and tell them where she should meet him. Usually, he stayed after to personally congratulate her but this was important.

First, he'd follow suit and give her his heartfelt congratulations. See, that part was easy. Manny did excellently. The lines were already poetic, became more poetic when they flowed from her mouth. She, at turns, looked shipwrecked, innocent, in love. Ugh. He cringed when she kissed Blake. Sure, it's acting and he has to get used to that. That didn't make it any less difficult to sit through. What's more difficult? He has to tell her what happened with Kendra. This should've already been taken care of. He should've put on this black suit and red tie without worry. There should be celebration instead of doubt. Plus, Manny should've been here earlier, ten minutes ago to be precise.

Toby wrings his hands, lets them lay flat on the table. At least the decor is nice. Small, white and gold chandeliers were placed all throughout the room. The restaurant has light, red walls, windows showcasing the lit city of Los Angeles. The price of the food was high, but not staggering. When Toby called Jeff, he confessed that he had no idea where to take her. Jeff recommended Pastis. Pastis was where he ate with Anne Marie some time when she was in grad school. Toby almost didn't believe it, that his parents were at peace in their younger years. But, of course, he's a product of that unfathomable peace. He gave his father the benefit of the doubt and made reservations. Truth be told, when he was doing that, he felt really mature. He took that as a good sign.

Manny coming through the door of Pastis is the other good sign. Toby smiles. She looked more beautiful free from the corsets, ruffles, the lace. Her small shoulders and light blue dress are covered by a remarkable rose and gold shawl. He's never seen that before. It compliments her hair, long and wavy. He stands as a bow-tied waiter shows Manny to their table.

"Miranda," he says, going to her side and pulling out her chair.

Manny nods at the waiter, who leaves. She grins nervously and allows Toby to push in her chair.

"Did you like the basket?" asks Toby, taking his seat.

The nervous grin hasn't left her face. Why would she be nervous? The play's done. She can relax.

"I...I left it at the theater," replies Manny.

"It was too heavy. Sorry," apologizes Toby.

"Mmm hmmm," says Manny, darting her eyes to the left.

Okay, silence. They were rarely silent. Toby clears his throat.

"I admit...J.T. helped me with the quote," laughs Toby. "The drama club's doing Romeo and Juliet next year?"

"Yes," says Manny, eyes still turned.

"Can't wait to see you as Juliet," says Toby.

"Umm, I might stage manage," mumbles Manny.

Now, she's starting to search through her purse? Toby furrows his brow, his palms getting sweaty.

"You'll be well-rounded," praises Toby.

Instead of saying anything, Manny removes her shawl, puts it on the back of her chair. She zips her purse and finally faces him. Her gaze isn't sweet and light-hearted. That's what they were typically were, and tonight, they're focused, searching.

"I like this restaurant," says Manny.

"Thanks," says Toby.

He reaches under his chair, handing Manny a rectangular-sized box. This couldn't fit in the basket and he didn't want it to get damaged. Liberty's letter wasn't the only thing they had framed at the souvenir store. Manny offers him a puzzled look, shreds the gold wrapping paper.

Manny has a pleased smile, her gaze returning to its usual joyful self. Her _Tempest _playbill is behind the glass, the inset with her name and credits in a small compartment at the bottom of the frame. J.T. griped that they were at the store way too long so they could finish this, but Manny's expression is worth every second.

"Tobes, this is...," says Manny, her voice trailing off.

Her mouth changes, a frown quickly appearing. Perhaps he'd moved her that much, so much she was speechless. Toby blushes, leans into kiss her.

"No," whispers Manny, twisting her neck.

Toby blinks behind his glasses. He scoots back further into his chair. Why'd she turn away from him? Did she...yes, she did. She knew.

"I can't kiss you," whispers Manny.

Toby lowers his eyes.

"Do you want to confess something? Anything?" encourages Manny.

Toby stares at the other diners, the silverware, the city for solace. They offer him no comfort. The only thing, person giving him attention is Manny.

"Who told...," whispers Toby.

"That doesn't matter, Toby," interrupts Manny, shrugging. "I'm not kissing you if you're kissing some other girl."

"She kissed me!" exclaims Toby.

A passing waiter shoots him the evil eye, but that's no match for the pain inflicted on him by Manny's hurt look.

"It isn't even about the kissing," says Manny, tearfully. "It's everything else. You comfort her, you cheer her on, you protect her."

"I won't," insists Toby. "I won't...anymore. Manny..."

"Did you ever talk to her like you said you would?" asks Manny.

"Things kept coming up," answers Toby.

"Yeah, like things kept coming up so you didn't tell me," shoots down Manny. "That excuse doesn't work, Toby."

Toby can feel his eyes stinging behind his glasses. Of course, she's completely right. He could smack himself.

"Listen carefully," breathes Manny, taking his hand from across the table.

It's the first gentle contact she's initiated so Toby's more than willing to accept it, cradling her hand with his.

"When we began to date, you made me feel so beautiful...wonderful," says Manny, tears sliding on her cheeks. "My heart would know you were in the room before my eyes. It'd be beating so fast. I was like, why is my friend making me feel this way?"

Toby's hand reddens, a mark of shame or pleasure, he's not sure.

"It's because you weren't my friend anymore," cries Manny, Toby feeling her hand shake. "You were there for me, even when it was difficult. You took a chance because we started to change and you liked it. I still...I still like it, Toby."

"Manny," protests Toby weakly.

"I love it," breathes Manny, her voice cracking.

"Same," whispers Toby.

Manny's lip tremble. "You decided...it was me. You decided."

Toby's chest pounds. The whole room whirls, and he's so hot like he might faint.

"When did I not become your decision?" says Manny.

"You are...," starts Toby.

"No...no, I don't think I am," interjects Manny. "Because you would've talked to her and told me, and do all the things Toby usually does."

"I forget things when I talk to her, but not you," says Toby. "You are the most important girl..."

"Am I?" says Manny.

"Yes!" cries Toby.

"If...if I'm not the girl that makes you feel confident, amazing, strong...then I'm not the girl for you," asserts Manny. "I want you to feel like you need no one else. We can't be together until that's the case."

Toby's throat goes dry. He can't think. Why can't he think? He has to do something, say something. Hasn't Manny reassured him all those times, and he goes blank now? It's all going in slow motion. Manny putting on her shawl, handing him the playbill, rising.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" asks their waiter, blocking her.

Yes, yes, block her! Block her until he has the words.

"I'm leaving," answers Manny.

She's walking...she's actually walking! Toby jogs after her, the restaurant's main room disappearing. He's only seeing her back, the shawl fluttering as they go outside.

"Taxi!" shouts Manny.

A cab rumbles to where she stands. Toby's quick this time, positioning himself in front of the vehicle.

"You fell out of love with me that fast?" demands Toby.

Hot tears stick to his nose. They're not going anywhere, and neither is Manny, not if he can help it.

"Toby...," says Manny, clearly exasperated.

She reaches for the door, Toby making sure she can't.

"Answer me," he pleads.

"The only one who has to answer that question is you," says Manny.

The calm answer forces him to do it all– to move, to open the car door for her, and to look at her through the window. Toby bends to talk to her. The cabbie honks his horn, obviously raring to speed away.

"Congratulations," whispers Toby, handing her the playbill.

Manny tenderly takes it. She hugs it to her chest and starts to sob. It's the last thing that's uttered before the cab engine starts and they go. She goes.

VII.

The light in the lowest room of his mother's house is on, a yellow rectangle behind the shrubbery. All the other lights are out. J.T. was probably at the cast party, having fun. Whenever he was around any fellow actors, he always had fun. Toby punches in the number so the gate will open, fumbles for his key.

When the front door is open, he can hear the TV from the foyer. They're laughing, constant laughter from some sitcom. Heh. They must feel all the joy in the world...they must've stolen it from him. His limbs are weak so he could barely crawl into his own cab. He collapses on the stairs, hand gripping a leg of the banister.

"Who's there?" she calls.

That's not the voice he wants to call. Manny's.

"It's me," says Toby.

Anne Marie, cream-colored business suit immaculate, steps slowly into the foyer. She takes in Toby's hunched frame. Toby turns from her. Every muscle in his body moves when he sniffles.

"Toby?" says Anne Marie.

"I...," says Toby, rising.

He was going to tell her that he was going to bed, or that he was tired. He was going to crash and stare at the ceiling all night. He was going to ignore every chance that he'd crack.

"I lost Manny," he chokes out.

Sighing, Anne Marie envelops her son in her arms. She lets his tears fall everywhere, strokes his brown hair.

"I lost her," cries Toby. "I've been doing everything wrong...I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," whispers Anne Marie. "Go ahead and cry...just go ahead and cry."


	39. Good Vibrations

**XXXIX. Good Vibrations**

__

Ah! I love the colorful clothes she wears,  
and the way the sunlight plays upon her hair  
Ahhhhhh! I hear the sound of a gentle word,  
on the wind that lifts her perfume through the air.  
I'm pickin' up good vibrations, she's givin' me the excitations.  
I'm pickin' up good vibrations, she's givin' me the excitations.  
Good, good, good, good vibrations, she's givin' me the excitation.  
Good, good, good, good vibrations, she's givin' me the excitations.  
Close my eyes, she's somehow closer now,  
softly smile, I know she must be kind.  
When I look in her eyes,  
she goes with me to a blossom world.

My, my, my, what e(lation),  
I don't know where, but she sends me there.  
My, my, my, what a sen(sation),  
My, my, my, what elation.  
(Gotta keep those love good  
Vibrations are happening with her)  
Ahhhhhh

**Good Vibrations is the property of the Beach Boys and appears in the film _Vegas Vacation. _It's also their first British number one, so that fits the CrAsh storyline. ;)** **Thirdly, it was used in the musical _Return to the Forbidden Planet_, as a song about Miranda, who of course Manny plays in this story. Please read and review! Thanks! Nikki**

The thumping, happy-go-lucky pop music is the least of her problems. There was an unfinished, unfocused article on her desk table, waiting for Ellie to correct the errors with her usual tenacity. She's not sure she can give it the attention it deserves. Matthew might skewer her for it in class, but he didn't have all this confusion running rampant in his mind.

Thankfully, the pop music switches to an alternative tune that was similar to one the Squatch played last semester. Skates roll across the hard, crowded floor, a few stray laughs tunneling in Ellie's ears as two teenage girls fly by. The sparkling pink and purple lights above outline the other twenty or so girls crossing the rink. Ten or so were wearing navy blue berets with Greek insignia on the front. If you would've asked her where she'd be after the seminar today, the last place she'd ever think of is a roller skating meet-and-greet. She's guessing Alex feels the same.

Still, Alex agreed to be Paige's plus one. Ellie's very familiar with the idea of plus one. It's who you drag to a gathering when you can't find anyone else. They were usually places where you didn't want to go so you usually found someone who was willing to put up with it for you. That was going to be the complete opposite of her road trip with Sean. They planned to go where they wanted to go, be on their own time schedule, not caring whether or not they were impressing the people around him. You'd sooner find them going on a paddleboat ride near Granville Island than giggling over milkshakes like Paige and her possible sorority sisters. But that was before Sean got distant.

The talk with her father wasn't lost on her, though. Her and Sean routinely had conversations that led to solutions. Once you get past the biggest hurdle, with Sean actually having left Toronto last year, the other hurdles can't be too high, right? All she knows is that it has something to do with Jay, Dale, and most importantly, Sean's character. The last thing would always be precious to her. He always tried to protect her, looked out for others. If he's protecting Dale, there has to be a reason. Talking to him just made the most sense. She tried. Sean was making himself unavailable. He wasn't answering his home phone or his cellphone. Jay has similarly disappeared from the ends of the earth. What she wouldn't give to have one of these guys show.

"Excuse me, miss," says a man with greasy curls, stretching next to the door leading to the rink.

And not in spandex, adds Ellie. A rather large gut is covered by a green spandex shirt, matching green pants underneath. The man flexes his arm, proudly nods at Ellie.

"Champion of the pairs roller dancing competition...three years running," he says.

"Good to know," says Ellie, politely.

"Are you here with...?"

"Um, yeah...I'm taken," interrupts Ellie.

"Are you sure?" asks the guy leaning in. "You're here alone and...looking very feisty. Like a female wolf. _Woof...woof!"_

Ellie turns her head as he continues barking. She's relieved when she hears another female voice in the background.

"Barking up the wrong tree, putz," says Alex. "We're here...together."

The man frowns, assesses Alex with a look of disinterest. He glances back at Ellie briefly before returning his eyes to Alex.

"I'll see you..._on the rink_," he says, narrowing his eyes.

He skates away. Ellie releases a sigh of relief, shakes her head.

"What kind of weirdos come to these places?" says Ellie, standing and walking to Alex.

"Paige," groans Alex. "And the sorority pod people. I've already met three girls named Kimmy. Why'd you call?"

"Sean is mysteriously gone," shares Ellie.

"We saw him at the Dot the other day," reminds Alex.

"With some kid I'd never heard of...I don't know. Seen Jay either?"

"Not as much," says Alex. "When I do, he's busy or high out of his mind. I drove him home one day. Haven't talked to him since."

What is going on? She can recall days when the four of them were totally in the know about what the others were doing. If there was a party, they were all there. If something huge happened, they were all there. Man, when Amy got alcohol poisoning, they were all there. Nothing got past the other.

They stare wordlessly as the man with the curly hair does a grand twirl inches away and shoots a cold glance at Alex. Ellie shudders after he skates off.

"Anyways, I'm thinking that if you call Sean, he'd actually pick up," proposes Ellie.

"And I can talk to him for you?" says Alex.

"You guys talk so that we can talk," explains Ellie. "Alex, there's no beef between the two of you."

Alex smiles. "I can't believe you said beef."

"Being worried decreases my vocabulary," says Ellie, rolling her eyes. "Please?"

"Fine," says Alex.

Finally, a definitive way to get to him. It's nice to know she can at least rely on Alex. What's also reliable about Alex? She always had a nail file that she barely used for her usually perfect short nails. Whipping it out, she goes for the handle bars of the rink. Ellie doesn't pay attention to what she's carving. There's something else she has to say.

"Alex...the night when we were all together...what I said...I'm sorry if that offended you," stammers Ellie. "I understand...I get that not everyone goes to university."

"Your vocab really does suck," says Alex.

Ellie smirks. "Okay...okay. Don't take my apology."

"Whatever," shrugs Alex, grinning. "It's taken, like you are."

"Thanks," says Ellie.

"When we were graduating, it just...just was like noticeable, you know?" says Alex, softly. "I'm like, where's Jay? Where's Jay? Then, I remember that..."

Her voice fades as she carves harder. She doesn't have to finish. Ellie wouldn't have wanted to get her diploma without Ashley and Marco. It must be tough not having your best friend graduate with you. Then, Alex wasn't particularly fond of her home situation for that matter.

"Hill's only takes the best," assures Ellie.

"Yeah...Jay was always itching to get a gig like that, anyway," says Alex with a bigger smile. "He's not into ceremonies. But Sean...I think he's that type to walk the stage."

"Me too," says Ellie, grinning.

Their conversation halts as a blonde-haired girl approaches them, also smiling. In laced up lavender roller skates, Paige joins them. She lets out a weighty, pleased sigh.

"Scored major brownie points by mentioning my mom was also a Gamma Kappa Psi," boasts Paige. "Got a good vibe from the president. Hon...hon, what are you doing?"

Ellie looks over the side of the rink. Alex has carved a P and a M on the handlebars. Alex chuckles.

"Oh my...," starts Paige, her eyes bulging.

"Relax, Paige," whispers Alex. "Nobody is going to know it was me...or you, really."

"It's not about that. It's about...," she begins to scold.

Paige silences herself when a pretty, perky brunette skates to the three of them. Though the berets were all of similar sizes, hers appeared to be the largest of them all. Paige quickly takes the file before their group becomes larger.

"Hiiiiiii, girls!" greets the brunette.

"Hi...Betsy," says Paige, then coughing.

"We're getting lonely there without you," insists Betsy. "This must be Alex. I would die to have a cool name like that. Can we call you Lexi? Huh?"

"No," replies Alex, crossing her arms.

"You're so funny!" laughs Betsy. "Paige tells me you're an athlete. Lacrosse? Well, Banting's trying to get a team started. I'd be willing to give it a go. What do you like about it?"

"I get to hit stuff," says Alex.

Ellie covers her mouth to keep from laughing while Paige strokes her brow.

"Well, okay!" says Betsy, nervously. "Don't dwaddle now, girls. Gamma Kappa Psi ladies love to chat. We're discussing _Gossip Girl _just to give you a heads up. See ya!"

Betsy begins to hum as she skates to her fellow sisters and the prospectives. Paige harrumphs and stares at Alex.

"Was that completely necessary?" she asks Alex.

"In that situation? Yes," replies Alex. "You and Betsy are the ones going to Banting...not me."

"You said you were interested in college," says Paige.

"I didn't say which one," argues Alex. "I'd much rather..."

"Come on...it'll be done by nine forty-five," soothes Paige. "I'll talk about Chace Crawford for the next twenty minutes and we can split."

"Lemme finish this first," barters Alex, taking back her file.

"What...are you going to add an S for extra cheek?" cries Paige.

"Extra cheek," says Alex, smirking. "PMS. Wasn't that the name of that lame pop group you were in during the eighth grade?"

"Do me a favor...skate?" says Paige, then throwing her hands in the air.

Alex shrugs at Ellie, pockets the file and takes after Paige. If only her conversation with Sean went that easily. The bad feeling she has in her gut probably means the complete opposite is more likely.

II.

A blast of cold wind flows through the taxi window. Manny thought all the summer breezes before were cool, soothing. They'd brush against her neck or blow against her cheek. Most of her days in California had beautiful weather. The sun always shone in L.A., and even when the clouds would shade the sun, you knew it was there.

The first postcard she sent to her parents, on the third day of camp or so, showed a large, rolling street. Beautiful mansions stood on the left and right sides, a Rolls Royce was parked near the sidewalk, and the gorgeous street stretched out so far she thought it'd never end. Who knows how far it went? There was so much possibility. But it was only a postcard, worth fifty cents, a dollar more if she needed stamps.

She paid the fare and left the car. The Andrews house looked fairly alive at ten o' clock. Several of the lights were on, and there was a steady stream of music from Lia's bedroom window. She was hoping that she'd go in undetected.

"Hello," says Hannah as soon as Manny enters.

Hannah is in the process of packing. Lia told her before the play that their Aunt Gretchen annually offered to take Hannah for the evening of the Starlight Ball. That was before Emma agreed to the caregiver position. Now, Gretchen wouldn't sacrifice her time with her niece for someone "she didn't even know." Hannah didn't seem the least disappointed, but Manny thinks it's because Hannah thought Emma was coming to her aunt's, too. Emma would eventually have to clue her in to the real deal.

"How's the packing going?" asks Manny, rubbing her red eyes.

"Good," informs Hannah. "I am packing alphabetically. T is for toothbrush, toothpaste, and towels."

"Oh," says Manny, trying her best to convey interest.

"What's wrong?" says Hannah.

"I'm sad...sad that the play's over," answers Manny.

She hates to lie to a seven-year old, but doesn't want to talk about what's really over. She just can't believe it's over. Manny covers both her eyes, starts to cry softly.

"Manny?" whispers Hannah.

"Gremlin, what did you say to her?" demands a voice behind Manny's hands.

"Nothing!" defends Hannah. "Not unless toothpaste makes her cry."

"Go pack your washcloth," orders Lia.

"I was going to!" says Hannah, Manny hearing her small footsteps run upstairs.

Lia slowly guides Manny's hands to her waist, leads her to a sofa in the living room. She's basically lost control of her body. Her head jerks because of her shakiness. Her hands barely grip the tissue Lia presents her. She can't feel her feet; they're that numb.

"What happened?" asks Lia.

"Toby and I...we...um, I...," she attempts.

The words aren't coming out. She can barely believe them. It's a lie, like the lie she told Hannah. Why didn't Toby deny it? They could be having dinner right at this moment, celebrating his internship offer and her success. It could be like Confirmation and the variety show all over again. You can't deny the truth, though, can you?

"It's...it's done?" guesses Lia.

"Yes," breathes Manny.

"Wow," whispers Lia.

"Well...I gave him an ultimatum," clarifies Manny. "Still, I..."

"There's still a chance, then," says Lia. "All Toby has to do is follow up on the ultimatum. I mean, he's a smart guy."

"He let me leave, Lia!" cries Manny.

Manny stands, tries to fix her messy hair. The ultimatum _was_ the loophole. No, instead, Toby asked her to reveal her feelings. Her feelings were already known. She was pretty forward throughout their relationship. How much more forward did she have to be?

"Give him time," suggests Lia. "Sometimes boys don't...like it has to sink in."

"I can't...can't give him any more time," stammers Manny. "I have...have to get away from this house..."

"Well, I can help you there," says Lia.

Raising her eyebrows, Manny allows a smile to break through. Wherever it is, if it takes her further from any memories of Toby for a day, she's more than ready.

"The plan is we sleep tonight, and then we get the Andrews treatment at Vertigo Spa, the best spa in Beverly," informs Lia. "Release the toxins, release the Toby."

"I can't pay for..." begins Manny.

"Uh-uh, it's on Kel," interrupts Lia. "He should want his oldest looking smashing for the Starlight Ball."

"It's no trouble?"

"Nah. In fact, we can take Emma along after we drop off Hannah. If you come in threes, you get a complimentary gift basket."

Mentions of gift baskets are so not what she needs to hear. She told Colin to trash the one she got tonight. She didn't want him to do it. Not really, just like she didn't want Emma to be upset with her because of the photo album. Manny drops back onto the sofa, moans.

"Oh, and before I forget, Martika's looking for you," says Lia.

Manny tosses her a blank look, lets her head crash into the cushion. "Ugh."

III.

"Do you need anything?"

That's the most ironic question. She really can't give him what he needs. After providing more than what was called for, Anne Marie couldn't. Toby takes a seat on his bed, his surroundings fading in and out. The closet door is open so he focuses on it. He hears the movement of his mom making to fix up various things in the room.

"No," says Toby after a minute goes by.

Playing with the left sleeve of her suit, Anne Marie releases a huge sigh, rocks on her low heels. Toby wasn't sure what to say next. He can hear the guilt in the quiet. It's so loud. It contains everything he should've said when he should've said it. Hindsight always increases the volume of his thoughts. The clearest thought is that he's leaving in three days. He's wasted so much time he could've spent with her, only her.

"I...I got your suit," informs Anne Marie, heading to his closet.

"What?" says Toby.

Anne Marie smiles at him briefly, retrieves the Calvin Klein suit, delicately protected by a clear garment bag.

"Milan fixed it impeccably, I'm sure," says Anne Marie, nervously. "And your tickets...I got them, too. For me, you, J.T. and..."

The unfinished sentence makes Toby's heart sink. She went to all that trouble for nothing. Seeing that unused ticket would've dealt a devastating blow. Toby lowers his head to the floor.

His bed creaks as he shifts to the left. Anne Marie had laid the suit on the other side of the bed, sat down next to him.

"I'm not good at this, Toby," breathes Anne Marie, wringing her hands.

Hmm, the action he'd done before Manny came into Pastis. Maybe they _are _related, staring at Anne Marie's fingers.

"This...this parenting thing," continues Anne Marie. "It's not...not like I haven't been dumped before or...no, that's not the right thing to say, is it? And these...well, the suit won't..."

Toby glances up at her, takes a deep breath.

"I was going to let J.T. pick out a suit tomorrow," shares Anne Marie. "This was all supposed to be a surprise."

"That was nice," whispers Toby.

"It's because...because of me, isn't it?" asks Anne Marie.

As angry as he was with her earlier, laying the blame on anyone besides himself won't change what has happened. Didn't he set all the pieces in motion? He contacted Kendra without Manny knowing; chose to help Kendra instead of going to Manny's show; let Manny stay in his bathroom with his mother downstairs; put them all in a tricky situation.

"It's because of me," says Toby.

"I...I don't understand," says Anne Marie. "You've defended her and supported her and..."

"At the same time as someone else," admits Toby, taking off and folding his glasses.

Anne Marie separates her fingers, gently takes his hand, her thumb right over the right lens. Her skin is warm, and so are her eyes when he glances at her. Maybe it's the light. He hopes it's not.

"I've never liked who I am," says Toby. "Like sometimes I think I might...but tonight..."

"How can you possibly say that?" questions Anne Marie. "Hmmm? I have always loved the person you turned out to be."

"Mom..."

"Toby, you care about people. Really care. You don't make anyone feel like they're not important or that they can't do better. You try so hard, you work so hard."

Anne Marie releases his hand, guides her son's head to her shoulder.

"But then you make time for people," she says, her eyes becoming wet. "Something I've been really horrible with."

Toby raises his head. That's basically what he argued in the store, and she's saying it, confessing that that's the case. She listened.

"Your room," breathes Anne Marie, standing.

Doing a quick take of the room, he doesn't see anything out of place except for the suit. He had managed to clean it up before he left for the play. What could've possibly caught her attention?

"I was so excited when the doctor told me I was having a boy," says Anne Marie. "Didn't tell Jeff because he's all about mystery, not into planning. Oh, but I was ecstatic. Your nursery had to be blue with all the trimmings. Wrote out carefully everything that I wanted in there."

Anne Marie places her red hair over her shoulder, leans against Toby's desk.

"Saved the paper and that was your first room," says Anne Marie. "Then we altered it when you got bigger. And then I left..."

"This room looks sort of like my old one did," says Toby.

"You noticed?" says Anne Marie, grinning. "Yeah, I thought you would."

Toby rises from the bed. He figures that if she can be so open with all of this, he can make it known that he's open to hearing it. Not revealing things lead to...heartache.

"I was trying to make this my little piece of you when you're away," confesses Anne Marie, a tear falling down her cheek. "But it hurts to come in here. I am so happy you're here."

"I...," begins Toby.

"It's okay if you don't love me as much as your father. Your father moved on and I don't expect anything. And Manny? It makes sense that you love her more than me..."

"Don't," interrupts Toby. "I've never felt like that. Do I want to know you more than I do? Yeah, but...I haven't not hoped. I've always hoped we'd be close...actually."

Anne Marie grins, her wet cheeks spreading with amazement. Everything he says is true. If she gave a little bit, he'd give a little bit too. Yes, hopefully, that little bit would become a lot. He's young, newly seventeen.

"There's time?" says Anne Marie.

"There's always time," assures Toby, shrugging.

He lets his arms rise, rise enough to where he's hugging her and he's so glad that she doesn't pull away and more glad that he doesn't. Anne Marie lets out a gentle cry, sounding like she'd been saving it for years. It's a cry that shows that she cares. He just never thought he'd be around to hear it.

"Damage control," sighs Anne Marie, releasing him.

Oh, she has business to attend to, then. Well, there's only so much progress they can make in one night.

"Okay," says Toby, after clearing his throat.

"So what are you going to do?" asks Anne Marie.

"Huh?"

"Toby, whenever my client makes a mistake that threatens their potential happiness, they do something about it."

"Still not..."

Anne Marie places her hands on her hips. "Manny."

"She...she won't..."

"Won't is unacceptable," says Anne Marie. "Won't only exists when neither of you is breathing. Communication, effort, and confidence wins them over every time."

Toby offers her a reluctant grin. Leave it to his mother to make this into an agenda with incredible focus.

"Focus," says Toby, quietly. "That's...that's it!"

"The backbone of any achievement," says Anne Marie, grinning.

"I...I can't give up...not..not yet," stammers Toby.

"Determination is an Isaacs trademark," insists Anne Marie. "How do you think I got where I am?"

Toby nods. "Hold onto the tickets?"

"I have no one to take," says Anne Marie.

"Not Doug from Disney?" kids Toby.

"Young man, that has to be the craziest idea...," replies Anne Marie, her words fading as she hugs Toby tightly to her side.

Their joined laughter fills the familiar room. It's the nicest sound he's heard all night.

IV.

"Your muscles are so tight," notes the woman as she rubs Manny's shoulder blades. "It'll be a miracle if we get them loose."

"Is it her chakra? It's always the chakra," sighs Lia.

"It was a joke," clarifies the masseuse. "You'll be just fine when I'm through with you, dear. Vertigo always satisfies."

Manny rolls her eyes under the cucumbers covering them. Yes, it's probably the chakra, and everything else. Her whole body is completely at the mercy of her feelings and no magic fingers will do the trick. Why, she wants to know, and ewww, one of her eyelashes met her pupil during the cucumber eye roll. Manny takes them off.

"Keep them on, Manuella," scolds Lia. "Here, if you're bored with them, do this."

Laying on the opposite cot next to hers, Lia takes cucumber slices from a shiny, green dish. Manny narrows her eyes in confusion.

"One...two," says Lia, putting one on her left eye, and then her right.

"Yeah?" says Manny.

"Three," says Lia, sliding one into her mouth.

Manny smirks. "Actresses are weird."

"You should talk," laughs Lia. "But seriously, they help with the full spa experience."

The full spa experience won't change the fullness in her stomach, the heaviness of her heart. You can't massage a heart, anyway. Though, based on its appearance, Vertigo was intent on doing everything else. With mauve-colored sinks, paisley green walls, and the softest cots in creation, the ultimate goal is clearly pure relaxation in a girly atmosphere. Miniature trees were planted everywhere and someone had put on a tape with mixed recordings of gushing waterfalls, chirping tropical birds, and jungle music. It truly did remind her of Emma's dance for the pageant.

Her best friend had elected to take Lia up on her offer after Lia's persistent plea. Deep down, she's certain that Emma would like to be liked for Lia, if only for Hannah's sake. But the anger with Manny hasn't subsided, Emma being quite resolute to stay away from her and lounge in the outside lobby. Fine with her. Okay, not fine with her. Manny would at least like one of her confidantes back. With Toby figuratively gone, Emma's the closest option. If she had the power, she probably wouldn't have switched the pictures. It was a momentary lapse of emotion, some small way to see if she could piece together anything, hold onto anything. She still wanted Emma to be out here with her. Nobody can replace a best friend, or really a sister they way that they were.

Manny lays back down, corrects the white towel over her frame. Lia looks more stunning in hers because she's so tall. Ugh. Manny's thankful she's not going to the ball so they wouldn't be compared at the actual event. Her masseuse starts in on her arms as the musical waterfall crashes. Lia's cell phone deadens the crash with its ring.

Apparently an old hat at fetching her cellphone while getting a massage, Lia gets her phone without moving much.

"Hello?" sing-songs Lia. "Yeah, silly. Come in."

Colin? No, realizes Manny, as the door immediately opens. It has to be Emma as quick as she got here.

"Hate interrupting your day of beauty, but...," begins Emma.

"We'll take a breather," sighs Lia, rising. "Shelly, Hortense. You've been great. Now, skedaddle."

The two masseuses need no further instruction, Hortense patting Manny firmly on the forehead before exiting. Man! She should've gone with Shelly. Lia snapped her up before they changed, and now she knows why. Manny rises slowly.

"Hannah alright?" asks Lia.

"Yeah," says Emma, looking a bit taken aback that she mentioned her sister.

Manny's not so shocked. Lia may not be the kindest sister, but she made sure Hannah was always in good hands.

"Reason for this pause then?" encourages Emma.

Emma bypasses Manny, taking a long breath. She whispers something in Lia's hair. The silent treatment? Whatever. Let them have their secret. Manny crosses her arms. Lia smirks, shakes her head.

"Okay," says Lia.

Without another word, Lia grabs one of Vertigo's green, terry cloth robes and leaves the room.

"Where's she going?" asks Manny.

Emma hovers around one of the cots, without any eye contact.

"Kendra's kinda outside," replies Emma.

Great. The reason for her relationship ending is always around. It's like having her own resident reminder that Toby is into someone else.

"Nice, Em," says Manny, shaking her head. "Are you that ticked with me?"

"I came in here to warn you!" says Emma. "Manny, she came looking for me and she has no cab fare. Spinner's unable to get through to her, I guess."

"She should go home!" cries Manny. "She got what...she got what she wanted."

Manny turns her back to Emma after those words. Wow, she never thought she'd ever say those words. Kendra has her ex-best friend and her ex-boyfriend. She's even staying at the same girls' house.

"That's so up for debate," consoles Emma.

"There's no debate," murmurs Manny. "Toby hasn't called or...done anything."

"Manny..."

"You don't like me either," says Manny, more clearly.

"Or I thought about what you said, but am afraid to say...you were right," corrects Emma, gently.

Manny glances over her shoulder with a slight smile. That sounded like an almost apology and it made her muscles more loose, at least a little.

"Same on this end," confesses Manny.

"I'll watch what I say," says Emma.

"And I'll watch what I do," concedes Manny.

"This may be totally out of character, but I believe that girls should stick together," says Emma, turning her around.

"A feminist notion from Emma Nelson," sighs Manny, playfully. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hugs are better than massages," says Emma.

"Yeah, you want to get on that cot for me?" returns Manny. "Hortense's hands are evil."

Emma chuckles as they embrace. It is a welcome hug, but it doesn't erase who's in the other room or the fact that Manny has to face her.

"Why?" groans Manny. "There's got to be a better way to release all this...all this stress. Preferably clothed."

"Heh, you should've said that earlier," says Emma, leading her to the door.

"I'm scared," says Manny. "Very."

V.

"Toby, there are like a trillion spas in Los Angeles," moans J.T., flipping through the phone book.

"And Fred probably knows all of them," says Toby.

Toby scoots to the divider button of the limo, presses it to reveal Fred who careens his neck as they reach another street. Never has he been so happy that Anne Marie gave him the use of this car. There were still conditions. The curfew would stay and he'd have to help Fred clean the limo on the last day, but he does feel like he has more freedom. When you bust through the dam, the water does seep out. Her kindness to him has seeped out.

J.T.? Well, J.T. was so perplexed that he had to get up this early that he didn't ask any questions, finally waking up fully at around eleven after the limo had crossed countless neighborhoods. They went to the Andrews' first, of course, but that proved fruitless. No one was home. One of their neighbors was outside, mowing his lawn. He told them that the littlest Andrews was away, but he thought he heard Lia shout "something spa" to the cabbie before heading off with two other pretty girls. He doubts that if the Andrews weren't so famous he wouldn't be that nosy, but honestly you can find nosy neighbors anywhere. His mom shared her picks for the best spa over the phone before they left and J.T. offered to tag along. They'd called twenty spas already. Nope, and most of them wouldn't reveal who they were servicing that day.

"Maybe that guy misheard her," says J.T.

"This is the only lead we have, and I can't tell her this over the phone," says Toby, then turning to Fred. "Are most of these treatments like all day?"

"I believe so," answers Fred. "Some of them only do morning appointments. Does Miss Santos have any other engagements today?"

Toby pulls out his copy of Manny's schedule, J.T. looking on with him. Nope. She's free, which might make things worse.

"Let's call Emma," suggests J.T.

"If Manny's done with me, don't you think Emma hates me too?" replies Toby.

"You don't want to wait until they come home?" whispers J.T.

"This can't wait," insists Toby. "I've made her wait long enough."

"Got an idea," says J.T. "And don't fight me on this, Toby. Because I know you will."

J.T. wrests Toby's cell phone away from him, locates a number and dials. It rings several times before a voice answers on the other end.

"Toby?" she says, excitedly.

"No, it's...it's J.T.," he says. "But...but Toby's with me. Kendra, where are you, guys? We've been looking for you."

Kendra? No, no, no, thinks Toby, making a move to get the phone. J.T.'s lanky arm manages to hold him back.

"Oh, we're at some spa," replies Kendra. "Vertigo on Beverly, I think it's called. Can I talk to Toby?"

"Uh...give us the address," says J.T.

"Hold on a sec," says Kendra.

J.T. holds his hand over the phone and nods at Toby with a grin. Okay, this is a little underhanded to get access to Manny. Maybe they should've called Emma. Toby doesn't have any more time to think as J.T. writes the address on the same paper as Manny's schedule.

"Tell Toby...I mean, you guys can meet us at the gym on the first floor," says Kendra, then clicking off.

"That's...that wasn't good, J.T.!" cries Toby.

"Toby, you've helped that girl out since you've been out in L.A.," says J.T. "And now she's helping us out."

"I don't know..."

"Wow, getting an address! So sinister," says J.T., smirking.

"Well, we do have it," sighs Toby. "Fine. Fred, we've got a definite destination."

Fred smiles. "Makes my job easier."

VI.

The small, black punching bag rattles without the consistent force hitting it. It's bobbed, weaved, met her gloves with each blow. Unlike a certain boy, it always comes back to her. How many hits can it take? Manny bounces from side to side, giving it a full pounding. Beads of sweat trickle down her black and white leotard bodysuit to her black, aerobic shorts.

"Uhhh," groans Manny, providing the bag with another blow.

"Pent-up aggression never felt so good," comments Emma before taking a sip of flavored mineral water.

Thankfully, most people who come to the spa actually go to the spa and don't use the gym that much, apparently. The other three punching bags are larger, with no one to hit them. Mirrors line the wall, only reflecting herself, Emma, and two women doing crunches in the corner. The exercise bikes have no occupants and the sound system is playing techno music to get them amped. She's amped. It turns out that those brief boxing lessons in grade eight were worth something.

"We did Krav Maga before dance class one day," informs Emma. "So fun. Took down the only male student in the class."

"Hmm, impressed. Spinner better watch his back," says Manny, hitting the bag right in the center.

"And so should Toby," says Emma, raising her eyes in surprise.

"Well, so far I've pictured Chante, Bernice Fine, and anyone but him," admits Manny. "It's kind of like working up to him."

"The building inferno," understands Emma.

"Exactly," says Manny.

"And uh...subject that could possibly stoke the fire?" whispers Emma as Manny takes a breather.

The subject is scanning the room, her eyes finally locking on Manny's. Kendra shrugs, advances towards them. Gosh. Doesn't she get sick of being in the same vicinity as her? I can't be the only one that feels that way, thinks Manny, lightly tapping her gloves together.

"Spinner's coming with cab fare, so I'll be out of your hair soon," informs Kendra.

Manny smirks, quietly celebrating in her head.

"So you're waiting on him?" says Emma.

"No, someone else," says Kendra. "Don't worry. We won't bug you."

She hates to think what that means, Manny's throat getting tight. It didn't necessarily have to be him. How could he know where they were?

"Form's pretty good, Manny," compliments Kendra.

"Thanks," says Manny, hating the soft tone of her voice.

"If you get lower, you can get more thrust," instructs Kendra. "Different from gymnastics. You have to be long and graceful."

"Dance too," interjects Emma.

"Yeah, I'm rusty," shrugs Manny, hitting the bag again. "But they don't have boxing clinics, so cut me some slack, eh?"

She provides a nervous giggle, watches Kendra's face fall.

"What's that supposed to mean?" demands Kendra.

What? It was a joke.

"Not...nothing," says Manny. "Just that...I don' t know. You're conditioned so...I mean, you haven't been to the clinics lately, but..."

Manny smiles at her, Kendra's expression growing firmer.

"Are you criticizing my commitment to my training?" snaps Kendra.

"I'm not!" insists Manny. "Cool it, Kendra. Look, just squash it, okay? I don't want to make a big deal out of..."

"It's already a big deal," interrupts Kendra. "What, did Toby tell you?"

"He...said you were hurt," answers Manny.

Kendra maddeningly runs her fingers through her hair. Well, of course Toby told her. She practically dragged it out of him and he was concerned and they were dating. Why get offended? Manny at least understood that part of Toby's actions. Kendra could probably still whip her in any sport.

"I don't need you two feeling sorry for me!" cries Kendra.

"I didn't say that!" says Manny. "Kendra...why don't you meet whoever..."

"Toby," reveals Kendra. "For the record. Ah, I don't want to see him anymore!"

So it is Toby. Manny shifts her head from side to side, straightens her shoulders. Boy did she want another massage, hard hands and all. Strange how they're both upset, though.

"He's sharing all this private stuff between us...," begins Kendra.

"Well, obviously not all of it," points out Manny. "We...we broke up."

"Well, _that's_ obvious," mutters Kendra.

"Kendra, maybe you should go," suggests Emma, gently.

Manny releases a sigh of relief as Kendra starts to walk in another direction. Fight halted. Manny lands a hard hit on the punching bag, mistakenly too hard because it hits Kendra on the back of the head. It couldn't have been more than a tap from the distance and Kendra looks more annoyed than injured when she faces Manny again.

"Oops," says Manny. "Kendra, sorry! I didn't..."

"Adding insult to injury!" shouts Kendra. "Don't insult my intelligence. You did that on purpose!"

"Please!" returns Manny.

"Kendra, she wasn't aiming for you," adds Emma.

"Why should I believe anything that comes out of your jealous mouth?" says Kendra, ignoring Emma. "If Toby wants to meet me then..."

"You have lost your mind if you think I would attack you over that!"

"Oh, that's right. You don't care about Toby."

Kendra rubs the back of her neck, smiles smugly at Manny.

"Excuse you?" yells Manny.

"He deserves somebody that respects him, and you don't fall under that classification. You're irritable, impatient, and clearly violent."

"That's enough, Kendra," says Emma.

"No, Em. Let her keep going," says Manny, ushering Emma to her left.

"So you throw something personal in my face to make me feel weaker," continues Kendra. "When are you going to get it through your overdramatic brain that you guys weren't right and me and Tobes _are_ right?"

"If you were so right, you wouldn't have cheated on him!" exclaims Manny. "You can't act like that never happened."

"Whatever...," starts Kendra.

"Oh, Toby, gee, I'm sorry that you've been a wonderful boyfriend for two years, but I just had to hook up with the coach's son. I know, I'll dump you with a note because that's so classy," mocks Manny.

Kendra huffs. "That situation was..."

"How are you going to avoid that?" demands Manny.

"Maybe the way Toby avoids sleeping with you...he's only seen the top region, was it? That's not a lot of progress, especially when it's...well, you."

Manny bat Emma's hand away as she gets in Kendra's face.

"Shut up," says Manny through gritted teeth.

"Guess the boobs aren't as appealing when they're seen by the school," sighs Kendra. "And me? Well, I guess Toby's more attracted to virgins than whores."

The gloves don't go off. Her temper does, Manny pushing Kendra to the ground. Her body might be delicate, but her tongue was strong and she wouldn't mind ramming it down her throat. Kendra struggles, staring directly into Manny's eyes as Manny holds her to the floor. Her elbow locks into Manny's chin, Manny moving her lips as she feels a twinge of pain. Kendra yanks Manny's hair before Emma makes a desperate attempt to intervene.

"Guys, come on!" laments Emma, trying to wrap her arms around Manny.

Bad idea as Kendra forces Manny's elbow to go up quickly, Emma yelping in pain as it meets her nose.

"Mmmph," complains Emma, staggering to the side.

"Em!" cries Manny, disentangling her body from Kendra's.

"Wimp," says Kendra behind her back.

Manny heads to her again, stopped by a familiar figure appearing in the mirrored wall. Spinner jogs to his sister.

"That'll be all, ladies!" says Spinner, halting Kendra from stepping any further.

Glancing at her gloves guiltily, Manny's eyes drift in different directions. To a worried Spinner, an upset Kendra, Emma with a bloody nose. What came over her? This was a healthy way to let out her aggression? All Kendra's comments were so mean...she simply started hitting.

"Did we break up a rumble?" asks Lia, coming through the door.

Her face, covered in mud from a facial, doesn't distract her as much as the two guys who have also entered the gym. Or really, the one guy. Toby looks at her pathetically, Manny's eyes dropping to the ground. This is possibly the worst way to see him. Breathing deeply, Manny begins to unlace her gloves.

He's walking. She can hear their shoes across the floor. He's coming to Kendra. Manny lets her gloves fall to the floor.

"I...I want to talk with you, please," says Toby, Manny's eyes on his shoes.

She never hated a pair of shoes the way she hates them. Clean, white, spotless tennis shoes.

"Go ahead," says Manny to Kendra.

At first, the hand touching hers seems so mysterious. It could've been Spinner making sure Kendra doesn't get hurt anymore. It could've been Emma, a silent plea to take her to a spot where they could check her nose. It couldn't be him.

"Somewhere...private," says Toby.

It is his hand. His hands is on hers. Why? Why is his hand on hers?

"Um," says Manny, raising her head.

He's staring into her eyes, too. He really wants to talk. Shake it out, Manny. It won't be that easy for him.

"No!" says Manny, removing his hand.

"I thought we were going to...," begins Kendra.

Manny walks briskly across the gym, certain the footsteps that are following are Toby's. Her cheeks are more flushed than she was pounding that innocent bag.

"Well, we can talk while they're talking, Kendra," offers J.T., blocking her.

VII.

She swears this hallway is stretching forever. Advertisements for herbal and dietary supplements line the bulletin boards. A rolling bin to her right contains fresh green towels as she passes the halfway mark. The clunk and thunk of an energy drink hits the bottom of a vending machine. Despite all the people there, despite all the noises, her ears hear his footsteps the most.

The sight of the women's locker room makes her sigh. She pushes through the door without hesitation, nearly bumping into a woman with towels wrapped around her body and hair.

"Sorry," says Manny.

Shrugging, the woman moves to reposition her towel as Manny heads for the row of lockers. Good. He can't get to her. The not so good part is that Manny's lip is throbbing. She'd put her clothes into the locker and she'd packed a washcloth. Opening her locker, she finds it quickly. Wetting it in one of the sinks, she returns to her locker, assesses the damage. There was a clear cut on her bottom lip. A trace of blood covered the pink. She lowers her gaze in disgust.

"Hey!" shouts the other woman in the room.

"I...I won't be long," echoes Toby's voice behind the lockers.

Manny gasps, ducks her head into the locker. He came in?! What was his problem? Oh, and if he saw the lip, he'd definitely be asking questions.

"Manny?" whispers Toby, urgently.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" says Manny, hiding her face as best she can.

"Well, I cleared the room," kids Toby.

"Not funny," says Manny.

"Yeah, you were always better with jokes," sighs Toby. "Can I at least have two minutes?"

He has come all this way, even to the point where he's ignoring gender-specific locations. Manny holds the washcloth to the center of her mouth, slowly closes the door.

"What happened?" asks Toby, instantly going to her.

"Stop," protests Manny.

Paying her no mind, he leads her to the bench in between the lockers, props her head up to the light. She sort of like that he cares...sort of. That does not right past wrongs, however.

"I've had a split lip before," says Toby.

"I'm fine," mumbles Manny.

"Put it on your cheek to avoid swelling," advises Toby, moving her hand to the left. "That way, you won't have numb teeth. Good. It doesn't look that deep."

He lowers her head, grins. While her teeth may indeed be cold, that doesn't stop them from showing with a hesitant smile. Then, the pain returns and she grimaces. She should be grimacing because he's sitting next to her and she isn't. Her anger should win over the pain...definitely.

"Avoid swelling?" says Manny, standing. "I want to avoid you."

"Manny, everything you said sank in," says Toby, nodding. "You don't have to worry about Kendra anymore. I'll talk to her and..."

"You still haven't?" cries Manny. "Toby, you're doing it all backwards, baby. I..."

She paces the floor, stalls in front of a sunlit window. California was supposed to be so good for their relationship. There was the promise of days of fun and sun. Simplicity seemed evident. Toby would come to her shows and she'd introduce him to all the sights Lia introduced her to, play tour guide instead of a scorned lover. Well, they're not even lovers anymore.

"Unless Kendra knows she's not in this, she's going to be in this," clarifies Manny, turning to him. "Then...that's one problem solved."

"But...but you do know that she was the one that kissed me?" says Toby.

"It's like you were unwillingly clearing the way for the kiss, Tobes," sighs Manny. "I hate that it happened, but I understand why."

"I only want to kiss you, though," says Toby, shuffling on the bench.

Manny shivers, not from the cold or the pain. She shivers from the sincerity of that statement. Words like that haven't thrilled her since his speech in the synagogue. Toby wipes his eyes under his glasses.

"That doesn't matter if you don't believe it, right?" continues Toby, tearfully. "Manny, this is the last thing I thought I'd put you through. For you to doubt how I feel."

Perhaps all her energy is used up, her anger used up, because that's when her behind finds the bench and she's staring into his eyes like she's always done.

"I'm happy with you," says Toby. "I'm not happy now."

"Toby..."

"I want to make you happy, too," reassures Toby.

"We...that's what I want," confesses Manny.

"When you're happy, you don't think of anything else," says Toby.

"And then when it's gone, you think of everything else," offers Manny.

Toby laughs quietly.

"It's kind of like when you're young, and you're talking about what you want in a relationship," he says.

"What do most guys want when they're young?" questions Manny, taking his arm with her free hand. "Tell me."

"I guess, like a hot best friend," replies Toby.

They trade amused smiles.

"Someone you can be around, do the things you'd normally do with your guy friends," says Toby. "Play games, crack jokes, act foolish with. I got that with you, so I'm...I was pretty lucky."

Manny blushes.

"Girls are so different," she says, holding the compress in her hands. "They don't want the guy to be exactly like them. I haven't met a little girl that, deep down, didn't want a prince."

She releases his arm, goes to her locker to remove her things.

"Not sure I ever grew out of that," admits Manny. "I mean, fantasies are fantasies for a reason. Along the way, someone must've believed they were real."

"Yeah," says Toby.

"Carriages and hair you can climb and gowns...they're good in theory. But protecting someone, loving someone...that's real."

Stuffing her jeans, blouse, and brush into her bag, Manny clears her throat. With the door shaking briefly, she shuts the locker. She situates a bottle of her lotion into the front pocket, glances at Toby.

"What if it's just as real to me?" asks Toby.

Manny smiles shyly, shakes her head. If there were any indication that he was lying to her, she can't feel it. She has to see it...has to see it. Manny helps him to stand.

"Show me," she whispers, resting her head against his.

Toby starts to say something, but stops. This isn't the time to talk, she hopes he understands. This is the time to do what should've been done. Brushing by him, she leaves the locker room. The compress is warm in her grip, the pain on her lips lessens.


	40. Me

**XL. Me**

_I am not the person who is singing  
I am the silent one inside  
I am not the one who laughs at people's jokes  
I just pacify their egos  
I am not my house, my car, my songs  
They are only just stops along my way  
I am like the winter  
I'm a dark cold female  
With a golden ring of wisdom in my cave_

_And it is me who is my enemy  
Me who beats me up  
Me who makes the monsters  
Me who strips my confidence_

_I am carrying my voice  
I am carrying my heart  
I am carrying my rhythm  
I am carrying my prayers  
But you can't kill my spirit  
It's soaring and it's strong  
Like a mountain  
I'll go on and on  
But when my wings are folded  
The brightly colored moth  
Blends into the dirt into the ground_

_And it's me who's too weak  
And it's me who's too shy  
To ask for the thing i love  
And it's me who's too weak  
And it's me who's too shy  
To ask for the thing i love  
That I love_

_But I know there's something better  
Yes I know there's something  
Yes I know, i know, yes i know_

_That I love  
But it's me And it's me  
But it's me_

**_Me is the property of Paula Cole and appears in the film The Other Sister._**

"I saw Manny leave."

J.T. stands near the front desk of Vertigo, twirling a bottle of fruit juice as Toby heads towards him. He basically wasted no time in leaving the girls' locker room, though he didn't leave as quickly as Manny.

The talk went pretty well, better than he'd anticipated. She'd actually listened and smiled quite a bit. To his credit, she didn't have to hammer in the message anymore. There couldn't be anyone else in the relationship. There couldn't be any more conditions. There could be a chance.

"Where's Kendra?" asks Toby.

_"_Still in the gym...I think," says J.T.

"Have to talk to her," sighs Toby. "Won't be easy."

"Why not?" blasts J.T., rolling his eyes. "Toby, do you know how I knew where Kendra was? In fact, I'm surprised you didn't."

"Huh?"

_"_The kiss!" whispers J.T., forcefully. "Only she and I had any idea what happened, and I wouldn't do you like that."

Toby's lips part. Somehow, Manny did find out and it was right around the time Kendra disappeared. If Kendra were staying with anyone else in L.A. and Spinner wasn't there, chances are, of course, she'd be at Lia's where Manny's ears could've caught anything. That was pretty cold of her, more cold than J.T. finessing a phone number out of her. Toby shakes his head, rubbing his brow_._

"Oh my...," starts Toby.

"Yeah, Sherlock Tobes," interrupts J.T. "Guess she was ticked and told."

Okay, he definitely has to find her now. Sure he'd approach her calmly, but he was undeniably upset. He'd stood up for her numerous time and she does this? Throwing J.T. a furtive glance, he walks to the gym's entrance, Kendra on her way out.

"Ready to talk?" asks Kendra with a deep frown.

He nods for them to go through the glass front doors and they exit. The hot sun beats down on the parking lot, on his disappointed expression.

"You told Manny we kissed?" begins Toby pointedly.

"Already with the accusations," sighs Kendra. "Yeah, I told her."

"Why?" demands Toby.

Kendra gives him an angry stare. "Because you shouldn't keep stuff from your girlfriend and you shouldn't spill info about your ex!"

"Info?" says Toby.

"My...my health!" whispers Kendra. "Toby, if I didn't tell my family about it, why would you tell Manny?"

"I don't know...to keep my girlfriend!?" answers Toby.

"Weak defense, Toby," says Kendra, shaking her head.

"I don't...why are you trying to hurt me?" stammers Toby. "I've been trying to help you for days...want you to get better..."

All these complaints aren't really doing anything. They weren't leading Kendra to apologize or a solution, the optimal solution being that she would leave L.A. to go get treated. This week hasn't been going well at all. It's damaging everything he holds dear.

"Manny could care less if I get better," returns Kendra. "She...she hit me."

"I'm sure it was an accident," waves off Toby. "That's not..."

"Yes...yes, it is her!" insists Kendra. "She claimed it was a mistake, but then boom, wound up right on the floor. She's got...she's got issues."

"Kendra...," says Toby, rolling his eyes.

"You're defending her?" cries Kendra. "Can't believe it! I had to defend myself against her. You know I'm...I'm physically not all there."

"Well, you are a little too here!" says Toby.

"Pardon?" says Kendra.

"When I'm alone with my girlfriend, you call," replies Toby. "You're at my mom's house, my internship interview, you go to where Manny is, you're..."

He stops when he views Kendra's mouth trembling. Gosh, he was making her sound like the plague. It's just...it's just too much. This is him finally being clear, being honest, although maybe not in the best way.

"What are you saying?" asks Kendra, her gaze shifting.

"I can't lose Manny because of you," says Toby, eyes falling to the pavement. "I won't."

Kendra's shoulders shake as she releases a few soft moans, tears invading her cheeks. Perhaps he should've weighed his words more. Although, deep in the back of his brain, he's more sure of these words than others he's spoken. He places a hand on her back, Kendra managing to look at him.

"Sorry...," begins Toby.

"Don't ever touch me or speak to me again!" exclaims Kendra.

She pushes him to the side, running in an awkward fashion across the parking lot. The odd movement of her legs breaks his heart. But yeah, this is the first...this is the first time his shoes remain planted to the place where he feels he has to be.

II.

"Alright, Marcia Brady," groans Lia, pathetically handing Emma some tissue and wincing.

Spinner paces from spot to spot, not knowing if he should go in or not. On one hand, she's hurt...bleeding..._bleeding._ On the other, she regretted their kiss. That was the best part of his vacation and she hated it.

Boomer asked what was up when they were camped out on the beach. Spinner simply shook his head, focused on Kendra. Boomer killed the other competitors in the preliminaries, and he convinced Spin to stay in a tent on the sand so he'd be awake bright and early for the semi-finals today. Spin didn't need much of a reason since Kendra was set on staying at Lia's, though he couldn't blame her. Who'd choose the beach over a mansion? Alright, except Boomer. Spinner peeps inside again_._

"Won't need rhinoplasty, I'm sure," comforts Lia. "Though you are like gushing...a lot. I...I'm requiring a breather...yeah."

Emma mumbles something intangible, crosses her legs as she sits on a chair.

"Saved by spiky hair!" exclaims Lia, catching sight of him.

Uh-oh, thinks Spinner, grinning apologetically. Once he checked that Kendra was okay, he'd been hanging around here long enough to be noticed. He was still debating whether to be noticed, however.

"You an athlete?" asks Lia, rising.

"Uh, soccer...softball...," lists Spinner, scratching his head. "Uh..."

"Works for me," says Lia, shrugging. "I'll be back in a few."

Based on Emma's face, he's thinking she'd like Lia to be back in less than a few. Emma holds the blood-socked tissue away from her nose, moaning slightly. What to do next? That action solved his delimma. Spinner quickly takes off his white T-shirt, shreds a bit of the cloth, then holds it against her nose.

"Got ice?" says Emma, her voice low under the shirt.

"Got milk?" jokes Spinner.

Despite the corniness of the joke, he sees the edges of Emma's mouth turn, suggesting a smile. Luckily, there's no movement required as a spa employee presents Spinner with an ice pack.

"Thanks," says Spinner.

"The treatment of the rich is so different from the poor," observes Emma. "Association with the Andrews gets you all kinds of pull."

"Hey, we swung free hot towels, remember?" says Spinner. "I'm thinking your prettiness is scoring us this awesome attention."

Emma takes a deep breath, watches Spinner wrap the cloth around the ice. Sports never resulted in him getting a bloody nose. The most he's gotten is a sprained ankle and some bruises. There are bruises that seem more massive than those...he currently has them. There's no way he's showing any pain to the person who caused it.

"Spin, do you believe in karma?" asks Emma.

"Uh...never thought about it," admits Spinner.

"I sort of do," says Emma, repositioning the cloth over her nose. "Because you've been nothing but fantastic and here I am...bleeding."

Spinner's cheeks burn as he stares at his undershirt.

"I was really out of it that day, Spinner," sighs Emma. "My mouth was running better than my head. Things were going pretty well and I'm not sure...guess it had to run out sooner or later."

"Why do you think good things have to run out?" poses Spinner.

"Snake's gone. Manny's leaving our house. This trip is going to end," answers Emma in one steady rush. "And you..."

"I'm here taking care of you," reassures Spinner, grinning.

Emma beams. "After what I said?"

"Eh, I don't want this good thing to run out either," says Spinner.

They exchange silent smiles, Emma's lips curling under the icy pack. He's gotten so used to her company and he just admitted it. There were things he'd said in the heat of the moment back home and this trip certainly made him more sympathetic to having family troubles. Speaking of which, he mulls as his cell flashes Kendra's number.

He feels less guilty as Lia returns with a medic_,_ who immediately sits next to Emma and turns her face to him.

"Kendra," explains Spinner, holding up his phone.

"Go...and...and thanks," replies Emma.

Spinner pats Lia lightly on the arm, jogs to the main lobby of the spa. He was ready to call and ask Kendra's whereabouts, but he spies her through the glass doors. Arms folded, she stares across the parking lot.

From behind the door, he can see that she's been crying for at least several minutes. What could've caused the tears? Walking to her provides no answer to this mystery. Kendra offers him a dejected stare.

"Where's your shirt?" asks Kendra, her voice low.

"Uh...not important," replies Spinner. "What's wrong?"

"Toby is wrong!" exclaims Kendra, turning to him. "He just said the most horrible...the most horrible...expected thing."

With the two final words, Kendra plays with the bottom of her shirt, Spinner shaking his head. He saw this coming and yep, apparently Kendra did, too.

"The thing is...I didn't think I'd actually have to see it," continues Kendra. "He grabs her hand right in front of me? Like some silent announcement that I don't matter."

Comforting her used to be so simple. Kendra was always a tough cookie, but she wasn't opposed to leaning on him or their parents. When Kendra sprained her wrist the day when played hooky with Ashley and Paige, he spent most of that night watching over her. She acted like nothing was wrong at dinner, even suggested that doing the dishes might make for some therapeutic exercise. She breathed heavily while doing it, struggling. Spinner could hear the heavy breathing from the hall. He finally said he'd do the dishes. They ended up doing them together because Kendra wouldn't budge. To view her going through whatever this problem is without any family makes him wish this was simply another sprained wrist.

"You matter to us," insists Spinner.

"Toby's always been there...until Manny and...," stammers Kendra.

"We've been there, too," says Spinner. "No offense to Isaacs or like anyone else, but I feel like..."

Spinner drops his gaze, releases a deep breath.

"You feel what?" encourages Kendra.

"I feel like I'm...the only guy out here you should be turning to," replies Spinner. "You have boyfriends, but if anybody breaks your heart, I'm the one who'd want to pummel them. They come and go, but I'm always here. It's like...like what brothers do."

Kendra places a hand on his shoulder, Spinner looking up to see her smile. He'd been wanting to get that out for awhile, even if it sounded all touchy and neither one of them were into that.

"Sometimes you really surprise me," says Kendra.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" says Spinner, shrugging.

Kendra seems to glance at every car in the parking lot as the seconds tick by. Please, he begs inwardly. Please.

"If I tell you, I'm not going to the doctor," whispers Kendra. "Promise?"

A promise to not go to the doctor? He doesn't know if he can make that, but thankfully, Kendra has started talking again.

"I fell off the beam in April," shares Kendra. "My body hasn't been right since. Chances are it'll go away if I get enough rest, but I'm not missing the season. No way."

She fell during a routine and didn't tell him? She's been going to clinics injured? All this sounds pretty careless.

"Kendra!" cries Spinner.

"It's my body and I get to decide what's best for me," affirms Kendra.

"This is best?" returns Spinner. "Health is one thing you don't play with, man!"

"Spin, calm down...it's not that serious," says Kendra. "I just need to get my old life...I mean, my life together."

Old life? Spinner rubs his neck. He's beginning to see the whole picture, though it took him awhile. What did Emma call it? Karma. Kendra wiping her eyes makes it appear as if she believes in that entirely.

"Far as I know, you can't rewind your life to make things better," says Spinner.

"Some people...need people to get along," chokes out Kendra. "If I have everything I had before, it'll feel the same. Like I can be how I was."

"Or you can be the same with people who want to help," says Spinner. "The people who...who should've helped you in the first place."

"Toby...," starts Kendra.

"Toby cares, but he won't make you any healthier," interrupts Spinner. "Let's go home tomorrow, Kendra. What is...what is here to stay for? Honestly?"

He watches her hands unfurl and furl into fists, her mouth moving in different directions, her hand tenderly pinching her waist.

"I can't tell Grandma, or Mom, or Dad alone," admits Kendra. "I'm...I'm afraid."

"So I'll sit next to you," says Spinner.

"Thanks," says Kendra, sniffling. "Do I get a by for the way I've been treating you?"

Spinner grins, hugs her.

"You'll always get by with me," he says. "You were there when Mom laid into me for mooning the caf."

Kendra chuckles. "I think this is a little different, Spin."

III.

A shower can work wonders. After the emotional whirlwind at Vertigo, Manny was able to relax. It took her leaving the spa to feel relaxed, ironically. She arrived at the Andrews, immediately went to the washroom. Her own hands did all the magic Hortense couldn't. However, instead of releasing Toby, what Lia said would happen, she's refreshed after all he said in the locker room. True, they weren't technically together, but they were stepping forward rather than back.

She was really only able to relax for a minute post-shower because her cell rang loudly as she was changing into a new set of clothes– a green, jersey halter dress and low, black pumps. She was expecting it to be Toby, and wasn't too disappointed that it was Colin. He asked her to come down to Majestic for about ten minutes. It would be weird going to the theater again, not only because the play is done, but because it was really where this whole chain of negative events started. Toby missed the debut performance. Without the camp, Martika and everyone else wouldn't have known who she was, and there wouldn't have been that abhorrent audition. It was like returning to Kansas after all the events Dorothy had to go through to get to the Wizard of Oz. Strange.

To make it less strange, she read the packet for _Hearts for Sale_ in the cab. It was a standard teen comedy, not as raunchy as she was thinking. The part she and Lia would be considered for was the role of Claudia, the aspiring bee to the real queen bee, Satchel. Essentially, it's a sidekick role. Manny is a bit surprised that Lia wants this role. Lia wasn't one for sidekicks and Claudia never really does take the spotlight from Satchel. Perhaps the allure is that both the producers and the directors are top-notch, Manny reading that New Line was associated with it. They'd be doing the Sex in the City movie too so yeah, a more competitive pool than the indie circuit. To actually get the audition script she'd have to call Colleen. There isn't much time seeing as the audition is the day after the ball. Ugh, if she didn't have all this going on, she would've called sooner.

She pays the cabbie and walks to the lobby of the theater. It's strangely quiet, although that makes sense seeing as the ball is tomorrow. Everyone is probably getting their last preparations done and they all definitely deserved a party. Too bad she's not going. No gown, no date, no hope, moans Manny inwardly as she heads to the dressing room.

Viewing Colin's backside in blue jeans and a form-fitting white T-shirt, Manny provides a playful whistle. Colin beams, runs his hands through his dark, wavy hair.

"Only Roxane can do that," jokes Colin.

"Alrighty, Cyrano," returns Manny. "I'm here for your viewing pleasure."

"In much better spirits," observes Colin. "That's good...that's good."

"So what's the deal?" encourages Manny.

Colin stands right in front of her, takes her hands.

"You have to swear not to get mad," sighs Colin. "Because you were upset and I couldn't...I just couldn't. And I may be a bigger romantic than you are and..."

He breathes deeply, steps aside so that Manny can view a familiar sight on her dressing room stool. There sits the basket that Toby had arranged meticulously with love. She's very glad that Colin decided not to trash the gift, especially after this morning's events. Manny nods, walks to it.

"Thanks," she says softly.

"It...it must be nice to have that support," says Colin.

Yes, it's nice to have that support. Before they came to California, that was one of the easiest parts of their relationship. From pageants to plays, Computer Club to Council, they showed up at each other's functions, even learning along the way.

_They knew it was on the horizon. The calendar on the corner wall reminded them of it. The sun was staying out later. Customers were coming in with cool, light jackets instead of coats. When Manny complimented a woman on her apricot-colored blouse, and she told her that it came from the Bebe spring collection, that's when it really hit home. Spring was here. You can't stop the seasons from coming._

_Or Toby from going, Manny thought as she rolled up some free give away posters for Juno. Christian had said no to most of her suggestions for the store, but he loved the idea of giving away promotional posters to every fifth customer. It was probably because Toby told her that Christian's own room was covered with posters for every best picture Oscar nominee post-Godfather. Manny would rather have Knocked Up or Sixteen Candles, but whatever floats your boat._

_Toby was busy as usual. She liked to think he kept himself preoccupied while they were working together. If not, chances are they'd go off to the back room and replay their love story rather than fetch the love story films for everyone else. Manny grinned, sliding a rubber band over the rolled poster._

_"I won't roll the Departed posters," said Manny. "I'm still mad it won Best Pic over Little Miss Sunshine."_

_"Hmmm, I liked it," admitted Toby, scanning a returned DVD. "Not as much as Letters from Iwo Jimo."_

_"Yeah, you would choose the one chock full of Asian history," said Manny, elbowing him. "You can roll Jack Nicholson and Leo Dicaprio in their overpriced caper then."_

_"Walked right into that," laughed Toby._

_"And you'll be walking right into Kytel tomorrow," sighed Manny. "You're going to be all Bill Gates and own all the other interns."_

_"Tomorrow," breathed Toby. "I mean, they showed me the office and everything, but to actually be working there?"_

_Toby had gone to three orientations already, came back to her beaming after all of them. She made it all possible in a way, but in a way, it's really his brains that are making him a perfect fit for this._

_"I'm going to forget something," said Toby. "I should pack tonight...after dinner. No, before dinner. Maybe I won't eat."_

_Manny stroked her forehead, smiling in amusement._

_"There's like seven million terms in the handbook...I'm not going to be ready," continues Toby. "I can't stay up to reread them. Or I..."_

_"Yeah, stop there," interrupted Manny._

_She takes his hand, which formerly held the DVD, and looked into his worried eyes, nodding with confidence._

_"There aren't seven million terms, are there?" asked Manny. "And even if there were, you'd know them."_

_"Okay, maybe not seven million," said Toby._

_"Don't be nervous," said Manny. "Internships can be fun if you make them fun. They prepare you for work you love to do. So can work. I mean, look what happened at Hollywood Video Hut."_

_"I love what happened at Hollywood Video Hut," assured Toby, putting a hand over hers._

_It's the most special thing he's said today, because this is his final day at the video store. About fifteen percent of her wanted Christian to convince him to stay, but the overwhelming part of her knew that Toby was overwhelmed. He came in tired most days, though he never complained. Manny was well aware that he'd exhaust himself before Degrassi's finals, so she subtly nudged Toby to let one thing go. He waited awhile, and decided to leave two weeks after Manny's premiere. The simple fact that he was now well-rested and nervously ecstatic about Kytel comforted her since she knew he was in good health and happy. No regrets there. The fifteen percent would just have to deal with it._

_"So why the nerves?" questioned Manny._

_"People have high expectations," sighed Toby. "My family. Mr. Simpson. You."_

_"You've already met all the high expectations," said Manny. "Now, you grow even more. And you enjoy it."_

_"I've heard so many horror stories about internships," said Toby._

_"Well, I have a story," said Manny. "There once was this amazing guy that had so many great qualities. He had this beautiful mind, kinda like Russell Crowe. When he walked into work, he had as much stage presence as George Clooney. And he charmed everybody with his giving spirit and his grace a la Denzel."_

_Toby grinned, shook his head in disbelief._

_"And this girl, Manny Santos, has known him long enough to know that he's going to be the best intern they've ever had," finishes Manny._

_She didn't know if he'd buy it. However, whenever he got frustrated, she couldn't sit back and let him think any less of himself. Maybe he didn't as he kissed her with surety after that story from her heart. She was glad when her mouth was moving for a different reason, not so glad when Toby pulls away._

_"This is where...well, I'm going to miss it," said Toby, glancing around the store._

_"The end of an era," agreed Manny. "Mmm, I don't know. Maybe we should have our little runway showdown again."_

_Toby chuckled. "Nah, my modeling days are over."_

_"Well, it's not like you have anything to fall back on," kids Manny, kissing his cheek and laughing along with him._

Manny shakes herself after realizing that Colin is looking at her as if she's lost it. She isn't that ashamed, though. That memory is one of her favorites, just as this basket holds all her favorites. She locates the charm, opens the box. It's a four-leaf clover...to wish her well.

"With a little bit of luck," whispers Manny, adding the charm to the bracelet.

_"_My Fair Lady!" identifies Colin.

"What?" blanks Manny. "Oh...oh, yeah. That song."

"Musical theatre geek moment," sighs Colin. "I so need a life. Maybe I'll get one at the ball. What color is your dress?"

"Nothing," answers Manny, blushing.

"What? Like nude? Like that weird pantyhose color?"

Manny smirks. "No, like I'm not going."

"You're not going...with Blake?" says Colin. "At the cast party, Martika said that..."

"Blake?" cries Manny.

Okay, someone's clearly been misinformed. On what planet would she go to the ball with a guy she barely knows and only sometimes likes? He must be delusional.

"You rang, my dear?" says a voice from the wings.

Ugh. Manny's throat grows tight as she turns to face him. His blonde hair looks dirtier under the dim theater lighting, almost like wheat.

"There's obviously a misunderstanding," says Manny, standing.

"Didn't Martika talk to you?" says Blake, more innocently than she expected.

No, because I've been avoiding her. That's still crazy, though. She promised her an audition due to the Toby pics, so why aren't they leaving her alone?

"I don't have a gown," informs Manny, selecting a simple excuse to get rid of this mess.

"Pinecrest is paying out of pocket," says Blake. "They take care of you. My tux is being steamed now. All I need is cufflinks."

Based on Pinecrest's newfound generosity, she's assuming she got the role of Gabbi. Why, she screams in her head. She didn't want to be involved in that film or any film this studio was releasing. The best thing really is to call Martika and turn her down.

"I need Martika's number," says Manny.

"What? She isn't in your fave five?" jokes Blake.

The joke isn't met jovially by either Manny or Colin, so he sighs, dials it himself and hands Manny the phone.

"Walking into Majestic as we speak, Blake," greets Martika at the other end.

Manny stares at the mouthpiece with her lips parted. What, are they stalking her now? Colleen was overprotective, sure, but she wasn't creepy. Frowning, Manny pushes the phone into Blake's chest. She starts to walk away, unfortunately and immediately bumping into a zebra-print jacket.

"Explanation?" demands Manny.

"We have a fitting at three," says Martika, calmly. "Blake, we'll get your cufflinks from there."

"Sweet," says Blake, folding his phone.

Manny crosses her arms. "Did your favor and we're done."

"Well, my husband wants you for this role," says Martika. "You auditioned, you're marketable, and I don't have time for your drama queen moods. Colleen may put up with that, but I don't."

Manny and Colin stare at each other tentatively.

"The thing is you need definite PR," continues Martika. "Your style's a little pedestrian, as is your speech based on that botched press conference. No worries, though. It'll be fine."

"None of this is fine!" exclaims Manny. "I haven't signed any contracts...I'm not with Pinecrest. This is...this is insane!"

Martika's calm demeanor finally melts, and Manny's a tad appreciative about that. She'd like to not be the only one who finds all of this confusing. Surely, Martika, as a respected talent scout, would know how all of this really works. Manny looks her straight in the eye.

"You're doing this," says Martika, narrowing his eyes.

"Um...no," returns Manny. "One, I have no intention of going anywhere based on Pinecrest's bill. Two, I have a boy...well, there's someone else. And three, I'm with Bluewave, which you keep forgetting."

"Called Colleen to iron out all the details," informs Martika. "All I require is your consent. Which I know I will have if you don't want those pictures released."

"We got them pulled!" reminds Manny.

Martika grins. "Funny thing a copy is. You really think I was there to check on a press release?"

Manny's eyes shoot up to the burning stagelights beaming down on this awkward scene. Maybe if she does this, some clarity will shine through. Lia warned her. She did. Blake didn't show up to Venice on his own. Martika was at the office before them. They were evil enough to expose that guy Randy's coke addiction.

"You made copies?" says Manny, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Yes, and if you're cooperative, they won't see the light of day," says Martika. "They're on Todd's back-up disc."

"I can't believe this," moans Manny, softly.

"What pictures?" says Colin. "You know...whatever! I'm really surprised by you, Blake. You never used to pull this kind of stuff."

"It's to help Manny's career!" defends Blake.

"That's a good point," interjects Martika. "Colleen may not like me, but she said it was at Manny's discretion whether to take the role or not. My hands are tied, but Todd's aren't. Freedom of the press, sweetie."

She'd love to smack Martika in the face, but her attacking Kendra didn't do any good, so why repeat it now? Man! She's been blackmailed before, with the whole Peter thing, and it totally ruined her life. This is different, however. This would ruin Toby's life and she did not want him in the middle of all this drama she brought upon herself.

"If you blackmail me...," begins Manny.

"Buying you a dress? Doing your hair? Paying for the priciest party in town?" lists Martika. "Not to mention, a film role. I'm doing you multiple favors."

"You should go to the ball, Manny," insists Blake, softly. "Arissa hands out awards, and we might be up for one. Isn't that cool?"

Manny brushes some hair from her face, sniffles.

"If you didn't want the part, you shouldn't have auditioned," says Martika, tersely. "No one forced you to go up there. It's disrespectful for you to show no gratitude. My husband has invested a lot of time and money on this project. The least you can do is show some respect."

Should she yell in their faces, tell them that they're monsters? They planned this all along with every intention of trapping her. They did it all with a smile too.

"The limo's outside," says Martika, putting a piece of gum into her mouth.

"Manny...," starts Colin.

What can she do? She' already didn't listen to the people who helped her career, Colleen and Lia, by auditioning. They wouldn't get her out of this horror. She wouldn't blame them, either. Didn't she tell Toby to show her that he cared? Shouldn't she do the same?

Manny remains silent, walks over and lifts the basket. She wishes this was the only burden she'd have to bare. It's so heavy, yet so full of heart. Hugging the bottom protectively, she walks with them to the limo.

IV.

"A three-key oboe? That's...that's impressive."

Ashley and Craig peer into the glass case, blinking at the same time. The shiny, black instrument stares back at them, its keys worn at the sides.

"Medieval musician envy," sighs Craig. "Early music at its finest. Did you see the early stage trumpet? Could get some wicked riffs with that."

"And the guitar in the corner?" cries Ashley, nodding to the right.

"Don't get me started on that," says Craig, breathily. "I nearly bust the case open and I'd get arrested."

Well, she hopes they won't be arrested before the viewing. That's right, thinks Ashley, smiling. The camera crew was releasing their first coverage of the Oxford concert to BBC tomorrow. Yes, that BBC, one of the most respected television networks in modern history. It's great viewing the best early and modern instruments in the Bate Collection at Oxford and everything, but it's quite another thing to see and hear yourself playing music on a respected outlet.

"Let's go," whispers Ashley, tugging Craig's hand.

She and Craig happen to be the sole individuals interested in the musical collection as the rest of her tourmates were sprawled on the museum's carpet or sitting in leather chairs, having their own personal discussions. Ashley got along with most everybody. Sarah Lincoln showed her how to do laundry the "proper" way so she didn't have to worry about that come college. Dashiel Briggs, one of the men with neon hair, told her where to eat and where not to eat since he'd been in London for most of his life. Then, of course, Aja hadn't become bored with her yet. Ashley suspected she hung around her for balance, though. Whatever it is, it worked for both of them. Craig had no trouble getting along with everyone after carrying their equipment. Ashley truly hopes that the niceness is because they like her, and not because of those lukewarm reviews.

The reviews, groans Ashley inwardly. The reviews for the End came out the very next day, and the Oxford ones would likely show tomorrow with the coverage. To her relief, Craig somehow remained clueless about the negative End write-ups. There was like some permanent Ashley-can-do-no-wrong shell he was in and sorry, but she didn't want to destroy that. Him hearing the audience boo her is enough. This footage would be different. The crowd loved Pearl. They loved it. She called everyone she could think of, repeating the experience with excitement. Of course, her dad, Chris, her mom and Jeff were thrilled. She wrote the highlights on two postcards she'd be sending to Meredith and Ellie. Paige was more verbal than the other two women, so she'd call her today. Yes, she was prepared to be redeemed when the screen showed her performance. Her voice might sound more rich in this format. She'd never been on TV before.

Ashley grins excitedly as she flops on the floor next to Aja, Craig doing the same.

"Lolly?" offers Aja, opening her knapsack.

Aja removes a grape lollipop, the color matching her mohawk, to ask the question. We're in a museum, thinks Ashley.

"No thanks," says Ashley.

"I'll have one," speaks up Craig.

Ashley raises her eyes at him, stares around the room with anxiety.

"Craig!" whispers Ashley.

"Sour apple?" notes Craig as Aja presents him with one. "Nice."

"Guys...," says Ashley.

"It's a party," defends Craig. "Rules can be broken, and we'll throw away the wrappers like sweet little rock stars."

"Promise," adds Aja, holding up her hand like a Girl Scout.

"Do you...have cinnamon?" caves Ashley.

"I have everything," says Aja, retrieving it.

When the candy meets her lips, she has to admit...the sugar high only increases the natural high. Her first major musical achievement is about to air. She can barely sit still as someone deadens the light in the room.

"You should all be very proud about the tour thus far," says Julian, standing next to a widescreen TV at the front of the room.

Everyone claps jovially, Craig grabbing Ashley's hand and smiling.

"I've arranged for you to all have a copy of this first broadcast," continues Julian. "The rest of the broadcasts? You're on your own."

Warm laughter follows his speech as Julian presses the button. It remains as Sarah Lincoln quickly dashes out a cigarette when a reporter approaches her. The interview mainly consists of Sarah saying what it feels like to be on a tour bus with so many people...it's loud and you feel loved. Sweet answer, thinks Ashley. Images of two bands, including Dashiel's, fill the screen as their haunting rock music flows through the speaker. Three more acts follow, the reporter's clear, crisp British accent explaining what they're playing and when they can be seen next. They'd be making their way to Piccadilly next, knows Ashley.

Another familiar face is shown. Mark Kennick's lovely voice sings sweetly above the hum of the crowd, an acoustic slow jam, and then shifts believably to a harder, edgier tune. Ashley grins as the song plays. She never talked anymore with Mark about the possible duet, but if they ever did it, it'd be cool to play with him. He definitely knew how to motivate a crowd, women screaming at the top of their lungs as he goes into the chorus. One woman, whose not screaming, and who she sees is silent is herself. Aja is fixing Ashley's hair, one tuft in her hand as she holds a brush. Where's the performance? Where's Pearl?

Ashley sits up straighter, forehead creasing in confusion.

"One promising newcomer is chanteuse Ashley Kerwin, a Canadian powerhouse that has the vocals to match her stunning beauty," says the reporter.

Okay, should be getting into the performance right about now, wagers Ashley, hunching her shoulders in excitement. Craig provides an excited chuckle.

She's at the keyboard, playing, with the voice still going. Where's the music? The song? No, Mark's song is covering everything at this moment. Ashley feels like an ice cube is being slid down her heart. That would explain all the numbness in her chest. The lyrics...the melody...the tone...all lost. Ashley closes her eyes as the screen goes black.

"Wonderful reel, right?" says Julian.

He's met by enthralled cries, requests to play it once more. Do not play it once more, pleads Ashley as she views Musk passing out the DVD copies from the box. Aja takes one, smiles at Ashley who takes hers in silence. Craig takes the box with a deep breath, then passes it. Ashley's hands shake as she grips the disc. She can't be in here. She can't.

"Going to throw away my wrapper," informs Ashley, patting Craig on the knee.

Before Craig can protest, she's stepping over him, walking briskly out of the door. Once outside, it's almost as if she's going through a tunnel, noises fading in and out, cheeks flushed. She reaches the second deck of the building, paces on it, won't go down any more steps.

She has always been the best. When her friends needed a hand with their music, who did they turn to? When Jeff had a question about composition, who did he ask? Why did they ask her to be on this tour if they didn't think she was worth it? Ashley sobs in the empty area, the sound like a brutal crack in her ears. At least it's one sound she's made that anyone can hear.

No one's hearing me, thinks Ashley. No one. She stares at the offensive DVD, in its clean case, the BBC moniker emblazoned on it. She'd rather not see it than not be heard. Ashley throws it hard, hard against the floor so that it scratches. Her foot crushes it into two halves. Let it be half. Let it know how it feels to not feel whole. Ashley covers her eyes, barely hears the footsteps going down the stairs.

Instead of saying anything, she peers at Craig bending down and picking up the broken remnants. Ashley stares past him as he stands in front of her.

"Okay?" says Craig.

The simplest question he's ever asked and Ashley lets herself fall into his arms. Craig returns the hug with as much force.

"They muted me...they muted me, Craig!" cries Ashley against his shoulder. "That's like the worst insult for a musician!"

"I know," says Craig. "Ash, there'll be other broadcasts."

"There won't," breathes Ashley. "Pearl was like my shining moment. There won't be..."

"There will be more," assures Craig.

"Do you know?" says Ashley, brushing past him. "Craig, I can't take all this pressure, especially without any positive feedback. I might as well just stand up on stage for all they care."

"Every crowd is different," says Craig. "But your music's the same. Your music is brilliant."

"If my music's so brilliant, why aren't they playing it?" snaps Ashley.

Craig blinks at the loudness of her response, but in typical Craig fashion, he remains strong and doesn't let it send him running. Ah, she really shouldn't yell at him. Last time, she felt bad about it. This time, she felt bad about it.

"I love you," says Ashley, earnestly. "I...I just want others to love me too. Is that...is that selfish?"

"No," says Craig, firmly.

Ashley smiles weakly, licks the tear-covered parts of her upper lip. There was nothing to do now. They'd already made the reel, and that's that.

"Listen. Can you...can you get two copies for my folks?" asks Ashley, gently. "I need some air."

"That's my Ash," says Craig, kissing her forehead.

With one last warm look, Craig ascends the stairs as Ashley finishes going down the staircase. She walks along the cobblestone street, feels the pressure of the rocks. Instead of thinking anymore, she lets her feet wander, take her where they will. Man, the Beatles walked here. Sid Vicious played a concert here. They were heard. Because they were men? No, that's not the problem. They had the goods. She thought she had the goods.

Her feet land her in a nearby pub. The strong smell of liquor confirms what it is so she doesn't look up. She finds a booth, coughs as the person's cigarette smoke from the booth next door swirls in her direction. Spying a head peer above the booth with a smile, Ashley cautiously waves at him.

"Missed the viewing?" asks Mark Kennick.

"Nothing worth viewing," informs Ashley. "In my opinion, anyway. Ah, I'm bitter...yeah."

Mark rises, joins Ashley in the booth. He settles his beer on the table, leans in slightly.

"They're all prats," sighs Mark. "I pretend to like 'em. You...you keep to yourself so I haven't formed an opinion on you yet."

Ashley smiles. "Everyone else has with my music. Mostly negative."

"Eh, tour's not half done yet," consoles Mark. "And those broadcasts...no big deal since they air for one month and that's it."

What a weird perspective from the most featured person in the promo. It's more than welcome, though.

"Tell that to my parents," says Ashley. "They're going to watch and see me not singing."

"They left you out?" questions Mark.

"More like they played your song over mine," admits Ashley, turning red.

"Like I said...prats," groans Mark. "Um, how about we do the duet? Get your voice heard at least?"

She did sort of promise Craig that she'd play for herself, but that wasn't working out. No one appreciating it isn't motivating her, either. She could give them one cover, right? One.

"They don't like my stuff...so yeah, maybe," says Ashley.

"It's settled," says Mark, cheerfully. "What'll you have?"

"Um, kind of early to be drinking, don't you think?" says Ashley.

"That's the separation between me and you," says Mark, wrinkling his nose in amusement. "I don't think."

Ashley grins. "Um...bourbon?"

"She says so confidently," says Mark. "Bartender, load the lady with some bourbon!"

She smiles awkwardly, reaches for her wallet.

"No," says Mark. "It's on me."


	41. Who Do You Think You Are?

**XLI. Who Do You Think You Are?**

_The race is on to get out of the bottom,  
The top is high so your roots are forgotten,  
Giving is good as long as you're getting,  
What's driving you it's ambition and betting,  
I said who do you think you are?  
(I said who)  
Some kind of superstar,  
You have got to swing it, shake it, move it, make it,  
Who do you think you are?  
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it,  
Show me how good you are,  
Swing it, shake it, move it, make it,  
Who do you think you are?  
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it,  
Show me how good you are_

_You're swelling out in the wrong direction,  
You've got the bug, superstar you've been bitten,  
Your trumpet's blowing for far too long,  
Playing the snake of the ladder, but you're wrong_

_I said who do you think you are?  
(I said who)  
Some kind of superstar,  
You have got to swing it, shake it, move it, make it,  
Who do you think you are?  
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it,  
Show me how good you are,  
Swing it, shake it, move it, make it,  
Who do you think you are?  
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it,  
Show me how good you are_

_You have got to reach on up, never lose your soul,  
You have got to reach on up, never lose control_

_I said who do you think you are?  
(I said who)  
Some kind of superstar,  
You have got to swing it, shake it, move it, make it,  
Who do you think you are?  
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it,  
Show me how good you are,  
Swing it, shake it, move it, make it,  
Who do you think you are?  
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it,  
Show me how good you are_

_Swing it, shake it, move it, make it,  
(who do you think you are?)  
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it  
Show me how good you are_

**Who Do You Think You Are and Wannabe are the property of the Spice Girls and appear in  
the film Spiceworld.  
California Love is the property of Dr. Dre and Tupac.**

The wooden floor of the showroom glows under her expensive heels as she walks to the  
small, raised platform. Three full-length mirrors make her feel anything but full, revealing all her discontent. Red and white bows litter the plush seats to her left; they're cold reminders of everything she tried on...the gloves, the shoes, the bags, some accessories she barely looked at in the confusion. Normally, she'd pay special attention to the designer or the details.

Her goal is to be numb. Maybe if she numbed herself that first day of camp she wouldn't be going through this. There'd be no initiation of a conversation with Blake, or a first meeting with Martika, or any chance of them conspiring against her. It could've all gone away.  
Not so, thinks Manny, as a tailor returns with a velvet sash to fit around her waist. Manny's eyes travel to her bare shoulders, the rest of her body covered in a strapless, red gown with a long, flowing train and a row of sequins near the bust. It is showy, way too showy. The sequins were so bright they hurt her eyes upon first approach. She believes the train is so long simply because it would prevent her from running away fast if she got the chance. Her pageant dress was lovely and she was able to move around in it. Well, it's not like Martika cares about her comfort on any level.

"Are you sure you don't want the champagne Elie Saab?" questions the tailor, crouching  
near Manny's waist. "Champagne's an in color this year. Or perhaps the green Marchesa.  
Was in Fashion Week this spring."

"She's a bit...hippy," replies Martika, assessing Manny's reflection. "This one works  
better."

Something tells her that Martika doesn't mean the type of hippie where you're throwing  
peace signs. Manny shakes her head, glances behind her to view Blake grinning with a jeweler displaying a variety of cufflinks. She can't believe she was starting to like him. Blake holds a pair up to the light as if he's trying to tell if they're composed of fake jewels. He's the only fake, moans Manny, inwardly.

"Are you excited, miss?" asks the tailor, warmly. "The Starlight Ball is some gala. I love dressing you youngsters every year."  
Instead of speaking, which she knows is rude, Manny can feel tears at the edges of her eyes, the back of her throat burning. She not only set herself up for this humiliation; she set Toby up for it. He has no idea what's going on, what could happen. Despite all the mess with Kendra, this would be worse. The Kendra situation was private, only a matter for her and their circle, but these pics would be public, able to be downloaded at any time for some cruel person's enjoyment if she backed out.  
"She's overcome with emotion ," notes Martika when the tailor is met with no response.  
Blake returns, sighing and plopping down on a seat. Manny turns her head the other way. Mumbling, the tailor unzips the back of her gown.  
"This sash could be a little longer," says the tailor, patting Manny on the waist and heading to a different room.  
"Tickets," says Martika, handing them to Blake. "Limo will be at your house at six thirty sharp tonight, and then at the Andrews at six forty-five for you, Manny. You'll arrive at the ball tomorrow at seven fifteen after we prep you for the party."  
"At the hotel, right?" inquires Blake. "Then we'll make our grand entrance at around  
seven-fortyish."  
"Yes," says Martika. "Remember to hold the doors open for her. Chivalry and all that  
dreck. Anywho, the rooms have been paid for for two nights. Blake has the keys."

All this information barely registers in her ears. Tickets...hotel...prep. How is she going to explain this to everybody? Lia hates Blake, Emma and J.T. would naturally be surprised she was doing this, and Toby's...Toby. She should be going to this ball with him, if she were ever planning to go to this thing in the first place.  
Manny sighs, touches the material of her dress. It's velour. She knows what that is, isn't too sure about the spelling, but is sure that it's not the most appealing fabric to  
her in the world. She stayed silent throughout the fitting. When the pins poked her, it  
was more of an itch than a quick jab. When they made her try on the different dresses,  
they felt heavy as if her collarbone and chest were being suffocated. The hours passed,  
the same as the awkward limo ride here. Martika kept grinning in triumph, fidgeting  
excitedly with her zebra jacket. Blake, on the other hand, appeared distracted, throwing  
Manny a firm frown now and again. In fact, Blake was doing that at this moment.

"Need to check if they got the room I requested for myself," remembers Martika, heading  
to a corner.

Blake clears his throat. "Um...you look beautiful, Manny."

"Don't talk to me," says Manny, staring hard at herself in the mirror.

"Come on!" whispers Blake, urgently. "I thought we were friends!"

"Blake!" she whispers back. "A real friend wouldn't have put me in this position. A real  
friend would tell me what's what, even after the fact. A real friend would know this is  
wrong."

Thankfully, Martika's not only distracted, but has left the showroom entirely. Manny  
steps down off the platform, sits next to Blake.

"What's so wrong about it?" questions Blake. "Okay, maybe the way we got you here was  
messed up. It's a fun night, though."

"Fun?" says Manny. "Why would I have any fun if I was tricked into being there? Wouldn't  
you...I don't know, rather have a date that actually wants to be there?"

Blake shrugs, runs a hand through his hair.

"You're like the only...," starts Blake.

"The only what?" prompts Manny.

"You're like the only one at Majestic that likes me, okay?" finishes Blake, his cheeks  
flushed. "Lia thinks I'm worthless, and Colin thinks what Lia thinks. I've teased the  
other girls so much they...well, that's why, alright?"

Manny shifts in her chair, stares at her lap.

"There aren't any eligible bachelorettes where you live or something?" asks Manny.

"Uh...I kinda bounce from my cousin's loft in Malibu and the Roosevelt,"replies  
Blake. "They just have A-listers that aren't interested or girls with boyfriends."

"Where are your parents?" inquires Mann

y.  
"Gone," shares Blake. "Uh, Dad died in a car accident when I was small. Mom, cancer. She  
saw my first movie, though. That was cool."

Wow. She can't imagine a life without her parents, and at least when she bounced between  
Emma's and her parents', she always has somebody to talk to, hang with.

"Your brother has a ranch, I thought?" says Manny.

Blake nods. "And he hates me more than Lia..."

"Why?"

"I left him to do all of this...this movie stuff," says Blake. "He said brothers should  
be together, stand together. But Pinecrest...they really take care of you. He never  
understood that. They...like make you feel good."

She recalls her first weeks of camp, when Blake and Martika flattered her, told her that  
the Kevin Smith did well and that she was already a star. They assured her that she'd  
nail the audition. Look at what she's lost, however, and how she eventually crumbled  
because of it. Here is Blake, also having lost someone because of Pinecrest's  
manipulations, to the point where he' attached a memento of his brother's ranch to his  
body. They had lost contact. She can't lose herself in the same way.  
"Is feeling good worth losing all the important stuff?" says Manny, gently. "You wear  
that piece of rope for a reason?"

Blake runs his tongue over his teeth, darts his eyes from Manny.

"I'm not wearing it today," says Blake.

"You don't need that on you to show you care about him," insists Manny. "Just like you don't need to  
follow anybody else's opinions. And...and I bet that will...that'll make you feel good."

Manny rises after hearing the shuffling of feet, certain Martika and her tailor have  
taken care of their respective arrangements. She needs to think of a way to get out of  
this, get herself and Toby out of this. She'd do it herself.

"What's wrong, Blake??" asks Martika, raising her eyebrows at him.

Cautiously, Manny glances at him too, meeting a piercing stare from Blake.

"Uh...nothing," answers Blake. "Nothing."

II.

"Thanks for the ride, guys."

Toby and J.T. watch as Emma starts to collect her belongings, a small bandage across the  
bridge of her nose.

"Will you guys stop staring at it!" cries Emma.

They both shake their heads, Toby guiltily opening the door for Emma as they both get  
out. The Andrews house still looks intimidating from the outside. J.T. lays on the entire  
seat, still obviously trying to catch some sleep after their early morning wake-up. Toby  
didn't mind seeing as he wanted a few minutes to talk to Emma anyway.

"Very brave, Isaacs," compliments Emma.

Toby turns red. They, or rather J.T., had spilled that he'd gone into the girls' locker  
room after Manny and had sought out Kendra the same day. Emma said that she was sure  
Manny would be impressed which was reason enough for him to call his mother and say that  
her ticket would be put to good use. True, he'd have to ask her last minute, but why  
would she say no to a night that celebrated her talent? The congratulatory dinner was a  
bust so this would probably be better.

Honestly, what he hoped would've been better is his talk with Kendra. While he said what  
needed to be said, he'd hate for that to be their last conversation. Their last  
conversation, ideally, should've happened at the expo. He'd provide one last hurrah, wish  
her well with gymnastics and life. Instead, she's hurt and he is the one who caused it  
this time. Him bringing her to L.A. made everything ten times worse.

"Emma?" says Toby.

"Yeah?" says Emma.

"When you broke up with Sean, did...did you make peace with him?" asks Toby. "I know  
things were...were rocky after the split."

Emma drops her bag near the sidewalk, plays with her hands uncomfortably.

"They were," says Emma. "I mean, Sean leaving? I couldn't handle that for awhile. First  
big relationship. Yeah, we did make peace before he stayed in Wasaga."

"Right."

Emma smiles. "You never forget them, though. Never."

"Kendra...I'm glad I said what I said, don't get me wrong," says Toby. "The thing  
is...it doesn't feel closed, and I want it to be...be closed. In a good way."

Pursing her lips, Emma picks up her bag, taps her foot. Oh boy, she's mad, thinks Toby.  
She's mad that I want to talk to Kendra a final time. He thought the Sean comparison made  
sense, but maybe that was way too personal.

"Good idea," says Emma, nodding.

"Really?" cries Toby.

"If you cared about that person, I think that's kind of instinctual," explains Emma.

"You never know who you'll meet again, but if you don't, why not let them know it's okay? That they're okay?"

"Uh...exactly," says Toby, grinning.

"When Manny comes home, I'll have her phone you," says Emma, winking at him.

"Thanks," says Toby.

As Toby gets in and closes the door, he forgets that J.T. is sprawled on the seat, J.T.  
shooting up in alarm.

"What...what'd I miss?" blanks J.T.

"We're going somewhere to get you a suit," informs Toby. "So you can go through the same  
torture I did."

"Goody," murmurs J.T., settling his head against the tinted window.

Toby dials his mother's cell, happily surprised that she answers after two rings. She  
sounds way more awake than either of them.

"Mission accomplished?" says Anne Marie, cheerfully.

"Yep," replies Toby. "Um, are you still up for getting J.T. a suit or..."

"Certainly," says Anne Marie. "Go to Milan and I'll meet you."

Milan? Oh yeah, the guy, not the country. Man, he really is tired.

"And this may be asking too much but...," begins Toby.

"This involves Manny?" inquires Anne Marie.

"Well, yeah," says Toby. "How did you..."

"A mother always knows, Tobes," interrupts Anne Marie.

"I have to talk to her first," admits Toby.

"No problem," says Anne Marie. "You talk to her first, and we'll treat her like she's  
first."

III.

Craig mutters incoherently as he shuffles through the brochures in his hands. After  
retrieving the two copies for Ashley from Julian, he started to ask, or well, badger  
Dashiel Briggs for any information on Piccadilly. As it turned out, it was a great place  
with many distractions. Ashley definitely needed a distraction. They could spend that one  
free day at Piccadilly walking, sightseeing, or shopping, particularly shopping for music  
at HMV. You can't go to Piccadilly without going to HMV, Craig, insisted Dashiel. You  
can't, or you're not a musician.

Why didn't Ashley feel like a musician? He can't be making it all up in his mind. Her  
compositions were the best of the bunch. They played her on BB6, which isn't any old  
radio station. He saw the more than warm reception she received at Oxford, same as her.  
So them trimming her song in the first broadcast didn't make sense, but she shouldn't let  
it get her down either. Maybe it didn't fit the flow of the piece, or the sound was  
weird when they were playing it back. Whatever. Operation Cheer Up Ashley starts  
now...as soon as he finds Ashley.

Luckily, she's walking right to him. Or wobbling. Craig's brow creases as Mark steadies  
her as they head to the bus.

"Alright there, mate?" says Mark, letting go of Ashley.

Before Craig can utter another word, he's on the bus, Ashley smiling peacefully at Craig.

"Hey! I was looking for you!" says Craig, smiling.

Ashley lets her head fall into Craig's chest, giggles.

"Uh?" says Craig, raising her chin.

"The streets around here are totally, totally long," says Ashley. "Mmm, my head."

Craig sniffs the air, able to detect her reasons for wobbling.

"You were drinking?" cries Craig, softly. "Ash, it's barely four o' clock yet."

"Relax," whispers Ashley. "I had one...one glass or two. It was...was like a polite thing.  
Mark offered so it...it was a thing polite. A polite thing, you know?"

Craig releases a deep breath, not entirely convinced that's the truth.

"Ash, you don't drink," says Craig. "I mean, you have when you're upset, but..."

"You drank!" whispers Ashley, fiercely. "From Aja's...whatever."

"That was a sip," reminds Craig. "I know it's legal and everything. Just...just it  
won't make you feel better."

"Paper hates me, Craig," says Ashley, laughing. "Reviews spit on me. Then there's like  
lollipops...and mohawks and..."

Okay, he has no idea what she means. That doesn't prevent him from helping her stand and  
leading her to the bus stairs. She manages the stairs fine, stops at the very front near  
the driver.

"Ashley on the bus!" she exclaims. "Woot woot!"

Craig covers his eyes as he hears several bursts of laughter, and murmurs as they head  
to Ashley's bed. When his hands leave his face, he spies Mark chuckling too as he flips  
through an issue of _Spin_.

"Nice," says Craig to Mark.

"Trust me...she needed it," says Mark, not glancing up from the magazine.

Ashley wavers to her bed, starts undoing her laces. She must not be that drunk, moans  
Craig inwardly. Good. They have to talk more.

"Alright, the DVD wasn't what we expected," says Craig, sitting near her. "So let's not  
focus on that. Piccadilly's a fresh start, and I have been briefed on the best places to  
go."

He hands the brochures to her, Ashley smiling a bit as she goes through them.

"They're all so colorful!" exclaims Ashley, softly, accidentally tearing one. "Oops!"

She giggles once more, lets her head find the pillow on the bed.

"Ash," sighs Craig. "This...this can't be a normal day. You're going to make me worry  
if you keep doing this. I..."

"No reason to worry," says Ashley, caressing his hand. "From now on, we'll...we'll not  
focus, like you said. We'll have a blast."

"A blast?"

"A non-alcoholic blast," assures Ashley, then hiccuping. "Sorry."

"Lemme get you a blanket," whispers Craig, kissing her cheek.

He closes the small door, obscuring Ashley from the views of others. The side closet  
holds extra blankets and towels, and he fetches a nice, warm blue blanket. From the  
corner of his eye, he glares at Mark, feet propped on the table.

"Me and her...we're doing a duet," he overhears Mark.

"Interesting," comments Dashiel, grabbing the magazine and hitting Mark on the head with  
it playfully.

"It'll be very interesting," says Mark, smiling to himself.

Craig unfurls the blanket, shakes his head as he goes into the other compartment.

IV.

"I swear if we ever get this dress straight...," complains Martika, circling Manny on  
the platform.

The woman's circled her around six times already. She feels like an item up for auction,  
only no one's bidding. Although, she wouldn't put it past Martika to do that. Want a date  
with the girl from _Jay and Silent Bob Go Canadian, Eh_? Any takers? She's wearing the most  
uncomfortable gown in the history of dress making, and it's no big deal that she's a bit  
hippy. The best part is she'll do anything you want. Manny hugs herself.

"Arms down," commands Martika.

She immediately drops them, releases an annoyed breath.

"Got something to say?" inquires Martika.

"No," says Manny, bluntly.

"I'd still go with the champagne," says the tailor. "Could add a few ruffles on the  
bodice. Would you like that, dear?"

Hmm, she's guessing she has to speak. Manny opens her mouth.

"They don't look good in that color," says Martika. "It washes them out."

"Them?" says the tailor.

"You know..._them,_" says Martika, tapping Manny's skin gently.

Manny's jaw drops, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. She said that? She really  
didn't say that. Her sight drifting, she spies Blake's look of surprise, his eyes  
falling to the floor.

"Red is more complimentary to their tone," remarks Martika. "It's bright and sexy.  
That's what they want to feel like."

"I...I thought the young lady looked elegant in either of...," starts the tailor.

"Well, if we were going for elegance, we wouldn't have any issues, now would we?"  
interjects Martika. "Men like seeing these women in red. Sex sells. Trust me."  
"These...these women?" exclaims Manny.

"Don't play dumb with me," sighs Martika. "It's true and you know it."

Manny angrily grabs her hair, moving in frustration as the tailor, remaining silent,  
measures her waist. True? Yeah, Martika's kind of truth, which is full of lies. She'd  
rather feel beautiful instead of sexy that night. When she took the stage in her pageant  
dress, in all its pink glory, that's how she felt, like no one could tear her down.

"I, um...we're done, I believe," stammers the tailor. "Let me zip..."

"I can!" says Blake, hopping up on the platform. "Uh, chivalry, right?"

"We'll discuss the bill," says Martika, indicating for the tailor to come to her.

Ugh, she doesn't want Blake near her, let alone touching this dress, this mark of shame.  
Manny gazes at her form in the mirror. Who is she? This sad girl who's letting strangers  
control her, play with her emotions. This red is the ugliest color she's seen. What would  
her parents think when they saw the pictures in the paper? Their daughter...playing not  
only the stereotype of a maid on camera, but the sexual connotation of an ethnic, young  
woman at such a classy event? Manny wipes away a tear.

Blake casts a look at Martika, slowly does up the zipper. She feels his hand touch her  
shoulder.

"She didn't call Colleen," whispers Blake.

Manny's eyes widen.

"She didn't," repeats Blake. "It's all some scare tactic to eventually get you signed  
with us. The pictures...yeah, she has copies. But you going to the ball? The role?  
Colleen could put a stop to it."

"Blake..."

He nods, steps off the platform to return to his seat. Martika smiles, walks over to  
Manny. No, it's too late to call Colleen. She'd do it herself, for herself.

"We're all settled," she says, breezily.

"We're not," says Manny, calmly. "I'm not wearing this dress, going to the ball, or  
taking any more of your racist hand-outs."

Martika chuckles. "Racist?"

"A maid? A piece of meat for men to ogle? Need I continue?" exclaims Manny.

"It's a part," argues Martika. "Is it my fault you people don't have too many options?  
What do you want me to do? Change this industry?"

"Or have faith that it will change!" replies Manny. "Gosh. We're not cookie cutter  
people you can throw in when you need some stock character. Gabbi isn't me. Miranda  
wasn't me, but I felt like she was real at least."

She stares at Blake for a quick second, who is smiling a bit.

"Real?" laughs Martika. "On an island with fairies and magic and spells? It's a fantasy  
world, Manny. Wake up."

'No, you wake up!" exclaims Manny. "I'm sick of saying nothing. I was scared of you  
ruining my life, but if I leave, it'd be ruined, but I'd have some respect!"  
"Pinecrest gives people respect..."

"Not the kind I want!" insists Manny. "And I think the majority of your clients secretly  
feel the same way."

"You have to be the most ungrateful, brash brat I've ever come in contact with!" snaps  
Martika, taking her hand forcefully.

"Hey!" protest Blake, causing Martika to let her go.

"Blake!" cries Martika. "What...what..."

"Where do you need to go, Manny?" interrupts Blake, unzipping her zipper.

Manny smiles back at him gratefully, hurriedly trying to think of some location. Too bad  
Martika's hand is on her arm again.

"I'll release those pictures," threatens Martika, hotly.

"I am not playing your maid," says Manny, loudly. "And I'm definitely not playing your  
whore."

With all her strength, she lifts Martika's arm and nudges her to the side. Manny  
wiggles out of the gown, hands it to the smiling tailor, walks in her slip to the door.  
Blake grabs both of their street clothes and follows.

'I paid for that dress!" yells Martika.

"Wear it to the ball," suggests Manny before going through the door.

V.  
This is it? Honestly, Manny had no idea where to go. She was more in  
pat-yourself-on-the-back mode, and get-yourself-in-the-cab before-you-chicken-out mode.  
Then, Blake handed her her clothes, and as embarrassing as it was, she changed in the cab,  
with Blake chattering on the phone. The cab driver didn't seem a bit interested...she  
hopes. But really, this is it?

In her little green dress, she swallows a lump in her throat as Blake helps her out of  
the cab.

"You brought me to a hotel?" exclaims Manny.

"Yeah," says Blake, nonchalantly.

"Just when I was starting to think you were a person with a functioning heart...,"  
starts Manny.

"See. Why does it have to be like that?" asks Blake, chuckling. "There's a club inside.  
We'd be with the early crowd, but whatever."

Manny grins.

"This is where Martika booked us," explains Blake. "Pretty cool. You can crash upstairs  
or hang with me. Let's forget our troubles."

"I'd rather hang," says Manny. "Pinecrest isn't paying for me to dance."

Blake beams. "Works for me."

Yeah, but where would he be working after all this? Manny isn't signed with Pinecrest,  
but Blake is. He really did stick his neck out for her, so why not pretend like the day  
didn't happen and party with him?

"Can't get in without me!" shouts a voice from a car window.

Manny giggles as she spots Lia, in a tight blue minidress and boots, leave her Porsche,  
Colin by her side. She's a bit tickled to see Colin in clubbing clothes, a black sports  
jacket over a white T-shirt and designer jeans.

"Shows what you know," defends Blake. "Rick and I go way back."

"You only met Rick through me, remember?" corrects Lia. "No, let's go."

As they move to the hotel, Lia hangs behind with Manny, letting the two boys go forward.

"Colin told me, and I called Colleen," whispers Lia.

"Lia, you didn't have to...," says Manny.

"You're my friend, and Colleen can negotiate you out of whatever part it is," insists  
Lia. "You're not bound by anything."

"Unlike Blake," sighs Manny.

"You're having sympathy for the devil?" groans Lia. "I mean, he called and told me what  
happened, but I can't honestly believe..."

"Well, believe it," says Manny. "He has a heart under all...all that Blakeness."

"I know," says Lia. "Just surprised it came out to breathe again."

Manny pushes her playfully as they reach the main entrance. The walls of the hotel are a  
nice, pale pink, an aqua theme evident in the building. The couches were shaped like  
shells, the white throw pillows apparently supposed to resemble pearls. Different columns  
had carvings of mermaids, Triton at sea, exotic fish, and ships. The structure that stood  
out the most was the gleaming, mahogany front desk. The four of them advance to it.

"Lia Andrews... Rick's expecting us," says Lia to the employee.

The employee hesitantly nods, points to a pair of black doors at the other end of the  
lobby. They walk to the door, Manny hearing a hip-hop song when the door creases open.

"Lia!" greets a young, attractive man with dark skin.

"Ricky!" cries Lia, throwing her arms around him, then releasing Ricky. "Okay, this is  
Manny. You know Colin and Blake?"

"For sure, baby," says Rick, waving to them. "Come on in, ya'll."

"Excellent," says Lia, grabbing Colin's hand.

Blake allows Manny to enter behind them, smiles as she takes in these new surroundings.  
Vibrant, colorful lights stream on the dancing bodies as they move from left to right.  
Tall, thin clear tubes of bubbles stretch from the floor to the ceiling. Manny can see  
her smiling face reflecting back as she stares into them. This is a great place to forget  
anything. Anything.

"More people than I thought!" yells Blake over the noise.

"People who aren't going to the ball tomorrow!" explains Lia. "Like our little Miss  
Manny."

"My heart's still breaking," says Colin, pretending to pout.

"Guys, it's too late," assures Manny.

"Well, I still have an extra ticket,' reminds Blake. "You should go in only your slip  
just to spite Martika."

They all laugh, heading to the bar, the bartender immediately recognizing Lia and  
buzzing her lips.

"What'll you have?" questions the bartender.

"Something light...I want to look my best tomorrow," says Lia. "Uh, two white wine  
spritzers."

"A beer for me," speaks up Blake.

"And for your friend?" he asks Manny.

Manny stares wordlessly at him for a few seconds. Her last time at the club, she didn't  
drink. It was much easier since Emma and the boys weren't doing it either. Plus, she  
didn't have all this pressure on this shoulders-- what Martika would do next, what  
Colleen would say, what Toby would say when he saw the pics publicized everywhere. Manny  
strokes her throat. Yeah, that last one is the worst.

"Martini," answers Manny.

"Hmmm, I guess when you've got nowhere to go, you don't mind that the wine's pouring,"  
observes Lia. "You heard her."

Manny smiles and shrugs, situates herself next to Blake at the bar. Lia checks her face  
in her compact, Colin fixing his jacket in the small mirror at the same time.

"Colleen can't get those pictures pulled, Manny," says Blake, gently. "I overheard you  
and Lia."

"I..."

"Knowing Martika, they'll probably be on the front page of Todd's site in a couple days, " sighs Blake.

"Have you told...what is it, Tommy?"

"Toby," corrects Manny. "And no. I told him he had nothing to worry about."

"Eep. Maybe you should tell him what happened today."

The bartender sets her martini in front of her, hands Blake his beer. The liquor  
wouldn't make her problems fade, but they'd fade from her mind, if only tonight. Manny  
takes a few gulps, sets it down.

Blake chuckles. "You can use the straw."

"And I can use more drinking and dancing," says Manny, taking out the straw.

As she takes a few more sips, she glances at the dance floor, several banquettes  
scattered at the far end. She nods for Blake to go with her, Lia and Colin following  
them. The earlier crowd seems to be the nicer crowd as they part for all of them to pass.  
However, the music does seem to be louder on this side.

"Martika's not the first to think I'm a whore!" says Manny, quite sure Blake is the only  
one to hear her.

"Ignore it!" says Blake.

"That's what they always tell me, but someone else just says it or thinks it," says  
Manny. "They brand me a slut even after they ever get to know me. I mean, I was almost  
Pinecrest's whore."

"I never thought that!" shouts Blake.

"No, you thought I was an immigrant!" reminds Manny, then producing a weak laugh.

"Sorry!" says Blake.

"What can you do?" moans Manny, quickly drinking the rest of her martini.

"Uh, you may want to slow it down!" cautions Blake.

Manny waves him off, able to go through the crowd again. The second martini is a little  
sweeter, lime-flavored. Green. Same as her dress, the dress that didn't mean she was a  
whore. Manny hiccups. Or maybe you didn't need a dress for people to think that.

"Another," requests Manny.

"You sure?" says the bartender.

"Yeah," says Manny. "Keep them coming."

VI.

"Her text was all jumbled," says Emma, pressing the down button for her window. "Sorry  
to do this, but I've like exhausted all my fare money until the next paycheck."

"No, I'm worried too," assures Toby. "Thanks for calling."

The weird text started this string of events. "Drunk...Manny...home." That was it, all  
there was, and it's enough to drive him batty. Is she drunk and in need of a ride home?  
Is someone else drunk and they need a ride home? Emma finally, smartly called Lia to see  
what she said. She confirmed that Manny was drunk, didn't seem the least bit rattled by  
that. They were, because they knew that wasn't like Manny. Something must've tipped her  
over the edge. He wasn't staying with J.T. and his mom to finish ball preparations to  
avoid finding out either.

Fred's limo comes to a complete stop before Toby and Emma rush to the front door.

"Hey," says Emma to the person at the front desk. "We need to get into that club."

He smirks. "And you are?"

"An employee of Lia Andrews," says Emma. "Don?t make me call her."

"No, I will," he says, tersely.

Emma clicks her tongue, shrugs at Toby. He didn't want to wait for clearance. He wanted  
to get in there now and check on her. Stupid Hollywood politics.

"Name?" says the employee.

"Emma Nelson," says Emma, coolly.

He repeats the name, sighs loudly, and points them to the door. Toby jogs along with  
Emma, and Ricky lets them in after a few curious looks. Finally, thinks Toby. Try as he  
might, he's unable to spot Manny or Lia or Colin. The room is not helping by being  
incredibly loud, a booming rap song playing.

_California...knows how to party  
California...knows how to party  
In the citaaay of L.A.  
In the citaaay of good ol' Watts  
In the citaaay, the city of Compton  
We keep it rockin! We keep it rockin!_

"This is perfect," groans Emma.

Well, she is taller than him so maybe she'd have a better shot of locating her best  
friend. However, Emma's use of her height is no longer required as they both see Manny climb on a  
banquette, tossing her hair back, moving to the music.

Toby's heart sinks. What's going on? Manny was fun-loving, which he himself loves, but  
getting drunk? Dancing on tabletops? It's all a little too wild, so not like her. He and  
Emma try their hardest to walk through the grinding figures, the tall guys dancing to the  
heavy beats.

_Out on bail fresh outta jail, California dreamin  
Soon as I stepped on the scene, I'm hearin hoochies screamin  
Fiendin for money and alcohol  
the life of a west side playa where cowards die  
Only in Cali where we riot not rally to live and die  
In L.A. we wearin Chucks not Ballies (that's right)  
Dressed in Locs and khaki suits and ride is what we do  
Flossin but have caution we collide with other crews  
Famous cause we program worldwide  
Let'em recognize from Long Beach to Rosecrands  
Bumpin and grindin like a slow jam, it's west side  
So you know the row won't bow down to no man_

Manny drops her body to the glass top of the banquette, rises up seductively. Toby can  
feel his face growing firmer and firmer. She moves her hands in circles around in the air.

"_Say what you say but give me that bomb beat from Dre_," raps Manny, loudly. "_Let me  
serenade the streets of L.A."_

Underneath her, Lia laughs, raising her wine glass in Manny's direction. Only Blake and  
Colin appear perplexed. Toby and Emma have almost reached them.

"Guys, loosen up!" commands Manny. "Colin, Blake. Here, you guys are the only ones that haven't seen these...lovely, lovely..."

Manny plays with the straps of her dress, about to undo them.

"Manny!" shouts Emma, angrily.

"Em! You're here!" cries Manny. "You got my text!"

She squeals, claps her hands. Manny hasn't either seen him yet or doesn't care,  
continuing to move to the song.

"Lia, what were you thinking letting her drink all that?" asks Emma, throwing Lia a  
pointed stare.

"I didn't know I was her chaperone...so sue me," says Lia, glaring at Emma.

"Well, how much has she...," begins Emma.

"I don't know. We were having a good time!" interrupts Lia. "Your killjoy ways are  
really starting to grate, mkay?"

"California knows how to party! Oh yeah!" sings Manny, pretending to brush dirt off her  
shoulders.

"Do the Harlem shake!" instructs a man in a hoodie nearby.

"Heyyyy!" says Manny, doing as told. "Any more requests?"

Well, if he's going to do anything for her, he better do it now before she embarrasses  
herself any further.

"Yeah, come down," yells Toby, reaching his hand out to her.

"Toby!" giggles Manny. "When did you get here? I was thinking of you the entire time!  
And bam, you're here!"

Thinking of him? He's the cause of this? Shaking his head, he releases his own thoughts,  
reaches for her again. Luckily, she takes his hand, Toby helping her off the banquette.  
Emma, Colin, and Lia crowd around her, concerned expressions on their faces.

"Manny, what's up?" asks Toby.

"Hee," says Manny, happily. "Well, when it comes to you, we both know I can get it up,  
right, Tobes?"

Lia and Blake snicker, Colin's mouth falling open. Toby tosses an uncomfortable look at  
Emma.

"There's no need to be ashamed...you wouldn't be the first," laughs Manny. "I do it for  
guys all the time. But you...you're different. You don't want to sleep with me."

Manny's delighted grin disappears, a frown replacing it. Toby tries to hold her against  
him, lead her towards the door, but she pushes him back lightly.

"Why don't... you don't want to sleep with me?" slurs Manny, sniffling. "Because I'm  
dirty? You want to sleep with a virgin, Toby? I mean, you have your pick. Clara? Kendra?  
Emma?"

Emma knocks her forehead with her palm.

"Emma," repeats Manny, laughing. "Shh. I won't tell if you won't."

"Manny, let's leave," encourages Toby.

"Not until you...you answer my question," insists Manny. "I do so much for you, Toby,  
and you don't...you don't appreciate it."

"Yes, I do," whispers Toby, moving back her hair. "I do."

Manny holds his hands against her cheek. "Okay."

He better act fast in this lull. Since she's cooperative, he has to move her now, and  
she can't walk too far since she's drunk. He didn't want to risk Fred seeing her drunk  
either. It would surely reach his mother.

"There's a hotel room for her," speaks up Blake, apparently reading his mind.  
After a few seconds, he locates it and presents it to him.

"Thanks," says Toby, a little weirded out that he has to thank Manny's onstage  
boyfriend, or former onstage boyfriend really.

He lets Manny rest against her side, passes quite a few guys who boo him, apparently for  
stopping Manny's one-woman table dance. He doesn't care. They weren't in love with her.  
It's a pretty bad struggle, but he manages to navigate them out of the black doors of the  
club, stumbling a little as they reach the lobby. Man, it's one of those hotels where  
you have to check in first, he notes after reading the back of the key card.

"Excuse me, sir," says Toby, after settling Manny on a seashell-shaped couch.

"Oh, you again," says the man. "How may I help you?"

"We'd...or she'd like to check in," says Toby. "Manny Santos."

"ID?" he says.

Of course, you need an ID. Toby gets Manny to stand, and they go the desk. He starts to  
shuffle through her purse.

"Toby!" cries Manny. "A lady's purse is private. Like an underwear drawer!"

Manny pounds the desk, laughing, spilling the contents of her purse in the process. Toby  
bends, starts to collect the items. He places her driver's license on the desk. The  
employee nods, checks her name in a small black book.

"I almost sold my soul today to stay in one of your rooms," informs Manny, pulling on  
the employee's tie. "I hope you appreciate it."

"Manny!" cries Toby.

"Um...miss?" says the employee, taking her hand away. "Yeah...thanks."

Toby takes Manny's hand, going to the elevator. While he reads the key number, Manny  
presses all the buttons for every floor. Oh, boy. It'd be a long trip up to the sixth  
floor.

"Mmmm," sighs Manny, letting her head fall into Toby's chest.

The elevator door opens, Toby maneuvering both of their bodies inside. He's simply  
dumbfounded by all of this. Did the kiss with Kendra provoke all of this? Did he say  
something wrong in the locker room? He wishes he knew.

After five very long stops, they're on her floor and he directs her to room six one  
four. Manny opens her eyes in excitement, takes the card key.

"Let me!" she exclaims.

He does, watching her in concentration. Manny slides in the key, enters the room. Toby  
takes a deep breath and follows.

The room is pretty nice, with deep, dark blue walls, a tropical flower theme flowing  
throughout. The comforters have green vines on them. The lamps were shaped like tiki  
figures. A large TV stood in a blue cabinet. Seeing all of this, it's the first time he's  
wondering why Manny would need a hotel room? Too bad she's trying to pry open the mini  
bar door.

"Come on," encourages Toby, taking her hand off.

"Toblerones!" cries Manny. "We can have them. It'd be like Red Rose."

"You should sleep," says Toby.

"I'm not sleepy!" pouts Manny. "I know! Room service!"

Manny walks to the phone, starts randomly dialing numbers. She stares at the mouthpiece.

"Hello?" she yells into the phone. "Hello! Hmmm, must be too late."

Or she didn't dial any number that would work, guesses Toby. Manny sticks her tongue out  
at the phone, climbs on the bed.

"I'm...I'm not getting why...," begins Toby.

Manny smiles shyly, kneeling at the foot of the bed, inching Toby closer. The mix of her  
perfume and the alcohol is fairly strong, Toby staring into her eyes.

"They think I'm a slut," whispers Manny.

"Who thinks that?" says Toby.

"Everyone, but you," sighs Manny, kissing him softly.

Toby places his hands on her shoulders, stops the kiss, Manny letting out a disappointed  
whimper. Her eyes are so lost. She needs him, but he doesn't know why she needs him. He  
hates that. He wants to make the problem go away.

"I'm tired," breathes Manny, blushing and turning from him.

Lifting the blanket, Manny situates herself in the sheets, shoes still on her feet. It  
isn't long before she's out like a light, which Toby shuts off.

V.

"Brilliant deals at Samsong! Twenty percent off the latest TV sets!"

"Try our new lime-flavored Cokes! A citrus twist to an old familiar flavor!"

"McFlurries to beat the summer heat! McFlurries to beat the summer heat!"

So much yelling, groans Ashley as she trails Craig, a few shopping bags between them.  
She knows it's their job to yell, but can't they stop...forever? Ugh, this wasn't the  
worst hangover she's ever had, but it's all kinds of annoying. Not to mention, a few of  
her tourmates liked to call out "Ashley on the bus!" whenever they got the chance. Craig  
finally explained the catalyst for the strange action. Ashley rubs her forehead.

"The Kinks Collector's Edition?" cries Craig. "Had to come all the way to freakin'  
London to find it where anyone could see."

"Whenever you hear their cover of Long Tall Sally, you'll think of HMV," teases Ashley.  
"You made out pretty well in the Joan Jett discovery," says Craig.

"What can I say?" says Ashley. "Angry rock girls find me every time. Unfortunately, I  
can't listen to them now, because my head is throbbing."

"Well, Ash if you..."

"Please don't lecture me," sighs Ashley. "You're right. You're always right. Does that  
buy me some much needed silence?"

"You're always right...like that sound of that," says Craig, grinning. "Alright, I'll  
clam up."

Despite their individual talent at locating the right CDs, Piccadilly Circus itself is a  
madhouse. Ashley has been a few times before, since her dad and Chris' place wasn't too  
far away, but that was mainly during the evening, without any summer tourists. Today,  
however, it resembles Times Square at the height of the season. The neon signs buzz with  
exciting electricity, or perhaps they're simply buzzing because her eyesight's a little  
off. Two, red double deckers whizz by as cameras flash from above. The winged statue of  
Eros points his arrow to no particular lovebirds. It's really supposed to be his twin,  
Anteros, but people always say it's his brother. Getting no respect because of a more  
heralded person? Boy, can I relate, thinks Ashley.

They cross a few blocks, Ashley unsure of where they're going. Craig said it was a  
surprise. Ashley merely grinned and played along. She figures she owes him after he sat  
by her for most of yesterday.

"We're here," asserts Craig, slinging an arm around Ashley and kissing her.

Ashley gazes at him with joy and drags him to the center of their destination. It's an  
old-fashioned flea market, each seller and their items collected under white, flowing  
tents.

"My dad took me here last summer!" cries Ashley.

"I remembered," says Craig. "Called him and asked. Best place for Ashley odds and ends."

"Well, you do know I love individualized stuff," says Ashley.

"Is...is that what you told Mark or...," asks Craig, his voice trailing off.

Hmmm, he must've gotten wind of the duet.

"Craig, it's a one-time thing," assures Ashley. "To get me noticed. Julian thinks it's a  
good idea, and so do I."

"I don't see why you need anyone else to be noticed," says Craig. "What, is he going to  
guest on one of your songs?"

"A cover...actually," confesses Ashley.

"So your songs won't be spotlighted!" complains Craig. "Ash, help me understand, because  
I..."

Ashley wraps her arms around his waist, smiles pathetically. She sort of suspected that  
he'd be like this, but if he only knew how she felt yesterday? He wouldn't condemn it.

"Once, Craig. Then, it's exactly how it'll be at Oxford," says Ashley. "Me, the keyboard,  
my work.

Craig stares at the sky, then at her, smiling.

"It's your career and I trust you," says Craig.

"Let's get you a belt, Manning," says Ashley, pushing him to one of the larger tents.

"I'm not into belts as much as you," reminds Craig.

"Doesn't matter, because I'll be the one taking it off," whispers Ashley.

"Ashley Kerwin, you little minx," kids Craig, both of them laughing.

An older woman of about forty mills around the belt section, smiles at them on the  
occasion as she fixes some necklaces on a rack. Ashley returns the smile, starts to sift  
through the belts.

"_Walk like an Egyptian_!" sings Craig, holding a Middle Eastern-style belt to his waist.

Ashley does the dance for a second, resulting in a fit of laughter from Craig. Then, she  
turns to a group of skirts. One of them is a rich red, with a beautiful golden pattern  
hedged around the sides. Ashley plays with the cloth.

"Those are special!" says the seller. "Eight fifty and they'll show off your legs."

"I...uh, usually don't show them," confesses Ashley.

"Oh, but you're so tall," encourages the woman. "Here, you wrap it around..."

The seller leaves the necklaces, situates the skirt around Ashley's jeans. Craig leans  
against the desk, smiles. Ashley blushes.

"So?" says Ashley.

"I like it," says Craig. "Brings out the purple hair."

"Ring it up?" asks the seller.

"Um...maybe," says Ashley. "Sure. Why not?"

"Good!" cries the seller. "I have one already wrapped in a box. Come!"

"I'll go," offers Craig. "Paying for it, anyway."

He kisses Ashley on the cheek, disappears from the tent with the seller. It's sweet of  
him to pay. Ashley turns a couple of times, watching the fabric swirl. She can't remember  
the last time she wore red, or a shorter skirt for that matter.

"_If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends_...," sings a random voice from  
behind the tent wall.

"Old!" condemns another female voice. "Luckily, we'll hear some spot on singing from  
Mark Kennick tonight!"

"Aye, who else is in that show again?" says the other voice.

"Um, that Sarah Lincoln...she's good. Oh, and that girl that's always shown with Mark,"  
says the second voice.

"Who is she anyway? Looks young, don't you think?"

"Eh, probably some groupie that slept with him so she'd get on the tour. A pretty girl,  
but that's it, my mate says. Can't say I wouldn't strike the same deal."

"You're dodgy, you know that?"

They giggle, move on. Ashley clutches the skirt in her hand, tears streaming down, and  
when she leaves the tent, the tent rustles heavily in her wake.


	42. Inner Smile

**XLII. Inner Smile**

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, ..._

_You gave me something  
Like loving  
And took me in so soon  
You took my feelings  
from nothing  
Came back at noon  
Just meet me  
I'm ready  
To show myself to you_

_So if I lose my patience  
You must try to understand  
(try to understand)  
If I lose my patience  
Ooooh yeaaaaaaaah_

_Refrain :  
Cause you make me feel  
Cause you make me feel wild  
You touch my inner smile  
You got me in the mood  
So come and make your rule  
And free me_

_You make my wishes  
As much as  
Your kisses make me blue  
You've found my river  
Now will you  
Escape away too  
But baby  
I'm ready  
I'm falling into you_

_So if I lose my patience  
You must try to understand  
(try to understand)  
If I lose my patience  
ooooh yeaaaaaaah_

_Refrain  
Free me  
Free me  
Wooow wooow wooooow  
Wooow wooow wooooow  
Wooow yeaaaaaaaah_

_Cause you make me feel wild  
You touch my inner smile  
You got me in the mood  
So come and make your rule  
And touch my inner smile  
Come get my inner smile, smile, smile  
Yeaaaaah yeaaaaaaaah_

_Sometimes I need to be alone  
There's times I need for you to phone  
Sometimes you make me feel so high  
There's times I ask myself why_

**Inner Smile is the property of Texas and appears in the film _Bend It Like Beckham_.**

There's a twittering buzz, almost like a manic bird, as soon as her eyes meet the silky cloth of the pillowcase. The alarm sounds disgruntled as she is, almost attacking her for having been set this early. She didn't set it, she wants to scream. Manny groans, rolls from left to right, eventually sits up to a persistent sun coming through the window. Finally sober enough to view her surroundings, she's not sure she wants to. The room is a somewhat tacky version of a Caribbean suite with jungle prints, bright shades, and indistinguishable furniture.

She glances down at her clothes, the same clothes she's been wearing two consecutive mornings. She either kicked off her shoes or someone removed them while she was passed out. She wishes that same someone would stop the room from whirling in all directions. Which drink did her in, making her lose all memory? The fourth, the fifth, the sixth? Was there a sixth? They always made martinis look so glamorous in the movies. Well, this morning they've lost their charm.

There are a few raps on the door, Manny blinking several times at the closed door. Go away, she's tempted to yell. She doesn't want to see anyone. They'd have to leave, wait, whatever. Just go. Too bad the knocking becomes louder, so loud that it forces her up.

"I'm a hot mess," mumbles Manny as she stumbles to the door.

The question is how did she, a hot mess, end up in a hotel room? This had to be the same hotel where the club was, and Blake had the keys, and...oh, no...no. No! No, really, she's still clothed. Nothing happened if she's still clothed. Manny exhales a relieved sigh, grabs the doorknob, and gives the person on the other end a glassy stare. The person has glasses, actual glasses, Toby becoming clearer.

"Hey," greets Toby with a wide grin.

Manny gasps, immediately shuts the door in his face. She's certain it's rude, but it was a gut reaction, and kind of a reminder as to why her head feels like a rock. The pictures! He found out from someone and now he wants an explanation. She must've divulged the information when she was wasted, or Blake did, or Lia. This isn't the way she should've told him. There had been a lot of that lately. She didn't want Emma to find out about Spinner during Truth or Dare. She didn't want Colleen to find out about the Pinecrest audition from Lia. She didn't want to find out she got the role from anyone, especially not from slimy Martika. What's next? Is she going to find out that Toby wants to dump her via J.T.? Manny flops on the bed, covers her head in the comforter.

She hears the knob turn anyway, and footsteps coming closer.

"I have the key," informs Toby.

"Hmph," sighs Manny into the pillow.

"How are you feeling?" asks Toby.

"Like Tara Reid," replies Manny, letting her face emerge from a small hole in the blanket, not facing him. "And I actually like her."

Toby laughs. "Well, you can't hide all day."

"Why?" moans Manny.

"Because I brought breakfast," replies Toby.

"You didn't charge it to...," begins Manny.

"No, there's a deli a block away," interjects Toby. "I had to listen to the owner complain about the Lakers, but I've got hash browns, eggs, toast, and two pancakes."

She is able to detect something with a delicious smell in the air. And hey, she's never said no to pancakes. Her stomach's all out of sorts, though, and she's sure she can't keep any of that down. Well, not in the next couple hours at least. Besides, this is probably some last, nice gesture he's doing before he pulls the carpet from under her feet.

"I don't want your 'dump you' breakfast," says Manny, putting the blanket above her head again.

"What?" cries Toby.

"That's right," continues Manny. "You went all the way to the deli for a meal that won't be consumed by yours truly."

"Well...should I eat it?" questions Toby.

"What?" exclaims Manny, shooting up to face him. "Of course, you shouldn't eat it. You're...you're..."

Toby meets her upset expression with a look of pride.

"You're pulling my leg," notes Manny.

He nods.

"Fine. I'll eat it later," says Manny, shyly taking the container from him.

"What's an 'I dump you' breakfast?" asks Toby, eyebrows raised.

"Uhhh...last of the drunk talk?" answers Manny. "Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't the only thing that didn't make sense. When I'm drunk, I tend to do some not so smart things. Was it...was it bad? I remember you and Emma showing, and being like tall all of a sudden? You known when Alice eats the Eat Me candy and she grows in five seconds?"

"You were dancing on a table?" shrugs Toby.

"Like...like an actual table?" stammers Manny.

"A little one," comforts Toby.

"Please tell me I was wearing panties," sighs Manny, loudly.

Toby's face grows flustered. "Umm..."

Does it matter? She should throw another embarrassing moment into her log pile of shame. After her conversation with Blake, it became easier to keep going. She had no control over the pictures situation, so she didn't really see any point in being in control. Have fun, think later. It is time to think with Toby here. After confronting Martika, you'd think Toby would be easier, but no. It's hard telling him that their relationship would be mocked...again. The pause in conversation causes Toby's face to grow more serious so she's guessing he's ready to get to the heart of the problem. His heart might break to hear this.

"You said all these things last night that I didn't understand," says Toby.

"I had a few too many," says Manny, hanging her head.

"No, this was...," starts Toby, then talking more in a hurry. "Maybe I needed to hear them. Maybe it was good you let all that stuff out."

"Huh?" says Manny.

"I never asked you that back, and I should've," says Toby. "You said that if you don't make me feel confident, amazing, or strong, I shouldn't be with you. Why not ask you the same?"

Manny smiles, traces the edge of the blanket. Then she throws him a puzzled stare as she has no idea what he's talking about, not really. She did ask him that, but that wasn't at the root of her drinking a bucket load of alcohol. Man, what did she say last night? She'd have to ask Lia or Emma for a detailed decription of the night's events. Toby was most likely too involved to give her a straight answer.

"You do, Manny," assures Toby, taking her hand. "You make me feel all those things."

"Good...I mean, I'm glad," says Manny.

"Is...is that true for you?" prompts Toby. "Do I make you..."

"Toby, I feel nauseous right...,"

"I know," interrupts Toby. "But last night...you seemed upset. Like at me."

Upset with him? Okay, true. There were things that she wished he had done-- told her that he talked with Kendra, made more of an effort to be her boyfriend and not Kendra's protector, finish what they were doing at the bed and breakfast. But none of those things made her ask for the first martini. No, it was sort of what Toby had worried about since the beginning of their time in this strange city.

"Remember when you asked if we were too complicated?" asks Manny.

"Yeah?" says Toby.

"Well, I hate to say it...but you were right," says Manny, feeling her eyes growing teary. "Toby, I'm scared because it's getting so complicated that I might lose you. Some things are as big a deal as you think."

"Like...like sex?" stammers Toby. "You...you mentioned that..."

"No," says Manny, strongly. "Forget what I mentioned. Sweetie, I can wait for sex. Whenever you're ready, I'm ready. That's so not behind this. It's...it's some things that don't seem as big, but are."

"Not getting it, Manny," confesses Toby.

The tears have already arrived, so she might as well tell him why they're there. She hasn't told anyone she knows, knows this well. Even Emma's clueless.

"There was this audition," says Manny, softly. "With this other interested studio. I got a part."

"That's wonderful!" cries Toby. "Are you feeling pressure or..."

"Oh, there was pressure," insists Manny. "And it was anything but wonderful. They wanted me to play this...this maid. It wasn't any old maid either...it was like this total stereotypical maid. All the words were hard to say."

Toby bites his lip, places a hand on her shoulder.

"All of them," repeats Manny in barely above a whisper.

Her shoulders shake as she cries more intensely. The script is still so fresh in her mind. Then, there was Roger telling the other girls how this is the way it should be done, as if they should emulate her.

"They look at me and this is what they see," says Manny, staring into Toby's eyes. "That I'm passive, that I'll do whatever I'm told. Then, yesterday..."

"Before you got to the hotel?" guesses Toby.

Manny nods quickly. "They paid for this dress...I felt so cheap. Some cheap mannequin who had to stand there and smile."

"Why'd you go through that?" sighs Toby, sitting right next to her. "You could've called me."

Not having the courage to muster a response, she buries her face in her hands. She couldn't call him. Toby had withheld his dealings with Kendra, probably so she wouldn't get hurt. Isn't she doing the same? Only the other person is a twisted version of herself, a version that made dealings with people set out to change who she is and damage what she loves. It damages the two things she loves, her acting and Toby.

"Because I'm used to it," says Manny, lowering her hands.

"You shouldn't be used to it," says Toby, firmly. "I don't want you to be used to it."

"Finally figured out why I didn't say anything to Justin," breathes Manny. "I'm...I'm a coward."

"You're not," whispers Toby, shaking his head.

"My dad called me a slut, I ran. Chante humiliates me in front of hundreds, I sit backstage and cry. People call me things and I have the stupidest, emotional reactions..."

"They're real reactions," interrupts Toby. "Nobody can fault you for..."

"Pushing Kendra, who's injured, for calling me a whore?" inserts Manny. "I did. That's not good, Toby."

Manny moves her knees to chest, tired of crying. She'd rather not be in this room with all these awkward thoughts. She'd rather be nowhere, free of guilt, free of judgment. When will this all stop? When will any solution present itself? Attempting to smile, Toby puts a hesitant arm around her.

"Look, tonight's the ball," says Toby, warmly. "We can go and you'll...you'll feel better about yourself."

"Toby, you're part of the problem," says Manny, simply.

She hates seeing his whole face go pale. If he understood...that she didn't mean it like that...

"I feel too much for you so I let things happen," explains Manny. "I can't sit back anymore. I can't have any doubts. Not tonight either. I can't."

Toby offers her a hurt look, calmly rises from the bed. She wonders if any of that got through. While she didn't fully tell him that most of the complications involved him, he has to have gotten that there's been a strain on the two of them ever since Confirmation. What's horrible is that they haven't caused the strain; the strain has simply found them. Toby swallows a lump in his throat, Manny hearing it and shivering.

"You never answered my question," says Toby.

He's right.

"If you make me feel strong and amazing?" says Manny.

"That," says Toby.

"I want to say yes, but I don't feel that way right now," admits Manny.

"Well, when?" sighs Toby, letting a tear fall. "If it's not with me, then when?"

"When I can look at myself and not be ashamed," replies Manny, taking his hand. "When I can speak as much Tagalog as my dad, or when I can wear lilies in my hair like my grandmother. Until then, I won't. So you might have to walk away like I did."

"I can't give you...can't give you any..." whispers Toby in frustration.

"Yeah," breathes Manny, sniffling. "I don't want you hurt anymore. Walk away."

Avoiding any eye contact, Toby places the card key on the table. He pauses at the door briefly, throws a quick glance at Manny, then does exactly as he's told. Manny puts the container of food on the same surface. She lets another round of crying overtake her, desperate to be heard.

II.

"You can't come over to watch it?"

Emma winds the chord of the front desk phone, catching the evil eye of the same employee she encountered last night. Did this guy ever go home? Never mind that she's talking to a seven-year old.

"Hannah, we'll watch it when you come home. I'll tell you which dwarf is which dwarf, and everything. Dopey's the one with the big ol' hat," says Emma.

"They all have big hats," says Hannah. "You're not going to the ball or anything, so you can come over and we can watch it one more time."

"This is your special time with your aunt, remember?" reminds Emma. "She'll be mad if I take you away. It's good to get away now and then."

Hannah groans. "Alright. Bye."

"See you soon," says Emma, then hanging up.

The employee narrows his eyes at her.

"You don't have kids, do you?" jokes Emma.

"I haven't had the pleasure," returns the employee, sternly. "Done, I presume?"

"Thank you," says Emma.

Jerk, she adds in her brain as she goes to the couch in the lobby. Awww, it was nice to be missed. Hannah's aunt had spilled that the real reason that Hannah was there was because of the ball. Hannah, of course, knew about it, but was curious to see if Emma had forsaken a night of fun with her for a night of fun at a dance. It was kind of dependent, yet kind of cute. If it were any other kid, Emma would be annoyed and she thinks rightly so. Most kids understood that people her age wanted free time. But considering that Hannah only had Edwina before her, and that she didn't play with other children, it was more understandable than bothersome. Emma used to be offended when her mother went out on dates and left her home alone, even her first dates with Snake. Wow, that was ages ago. They aren't dating at the present moment. At least she hopes Snake isn't seeing anybody. That would be such a low thing for him to...

Her thoughts meander as a familiar head of brown hair enters the lobby, Emma smiling with amusement.

"Spinner?" she says.

"A delivery for Ms. Nelson?" says Spinner, presenting a plastic container of cantalope, kiwi, and strawberries.

He remembered not to get styrofoam, praises Emma in her brain. She is hungry, having camped out in the lobby after Manny's drunken escapades. At least she slept. Toby didn't. He was all over the place-- calling his mother to say he crashed at Colin's (a joint lie that he and Lia made up); telling Fred that he could go home and asking him to arrive at the hotel at nine in the morning; getting food and Advil for Manny. Emma asked if she could give Manny the Advil, just as an excuse to check on her next. Then there was the opposite of Toby, Lia, who drove home for a night of beauty sleep. Colin hung around until one' o clock, asked Emma if she'd like to share a cab. She declined and that was around the time Blake went up to his room to rest. That brought them to this minute, with Spinner mysteriously showing up.

"The Dot has a California branch?" replies Emma. "And here I thought it was just a Degrassi mainstay."

"We'll be the next California Pizza Kitchen," says Spinner, smiling. "No, Toby called. Kendra's already in the limo. He offered us a ride. That was nice."

It's also part of Toby's plan to wish Kendra well, guesses Emma. Well, Kendra and Spinner didn't need to know that. She, however, would like to know why he's bringing her sustenance. She sits, pats a spot next for Spinner.

"All trash should be thrown in the proper receptacle," says the employee, cross as ever as he nods at a nearby trashcan.

"What's his...," begins Spinner.

"He hates me," waves off Emma. "Thanks for this."

"It's the least I could've done," says Spinner, shrugging.

"Mmmmm?" says Emma, giving him a puzzled look.

"You told me not to press Kendra too much," explains Spinner. "She told me...finally. And we're going home."

"Been known to give decent advice when the time calls for it," boasts Emma, bumping Spinner's shoulder with her own.

They smile, face a bronze statue of a merman. The only problem with her constructive advice is that it is taking Spin home. He has to go, she wants him to go, but she wants him to stay too. Kendra has to be the top priority. Family has to be the top priority. Family? Ugh, she hasn't called her mother or Jack in about three days. Her mother liked hearing her rattle off all the different places in L.A., and Jack was content pressing the different numbers on the phone, licking the earpiece, or saying Emma, then hanging up. You couldn't discuss dwarfs with that boy.

"I...I still have a little over a week left, before...you know, I go to T.O.," hints Spinner.

"Oh," says Emma, pretending to look around aimlessly.

"Boomer...he's staying for registration," informs Spinner. "That's why we needed a ride. Gotta get Kendra home at a decent hour. Then, he'd be doing the competition finals for two days. I...I love surfing."

"Then maybe you could...could come watch it?" suggests Emma.

"Maybe I could," says Spinner, playfully rocking back and forth.

Emma stares at him, situates the fruit salad firmly on a desk. Spinner blows out a deep breath. He zips his lips and looks Emma up and down.

"Spin, you better come to that...," begins Emma.

"That's what I wanted to hear," says Spinner, tickling her as a red-faced Emma's head meets the cushions.

III.

The last time he was at Alex's, they met outside. Jay was showing her some CDs he'd "five-finger discounted" from the mall. That was so long ago, may've been the same year that Liberty offered to do the very same with a pack of smokes. Yeah, that long ago. That was weird. As weird as going to Alex's today? No, today is more weird. He'd taken to letting most of his calls roll straight to voicemail, especially when he was working. It was a distraction timewise, and a distraction...moralwise. Wait, that's not a word. Ellie would have the right word. It figures that it's her calls that occupy his voicemail the most.

He misses her. That's what lead him to agree to meet Alex. He could check on her without actively seeing her. He's a bit nervous. Jay could've told her anything. As shown by his willingness to share with Dale, Jay's tongue was a lot more loose than his. Alex and Jay were tight. They somehow managed to get past all the boy/girl drama of exes, relaxing around each other. He hadn't achieved that with any of his exes. Emma was distant, and he may've seen Amy once or twice in passing. He's here so that Ellie won't be an ex.

Sean stalls at the front door of the Nunez home. It's quiet. Her mother used to always be doing something, or Chad would be yelling at the TV, cursing whatever sports team happened to be playing. Then, Alex would answer, say let's hang outside, and Sean would comply. Their home is sort of a secret. There's another building that has remained a secret to him. The office building next to the shack is getting less busy as the summer progresses. Sean didn't notice anything until Ty went in a couple days ago, and seemingly vanished. He mentioned that to a few people, including Emmitt, who remarked that a quiet kid is a quiet kid, and he's been around when Sean's gone. No kid is that quiet, thought Sean, as he repaired an axle. Sean bringing Ty food halted after that stony confrontation with Dale. He'd never seen Dale so livid. About a meal? This guy was definitely a headcase, and he unfortunately has to put up with it. The good news is that he has half of what he needs for the trip. In fact, he could buy the bike as soon as he found the time. That's right. He could take El wherever they wanted to go. They'd get there, of course, but you kind of needed money for hotels and food too.

"Okay," mutters Sean, knocking on the door.

He hears the patter of sneakers, runs a hand through his hair. The same as always, it's Alex who answers. She's in the process of removing her work uniform, visor still surrounding her forehead. It made her look like a cute gas attendant, instead of "popcorn girl", a label Alex gave herself.

"Any kernels in my hair?" asks Alex, sliding off the visor.

"You're good," assures Sean.

"Come in," says Alex.

"You sure?" remarks Sean, disappointed he didn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Chad's wannabe poker superstars are meeting at Lenny's," explains Alex.

"Place looks nice," says Sean, stepping into the living room.

"Cleaned because he thought they were coming here at first," says Alex. "Chad's finally good for something."

He's still taking in the house. It's bigger than his family's trailer park where he was raised, that's for sure. There were girly figurines and family photographs, touches by her mom, Sean's sure. Tracker's girlfriends used to bring in all these annoying feminine knick knacks. He wasn't too surprised when he mistakenly washed his face with a pink towel one day, but boy did he shudder when he realized what he'd done. It must be different when there's two females and one guy, must be.

"How's your mom?" asks Sean.

"Working," says Alex. "That's what we girls do. Bring home the bacon."

He nods, more than understanding how work can overshadow the rest of your life, become his life in his case.

"Sit," instructs Sean.

Taking a seat in the middle of a tan couch with brown throw pillows, Sean glances at the coffee table. There's a copy of the Degrassi yearbook, the book Ellie edited so painstakingly, and a couple textbooks. He thought Alex was done with school.

"Books?" prompts Sean. "Didn't return them?"

"Think I'm holding on to the psych ones. Never know when they might come in handy," replies Alex.

"Uh, yeah? Plan on shrinking anyone in the near future?"

"You?" teases Alex. "I might be a psych major. Might."

"College?" cries Sean. "Really?"

Alex rolls her eyes, smiles. "Knock on wood."

Sean raps on the table, causing both of them to smile. No, that is really good. He never considered Alex continuing her studies, but she worked so hard this year, graduated on time, that it more than seems fitting for her.

"I haven't applied anywhere yet so...," says Alex, then her tone shifting. "Jay was most surprised."

"Is Jay alright?" asks Sean.

"You sure are making a habit of not talking to people," says Alex, flopping down on the couch. "I'm more than curious as to why."

Sean lowers his shoulders. "The shrinking begins?"

"Hey, I'm a good listener, like a certain girlfriend of yours," says Alex.

Alright. His first intention, only intention, was to maybe find out if Ellie hated him or if she indeed had gone investigating Dale and his business. He wouldn't blame her if she'd done either. With Alex in front of him, he basically has to have a new intention, avoiding the truth. The lie to Ashley was a bit easier because they were newly friends and he was doing something nice for her at the time. Then, he stole something from her. Great. The difference with Alex is that she's known him longer, longer than Ellie. She could see right through his lies if he used the wrong wording.

"Got a new job," says Sean. "Working on luxury cars."

This slipped out. It wasn't a complete lie, a little truth.

"Serious?" says Alex, her mouth dropping. "Where?"

"Garage recommended by Hill," answers Sean.

Another little truth. He could give her that, save some face. He's working there because of a Hill. Dale, not his father.

"Cool. Why haven't you told El?" says Alex.

"The pay's...awesome," assures Sean. "A hundred times better than where I was working. So good that I've almost saved enough for our road trip. I don't want to tell her until...well, I know it's set in stone. The trip, I mean."

He searches her face for any sign of distrust or confusion. There isn't a trace to be found. He had given her just enough to buy him some time, to get out of this gig without anyone being the wiser. Alex glances at the ceiling momentarily, then grins at him.

"I won't tell," sighs Alex. "El will pound me with questions, but she's so excited for this trip."

"Uh...thanks," says Sean.

"Hold on a sec," says Alex, standing and going to what he believes is the kitchen.

Perfect. He lied to another of Ellie's friends, his friends. How many people would he draw into this deceit? The second the last cent he needs is in his hand, he's splitting from Dale's. He'd find some way to make that place a distant memory.

Alex reenters the living room, armed with two cans of ginger ale. Sean grins sheepishly.

"Closest thing we've got to champagne," says Alex, giving him one.

"Works for me," says Sean.

"No, to us working and going to school," compliments Alex, toasting her can with his. "To our success."

"Right," agrees Sean, gazing at the floor as the bubbles in the can fizzle quietly.

IV.

Spinner proved to be a trusty navigator, and the sole conversationalist. Kendra slid her bracelet up her arm, down again, up her arm, down again. The gesture made Toby so anxious he pretended to be interested in what Spinner was saying about riptides. Fred drives smoothly as always. The road to Santa Clara seems longer than it is, and the road to get Kendra there might've been the most tiring for the three of them. But they're going.

It's nice to have some direction. He felt so helpless when he left the hotel room. When he wasn't aware what the problem was, he couldn't help, and since he's aware what the problem is, he can't help. Then, Manny said he was part of the problem. Him shuttling Kendra home should erase all their problems, or at least grant them a new beginning. He was letting go of the old, embracing the new, for lack of better words. Manny made him think there was a chance, and all he had to do was follow through. He's following through, but what good does that do if Manny doesn't want him around?

He's starting to think the same of Kendra as they cross another intersection, the limo ascending as they reach a hill. The neighborhood is very nice. Large white, gold, and tan houses line the street, a background of a beach and rolling clouds in the sky. Frankly, if Kendra needed a place to rest, he couldn't imagine a better one. He envies anyone that can lie on the sand, get some peace and maybe some answers.

"Here," says Spinner to Fred through the small window. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Mr. Mason," provides Fred.

"Mister," brags Spinner to Kendra, then leaving.

Kendra smiles weakly. That was the same smile she met Toby with when they arrived at Santa Monica for her and Spinner. Truly nervous, Toby did as Kendra requested. He didn't talk to her or touch her again. He would let her make the first move, if any. Although, the fact that she accepted this ride made him hopeful that she didn't totally hate him. Her and Spinner could've waited with Boomer, drove home around noon. The greeting was cold, but that didn't mean the parting had to be. He used to be able to read her like a book, know how she was going to react and prepare himself for that. He can honestly say that's been lost, which isn't horrible, but it's a bit sad.

"Thanks, Fred...for everything," says Kendra.

"Take care of yourself, Ms. Mason," says Fred, nodding at her.

Not bragging like her brother, Kendra slides sideways and exits the limo. She stares at Toby, perhaps a sign for him to follow. Toby leaves the car, shuts the door. Spinner's inside, having left the door open. This is the best time. Toby clears his throat.

"Let...let me start," interrupts Kendra. "It'll hurt less that way."

Toby's eyes bug out, though he says nothing.

"Your mom was great. You were great," sighs Kendra, her smile fading. "Then, it got less great. Mostly because of me."

Toby stares at the two adjoining houses, one with a bunch of random flamingos littered through the yard. He wonders which one is Boomer's, or maybe it's the house across the street.

"I said things I shouldn't have," continues Kendra. "To you and Manny. But I was hoping there might be an us. You were a great boyfriend, Tobes."

"Well...um, I wouldn't have wanted another first girlfriend," returns Toby.

Kendra tucks some hair behind her ear. "There's something sweet about the first."

He can't disagree. There were moments in California that drove him crazy, moments that made him cry, but there were others where thoughts of her weren't painful. There were flashes of nice nostalgia, a comfort level they could only claim. Kendra Mason, his fellow anime afficienado, his bar mitzvah beauty, the first girl to look at him like a guy, a boyfriend. He hopes she's confident that he'll always see her that way.

"It's simple," says Toby.

"That's what I was attracted to...again," admits Kendra. "When your world's crashing down, simple looks really good."

"Me too," confesses Toby. "When things get scary or you're afraid to go forward, you kind of retreat...retreat to simple."

"We were running from the same things, I guess. The...scary stuff."

She's pegged it right. He didn't really turn to Kendra, or run to Kendra until that day at Venice with the photographer, and most definitely after the incredibly bad lunch with his mother and Manny.

"You can't keep running, Toby," says Kendra, staring at the open door. "Whatever it is."

Well, it's harder when the person you love isn't waiting for you behind the door. It's harder when the person you love tells you to walk.

"I more than took advantage of your hospitality," sighs Kendra.

"No...," starts Toby.

"Toby, I wrecked stuff," insists Kendra.

"Kindness can kill," says Toby to himself. "It's my fault too."

Kendra eyes him curiously, but he's more curious as to why that little bit of advice from Rabbi Miller has resurfaced. Perhaps because he knows Toby's faults better than him? It's difficult to see your own faults unless you go looking for them.

"Please say...you forgive me," stammers Kendra, blushing. "I'd hate for my biggest fan to hate me?"

The words he said before their last kiss were genuine. Hating her is something he can't do, and he won't.

"Save me a seat at your first Olympics," replies Toby.

Beaming, Kendra hugs him, and there's a pleasant lightness in which she holds him, just distant enough. Toby never thought a hug could be so on the mark. When words don't suffice, sometimes the body knows exactly what is needed. He silently prays that whatever Kendra's body needs, whether rest or surgery, receives it, and that she's as strong as ever.

"Time to face the firing squad," whispers Kendra, releasing him.

"How about saying 'I'm ready to talk now'...go from there?" suggests Toby.

"Eh, I'm not sure where to start," says Kendra, then sighing with Toby. "Or where to end. Bye, Tobes."

"Bye, Kendra," says Toby.

Kendra rustles his hair once more, waves and walks into her grandmother's house. He can hear a couple "hellos", some light kisses, chairs shuffling, and before Spinner closes the door, "I'm ready to talk now."

V.

"So who goes home?" bellows the TV, Manny blinking in the dark bedroom. "The girl with potential, potential we have yet to see captured in a picture? Or the girl with the once glowing personality, yet whose spunk seems to be dimming by the moment?"

"They both suck," complains Manny, tossing the remote on the floor. "And you know it, Tyra."

Any more tongue lashing directed at the former top model is muted by a steady knock on her door. Manny climbs out of bed, switches off the television set, and frowns at Emma and Lia when she opens the door. She's in a funk. They should see she's in a funk and let her be.

"Advil!" announces Emma, waving a paper bag.

"Ah, not so loud, Emma," pleads Manny, stumbling to the bed.

Lia closes the door behind them, checks the view from Manny's room as Emma uncaps the medicine. You'd never suspect what went down before they came by the amount of activity in this room. As usual, Toby was unbelievably sweet. She was able to consume one pancake and two spoonfuls of hash browns. It was the best pancake she ever ate, or her stomach's on the same page as her heart, which misses the bespectacled boy that got her breakfast hours before. Why'd she send him off? She didn't even know if the pictures would be released. There was every chance Todd had obtained something juicier than their makeout session by then. What if Martika was bluffing? Plus she admitted that she sold out. Toby might be disgusted that she lowered herself so quickly, wasn't as brave as he originally thought. Then, her drunken ramblings would be the icing on the cake. Speaking of which, moans Manny inwardly.

"Did I say...anything inappropriate last night?" asks Manny nervously.

The other girls exchange a look.

"Good news first," says Emma. "I stopped you from doing a Peter video part two. You made some cracks about Toby's lack of sexual desire and my...lack of sexual experience."

"Ugh," groans Manny.

"There weren't any cameras around, though," consoles Emma.

"Could've taped it on their cellulars," points out Lia.

"Thanks," says Emma, sarcastically.

"It was a joke," defends Lia. "But this view isn't. Martika still picks the best rooms."

"Why aren't you headed to get dressed?" questions Manny. "The ball is in what...four hours? Isn't that when your beauty regimen starts?"

Lia grins, pulls an envelope from her crocodile skin purse. Emma grimaces at the sight of it.

"Cheer up police has brought the script for _Hearts for Sale_," informs Lia. "Remember, we're reading for Claudia."

"Remember, despite my hung over mind," insists Manny. "And this is the day after the ball? Tomorrow? Yeah, I'll be cramming tonight."

"Actually, Colleen called and it's the day after tomorrow," says Lia. "They...they switched it, I guess. Which means you can cram tomorrow and party with us tonight!"

"Sorry to disappoint, but no," says Manny.

"Toby has a tux!" whines Lia. "He told Colin last night. Wear something of mine."

"You're as tall as Em," points out Manny.

Lia assesses Emma's height, turns her back to her sister's nanny. If it were any more possible, Manny's picking up that Lia's even more annoyed with Emma.

"Gotta go," says Lia, leaving with her head high.

Emma pretends to hang herself, Manny smiling and shaking her head. It's pretty good Lia left. Emma would tell her the real deal, the scoop on her inebriated actions.

"I was worried," admits Emma, shaking two pills into Manny's hand.

"I was an idiot," says Manny.

"No, it was more than that," prompts Emma, waiting for Manny to speak.

"Um...I told Toby to leave," informs Manny.

"So last night was about him?"

"Partly."

Okay, so she's hedging a bit. Still, Emma, not Toby, was the one who she told that she was going to take the right actions in the quest to find herself. How can she tell her best friend that she's misguided as ever? Tell her feminist friend that she acted so submissively? Emma would be so disappointed, and she didn't feel like disappointing Toby and Emma in the same day.

"What's wrong with you two?' asks Emma. "He talked to Kendra and..."

"He talked to Kendra!" cries Manny.

Wait, so he did what she asked of him, and then she'd essentially kicked him out of the room? Toby was putting in some effort, some actual effort. Now I feel terrible, groans Manny in the depths of her mind. Nausea returning.

"Yes," shares Emma. "Manny, what is it you want? Is he wasting his time with you or...I just want you two to work out. Sorry."

"Don't...don't be sorry about that," says Manny, jumping from the bed. "Look, I'll take the Advil. Shower and we'll get a late lunch?"

"Fine," says Emma. "But since you got me all befuddled last night, I get to pick the place."

VI.

On the way, he thought of the scariest things in the world. For some people, it's getting on a rollercoaster, weaving in the oddest of motions, propelling you forward at a rate faster than your heart. For some, it's being on an airplane, surrendering control, trusting men, ordinary men to guide you to the right place. Then, for some, it's talking, an actual discussion containing bon mots of truth, fearless speech, revealing your innermost emotions. These people have to get every word right, because they may never have that opportunity again. He's part of the last group.

That nugget of wisdom from Kendra became her last gift to him. You can't run from the scary stuff. Manny called herself a coward. He's the real coward if he's unable to do this. There may prove to be a day when he's more timid and doesn't have the words he should, but that day isn't today. There may be a day when he won't be able to call Emma and ask where she is, but that day isn't today. There may be a day when she's no longer interested and after all the mistakes he's made, the waiting she has done, he wouldn't blame her, but he's hoping that day isn't today. He's hoping that today, at Third and Fairfax, in a traffic of tourists, and in the midst of a slew of shops, Manny will see him and like it. He didn't go home after dropping Kendra off that morning. He couldn't take that chance missing her, or that she wouldn't miss him if he didn't do something.

The clocktower chimes as Toby leaves the limo, as his shoes meet the first stretch of street. Men and women mill about the space for what seems like miles. It's so packed on a summer day. Smoke from steaming sausages swells from one shop. Two twin boys bustle past Toby, brandishing cut pieces of watermelon. Their mother excuses herself as she goes past him, Toby letting her pass. He can't let Manny pass him by. Emma said they'd be near the crates of fruit, her having convinced Manny that it was more nutritious than cheesecake from the corporate Cheesecake Factory. That sounded very Emma, but he should've asked for specifics. He's flanked by two cafes, and many conversations, before he reaches a tent with several rows of crates with fruit. Candied apricots, peaches, plums, apples. You name it it was there. The variety is so huge Toby can hardly fathom it. He heard the Farmer's Market was big, even being crashed by certain celebrities on certain days, but he never envisioned such a huge market. It was like a multicultural maze you had to go through, full of Belgian waffles, German pastries, Chinese dishes, Colombian coffee. There are so many things crammed into one colorful setting, a delicious setting.

He walks along an aisle of tangerines and kiwis, so much orange and green shining brightly in his eyes. Manny should be wearing green, unless she went home to change. He sighs as he looks to his left. She is wearing green, a white sweater tied around her waist. Her smile is radiant, even in the shade of this tent. She takes an apple from a crate, squeezes it gently, gazes at her basket briefly. Toby fumbles with his watch for a bit, takes a deep brath, walks slowly to her. Manny turns the apple in her hand as he approaches.

"Manny?" he says.

"Toby?" says Manny, nearly dropping the apple when she sees him.

Be resolute, be open, be fearless. All those commandments to himself move his mouth, his heart.

"I decided," begins Toby, taking the apple and setting it in its right place.

Manny lets him, eyes focused on his own.

"You shouldn't sit back...and wait. I never wanted you to," says Toby. "I'm sorry."

"Uh," murmurs Manny, letting her gaze drop.

"You may not love yourself right now, for whatever reason, but I'm in love with you," assures Toby. "I can't fall out of love with you that fast. I can't and I don't want to."

Manny touches her lips, holds the basket tighter.

"Toby...," she starts.

"I'm not walking away...not without you," says Toby. "I'm not moving. You're...you're going to have to."

And there's thousands of places she could go, he knows. She can disappear into the crowd, disappear from his view, disappear from his life. Wow, it sounds so massive when you string it all together like that. Toby stares at her with the most caring look he can produce. Manny meets it, shakes her head. No.

Toby's tempted to crumble right there. It becomes more apparent when Manny passes him, the breeze of her movement blowing against his warm cheek. He was so wanting...wanting her to say yes. Toby's sight goes blurry as her steps grow more distant. The market is so misty.

Then, there's an arm gripping his, a huge smile he can make out in the blur.

"I had to put away my basket," sighs Manny, joyfully. "Okay?"

"Okay," breathes Toby.

"Tobes," whispers Manny, tracing the counters of his face.

Toby gently kisses her, their lips becoming more energetic with each passing second. Pretty soon, it intensifies, against the crate, fruit tumbling to their feet. He barely hears it.


	43. The Heart of Every Girl

**XLIII. The Heart of Every Girl**

_In the heart of every girl  
There's a woman waking up  
Like sunlight spreads across the world  
A smile for us is just enough  
But in the heart of every girl  
There's a homespun family dream  
A light that's filled with so much joy  
From a curly-head beauty to a teenage queen_

_And honeymoons in summer prove  
We'll always love a bride  
The gift you give us all  
Is the one you hold inside  
This lucky life, this crazy mixed up world  
Is all because we love what lives  
In the heart of every girl_

_In the heart of every girl  
There's always room for valentines  
And boys to kneel and tip their hands  
With words as sweet as summer wine  
And in the heart of every girl  
There is a rose for every spring  
A peach that's fragrant and divine  
She shines just like a wedding ring_

_Eyes can light up any room  
The moment she steps in  
Intoxicating everyone  
A life alone should be a sin_

**The Heart of Every Girl is the property of Elton John and appears in the film _Mona Lisa Smile_.  
Puddle of Grace is the property of Amy Jo Johnson.**

Emma continues to hold the bottled water against her gleaming forehead. For her, the Farmer's Market was steamy, congested beyond imagination, and removing her nose bandage apparently caused her nose to be more sensitive, eliciting several sneezes before they left. Funny thing is it was her idea, with Manny complaining that she didn't want an organic lunch. Look who got the rosier end, thinks Emma, viewing Ursula's daily roses. Manny's boyfriend came all the way from Santa Clara to proclaim his undying devotion to her. At least he was nice enough to offer her a ride home, taking Manny to an undisclosed location afterwards.

With Hannah missing, the Andrews' house seems even more empty. Somehow Emma hadn't gotten immersed in the ball hoopla. Colin came by to get Lia's opinion on his suit selection; Emma arranged Hannah's stuffed animals from smallest to tallest, her preferred way of doing it. Lia greeted delivery men with her gown and accessories; Emma and Hannah played Candyland. Now, with the evening having arrived, she doesn't know what to do with herself. At home, she would read or watch TV. In California, doing that...well, is more than boring. Maybe she should've taken Hannah up on her Snow White offer.

Emma climbs the staircase, surprised to hear hurried footsteps coming from Lia's bedroom. As excited as she's been for this, she expected Lia to be ready at least an hour ago. She figures she should wish her a good time despite Lia not being nice to her. She is Hannah's sister and she has nothing better to do at the moment.

Peering into the room, she views Lia sitting and staring into a mirror. Her thick red hair is beautifully styled in a chignon, body covered by a pale blue slip. Her fingers, nails painted a deep blue, play with something as shiny as Emma's forehead. It's a ring. A row of small, set blue diamonds glitters so bright it makes Emma blink. She takes a step back. The floor creaks. Lia turns her head.

"What?" she snaps.

"Nothing," says Emma, quickly. "Um...came to wish you a great night."

Lia sighs, stares at her hand again, moving the ring on and off her finger.

"Your pay should be coming tomorrow," informs Lia. "If that's why you're really here."

"No, actually," insists Emma.

She came by as a mark of good manners. Why did Lia think she had an agenda?

"A wedding band," notes Emma, getting a closer look at the diamonds.

"Oh," said Lia, nearly dropping it. "It's...it was my mom's."

"Matches your dress," says Emma.

Emma nods to the silky, V-neck gown the color of an unpolluted ocean, bluer than sapphire. The end of the dress' straps had a jewelled clasp in the black, a flowing train falling to the carpet. It must've cost more than Emma's entire summer salary. Lia said she was going for classic movie icon, a Rita Hayworth effect. Emma would wager that she succeeded with that goal.

"I always make sure it matches," shares Lia.

"The ring?" says Emma. "Well, it definitely does. Has Hannah seen it? She's kind of into anything that shimmers."

"Duh," remarks Lia, breezily.

Right. Of course she's aware of what her sister likes, thinks Emma, dropping her gaze.

"But no," answers Lia finally. "There's a lot behind this she doesn't have to know about."

Emma leans in the door frame, recalling what Lia told her the night they were in the cab. Her father cheated, her mother became depressed, and Hannah was born. Then, Ursula was gone. Man, days later, and it's still as sad as before. She didn't particularly want Hannah to hear any of this either. That said, she wonders if Hannah has anything from Ursula.

"Did your mom leave anything for Hannah?" asks Emma.

"Technically, whoever gets married first, gets to keep it," replies Lia. "I'm older, though, so..."

"Understood," says Emma. "I wouldn't trust Jack with anything that expensive either."

"How old is he?" asks Lia.

"Two and a half, three in September," says Emma.

"Being the oldest kind of bug you sometime?" prods Lia.

Emma nods immediately. "Part protector, part example. Parents expect more from you."

"And you're the one that gets all this extra responsibility," adds Lia, smiling.

"Yeah!" cries Emma.

They laugh for a bit, then Lia stops, stares at her mother's ring.

"Worse when you're a celebrity's kid," says Lia. "Like I have all these eyes on me, expecting things. They expect me to be her, be my mom. And I've got to be...cause...cause I remember her the most."

Emma remains still, not saying a word.

"I...I think I loved her the most," adds Lia.

She positions it on her finger and stands. Emma guesses this is her cue to leave so that Lia can get dressed. Honestly, she's amazed that Lia was friendly enough to her for this long. She can make a clean break for it now and not ruin it. Emma waves timidly at Lia, who throws her a slight grin, and heads for her room. She shuts the door, her back against it. She's not hot anymore. Her whole body feels a bit numb, a prickly sensation in her chest. Her eyes glaze over, mind going, going to that older kid responsibility she gave to someone else.

_"You can really eat the flowers?" said Sean, poking at an icing rose on his piece of cake._

_"Yes. They're edible," answered Emma._

_They each took their fork and stared at the cake questionably. Mmm, despite all those nature programs that say you can consume all manner of fauna, there is something weird about eating a decoration._

_"Hey, Toby! Did you know you can eat the flowers?" called J.T._

_Emma and Sean were further down the table, covered in white linen. Manny was elsewhere, her empty chair next to Emma. J.T. sat next to Toby, and Toby next to him._

_"For real?" called back Toby, disengaging himself from Snake._

_Staring past Toby, she smiled at Snake who returned it. This guy was part of their family. Their new family. He was no longer the guy that came over often, or the guy who called her mother way too often, or Mr. Simpson. She could call him Snake, or Archie, or...or Dad. Wow, Dad. She wasn't sure she was ready for that. Okay, so he knew her mother's birthday. Her friends knew that. He knew her favorite movie. Her grandmother knew that. He knew when Spike was having a tough day. Emma knew that. But he'd bring ice cream home that day, or rub her feet, or tell her that he'd go so she could sleep. That was original, making him more unique than any other guy that might've become Emma's stepfather. That quality lead her to writing the toast. She couldn't match Joey rambling about Snake and Spike's high school days, especially their mutual love of some band called Neon Vomit, but it was a toast that came from her and hopefully meant something. She practiced it in  
front of Manny and hey, her best friend teared up._

_"Where is Manny?" wondered Emma aloud._

_Sean pointed behind him, Emma spying Manny moving to them._

_"It's a piece from the top of the cake," said Manny, presenting her plate. "The rule is you sleep with this under your pillow and you dream of the guy that you're going to marry."_

_"Interesting," said Emma, though to her, it honestly wasn't._

_"Guess who I'm dreaming about?" giggled Manny._

_"Craig Manning?" supplied Emma, rolling her eyes._

_"Hello? He asked me to dance," beamed Manny._

_Sean and Emma smirked at one another._

_"Okay, Manuella Manning," said Emma._

_"Ewww, maybe I won't change my name," moaned Manny to herself._

_"Hey, Manny!" said J.T., his mouth full of cake. "Did you know you can eat the flowers?"_

_"Gross," whined Manny._

_"Ha!" chuckled Toby, icing on his lips._

_Thank goodness, Sean has some level of decorum, thought Emma. Sean scooped some of the cake into his mouth, grinned and continued eating. He gave her the thumbs up. Emma smiled._

_The white tent covering the wedding reception blew in the afternoon wind. Chatting relatives, old friends, and schoolmates chatted with such ease that you never would've believed that this wedding almost didn't take place. Joey reenacted catching the bouquet for Caitlin and Lucy, their individual barrettes shining under the sun. Her grandmother, a few grey hairs peeking from under her brunette bun, was telling Dan Raditch which vegetables were best to grow in the spring. A bow-tied waiter passed a nice-looking Craig and primly dressed Angie, the Jeremiah children loading their plates with watercrest sandwiches. Emma winced when Craig chewed one and displayed the contents of his mouth to a pleased Angie. Ugh, and she had a crush on him? Manny might find that adorable and all, but..._

_"Don't you have to do the toast?" said Manny, apparently ignoring her beloved's nasty eating habits._

_"Well, when's the right time to do it?" questioned Emma._

_"I say anytime," offered Sean. "It's your mom so you get to decide."_

_"Right...right," stammered Emma._

_She smoothed the waist of her lavender dress, tried to fluff her overprocessed mane of blonde hair. Lucy truly did all she could with it. Of course, she's the one client of her mother's that got the raw end of the deal. Ruin your daughter's hair and she'll love you no matter what. She won't ruin this toast for her mom, however._

_Standing, she clinked her glass loudly, called the attention of most of the guests. Those who didn't hear were shushed by others. Snake and Spike were seated at the center table, an ornate candlelabra illuminating their happy faces. She never forgot how her mother's untraditional gown matched the glow of the candles._

_Emma cleared her throat. "First, apologies for the hair."_

_A wave of good-spirited laughter greeted that remark. Sean stared warmly at her._

_"Anyway..."_

_She stalled, taking it all in. All of it. A year and a half ago, she met this man. This man was in her mother's yearbooks, in old photographs with the reddest hair she'd ever seen. He was always smiling. There were different kinds of smiles too, and he carried them into the classroom. He listened to the kids whether it was J.T.'s worst jokes, Toby's helpful computer tidbits, Liberty's grammar reminders, Manny's Spirit Squad news, or her...well, her everything. He made it a point to listen to everything, at school and at home. Spike dated several guys, and he, Archie Simpson, was the only listener. He listened because he cared, he loved her. He loved her as much as he loved her mother._

_"Now I can't outdo Joey's memories of Snake watching me drool when my mom brought me to Degrassi in the eighties..."_

_"Try," encouraged Joey._

_The crowd laughed, Emma playfully narrowing her eyes at him._

_"But I can tell you why I'm as pleased as my mom is that Snake is joining our family," said Emma, then breathing deeply. "I gave him a rough time at first, because I...I was afraid. I mean, I've always been the one who looked out for my mom. If a guy was a jerk, I'd show him my anti-animal testing pictures to get him running..."_

_She was interrupted by a chorus of chuckles._

_"Okay, maybe not. The thing is that with Snake, after awhile, I realized that he was going to take my job. He was going to look out for my mom. That's a hard thing to realize, when there's only two of you," continued Emma._

_Glancing at her mom, she saw tears welling in Spike's eyes, Snake looking at the grassy ground. She hoped the toast wasn't offending him. Sometimes she offended people without meaning to do it._

_"But this new brother or sister that's coming into our lives, he or she will be protected too. And I'm okay with that. Because we, me and this other person, are proud to have you in the family. I'm proud," says Emma._

_She sniffled and that's when Snake raised his eyes. A single tear fell down the hard lines of his face, the crease of his mouth. Maybe he too was proud. She never asked him._

_"So...so welcome," said Emma, grinning and raising her glass. "To the bride and groom."_

_"To the bride and groom," echoed their friends and family._

_The DJ, a friend of Snake's, started the music again, an eighties anthem Emma has never heard of, like most of her mother's music choices. Sean and Manny were trying to identify the song as Toby nudged J.T., the two boys spying Fancy, the most popular stripper in Canada apparently, and fixed their hair. Emma moved to fetch herself another glass of sparkling cider. On the way, she bumped into what she thought was a tall stranger. It was Snake, searching for her._

_"Emma...," started Snake, staring fondly at her._

_"Surprised I remembered all the words," joked Emma nervously._

_"I'm not," said Snake, hugging her and kissing the top of her head. "Not at all."_

Emma rubs her eyes to erase the memory. Too bad because it was such a sweet one, a little less sweet when she pictures her mother home alone with their son. This was before Jack came into their lives, another celebration for the three of them. She swears that Jack was a reward for all the drama they went through right before the wedding. He was so perfect and new, just how Emma pictured their growing family on their wedding day. Nobody told her to wait, hold on, since yes, one day, you'll be back where you started from. You'll be looking out for your mother again when he's gone, when it's again uncomfortable to say Dad.

"No," breathes Emma, moving towards her room.

She's almost there when she's halted by a voice.

"Nelson!" says Lia.

She turns slowly to Lia, thankful the tears haven't started yet.

"I know this guy with an extra ticket," informs Lia. "Want to forget your responsibilities for one night?"

Emma shifts her gaze for a moment, focuses on her.

"Yeah," says Emma. "More than anything."

II.

Today has to be the hottest day of the summer yet. Add in the fact they're all packed into a one-room shack and it's sauna-like heat. The atmosphere is anything but therapeutic, though, Sean glancing up to view it. It didn't matter what he was doing. Like a murderer whose eyes travel to the deceased body, or a pocket rat who hordes things for safe keeping, his sight always finds the spindle. It wasn't mixed in with the others. Perhaps Dale was bragging in his face, putting it there to show anyone that Sean Cameron could be overpowered, outmanuevered as easily as any other guy. What that spindle is really saying is that he was a thief. No longer is he simply the guy that goes to the docks or the guy who helps parts get to their optimum level. He has stolen a part, specifically purchased for a car that was in his charge. Not a cent of his money was used. Sean grunts, closes the toolbox, and sets his butt against a bumper they'd removed from a Cadillac.

Cadillac, he repeats in his mind. It's the same automobile that belonged to Mr. Nash. Man, would he steal from him next? No, he tells himself with all the conviction he can find. That was a one time thing, to get Dale to leave him and everyone else alone.

"Ellie," he whispers, retrieving his cell.

After that talk with Alex, he was sure he had to make some contact. Ellie was obviously concerned. He didn't have the heart to say anything on her voicemail, or go to her house and ask for her. More importantly, in the back of his mind, he was worried that Dale would follow him and find out where she lived. That notion didn't present itself to him until this afternoon when Dale asked Emmitt where Jay was, and seemed angry when Emmitt couldn't tell him. Well, join the club, thought Sean. He was angry that Ty went AWOL and Dale didn't seem to care. None of the guys seemed to care. Unless they knew information Sean didn't.

"Dale ain't gonna like the work I did on these," sighs Emmitt, staring dismally at a group of air filters.

"Ever worked on motorcycle parts?" asks Sean, smirking and going beside him.

"Does a snowmobile count?" replies Emmitt.

"Eh, that'd be a stretch," says Sean. "Uh, leave 'em. I'll work on them tomorrow."

"Sure?" says Emmitt.

"Yeah," agrees Sean. "I need practice for my own bike."

Emmitt's mouth drops. "Your own...wow! When you getting it?"

"Maybe tomorrow morning," says Sean, shrugging.

"Those big bucks you earning and the work you put in? You more than deserve it."

Sean would like to go along with what Emmitt said, that he did deserve the bike for working. Man, he even came in earlier than was required some days, and the other days he was risking his life by hanging near the Greenville docks. During his last visit to the docks, he'd heard sirens and a couple screams not too far from the garage. This was no child's play, he quickly realized. Yet, there was a child accompanying them on every trip there. Ty. Okay, maybe not a child, but barely a teenager.

"Emmitt, have you seen Ty today?" questions Sean.

"Uh...nah...nah," stammers Emmitt, stroking the bumper.

Two nahs? Yeah, that's far from the truth.

"Come on," says Sean. "I'm doing you a favor."

"What is it with you and favors?" returns Emmitt, smirking. "Ty does something for you, you do something for him. You do something for me..."

"And you do something for me," says Sean.

Emmitt gives him a deep, sad stare, the sadness making Sean stand straighter.

"He might be...around," whispers Emmitt. "That's all I gotta say."

Sean's brow furrows, looking at Emmitt, then looking past him. He can make out the far wall of the office building. He checks his watch. That place was always quiet after five. Always quiet...he might be around, thinks Sean. Sean starts for the door. Emmitt catches up with him, yanks his arm.

"Don't," whispers Emmitt.

"What?" says Sean.

"Just...just don't."

Emmitt's words elicit stares from quite a few of the workers, none of them no longer pretending to work. The words have the opposite effect on Sean. He's more curious. Sean removes Emmitt's hand, walks outside. He glances over his shoulder a few times, hearing the distant beeps of car horns, a trashcan being knocked over, a squeal from a cat.

Closer to the office building, he can see cracks in the brick wall of it. The door is pristinely painted, fresh and white. The sign is gold-plated, Ace Auto Sales in black lettering. He chances that the door is open, and by luck, it is, Sean going inside. He's greeted by cool air. Dale had the business sense to keep his customers comfortable. It was a standard setting. Five copiers were near a wall, eggshell-colored, and there were two desks on either side of the room. One desk held the nameplate for Dale Hill, and the other desk held a computer, catalogs for auto equipment, and pens. Sean assumes the file cabinets near the desk hold the records, any tax information, and paperwork that passed hands.

The lone odd thing is a mahogany door in the far right. Its placement almost hides the door, Sean having to look twice. Since it was partly hidden, Sean guesses there's something shady going on in there. With Dale absent, it'd be a perfect time to check. And if it was anything to hurt Ty...well, he'd hurt him. He can't treat a kid like that. Sean practically runs to the door, turns the knob. Locked. Sean curses under his breath, retrieves a paper clip from Dale's desk. This is how he got into many a door at Degrassi when he was stealing. Well, it's not like he wasn't a thief again, so add breaking and entering to his list of crimes. Thankfully, it's no problem. Sean opens the door to a flight of stairs. Weird, he tells himself. He leaves the door open a crack, starts to climb.

With the first step, he hears a guitar string. With each step, he hears a melody, a song with a slow tempo. Sean stares at the door for a second, resumes climbing. There's the sweetest sound. It's soft and gentle, a light lullaby. Someone sings:

_Have you seen yourself today?  
Could you recognize your face?  
Can you tell me what to say  
Mine's lost without a trace_

Who's singing? The voice is young, he detects. He reaches the top of the staircase. It's everything he wasn't expecting. A row of sleeping bags stretch across a wood floor. Bags, duffel or backpacks, are at the ends of them. He spies coloring pencils, chewing gum, folders bursting from them. Folded shirts and pants are to the left, as if carefully done by patient hands. There's a small coal oven at the rear, a hunched figure breathing in and out in front of the open grate. Sean recognizes the hood from Ty's jacket as he sleeps on top of a green blanket. He doesn't advance because he's being watched.

_I had almost found my face  
I was almost me  
But my pride couldn't swallow what I ate  
Boy I hope you're happy_

The girl peers kindly at him, from under messy, brown bangs, dirt on her cheeks. She's maybe fourteen, fifteen, older than Ty anyway. She crosses her legs, hiding a run in her stockings from Sean's view. What is going on? He has no clue. Who sleeps in these beds? Did Dale have any idea they were up here? Of course. He must. The girl goes on playing.

_Tell me, tell me where do you go when all the diamonds have run dry  
Tell me, tell me how do you feel after bittersweet goodbye's_

Having no idea what to do, he walks down the row, sits on the bag opposite Ty. He's glad he did. Ty doesn't look well. Despite the scorching heat of today's weather, he was shivering. His eyes are closed and he keeps shaking his head. It's almost like he's being shaken by an invisible enemy. His breathing is labored and he's contorting. Should he move him? Sean looks wildly around. The girl doesn't appear the least rattled. Sean rises up, walks to her.

_Today I found my face  
Floating in a puddle of grace  
A porcelin doll with cracks to mend  
Oh momma I found a friend_

After that verse, she stops. She smiles shyly at him. He can't smile because he's too focused on Ty.

"Are you his friend too?" she asks.

This had to be the strangest question in the strangest moment.

"Yes," replies Sean.

"Dale's checked on him throughout the day," says the girl. "The pills really helped."

Rather than having her elaborate, Sean goes to Ty. There are two bottles of medicine. Theophylline and Decadron. The second one sounds sort of familiar, but he has no idea why and what these are for. Ty's breathing is getting a little more steady. Sean removes Ty's hat, sees beads of sweat on his dark forehead. He wishes Ty would open his eyes.

"I'm...I'm Sean," he says.

"Becca," she says. "I've been here a couple weeks. That's why we probably haven't met."

Sean stares harder at her, maybe too intrusive because she looks away.

"You have nowhere else to go?" he asks.

"Not...not anymore," replies Becca. "Dale said I could stay. Maybe...maybe this was a mistake."

She rises, starts to pack her guitar. No, he's the one that made the mistake. Sean goes past Ty to stand near her.

"Stay," insists Sean. "Sorry."

Becca nods, sits on a blanket. There are holes in her shoes. He can see all her toes. Her clothes were pretty clean, except some grass stains on her jeans. That's when it hits him that those backpacks are probably theirs. There were other kids, he's certain now, besides Ty and Becca. Didn't Jay say it once? That Dale helped a lot of kids? Was...was this what he meant? This is where Ty disappeared to, and this is why, thinks Sean as he stares at Ty's form.

"Can I sing...sing some more?" says Becca. "I think Ty likes it."

"Whatever you want," encourages Sean.

Becca produces a low giggle, starts to sing.

_Momma can you help me please?  
My hero just stabbed me_

_With a knife that I did lend  
'Oh momma who's my friend_

Time is fading so fast. If he wants his visit to be undetected, he better move. Sean gives Becca one last smile, and Ty one last concerned look, then trudges down the stairs, the music flowing past his ears. He gets to the bottom, shuts the door. That's when he views that someone has put the Closed sign on the office door. Dale...he was here. He'd been here. There has to be another way out, but nope, there is none. Wringing his hands nervously, Sean walks to the front door. Behind the glass, Dale stares back at him. Even with the glass separating him, Sean can feel the intensity of Dale's gaze, burning a hole through his own. Sean opens his mouth. Before he can speak, Dale wrests the door open, lets Sean walk through. Sean exits. Some loud clattering from the shack distracts the both of them. With Dale's attention gone, Sean walks to the other side.

"Cameron?" says Dale.

"Yeah?" says Sean, sweat trickling down his chest.

"Next time you need a pen, get it during business hours," instructs Dale.

"Got...got it," says Sean.

Dale gives him a last appraising stare, goes inside the office building. He didn't get caught. Sean raises his eyebrows, walks into the shack. Emmitt is waiting right next to the door.

"Where's the pen, man?" kids Emmitt.

Two other guys chuckle, resume their respective tasks. They must've covered for him.

"Thanks," says Sean.

"Psh," waves off Emmitt. "We like doing favors around here."

III.

"Promise me you'll show your parents!" laughs Matthew.

He steers his Honda to the Nash home, completely lit. Ellie goes forward in her seat, not from the car pulling to a stop but from laughing uncontrollably. It's strange what experimenting can make happen. She stares at it once more from habit, shakes her head as Matthew stops the car. Some rays from the porch light throw the words into better view.

"Pink print...," begins Ellie.

"The ugliest newsprint since the Guttenberg press," laments Matthew.

"That's what happens when you put two novices in front of an updated version of PressMaker," sighs Ellie. "I mean, what did we do?"

"Hey, our writing's being critiqued, not our technological savvy," reminds Matthew.

Well, she's thankful for at least one thing. Whenever her mind started to drift to Sean, she'd have something silly to stare at, a funny display of her lack of knowledge. This was a lot less hurtful than her lack of knowledge concerning her boyfriend. Why is he being so secretive? Alex yielded no answer, though she hinted that Ellie would be pleased. Pleased? What would involve Dale that would have her pleased? That said, if Alex wasn't disturbed by what's going on, that makes her less bothered and definitely more open to hear it.

"Verdict says?" prompts Matthew.

"I'll show them," promises Ellie. "Thanks for the ride. When I get my license, gotta return the favor."

"Drive with a new driver?" teases Matthew.

"Have had my permit for awhile, thank you very much," defends Ellie.

Ellie unbuckles her seatbelt, gets out of the car. She wonders if her parents have gotten the mail. Ashley called her a couple days ago and assured her she was getting a postcard. Both her parents' cars were in the driveway so they probably did get it.

"Til tomorrow," says Matthew.

"We have an article to proof," says Ellie, shaking his hand.

Hearing Matthew's car moving behind her, Ellie unlocks the door, goes inside. She immediately heads for the kitchen, where they usually kept the mail. It's weird seeing it so carefully arranged again. Ellie loves it. Her father always arranged the mail into three categories: good (letters from relatives, community newsletters), bad (bills, tacky advertisements), and the Ellie pile. The Ellie pile held college-related materials, film magazines, and several professional newspapers.

Today, there's a book among several envelopes.

"Mom!" she calls. "I thought you cancelled my Book-A-Month Club membership!"

She'd found this great deal in one of the newspapers where she could get a classic novel a month, when it was only her and her mother. It saved her money and time reserved for book shopping, crucial since at that time, she spent most days taking care of her non-sober mother.

"I did!" shouts Amanda. "Ellie, are we still going to Home Depot tomorrow?"

Oh, right. Before the seminar, they were going to select some last odds and ends for her dorm room.

"Yeah!" says Ellie.

Hmmm, no postcard yet, she thinks as she rifles through the mail. On closer inspection, she finds that the book is a thesaurus. It isn't a classic novel at all. Who would mail a thesaurus? There were numbered sticky tabs on three pages, certain words highlighted. Ellie opens it to the first tab, a grin spreading from ear to ear.

"Apology," she reads aloud. "Excuse, mea culpa, regret."

Ellie chuckles, turns to the second tab.

"Honor," she says. "To respect, to admire, to appreciate someone."

The last tab is the most suggestive and clearly the reason for reading.

"Meeting," she reads. "Gathering, assemblage, conference. Degrassi parking lot tomorrow?"

The four words in the margin were in Sean's handwriting. He did it through words, sighs Ellie inwardly. Sean, who's never been very verbal, really knew a way to get to a writer. Perhaps her instincts are right, that he's shielding her for her own good. When Sean stopped stealing the school equipment, she didn't have to say anything. He simply stopped. He was the one who went to Mr. Ehl, telling him about the wild party that sent Amy to the hospital and could've lost him student welfare. There were just situations he handled on his own. Whatever he needs to tell her, he'll tell her. She has to let him.

Amanda Nash appears in the kitchen, looks over her daughter's shoulder.

"Ah! Are they trying to get us to buy scholarly books again?" she complains. "If I have to spell a word, I can just ask you."

"Uh, no," says Ellie, quickly closing the thesaurus.

"What's that?" asks Amanda, staring at her hands.

"Oh, it's...it's...," stammers Ellie.

To her surprise, she takes the page with pink print rather than the thesaurus. Thank goodness. Her mother already had some Sean doubts after the graduation dinner. She didn't feel like explaining this.

Amanda laughs. "This is..."

"Ugly," jokes Ellie, nervously. "Really ugly. Um, Mom, can we maybe go to Home Depot another day?"

Her mother's lip squirm for a minute. Great. That usually meant no, and she and Sean wouldn't talk for yet another day.

"I was hoping we could spend the day together, but...I suppose it can wait a day," replies Amanda.

"Thanks," says Ellie.

Her mother collects the bad mail and heads back to her bedroom.

Ellie heads for her own, ignoring the other batches of mail. The thesarus beats those other books by a mile.

IV.

Manny steps onto the sidewalk, her purse nearly catching in the door handle. It takes her several seconds to realize she's on one of the most famous streets in the world. Even the air feels different, like higher, more important. Stately white buildings with tall columns stretch into the sky. Security guards or men in ties are visible to the left of window displays. Enthusiastic visitors position their cameras to catch the various names: Chanel, Dior, Giorgio Armani. She hears some whispers between Toby and Fred, then Toby takes her hand as he shuts the door. The limo speeds away.

"Where's he going?" questions Manny.

"He has another job," answers Toby.

"Why are we here?" says Manny.

"Browsing," says Toby.

As Manny starts to speak, he pulls her in another direction towards a stairway, purple and white-flowered plants lining the steps. She's seen this stairway in several films. _Clueless_ comes to mind. She smiles, remembering that that film is actually connected to them, united them in some fashion. She asked for it at the video store which lead to everything. Now, they are walking on the same steps, black street signs announcing Rodeo behind them. Once they reach the top, there's a square. The square vaguely makes her think of Paris. There were several lit streetlights, a couple cafe-type tables, and boutique stores on either side. Toby stops in front of one particular store.

"They're closed," points out Manny, both of them staring at the sign.

"They're not," insists Toby.

She'd hate to argue with her recently reunited sweetheart, but they were. The windows are darkened and the sign is up. Toby pushes a button to the left.

"Toby, what are you doing?" cries Manny. "These kinds of places...they expect you to be serious about spending money."

"So we'll shop," shrugs Toby.

"Here? I can't afford a bobby pin, baby," whispers Manny, urgently. "You probably have to pay to...like, stand in the presence of couture or something."

"No time to doubt anything. The ball's in three hours," reminds Toby.

"Listen, Toby, I appreciate the optimism," says Manny, pulling him to the side. "But honey, let's be real. I no longer have a dress or a ticket. You don't get those things in under three hours for a huge shindig."

"How much time do most movies last?" questions Toby.

"I no longer have...," starts Manny again.

"How much time do most movies last?" repeats Toby.

"Um, most run around two hours or two hours and some odd minutes," supplies Manny.

"Then, it can be done," says Toby. "We're in Hollywood, remember?"

A stony-faced security officer approaches the door. Manny gives him a nervous smile through the glass. He'd most likely toss them down the famous stairway if he learned how much money she and Toby had between them. Judging by his large hands, it'd be a pretty rough throw. Toby turns to her with the warmest expression and suddenly, she thinks this is worth the toss.

"I can't argue with you when you smile like that," sighs Manny, smiling herself.

The guard undoes a few latches, holds the door open for them. Okay, so he actually let them come in. That's nice. A little too nice? Manny fearfully grabs Toby's arm as they're enveloped by dim lighting. It is the kind of light that Indiana Jones has to barrel through to get a prized artifact, or where natives go to torture the captured. Toby doesn't seem the least frightened.

What's more unnerving is what's in front of them. There's a row of ten women, all dressed in black pantsuits, staring directly at her. Okay, not only dark, but getting creepy, very creepy.

"Toby?" says Manny, weakly. "Getting some Men in Black vibes...or, well Women in Black..."

She's interrupted by heels clacking across the wood floor, a steady walk. It pauses for a bit, and then Anne Marie steps from behind a red, velvet curtain.

"So you've finally arrived," says Anne Marie.

"All in one piece," says Toby.

At least Anne Marie isn't in black. No, her red hair is bound in a graceful updo, and she's wearing a lovely, bronze-colored gown, with a ruffled bodice and a full skirt. Tall, tan stillettos were responsible for the noise she made. She looks like a million bucks, and here I am, in a dress I slept in after a night of drinking, thinks Manny. She wishes she could hide behind the curtain. Toby could've given her some warning, especially since she yelled at Anne Marie before their last parting. Not only yelled, she remembers. She basically accused her of being an invisible part of Toby's life. Being invisible now is what she would pay cash for.

"How are you, Manny?" greets Anne Marie.

"Um...surprised?" she manages to let out.

"That's what we were shooting for," says Anne Marie.

"Okay?" says Manny, throwing Toby a wary glance.

"This is my team," informs Anne Marie. "Red carpet premieres, charity functions, award shows. They're extremely good with clothing emergencies. Wardrobe malfunctions? A thing of the past with these talents."

"Hi," says Manny, offering them a wave.

Manny swallows a lump in her throat, her body easing as they wave back.

"In our hands, you'll be ready for the ball in less than two hours," says Anne Marie. "They dress my clients, young ladies like you routinely. They won't let you down."

What? They're going to do what? Manny drops her gaze, feeling Toby's palm on the swell of her back. She can barely register what Anne Marie is offering.

"I appreciate this, Ms. Isaacs...," starts Manny.

"Anne Marie," she interjects.

A first name basis? Whoa, that was different.

"I appreciate this, but there's no way I could pay you back," says Manny.

"Manny, all hard work should be rewarded," insists Anne Marie.

"Like this?" says Manny. "This is...out of this world! It's okay if we didn't get off on the wrong foot. I shouldn't have made all those horrible remarks. You don't have to do this."

"Those remarks were things I had to hear," says Anne Marie, stepping closer to her and Toby.

Manny and Toby exchange a look, Manny glad to see his smile hasn't left. Anne Marie places a hand on her shoulder.

"You're right," she sighs. "We didn't get off on the right foot. I made some snap judgements. If you went through all this...for my son, that simply shows me that I don't know you very well. I'd really like to."

Manny grins, blushing a bit. She's unsure of what sparked this new attitude, though she figures Toby calmed any seas that needed calming. Anne Marie is talking to her the way she'd always wanted her to talk to her, and she'd rather not dwell on why. After the experience with Martika, a kind word from the mother of a boy she loves is the thing she covets most, more than shoes, more than a dress. And she has it.

"I'd really like to," reinforces Anne Marie.

"I'd really like that too," says Manny, nodding firmly.

"Let's get started then," says Anne Marie, clapping her hands. "Carol and Cheryl, I need you on hair. Brooke, get her shoe size. Vicki, nails. Yuri, toenails. Keisha, make-up, not too heavy. Fey and Trish, move the rack to the showroom. Sarah will take the measurements. Manny, you will sit."

The one unnamed woman takes Manny's hand, making her release Toby's arm in a flash. She throws him a puzzled look as the woman quickly takes the white sweater, on loan from Emma, off her waist. She puts her hands on Manny's shoulders, making her sit in a fancy, gold-plated armchair. Toby stares at her, clearly amused.

"And you have to run, young man," announces Anne Marie. "Milan's. J.T.'s aleady there."

"Right," says Toby, shaking his sight from Manny.

She can barely locate him anymore, so many people swirling around her. A couple were discussing the texture and length of her hair, somewhat pleased. Others were talking about lipliner, eyeliner, and any other liner Manny can't hear as she's paying attention to Sarah holding a tape measure up to her breasts.

"Hey," greets Sarah.

Yeah, this is the best way to meet someone.

"Hey," returns Manny.

"Your boyfriend's the cutest thing," says Sarah, moving the tape measure to her waist.

She's able to spot Toby near the door, the security guard still positioned there. He winks at her before he steps into the square once more.

"Yeah," sighs Manny. "He is."

V.

"Awww, Toby," says J.T. in a high-pitched voice. "I can't believe you went to all this trouble. I just think you're the bee's knees."

From the corner of his eye, Toby can detect that J.T. is moving his navy blue hankerchief along a case of watches, like a person walking. That apparently was supposed to be Manny. Toby smirks.

"I'm ignoring you," says Toby.

"Really?" says J.T. in a deeper voice for Toby, putting his bowtie next to the hankerchief. "Gee, that's super swell, Manny."

"Boy this was some trip," says hankerchief Manny. "I'm sure glad you brought J.T. along. He's _much_ more interesting than Emma."

"Yeah, and he's _such_ a stud," says bowtie Toby. "All men should want to be _exactly_ like him."

Toby covers his mouth, not wanting to show a grin. He does roll his eyes, though.

"Hey, I know!" cries hankerchief Manny. "How about we take off all these costly clothes and..."

"Okay, yeah," says Toby, removing the hankerchief from J.T.'s grasp.

J.T. clicks his tongue, rises. "You enjoyed it during Ms. H's class."

"That was years ago," says Toby.

"WelL, I'm auditioning for the children's TV show again this fall," defends J.T.

"And the parents would get on you for that topic faster than any drama over a Miley Cyrus topless photo," says Toby.

J.T. moves his head from side to side, admitting defeat. Good. The quiet would let him think. Actually, he has no thoughts. No distracting thoughts. The lack of them is refreshing. There's nobody that is asking for his assistance, or going to him with a problem. Toby's ears feel the coolness of the air conditioning. When he pulls on his pants, they're loose and fit to a tee. Man, he'd wager even his glasses were in top condition after one of Milan's workers polished them.

The polish was from Italy, some name Toby couldn't pronounce. In fact, he can't pronounce most of the things he's wearing. The suit is Versace and he'd essentially given up saying that correctly. He was right a few times, then wrong. The shoes were by someone else, and so was the hankerchief. Whatever. Manny would have to forgive him for that.

Manny. She said yes. After all her exposed doubts, the foul treatment from his mother and their peers (and some studio he'd like to collapse for making her cry), she is with him. One memory he always entertained when he was getting ready for a date with her, including the night of her movie premiere, is when she stayed over his house. It was like some treat to see her that early. She was so at peace when she slept, inches away from him.

This could potentially be a great time of peace for her. He wanted it to be. Throughout these weeks sometimes, he's wished that he could stand beside her, take all the insults she's received and add them to the list of insults directed to him. He didn't want her touched when she was weak. Maybe it's too big a wish. He can't be there with her every second of the day, though he would have loved to be there for her when it was hardest.

"I hate the word lapel," condemns J.T., fiddling with a tiny red bud on his jacket.

Toby lets J.T. muse on the trappings of his suit, finishes getting dressed. Milan was coming in at any moment and he didn't entertain the thought of being caught in his boxers.

The level of care his mother put into tonight is phenomenonal. She must've used every contact that she knew, pulled every string she could, within twenty-four hours. Usually, whenever he received anything flashy from her, or money itself, it made little impact. He wasn't sure it came from her heart. Tonight, it came from her heart. All the arrangements were things he thought were impossible, and she made them possible. She may be influential to everyone else, but to him, right now, she's inspirational. If he has half her clout in his bones, he'd make a fine Degrassi president.

"Atticus Finch, Atticus Finch," calls Milan, playfully.

Toby still didn't get the reference.

Milan enters anyway, spritzes Toby with a maroon bottle of cologne. It's the nearest Toby would like to get to a man, Toby leaning to the left a bit. It smelled good, whatever it was.

"Thanks," says Toby.

"And your ride is here," says Milan. "It's very...bright and tempramental."

"I've never ridden in one before," confesses Toby.

"Well, Godspeed," supplies Milan, earnestly. "And your..."

He motions for a hurried salesgirl to come to him with Toby's last request. J.T. buttons his jacket, going to him.

"All those won't fit in your lapel, Tobes," says J.T.

"They won't have to," says Toby. "Thanks for everything, Milan. Really appreciate it."

Milan laughs heartily.

"Invite all your friends," he says.

J.T. sneezes, then wipes his nose with part of his collar.

"Except him," he whispers to Toby.

VI.

"My friend totally dressed her for the AMAs," swears Sarah, tossing her tape measure to the side.

"Really?" cries Manny.

"Yep, and you have half her booty," compliments Sarah off-hand.

"Wow, J.Lo," beams Manny. "Is her body that perfect, like even post-babies?"

"I swear," says Sarah. "Celebrities have the best metabolism. It's not fair."

Manny rubs her chin, pondering that, until she's softly poked again. Their joint work is evident on most of her body. Her nails were painted a creamy white, tips added with fast-drying glue. Her toes mirrored her fingers, them doing those anyway despite her protests. She'll love them if it does come down to open-toe shoes. Keisha hasn't stopped fiddling with her face, choosing at the last minute to go with light colors. Her lips were currently a soft pink and her eyes a soft gold. Those colors were in case Manny selected one of the three gowns that fit her the best. Anne Marie wanted to cover all bases since Manny embarrassingly admitted she had no clue what she desired. Anne Marie didn't seem to mind the indecisiveness as she was on and off her cell with several people.

At least her undergarments are on her frame-an off-white, strapless slip; a white and gold balcony bra with lace around the cups; pale gold panties with lace around the edges. The effect really worked with her skin tone and was elegant, so two strikes for Martika, who she hated thinking about but did. Unlike Sarah, most of the team didn't converse with her, simply leading her to shake her head no or nod in reply. They seemed happiest with those gestures. Time for more no talking, thinks Manny as she's presented with six boxes of shoes. She passes on three pale yellow, strappy shoes that she knows she'll have trouble walking in. The fourth is met with a nod-- open-toed, pale gold stillettos with a lower heel. She doesn't want to tower above Toby. Finding a chair, she almost goes to put them on herself. Big mistake. Two women raise her feet, slide them on effortlessly and begin securing them.

Manny casts a wary glance at Anne Marie, grinning as she talks on her phone. Though she likes Sarah alright, she was hoping that she'd be talking more with Anne Marie during all of this. Eh, she shouldn't have any grand illusions. She was getting used to the fact that Anne Marie isn't hating her and that's progress there. Manny moves her head back to its original position as Anne Marie closes her cell.

"Three best gowns in her size, Ms. Isaacs," says Fey.

She's flanked by Brooke and Carol, who earlier washed and styled her hair into a French braid in the center, letting the rest hang loose down to her waist (Manny told her she'd played Miranda, and she recommended it). All three of the gowns they held were lovely. One is a deep ivory color with hints of pink in the bodice, since Anne Marie found out her favorite color was pink via Toby. The second is canary yellow, Grecian-style with a considerably long train. Either would've been a good pick. However, the last one Manny's sight stays on for the biggest duration. It's a soft golden Aurora taffeta, strapless gown, with jewelled beading on the bust, with a short pick up skirt over new tulle. The draping of the dress is demure. She's certain it will fit all her curves well. It's the perfect mesh of classy and contemporary, a modern-day Cinderella.

"I like the third too," speaks up Anne Marie, noticing her reaction.

"It's one of the most gorgeous gowns I've ever seen," proclaims Manny.

"You heard her," ushers Anne Marie.

Immediately, five or six women help Manny into her dress, murmuring instructions to one another. This is the first time where she's comfortable as they help her, no yanking, shuffling, or ruffling. What's that overused expression? Fits like a glove. It's not as heavy as she was anticipating either, a perfect lightness for summer. She hears the zipper stall, turns to gaze at herself in a long mirror. She's not as bothered by the dim light because she feels as if she's in a spotlight, the dress making her stand out in the best way possible.

The women step away, sighing with satisfaction.

"Enchanting, Manny," says Anne Marie, all her teeth showing.

She really did smile like Toby. Manny beams, stepping carefully towards Anne Marie.

"Come this way, please," instructs Anne Marie.

They had for the curtain, Manny curious what's been behind here this entire visit. There's a long black table with several black velvet cases, a distinguished man with a grey ponytail standing watch. He didn't look as intimidating as the security guard so that was a bonus.

"Designs?" asks Anne Marie.

"Chopard and Cartier," he replies.

Wait. She's very familiar with those names. Manny's jaw drops.

"Now, Manny, these are on loan," says Anne Marie. "The dress and shoes, you can keep."

Manny nods, mouth remaining parted. The man flips open thee smaller cases. There were diamond chandelier earrings and simpler diamond studs. She can't trust herself with the bigger ones.

"The studs?" guesses Anne Marie.

"I don't know if I should touch them," replies Manny.

Anne Marie and the man laugh, the man handing them to Manny. She puts them on, releases a deep breath. No way this is happening. The other man presenting a larger case to her is not happening. She freezes, freezes enough that Anne Marie has to open the longer box.

"Ah, Chopard gold diamonds," comments Anne Marie. "Beautiful necklace."

"Just in," brags the man.

Anne Marie is so right you wouldn't believe, thinks Manny. A silver chain holds a thumb-sized, amber jewel with small, encrusted diamonds. It should be heavy, she believes as Anne Marie situates it on her neck. It's not, lighter than Toby's charm bracelet around her wrist.

"I didn't get my first diamonds until I was twenty-one," shares Anne Marie.

Manny looks at her. "That's when?"

"That's when Jeff and I got engaged," says Anne Marie. "He knew he couldn't get me out of the office."

They both laugh.

"So he called me and said he had this big news that couldn't wait," continues Anne Marie. "I had this bad feeling it was this new job that would take him away from me. I went to the auditorium and he was the only one in the orchestra pit. He played me Brahms, which I loved. Then, he put down his violin, came to me, knelt on one knee and popped the question."

Manny folds her hands, patiently waiting to hear what she says next.

"You know, I've never told Toby that," says Anne Marie, raising her eyebrows. "Guys don't ask too many marriage questions. They get hot under the collar."

"I'll keep it confidential," promises Manny.

"He did ask me what model my first computer was," remembers Anne Marie.

"And where you bought it?" says Manny.

"Why...yes, yes he did," replies Anne Marie.

They laugh again, this one as nice as the first. Manny tenderly touches Anne Marie's arm.

"Thank you so much, Mrs...I mean, Anne Marie," says Manny. "I haven't felt this good in awhile."

"Know what?" says Anne Marie, opening the curtain for Manny. "Neither have I."

Manny steps through to a round of applause. Okay, they're very pleased with the results. The security guard appears interested too.

"I'd give you all Oscars for costume and make-up," says Manny.

A round of polite chuckles greet her. Sarah does a proud shimmy. Anne Marie's cell goes off as Manny finds her purse. Sarah runs to take that from her, exchanges it with a new gold clutch.

"For the good of the outfit, put your stuff in there," advises Sarah.

Manny nods, trailing Anne Marie as they exit the store. The sun is setting, Manny draping her sweater over her shoulders. Anne Marie has a matching bronze-colored wrap. Manny starts to walk, disturbed to see that Anne Marie isn't following her.

"Have other modes of transportation," informs Anne Marie.

"Okay?" says Manny.

"If you leave now, you'll be fashionably late," guesses Anne Marie.

Late? The Chateau Marmont isn't far from Rodeo. Lia told her that during camp. How is she going to get there and where's Toby? She goes to ask Anne Marie, but she's headed down the opposite path in the square.

Manny stares around cluelessly for a minute, then goes to the stairway. Well, it's the path they took to get to the store. She starts down the steps, pauses on the fifth one. This is where they're meeting. At the end of the stairway stands Toby, an arm behind his back. He looked every inch her prince. With a black three-button jacket, white dress shirt, long silver tie, black dress pants, and freshly polished black shoes, he's dressed for the part. Her compliments to whoever Milan is, because he nailed it.

"Look who stepped out of a storybook," says Manny, keeping her eyes on his.

Red-faced, Toby glances to the side for a bit, then regains his composure.

"You're making me speechless," returns Toby.

"Where's J.T.?" says Manny, joining him at the bottom.

"Uh, he'll find a way there," assures Toby.

Up close, she can see the pendant necklace she gave him, the Star of David, encircling his neck. It really made itself known, sitting against the silver tie.

"Ugh, enough with the mysterious," says Manny, playfully hitting him.

"Alright," sighs Toby, reluctantly.

He presents his hidden arm, Manny placing her fingers against her cheeks. Yellow lilies, like her grandmother wore in Manila. Sure, she mentioned them to him that one time in the hotel room this morning, but that was once. She's silent as Toby tucks the two flowers into her hair near her right ear.

"You never forget, do you?" whispers Manny.

"No," says Toby. "I don't want to forget."

Manny loops her arms with his, and they cross an intersection. Car beeps, chatting tourists who throw them appraising glances, and phones going off enter her ears. Then, there's this other noise. Clopping. Clop...clop...clop. What would be clopping in the middle of Beverly Hills? She gets her answer as they near the next corner.

"You...did...not...Toby!" stammers Manny.

"I mentioned it to Mom. She knew someone that works regularly on back lots and...," starts Toby.

Manny turns around, then back again.

"You're so going to hold this over me," sighs Manny, shaking her head. "And I would not blame you."

Toby chuckles as they approach.

The white carriage gleams proudly in the final moments of the day, large wheels at rest. Pink, white, and purple roses line the passenger seats. Having finished clopping, there stands two large adult horses, with bits attached to their mouths, reigns being held by the driver. Like the lilies, she mentioned the carriage once, in the lockerroom.

"Recognize the driver?" says Toby, getting situated in the carriage.

He turns, tips his hat, a black bowler, to Manny.

"Hey, Fred," greets Manny.

"Evening, Ms. Santos," says Fred.

Toby helps Manny inside, more than enough room for the two of them. She loves how high they are, and would take this way to get height over dancing on tabletops.

"How fast does this baby go?" calls Manny to Fred.

"I used to drive them in Central Park. Not very," answers Fred.

"We've got all the time in the world," says Manny, draping Toby's arm around her shoulders.

"Ya, Mork and Mindy!" shouts Fred. "Ya!"

"Mork and Mindy?" laughs Manny, as the carriage starts its journey.

"We named them on the way," admits Toby. "It was a long drive."

"And we've come a long way," says Manny, resting a hand on his knee.

"Do you think they'll think we're dorky riding in this?" says Toby.

"No," says Manny. "They'll just think I'm a dork for you. And I am."

Toby grins, leading her lips to his.

"I am the biggest dork for you," says Manny as their mouths collide.


	44. Love Is A Beautiful Thing

**XLIV. Love is a Beautiful Thing**

_What a sweet sensation  
just to have someone like you  
and you're my sweet inspiration  
everywhere I turn I think of you  
and I wanna love you baby  
and you are all I need_

_Soul to soul, fire to fire  
nothings like this heart's desire  
love is a beautiful thing  
one to one, you and me  
baby it´s our destiny  
cuz love is a beautiful thing  
it's so beautiful, beautiful_

_Love is such a sweet emotion  
I want to share it all with you  
your trust it´s in this devotion  
there ain't nothing in this world we can't do  
tonight, I want to thank, thank you baby  
and you make my life complete_

_Soul to soul, fire to fire  
nothings like this heart's desire  
love is a beautiful thing  
one to one, you and me  
maybe it's our destiny  
cuz love is a beautiful thing  
it's so beautiful, beautiful_

_somebody raise your hand now  
yeeeeaahh  
ooohh, no,no,no,no,no  
and I, I wanna thank you baby  
and you, you're all I need_

_Soul to soul, fire to fire  
nothings like this hearts desire  
love is a beautiful thing  
one to one, you and me  
I know it's our destiny  
cuz love is a beautiful thing  
it's so beautiful, beautiful_

_stay together  
thick and thin  
now I know I've got a friend  
love is a beautiful thing  
face our fears  
through the years,  
there's no tears  
oh love is a beautiful thing  
soul to soul, fire to fire  
nothing like this heart's desire  
cuz love is a beautiful thing_

**Love is a Beautiful Thing is the property of Krystal Harris and appears in Legally Blonde.  
The Guitar Man is the property of Bread.  
21 Things I Want in a Lover is the property of Alanis Morissette.  
The following songs are used briefly in this chapter during the ball: Shining Star (Earth, Wind and Fire); Luck Be A Lady (Loessser/Alda); Hello, Young Lovers (Rodgers/Hammerstein); That's Entertainment (Dietz).**

The arched white ceiling creates a giant covering above him, the rich, mahogany pews, the colorful stained glass windows, the table with crisp linen that holds the customary Lord's Supper. He couldn't tell you what day that fell on, or what to say in their prayers, or even when to kneel or stand, but he figures, since it's empty, he can at least walk down the main aisle. After the usual roadies duties, Craig had a couple hours to kill. Ashley was still recovering from her uncostumary trip to the bar and the physical aftermath, so he volunteered to leave her alone so she could get ready for tonight's show. So he sort of wandered in the mad cap Circus of Piccadilly, ate a burger, went back to the bus and stared at his guitar. He grabbed the case. Then, dusk started to come in and all the lights started coming on one by one, except for this one.

Saint James Church is less gargantuan than he was thinking. Some of those Oxford churches were three times the size of Degrassi. This place of worship is basically the size of a schoolhouse, with a brick exterior and a white steeple. There's one room for so many to fill, intimate, inviting. The carpet of the aisle is the color of vanilla, and the priests made of stain glass seem to smile from the windows. He can't imagine a service with hundreds since it's so quiet now. There are brass dishes for collections at the rear, a bulletin board announcing the church's mission: "We are an inclusive Christian community seeking to know God, to follow Christ, and to change the world-- starting with ourselves." Honestly, what he's truly searching for is inspiration, starting by being by himself. All this talk of Ashley possibly sacrificing her sound, putting her original music aside, made him more anxious to not forget his stuff. As far as he knows, Ashley is doing Pearl for Piccadilly. Her second song remained to be seen, but he knows she has several in her memory bank. That didn't mean he believed that she wasn't debating what to do at this minute.

Craig walks to the side of the church, near an open window with an image of the Crucifixion. Birds were chirping from the park outside. This is as peaceful a place as any. His last trip to a church wasn't so peaceful. It was supposed to be. He was supposed to say good-bye to the man who hit him everyday and act like it never happened. Yes, Albert Manning, who didn't have the nerve to have an open casket so Craig could stare at him, a last face to face. That would've been a face to face that didn't come to blows. Instead, Albert must've insisted on a picture, a picture that didn't make him look bad. The scar on my cheek makes you look bad, he wanted to yell at the parent who couldn't hear him. His other parent couldn't hear him. Julia Jeremiah, who was so loving, had ceased to hear him too. Were they in the same place? Sometimes he wishes the mercy would come harder for him than for her. Such a horrible thing for a son to wish for, he's well aware, but  
he's wished that. He confesses it.

Propping open his guitar case, he looks around for a few seconds. He starts to tune, relieved no one is filtering in and ruling him a nuisance. Embarrassment keeps him at bay. Several years ago, fear did.

_Albert Manning shut the car off, the remaining heat collecting around Craig's ankles. The sky had tons of grey clouds yet no rain was dropping. He was hoping it would rain. Anything that would've clouded his face, blurred people taking in his emotions, was appealing. The air freshener on the car window rocked resolutely. The scent was new car smell. They'd gotten rid of the other car that she drove._

_"I really need you, Craigger," said Albert, adjusting his glasses and sniffling._

_Craig fumbled with his tie, robin's egg blue, darted his eyes from side to side._

_"There's people at this thing that...," began Albert._

_"Yeah," said Craig._

_"We'll sit up front," said Albert, with extreme confidence. "We have a right to."_

_He didn't think that was an appropriate time to talk about rights. When they were going over what to divide, or where he should stay, or Joey's part in the divorce, that was the right time._

_"I'm hanging here awhile," announced Craig._

_This caused the first shared glance between them for the entire drive. Albert almost said something, did a double take, and nodded._

_"You'll sit by me?" said Albert._

_The gentle question sent quivers down his spine. The request made sense._

_"Uh-huh," promised Craig._

_Albert's shoulders relaxed as he pressed the door handle. Craig looked at his hands for a moment, then at the church door as it shut behind his father. That's when he spied the "people at this thing" that so rattled his father. Joey's red car appeared five spaces away. Craig saw his gleaming bald head above the car roofs, then Angie's curly black locks after a few seconds when he held her. Craig wagered that would be a good time to go in, avoid any discomfort. The truth was Joey didn't make him uncomfortable, at all really. He missed going to their house. He and Angie played games, Joey pretended he didn't order pizza just for his visit but did, and there were lots of photographs of her. Albert got rid of his or was hiding them. He'd go into hiding, thought Craig. Shaking himself, he left the car and jogged to the door. He entered, straightened the collar of his jacket._

_The first thing he saw were the programs. They had two distinct dates. Craig's stomach became tight and he lurched forward. He knows what's inside. The patient wife of...the loving mother of...devoted member of the church. He didn't particularly like them separating her into categories, but that was the tradition. Craig read the program. She was all this in her young years. Why couldn't she have been more? A grandmother? A retiree? She thought about maybe getting some poems published. That might have been on here._

_"Craig!" said a voice, softly._

_Craig dropped the program, glanced nervously at Joey._

_"Hey," whispered Joey, Angie's cheek pressed against his._

_"Hi," said Craig._

_"Going in?" asked Joey._

_Craig broke eye contact and peered inside. There were many parishoners already in the pews. A brown coffin lay at the front, near the pulpit. Laid to rest. Craig's vision grew teary. His shoes squeaked against the cold, church floor as he paced._

_"I...I can't!" whispered Craig. "I can't...I can't...I can't!"_

_You'd think the repetition of the words would make it sound plausible. He knew he had to go._

_"We'll walk in together," suggested Joey._

_"We can't...walk in there together!" said Craig, tears rolling on his face. "We...we can't do anything together."_

_Joey blinked blankly, seemed to gain some clarity._

_"He's making it harder for me to sit there," admitted Craig. "Like..."_

_The conversation stopped. He dared not tell Joey that for the past few days, Albert had been yelling at him. The neighbors probably heard him from the yard or the sidewalk. Craig understood in some pathetic way. Albert needed someone to be angry with. She left them, left him and then only came back for Craig. Then they'd go to Joey's and Albert would be alone in the newly changed house. Then, she was permanently gone. The other thing is that Craig couldn't tell him that twice, Albert had balled his fists, hit things, a countertop and more alarmingly, his wife's old writing desk. Joey shouldn't know. That's private...that's personal, thought Craig._

_"You shouldn't feel guilty about any feelings you're having," said Joey. "This is hard."_

_Craig turned away. He played with his new digital watch._

_"Whoa, this is heavy," he said, ignoring Joey._

_Yeah, he didn't mean the watch. He walked into the sanctuary, located Albert in the second pew. Albert's head was bent. Craig recognized several of his dad's co-workers, friends, and his own grandmother. He'd say hi to his grandmother afterwards. Craig walked down the pew, sat and stared at the various floral arrangements. There was so much yellow, her favorite color._

_"Greta!" greeted Joey._

_Albert and Craig stared at Joey hugging his late wife's mother. Albert snorted._

_"She did always like him best," muttered Albert._

_Craig buttoned and unbuttoned the last button on his jacket, stared at the hymnals, anything to avoid saying anything in response._

_"That's why I'm glad you're here," said Albert, putting a firm hand on his shoulder._

_Craig flinched a bit before offering him a small smile._

_"Things...thing have been lost, Craig," stammered Albert. "That just means we have to be better than what we were. A fine family by ourselves. You believe that?"_

_What was he to say to that? His words were so gone that day._

_"Hmmm?" encouraged Albert. "Cause I do. I believe in redemption. In forgiveness. That's what this building's for, right?"_

_Albert chuckled, a somber chuckle._

_"I forgive your mother," continued Albert._

_There was burning everywhere, from his forehead to his gut to his toes. Forgive her for leaving, he understood. Forgive her for being happier with someone else? He didn't agree with that._

_"I like to think she forgave me too," said Albert._

_Craig lowered his gaze. Now that...that wasn't as bad. That was very like his mom. At least his dad feels guilty...finally._

_"I see her in you," shared Albert. "You want people to be better. I see her in you."_

_He wasn't surprised that he let Albert's arm wrap around his shoulder as the preacher reached the pulpit. He was surprised that his arm could be that soft._

_"Friends, we are gathered here to celebrate a life," spoke the preacher. "To celebrate the homegoing of Julia Jeremiah..."_

The last of the sunlight filtering in from the crack of the window, Craig strummed his guitar, embracing the more beautiful weather of this evening in London. There is this song that Julia used to sing whenever he went to visit. She was heavily into seventies rock and he thinks that's where he gets some of his tastes from since Albert was more into blues. Craig learned it after stumbling across the name of the song in a book. It's fairly simple, the message still meaningful to him. He plays as the notes bounces against the wall.

_Who draws the crowd and plays so loud,  
Baby it's the guitar man.  
Who's gonna steal the show, you know  
Baby it's the guitar man,_

_He can make you love, he can make you cry  
He will bring you down, then he'll get you high  
Somethin' keeps him goin', miles and miles a day  
To find another place to play._

Whenever he plays, from pageants to weddings to shelters, he envisions a larger audience. The audience would be more than what would fill St. James. There would always be the same four, consistent people there, however: Joey, Julia, Angie, and Ashley. Sometimes they were right next to each other, and other times, they were spread apart. He searched for their familiar faces, for a rush, for solace. Those were the people who thought he could be better. Craig sings, lips forming a grin:

_Then you listen to the music and you like to sing along,  
You want to get the meaning out of each and ev'ry song_

His voice fades as he switches chords, stares out into the pews. Hmmm, looks like he gained an audience. Ashley has positioned herself in his sight, smiling.

_Then you find yourself a message and some words to call your own  
And take them home._

Eh, he'd stop there. Craig removes his guitar strap, goes to a clapping Ashley.

"How'd you find me?" asks Craig.

"Dashiel saw you duck inside," says Ashley. "Music confirmed there was talent in here."

Craig's cheek flush red as he sits in the pew in front of hers.

"Haven't been in a church in the longest time," says Ashley.

"Don't need to tell me," says Craig. "Although, if you were ever to get married, to a guy that can play a Bread song as good as the original, then..."

"Love how you so subtly turned my future around to you," laughs Ashley.

"Oh, that wasn't subtle in the least," assures Craig.

"You were as good as the original, though. Seventies' rock is so underrated," says Ashley.

"Yeah...um, original stuff is all the rage these days," says Craig. "And it only takes one person..."

Alright, that came out on a whim. It's just that when they were walking to the flea market, he had doubts that Ashley wanted this duet as much as Mark. She was doing it for some type of approval, not to develop herself as an artist.

"Not so subtle, Craig," sighs Ashley, clearly catching on.

"There are other ways to be better, Ash," insists Craig. "You are better than half those acts. No one has to tell you that."

"You are...consistently," points out Ashley.

"Well, I'm different," says Craig.

Ashley beams, takes his hands.

"You are," agrees Ashley. "Because you always understand me. We connect."

"Well, you'll be connecting with Mark...," sighs Craig.

"No, we connect," repeats Ashley. "It can be a concert or a school dance, and I'll look at you and know. That's something we have."

He's glad she said that and not him. Craig toys with the strap on his guitar.

"Duet with me," says Ashley.

"Ash!" cries Craig. "No...no! This is your tour!"

"Yes!" says Ashley. "Come on. We have dozens of Squatch songs...uh, a couple things we played at prom...oh, yeah! That song...we learned during our compositions for Kevin Smith?"

"When we found out Alanis was going to be in it?" remembers Craig. "That's...that's rock, Ash."

"Rewind then," shrugs Ashley. "They think I'm boring anyway."

"I don't..."

Ashley gives him a pathetic smile.

"Let's rock Picadilly, Craig," encourages Ashley. "Show the Brits that we're brilliant. I need you up there with me."

"Mark..."

"Mark can wait."

It's like those last three words are all the faith he requires, in a building built on faith.

"England ain't ready for us, Ash," says Craig.

Ashley laughs, pats his guitar with a proud tap.

II.

"Whoa!" cries Fred, pulling the reins.

The two white horses, who Manny can't call Mork and Mindy without giggling, come to a halt. Their carriage, emphasis on _their_ (well, for the night), shakes before becoming immobile. The tall green shrubs partly blocked her view as they neared the tallest building in the area. Resembling a castle in a perfectly kept pop-up fairy tale book, the Chateau Marmont sits grandly in all the greenery, its turret-type tops set against the blue sky backdrop. There are so many windows, tinted, and palm trees circle the lawns. A smaller building, resembling a cabana, has a red stucco roof, men and women with cameras scurrying to get to a spot near the hotel. Wow, it can't be this busy everyday. And she's guessing there's not a red carpet everyday. The red carpet wound all the way from just before the small building to the actual hotel. A large white tent shaded the hotel's entrance in shadow. The neon red light naming the hotel shines brightly, however.

She's aware this is where so many people have stayed. Elizabeth Taylor, Jude Law, Sandra Bullock, and one of her favorites, Lindsay Lohan, used to practically live here. They never came by carriage, though, and they never came with Toby. Manny stares lovingly at Toby as they remain in the carriage.

"Got everything?" questions Toby.

"Yeah, and more," says Manny.

Toby grins, bypasses Manny to step down onto the pavement. Getting in was easy, but she's thinking getting out will be a little harder. Manny takes a deep breath, trusts herself enough that there isn't a problem. Good. Because the paparazzi have definitely taken interest in them, cocking their heads to the side. A video camera is aimed right at their bodies.

"Thank you, Fred," says Manny.

"My pleasure," says Fred. "Have to get this back at a decent hour. Have an excellent time."

"We will and thanks," remarks Toby. "Um, my mom will probably be calling you with a personal thanks, so could you hang for a bit?"

"Certainly," guarantees Fred.

Looping arms, Toby and Manny walk past a dozen cameras flashing at all sides. Okay, Lia told her this ball was a big deal, but that didn't explain all the raucous over their entrance. They'd been on a red carpet before, though that was in their hometown, in Toronto, and Toby didn't seem nearly as petrified as he is currently.

"Sure is busy," comments Toby.

"That's because we've arrived," says Manny, squeezing his arm. "Anyway, just think of them as a group of eager young photography students wanting to capture the handsome that is Toby Isaacs."

Toby straightens his tie, smiles.

Press passes bouncing off their chests, they snap hurriedly. A few take out notepads, pen in their hands. Oh, boy. She hasn't had to be spontaneously articulate ever since the first day of camp when she had to act that all of a sudden monologue.

"Miss, for the _Times_, who represents you?" asks a baby-faced reporter in a grey, tulle gown.

"Bluewave," replies Manny.

"And your name?" chimes in another.

"Manny Santos," she says, exchanging a grin with Toby.

"Can we get a quote on your camp experience?" says the first reporter. "Did it meet all your expectations?"

"Well, I got to act and improve," answers Manny. "With people who are different and committed to what they love. It was hard, but even in the difficult moments, I realized it was worth it in the end."

The reply comes out more genuine than she thought it would. It is probably because not only is she explaining her whole trip in California, she's describing all the drama she and Toby had to go through. Totally worth it, she thinks.

"Any future projects on the horizon?" asks the second reporter.

"Not yet," confesses Manny. "I'm still in the process of learning..."

"And your escort?" interrupts the first reporter.

Manny turns to Toby and smiles.

"My boyfriend, Toby," introduces Manny. "My perpetual reason for glowing."

She doesn't care if that's met with disinterest or disdain, especially since Toby appears so pleased, to the point where most of his body becomes less tense.

"Thanks," says Manny to the group. "We're running a little late..."

Arms enfolded, they continue up the carpet. They enter the hovering white tent, Manny unsure if they've gotten lost temporarily. There is more press, though the truly amazing part of this set-up are three, elaborate Jumbotron screens chronicling all the movement from various locations in the venue. It was like a glitzier _Big Brother_. Then, a logo for the hotel would emerge, and scenes from films would roll. A bouncy song accompanied the images: Kong carrying a blonde woman to the top of a skyscraper; Glinda revealing the power of the ruby slippers to Dorothy; Jaws skimming the deadly waters; the alien E.T. in drag. The last one amused her the most.

_The world is a stage  
The stage is a world of entertainment_

"High def revelling," laughs Manny.

_It might be a fight like you see on a screen  
A swing, any swing for the love of a queen  
Some great Shakespearean scene  
Where a ghost and a prince meet, and everyone ends in mincemeat_

_A show that is really a show  
Sends you out with a kind of a glow  
And in a sense you go on your own_

_It's the art that appeals to the heart  
That's entertainment!_

"Power source must be massive," says Toby. "I mean, the Trini-lite cells alone..."

Manny raises her eyebrows.

"Never mind," waves off Toby. "Um, you wanna head in?"

"What's a Trini-lite cell?" encourages Manny as they go forward.

"It's...," begins Toby.

"Manny!" calls a distant voice.

Toby stops speaking as they glance to their far right, spying a familiar blonde head of hair. Blake holds up his hands, reporters muttering their disappointment as he leaves their session. Unlike Toby, Blake is completely confident, striding to them in an Italian suit with sateen finish, a golden tie highlighting his carefully coiffed locks. He's also wearing a gold watch, jewels set around the face. He definitely doesn't look like a B-list movie star.

"Cavalli," says Blake, sliding his hands down the jacket.

"Very debonair," compliments Manny.

"And you? Dreamworthy," returns Blake. "Oh...hey, Toby. Awesome suit, man."

"Thanks," says Toby.

"Lia and Colin got here minutes ago," informs Blake. "Of course, the press goes insane over the Andrews daughter. She wouldn't pose with me. To be expected."

"Sorry," says Manny.

For someone who basically stood up to his agent, Blake is strangely happy. Maybe he's left Pinecrest and that's why. He'd have more freedom. Can't hurt to ask him.

"Blake...," says Manny.

Blake tosses them a wary glance, then points to the reporters.

"Fame calls," apologizes Blake, returning to them.

Well, she'll talk to him later. Besides, she'd rather be spending the minutes with her older friend, now her boyfriend. Manny leads Toby to the tinted, revolving doors, the Chauteau's entrance.

This is the real deal. All the furniture is plush, stately, arched windows funneling in moonlight, gold lamps supplying the rest of the light. A stone fountain spurts water into a steady pool, carved angels in the center. Bowls of exotic flowers are interspersed throughout the intimate lobby, the maroon carpet being trampled on by expensive shoes. The flames for candles in bronze candlesticks dance across the amber walls. _The room is dripping rich_, Manny would say. She and Toby stare into the garden past the central window. Waiters clear the high-priced dinnerware from patio tables.

"Last place I'd dreaming of being," sighs Manny.

"Me too," says Toby.

They'd be in the main dining room so they head that way. Manny swears she saw every gown she's wanted to own as she's flipped through magazines as a child. Some were shorter than hers, form-fitting and fun. Others were as long as hers, elegant and refined. These guys couldn't be the same guys from camp, dressed to the nines in gear so formal you'd think they were grooms, or as important as the Canadian Prime Minister. Toby and J.T. are the sole Canadian guys, however...she thinks.

Going through the doors, Manny gasps. The dining room is huge, incredibly stunning. Blue velvet curtains were strung across tall, silver windows, the rest of the room decked out in gold and red. A swing band stands at the front on a gold stage, playing breezy jazz pieces as they walk. The many tables have gold tablecloths, with a small glass orb on each with a crafted star in the middle as its centerpiece. The silverware and gold plates glitter as guests greet each other. This is what all balls should be like, have to be like.

"Manuella!" cries someone.

Lia comes to her before Manny can determine her voice. In a deep blue gown that clung to her body in all the right places, Lia clasps her hands together. Colin follows in a fancy, black pin-stripe suit with a white tie.

"_G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S_," sings Lia, spinning Manny around.

"_The flossy, flossy_," adds Colin. "No other pop anthem can describe you guys."

"Uh-oh. Don't mention Fergie," pleads Manny, jokingly. "Especially when you two are glamorous yourselves."

"Why not?" asks Colin.

"Hmmm, my competition," says Manny, pretending to cough. "Toby's celebrity crush."

"I said she was hot once!" speaks up Toby, shaking her head.

"That's one time too many," teases Manny.

"Okay, so dish. I glance at the Jumbo thing and I see a carriage," says Lia, hurriedly. "A real carriage! Then I'm practically screaming, it's Manny, Manny..."

"And I'm saying nah, can't be," interjects Colin. "The black back of the girl's head must be Tila Tequila."

"Then, I say Tila Tequila isn't fit enough to lick the scum off Manny's stillettos, and behold, I'm right and it is you?" cries Lia. "Classic entrance."

"Toby's doing," shares Manny.

"Ohhh, can we see it?" begs Lia, sticking out her lower lip. "For a milisecond?"

"If Fred hasn't driven away yet...sure," answers Toby.

Colin and Lia squeal, jet past Toby and Manny.

"We're at table fifteen!" yells Colin before they go through the door.

Table fifteen? Manny scans the table, a man in a fedora and a black, double-breasted suit singing into a microphone dancing to the beat of the next song.

_So let's keep the party polite  
Never get out of my sight  
Stick with me baby, I'm the fellow you came in with  
Luck be a lady  
Luck be a lady  
Luck be a lady tonight_

A more surprising sight is who's at table fifteen. Emma, blonde hair pressed nicely, waves timidly from her seat. Toby presents two tickets when asked, Manny leaving his side to meet Emma.

"Where'd you come from?" demands Manny, hugging her.

Emma chuckles against Manny's smaller frame. Pulling back, Manny views Emma in a green, chartreuse strapless gown, emphasizing her long limbs nicely. Ever Emma, there isn't much make-up adorning her face.

"Blake had an extra ticket," shrugs Emma.

"Put to good use," says Manny. "This is great! Tobes, look who's here!"

"Emma, you look amazing," says Toby, wrapping an arm around Manny's waist.

"Not as much as you guys," insists Emma. "How? A fairy godmother?"

"No, a forgiving mother," corrects Manny, gesturing to her left.

One of a few red-heads at this bash, Anne Marie is fairly easy to spot. It helps that J.T. is alongside her, the difference in their ages making them more discernible.

"Comparing dresses?" questions Anne Marie, staring at Emma and Manny.

"There is no comparison," says Emma. "Ms. Isaacs, you have exquisite taste. Though, Lia's hand-me-downs are not horrific."

"Why can't we have this version of J.T. everyday?" sighs Manny, playfully tugging J.T.'s tie.

"If you weren't looking all types of pretty right now, I'd take that as an insult," returns J.T.

They all take their seats at table fifteen, music filling their ears. Toby, out of practice, pulls out her chair and then his mother's, who appears just as grateful. Emma pulls out J.T.'s, making everyone laugh. Manny sits in the middle of Emma and Toby, Toby right smack in the middle of who she hopes are the two most important women in his life.

"How long has this ball been in existence?" questions Emma.

"Since the inaugural year of the camp," answers Anne Marie. "Well before you started acting, Manny. I believe it was the eighties."

"Was Arissa always the head of the camp?" says Manny.

"Arissa Cunningham? Oh, she had more personal stake in this camp back then," hints Anne Marie.

Curious, thinks Manny. She can't go on anymore as Anne Marie is rifling through her purse, and more people are talking so it's harder to hear. She views some of her _Tempest_ castmates in the chattering crowd. Jade is twirling her mauve, taffeta dress for Travis, in a tan tailored tuxedo, appreciating her. Colin and Lia have returned, trading jibes with Camille, the Roxane to Colin's Cyrano. Her raven hair is dotted with diamond hair clips that match her silver, chiffon dress. They truly did resemble stars, or rather, stars in the making.

"Excuse me, excuse me," pardons a man, obviously having hurried to their direction.

A man in a crisp, black suit, with a blue and white-striped bowtie, stands behind Anne Marie. Anne Marie smiles, rises to hug him.

"Everyone, this is Mack," introduces Anne Marie. "The one adult whose name all my teen clients adore."

Mack chuckles. "I'm fine with the name as well."

"My son, Toby," introduces Anne Marie.

Toby stands to shake Mack's hand.

"So you're interested in this business too, Toby?" asks Mack.

"No, sir," replies Toby, nodding at his mother and Manny. "I'm going to let the women handle that."

Anne Marie smiles proudly.

"Wise decision," laughs Mack. "Pretty soon, they all will. This is a changing medium, Toby."

Mack Patchett, thinks Manny, her gaze dropping. Oh, this was the cheif director whose dossier she was supposed to read and never did. Lucky she recalls the name.

"I hope you all enjoy yourselves," says Mack.

They all say thanks as Manny trails Mack to the next table.

"Excuse me, Mr. Patchett?" says Manny.

"Yes?"

"I'm Manny Santos, of Bluewave. Colleen Dale's company?"

An expression of recognition makes Mack nod encouragingly.

"The ball is...like, breathtaking," praises Manny. "I wanted to say that before you slipped away."

"And so are you, my dear," says Mack. "A thousand thanks."

He pats her shoulder briefly, tells Anne Marie to find him later, and leaves. Great, a good impression. Manny beams.

"While you're up, want to dance?" asks Toby, circling his arms around her shoulders.

"The more suave the request, the more willing the date," agrees Manny.

There are other couples dancing, but not too many. This startles her. Most of the time, the floor would have to be packed for Toby to be at ease on the dance floor. They could blend in in that case. He's taking her there anyway. She can't deny him a dance with these circumstances.

"Mazel tov, Manny," says Toby, swaying with her as the music plays.

"They haven't handed out awards and I'm not winning," insists Manny. "Don't get your hopes up."

"They _are up," _says Toby. "You got through the play, have some great new reviews. Your parents are going to be so proud."

"Really?" whispers Manny.

"Really," whispers Toby.

A woman in a sparkling, champagne-colored dress sings peacefully as they dance to a wistful rhythm.

_Hello young lovers  
Who ever you are  
I hope your troubles are few  
All my good wishes go with you tonight  
I've been in love like you_

There's no use wondering if he's right. He is, and she can feel it in her heart. Tonight, she can embrace it the same as she's embracing Toby. She set her mind on finishing camp and she did, with flying colors. What she's not so proud of comes wafting to her mind, like a cloud collecting at the back of her brain. It's the deal she made. With Toby being so remarkable to her, she can't hide anything from him. Will he hold her the same after she tells him? Will he be sad for the first time during this lovely night?

"Toby, I've always wanted you to be proud of me, too," says Manny, staring into his eyes as they continue to sway.

"I am," promises Toby.

"No...like...um, you let me make decisions for myself," stammers Manny, then with more confidence. "And I appreciate that. But there was one decision I've been keeping to myself."

"Okay?" says Toby, tentatively.

Where should she start? Where to begin?

_Don't cry young lovers  
What ever you do  
Dont cry because Im alone  
All of my memories are happy tonight  
I've had a love of my own_

"The pictures...they took at the beach?" says Manny. "They were going to publish them on the Net."

"You told me," reminds Toby.

"I know, and then, they said that if I didn't do this role...the studio that was making me feel bad? They said they'd release them," admits Manny, blushing. "And they weren't only pictures, Toby. There were some mean comments with them."

Toby swallows a lump in his throat, doesn't return Manny's look.

"Toby, I wasn't ashamed to be seen kissing you," insists Manny. "You have to know that, sweetie. I...I just couldn't let you get hurt."

"This is what you meant when you said that you feel things for me so that allows things to happen?" questions Toby, eyes still downcast.

"Yes," says Manny, softly. "Unfortunately, I told them they were treating me badly, broke the deal, so the pictures...are coming out."

He won't look at me, notes Manny. He won't like that I'm dragging him into more troubles.

"Manny, you didn't have to," says Toby, staring into her eyes.

"Why...what I...," stammers Manny.

"In this business, you need tough skin," sighs Toby. "You do."

"You're not part of this business, though," says Manny. "That's what you told Mack. You shouldn't have to...you're not an actor or a director or..."

"But I am in love with an actress," interrupts Toby. "And I've always needed thicker skin. I don't want you to be worried when I'm with you, so who cares? I'll stand up to them, same as you."

Manny rubs his shoulders, stop dancing for a moment.

"After all this...I feel like it's best if I fight my own battles," says Toby, grinning warmly.

"Only...it's...it's so easy for me to do for you...," says Manny, her voice trailing off.

No. Toby's on to something. It was best that he talked to his mother about their relationship, because see what happened? It is best for him to end it with Kendra on his own terms, because see what happened? There'd be other situations where she wouldn't be there, or J.T., or Anne Marie. They're hurtling towards adulthood pretty fast.

"I get it," whispers Manny.

She lays her head against her chest, closes her eyes.

_I've had a love of my own, like yours  
I've had a love of my own_

"But wow, Manny," thanks Toby. "Wow."

"You're going to make my mascara run," cautions Manny, holding him tighter.

III.

"Have you seen a more beautiful bathroom?" questions Lia.

Manny smiles as she reapplies some lipstick, expertly provided by Sarah in her new purse. There was a reason they were getting all "smudge-y", because of a certain boy. Toby had no complaints.

The lavatory is lavish. The stalls were a pale blue, the towels were incredibly soft, and the smell of the soap sent a peach fragance to the most pleasant part of her nose. It's one facility she feels hesitant about using, as silly as that sounds

"In Canada, we call it a washroom," says Manny.

"Tomato, toh-ma-toe, gelatin, gelato," says Lia, sticking out her tongue. "Eh, I've got gurgles for tomorrow."

"Your stomach is usually only restless the day before auditions," remembers Manny. "We have a day to breathe."

Lia says nothing for a bit, smoothes the top of her hair.

"Lia?" coaxes Manny.

"Right...right, it's the day after tomorrow," says Lia. "Um, _Hearts for Sale_? How into that film are you?"

"Pretty," answers Manny. "Haven't read the script, but this role...more on my wavelength than Miranda. That said, I won't die if I get it."

Tapping her nails against the gold, formica counter, Lia gazes into the mirror briefly.

"This is a remake," reminds Lia.

"Yeah, those don't usually fly with the public," says Manny, closing her clutch. "Ready?"

Rather than argue Manny's observation, they exit, and coincidentally run into Colleen Dale herself. This is awkward. Unlike Anne Marie, who presumably hasn't formed an opinion of her yet after giving her another chance, Colleen did hold an opinion of Manny that may've been disrupted after their last yelling match. Well, they haven't communicated since. Colleen learned all the information from Lia. She's grateful Lia's in the vicinity. Colleen wears a simple, shimmery black dress with no ruffles or frills, extremely professional attire.

"Evening, ladies," she says.

"Evening," they answer simultaneously.

"Manny?" says Colleen, indicating that they should walk together.

"Yeah," says Manny, Lia offering her a pitying look.

They stand in the lobby, quiet with all the partygoers inside the ballroom. The moonlight has remained, the lamp light a tad lower.

"Nothing like a real world jolt to put everything into perspective," starts Colleen, politely.

"You got that right," says Manny, earnestly.

"Manny, I tell you to clear things with me so we can avoid those types of situations," says Colleen.

Colleen puts a gentle hand on her arm, surely the first tender touch this woman has given her...ever.

"Yeah," says Manny.

"Pinecrest is a larger studio, intimidating, and we are a smaller company," sighs Colleen. "That doesn't mean that I didn't take action. I filed a suit yesterday."

Manny's eyes widen, so incapable of forming the right words.

"Threatening a minor over a film role? So tacky and unethical," condemns Colleen. "I can't let that pass. It will take some time, but we'll be heard. We may lose, but Pinecrest...they'll have dirt on their names again and that's something."

"Thank you, Ms. Dale," says Manny. "And...and the pictures?"

"Can't be helped. I'm sorry," shares Colleen, sadly.

"I...I expected it," admits Manny.

"There are matters that can't be solved by a suit," continues Colleen. "I mean, are you okay?"

Manny scratches her neck, afraid her mascara will now indeed run. Images of red dresses and acting in a living room set appear before her eyes.

"Manny, you're so young," says Colleen, hugging her. "Too young to become a cynic. To give up acting, and disappear behind the scenes, like I did. This is still a dream factory. I've always believed that. Keep your dreams. Don't let them go yet."

Whoa. Colleen, thin, blonde, and beautiful, gave up? She let it disappear?

Manny says yes to no one in particular, not even to Colleen who holds her. It doesn't matter because it's not a lie. She won't let them go. They may be harder for her. Though, she, at least, won't let them go.

IV.

"I wanna shave your head, " announces Aja, running her hands through Ashley's dark mane.

"Explain that to my dad," says Ashley, texting him at that very moment. "Or dads really."

"Dads?" says Mark, drooping in a chair next to hers.

"As in plural," clarifies Ashley.

"Interesting," comments Mark. "I have two as well. A step and a natural. The step hates me and the natural slept with my first girl."

Ashley purses her lips as she closes her phone. Wow, interesting family delimma.

"Then Chris makes a third dad, right?" poses Aja.

"Once he learns to put the toilet seat down," jokes Ashley. "Nah. We're all meeting tomorrow."

Yep, they were meeting tomorrow on her free day. It was all some scheme of her dad's. He was so like that. He'd bug Ashley for quality time, or when that didn't work, bug Craig for the same thing and he'd cave. Craig did cave so they were going. Ugh, he hopes she doesn't grill her. What would she tell them? Alright, so she's been drinking a little...a little! It wasn't something compared to the drinking she did at home, practically nothing, either. At least they won't question her as severely as Kate. She kept her calls to her mother very limited. Hear her mother chew her out for being with Craig and not calling regularly? No thanks.

They're backstage, prepping for the show. A black curtain shades the equipment and the performers from the views of the audience. Ashley is immensely pleased with this. She didn't have to evaluate their expressions any earlier than she has to, and when the house lights went up, Craig would be at her side. Ashley watches as Mark tips his beer, swallows.

"Um, me and Craig...we're doing a duet," shares Ashley. "Tonight."

"That so?" says Mark.

He appeared the tiny bit disappointed, Ashley nodding solemnly.

"As long as it doesn't affect ours?" prompts Mark.

"Nope," says Ashley. "It's...I feel comfortable with him there."

Mark smirks and Ashley would like to know what's behind that. She doesn't have the opportunity to ask as Craig walks to them, an electric guitar next to his chest. He's smiling wildly, an expression Ashley doesn't mind evaluating.

"We're on," says Craig, taking a deep breath.

Ashley stands.

"What song?" questions Mark.

"Alanis," answers Ashley. "One of her rocker hits."

"Rock?" says Mark. "I thought you were all soul...pretty soul."

"What can I say?" says Ashley, modestly. "I'm a multi-faceted performer."

"Ohhhh...like Britney Spears?" kids Mark.

"Don't make me hit you with my microphone," returns Ashley, laughing.

"Uh...Ash? We're playing?" interjects Craig.

The tone of his voice sounds slightly annoyed. Ashley shrugs and follow Craig to the center of the stage. She wouldn't be needing the keyboard for this, though she'd need it for Pearl, which she'll play next.

"Welcome to the best pub in Piccadilly, the Pic and Pub!" yells the owner.

Elated cries follow the owner's introduction. The pub is smaller than the Pitcher and Piano, and younger too. Ashley's glad for that. These folks wouldn't be expecting any rock classics, just a fun performance.

"First, on the illustrious BB6 London tour, is Ashley Kerwin," says the owner. "She'll be performing a cover of a fellow Canadian, Alanis Morrissette's 21 Things I Want in a Lover, and then an original song."

"Skip her!" says a female voice from behind the curtain. "Get to Mark!"

A few murmurs of agreement are audible after that remark. Ashley places her hand on her microphone, fingers trembling. Craig makes a "psst" sound, gives Ashley a secure nod. She returns it, as secure as she can make it.

"Ah, let's let Ashley show what she can do," says the owner. "Ladies and gents, Ms. Ashley Kerwin!"

As the black curtain parts, more excited shouts than she's anticipating greets them. Well, she's thinking these listeners probably haven't read the reviews and are judging with new ears. That's what she's hoping for, anyway. Musk counts them off.

Craig plays a heavy, steady guitar riff on the foreign guitar that Dashiel lent him. They practiced for two hours, both of them happy that most of the song has remained in their minds. It was Craig's favorite out of the songs they presented to the Creed guy, who dismissed their collective efforts. Their collective efforts have to pay off tonight. Ashley starts to sing:

_Do you derive joy when someone else succeeds?  
Do you not play dirty when engaged in competition?  
Do you have a big intellectual capacity but know  
That it alone does not equate wisdom?  
Do you see everything as an illusion?  
But enjoy it even though you are not of it?_

She lets her voice go over the beat smooth, cool. It's a lyric rock song that plays to the lyrics' strength. The song is mildly flirtatious, though not in a smarmy fashion. However they took it, they're taking it. Guys in the front row move their head to the music, girls dancing mildly in their spaces. They're moving. They're actually moving. Ashley smiles, takes the microphone from the stand. If they can move, she can.

_Are you both masculine and feminine? politically aware?  
And don't believe in capital punishment?_

_These are 21 things that I want in a lover  
Not necessarily needs but qualities that I prefer_

Musk and Craig pick up the pace, making sure not to drown her out. Ashley indicates that they should clap, and they do so, some with their arms in the air. They were enjoying it! Ashley smiles at Craig. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Julian talking to a cameraman, and a camera shining on her. The camera shines on _her_. Ashley licks her lips, continues:

_Do you derive joy from diving in and seeing that  
Loving someone can actually feel like freedom? are you funny?  
Are you self-deprecating? Like adventure? and have many formed opinions?_

"Woo!" cry two girls in plaid skirts and vintage tees.

Hmph, they reminded her of herself about a year ago. This is a comforting thought, Ashley motioning Craig forward. Craig sways with his guitar, goes with her, so into it. This is working to a tee.

_I'm in no hurry I could wait forever  
I'm in no rush cuz I like being solo  
There are no worries and certainly no pressure in the meantime_

Ashley positions the microphone between her and Craig.

"_I'm living like there's no tomorrow_," Craig sings along. "Ow!"

That sets them off, Ashley going to the very tip of the stage and rocking with them. She's performing. Those performance skills they say she lacked? Well, check this out. Bodies are bouncing, pumping, rocking while she's singing. It's kismet. Craig and her create kismet. Ashley sings:

_Are you uninhibited in bed? more than three times a week?_

She flashes a triumphant smile at Mark and Aja, in the wings, clapping to the tempo.

"_Are you experimental_?" sings Ashley, meeting Mark's eyes. "_Are you not addicted?"_

Mark gives her a small clap, Ashley turning to the audience once more to finish.

_These are 21 things that I want in a lover  
Not necessarily needs but qualities that I prefer_

Ashley bows to the loudest applause she's heard yet on this tour...well, for her. Her sight gets foggy, wet. She's so touched that finally, finally they like her. Craig mirrors her excitement, clapping along with the audience. Ashley grins broadly. Then, a look of confusion replaces it as Julian calls her to the side of the stage.

"That's it!" whispers Julian, excitedly.

"Thanks!" whispers Ashley.

"No, that's it for tonight...leave them wanting more," instructs Julian.

"My second song hasn't been played," reminds Ashley.

"Another stop!" whispers Julian. "Another stop."

Well, he is the boss, the tour director. Ashley reinserts the microphone.

"Check the schedule as to when you can see Ashley next!" yells Julian as the noise settles.

Ashley waves to the crowd, causing more cheers, then goes to the wings speechless. If they were loving her, why'd they stop? She's heard that motto: leave them wanting more. They want more. Ashley runs a hand over her grinning lips.

"Slaughtered it!" praises Musk, kissing Ashley on the cheek.

Craig isn't as full of praise, catching up to Ashley.

"They're letting everyone else do two," says Craig.

"Craig, it's okay," says Ashley.

Frowning, Craig hands the guitar to Dashiel after he congratulates her. Why isn't he happy? The response to them was massive, better than any response they received in Toronto.

"You do have many talents," says Mark, approaching her.

"Me and Craig," corrects Ashley.

"Well, to you and Craig," says Mark, presenting her with two beers.

Ashley stares at the bottle, glances at Craig, who is glaring at Sarah Lincoln ordering them to move Ashley's keyboard.

"Um...," demurs Ashley.

"To celebrate," encourages Mark. "Your first night of appreciation. It's a turning point."

"A turning point," breathes Ashley, taking the bottle.

"Ashley!" cries Craig.

Ashley rolls her eyes. "What?"

"What are you doing?" says Craig.

"Not giving Sarah dagger eyes, that's what," says Ashley. "You need to relax."

"You need to speak up for yourself," whispers Craig, gently. "And the beer?"

"We're celebrating...that's bad?" replies Ashley, defensively.

"What happened to a non-alcoholic blast?" says Craig.

"I'm not an alcoholic, am I?" throws back Ashley. "Craig, I'm careful. You know that."

Craig shoots Mark a piercing stare, bumps past Ashley as he leaves them. Ashley suddenly regrets taking this stupid thing. She did promise and this was a joyful moment...at first. Why is Craig so picky? When it comes to music, it has to be so perfect with him.

"I should go see what he...," begins Ashley.

Mark blocks her path. "Let him cool off."

"Maybe you're right," sighs Ashley.

"You were in a zone," says Mark, leading Ashley to a corner.

"The zone!" boasts Ashley.

"No, a comfort zone...that's understandable," says Mark, dismissively.

That sounds...negative?

"Huh?" blanks Ashley.

"Ashley, it's good to experiment," explains Mark. "Release yourself from that comfort. You can't grow otherwise. Seem...very stifled. That's gonna cripple you."

Who is he to judge her after a great performance? Ashley narrows her eyes.

"Concentrate on your own music," snaps Ashley.

Ashley walks by him, by Aja who's trying to get her to dance around with her, everyone. Then, she reaches the back door, breathing in the summer air alone. She drinks the beer alone.

V.

Dinner is served. And I have no idea what it is, laments Toby. It's definitely meat in a brown sauce, with leafy vegetables to the side, and it smells pricey. Well, it smells foreign which he equates with pricey. The portions are so small and he's not sure it's kosher. He looks at his mother, who takes a bite, gives it a satisfying "hmmm". Emma's the sole diner with noodles in butter sauce. He should've stuck with that choice, but he changed it when Manny said she wanted the non-vegetarian option. She hasn't eaten a meal since the breakfast he brought her, she told him. That was so sweet that he wanted to eat the same thing she did. A meal to show they're united, if you will. He hasn't slept a wink since yesterday, but he didn't want Manny to fall into a sympathy sleep before the ceremony. Honestly, he's not that tired. His body would crash when it needed to crash. He was running on adrenaline, fueled by love, as corny as it sounds.

Manny's brave enough to ask their waiter what it is. Foie gras...or liver, a French dish. J.T., Colin, and Lia were already chowing down. Bits of conversation about possible award recepients, the beginning of school, and Colin's Broadway aspirations sprang up eventually while they ate. Toby shrugs, puts his fork in the meat.

"You don't have to eat," whispers Manny, dotting her mouth with a napkin.

"Nah...it...it looks good," he says.

"Okay, Toby," says Manny, doubtfully, then smiling.

Toby sets his fork down as J.T. mentions his name to Emma.

"Oh, I was telling Em that we haven't seen the very best part of L.A.," says J.T., catching Toby staring at them. "You know, the big sign you can see from miles and miles?"

"They have bus tours that run up there," advises Lia. "When are you guys leaving?"

"Tomorrow night...we could do a morning tour," proposes J.T.

Yes, they are leaving tomorrrow night, Toby's heart clinching. The week seemed like the longest and shortest ten days of his life. When almost everything's happening, it's all so speedy, but the days went on forever because of that. He'd be separated from Manny in less than twenty hours. He packed most of his things three days ago, though he did it half-heartedly. Manny doesn't appear bothered at all, taking a gulp of water. Wouldn't she miss him?

"All four of us can go," says Emma. "You, me, Toby, and Manny?"

"Sure," says Manny.

"Um...yeah," says Toby, sadly.

"There are some great rates," shares Anne Marie. "I'll check when I get home."

Any more talk subsides as the lights in the ballroom dim. The band has left the stage, an erected podium where they formerly were. Toby's guessing the awards ceremony is starting, and that's confirmed as a banner unfurls. The banner reads: Starlight Ball, Honoring the Dramatic Artists of Tomorrow. Approaching the podium is a distinguished woman with curled, auburn hair, a horde of bracelets on her arms, and a long-sleeved black velvet gown. Manny had described Arissa only in passing, but it's clear that's her. With a genteel smile, she taps the microphone. She's met by cheers by her former students.

"Settle down," says Arissa, turning red.

"I love you, Arissa!" yells Travis.

The crowd roars with laughter.

"Now that you've gotten your emotions out of your system, Travis...," says Arissa.

Travis is met with jeers, Manny giggling.

"Welcome to the twenty-first annual Starlight Ball," says Arissa. "Thespians, it is my pleasure to honor your achievements in the course of your dramatic study. You've truly gotten in tune with your own distinctive voices, minds, and hearts, and that's all a dramatics instructor could ask for."

Everyone applauds.

"The marks of distinction I will present tonight showcase the exemplary work of your peers," continues Arissa. "Whether weathering the magical seas of a tempest, or professing their affections behind masks and with song, they've risen to the occasion to make art art. Recognized by the countless media outlets of the fair city of Los Angeles, it is only right that we recognize them ourselves. The first award heralds the most commendable actor who's shown improvement."

From where he's seated, Toby sees that the award is a gold cylinder the size of a paperweight, with a well-crafted star on its top. It looks somewhat like a wand with a fat handle and a more solid bottom. That said, it had a prestigious air about it.

"This performer's name is...Camille Cutler," announces Arissa.

Camille, a few tables away, gasps and puts her hands to her cheeks. She receives applause and a few congratulary hugs. Blake, at the rear of the ballroom, claps most heartily. Camille receives the award, is allowed to say a few things. Toby feels bad that he doesn't remember much about her performance in _Cyrano_. He was paying more attention to the _Tempest_ with Manny involved.

"The Best All-Around Performer heralds the actor whose performances inspired the best reviews," says Arissa.

"Lia," whispers Manny urgently to her friend.

"You or me," demurs Lia.

"Lia Andrews," supplies Arissa.

Lia beams, trading a hug with Manny and Colin. Jogging joyfully to the stage among many clapping hands, Lia bows. She thanks her dad, who Toby has yet to see, her sister, Arissa, the camp, Colin and Manny. Then, she dedicates the award to her late mother. It is a sweet speech though it took awhile for her to leave the stage.

There are several more for people Toby barely knows. Manny smiles through all of them, but Toby wonders where her awards is, when her time is coming. After Manny's friend Jade collects Best _Musical_ Performer/Female for her role as Ceres, chances are getting slim.

"Matching Jade in her musical prowess is the Best Musical Performer/Male. Surely bound for the White Way, the recepient is Colin Andretti," says Arissa.

Colin cries playfully, causing the crowd to chuckle.

"Awesome cakes!" exclaims Manny, clapping as he goes to the stage.

That elicits more warm-hearted chuckling.

"Manny has the best expressions," laughs Lia. "I swear, you almost want to follow the girl around with a tape recorder."

That's true, agrees Toby inwardly. He exchanges a smile with Anne Marie.

"I want to thank everyone and anyone at the camp," sighs Colin into the microphone. "My inspirations, Gene Kelly and Judy Garland. Uh, Lia, Manny, Jade, I love you. Blake, I don't hate you."

Blake pretends to punch his palm threateningly, the campers laughing.

"Love everyone," cries Colin. "Thanks a mil, Arissa! Yes!"

"Finally, we come to our last two accolades," says Arissa as Colin retreats. "These honor two consistent performers who not only grace the stage with their talent, but have grown tremendously and whose love of the craft is evident. Best Actor and Best Actress. The Best Actor is...Blake Willis."

Polite applause follows, Blake taking the stage quickly.

"This is like boss!" exclaims Blake. "Uh, I thank the little people and the little people know who they are."

Silence echoes through the room.

"It was a joke!" insists Blake. "Uh...yeah."

The last thing he says is the best at getting them to laugh, Toby doing so too. He's praying this next one is Manny's. Grace, growth, and love. That's Manny to a tee. Please, mouths Toby. Manny props her head on her elbow, obviously not planning to get up.

"The Best Actress Award goes to Manuella Santos," announces Arissa.

Manny's arm drops to the table, her mouth hanging in astonishment. She stands awkwardly, gazing at him the entire time. Man, he knew it before her. Toby stands to lightly kiss her on the lips. Manny collects hugs from everyone, including, surprisingly, Anne Marie. Toby loves that last hug.

She won. Forget the studio that didn't respect her, the pictures that didn't understand them, and every obstacle that stood in her way. She's the Best Actress.

Manny gently takes the award, steps behind the podium. The gold folds of her gown, and her soft skin shine brightly under the dimmed lights. The award glows in her hands. She resembles a golden star because she is one.

"Um...I'm definitely glad I came here tonight," shares Manny.

The partygoers laugh, then give her their full attention. Toby gives her his full attention.

"Arissa gave me the role of Miranda, which I didn't like at first," says Manny. "She's this girl that lives on an island, wondering about what she hasn't seen, immediately feeling compassion for the unknown. But she was always loved by her family and by Ferdinand. They loved her as she grew into a woman. I appreciate that side of her story since I have that too."

She stares at the award in her hands for a second, starts to speak again.

"Joseph and Maria Santos, they've always watched over me. These last two years? Wow, what a breakthrough. They've gone from not coming to my shows to being in the front row. Then, my brother J.J. has always thought it was cool."

Toby wishes her family was here to hear this, but Anne Marie told him they were taping most of tonight so she'd try and get them a copy.

"And my friends...well, Miranda didn't have those really," says Manny, staring at their table. "Emma, who is my sister on all levels, has always encouraged me to push myself."

Emma pretends to straighten her hair, brushes away a forming tear.

"J.T., my variety show partner in crime," giggles Manny.

J.T. smiles, lowers his eyes to the tablecloth.

"Arissa and my campmates and castmates, especially Lia and Colin. Lia, you're as beautiful and foxy as Ariel, and Colin's the kind-hearted romantic like Cyrano. You fit your parts with your huge hearts."

After Manny's declaration, Lia and Colin smile at her peacefully.

"Colleen, thank you for what you said tonight," adds Manny.

Her agent, who Toby hadn't seen before this moment, waves at her from a nearby table.

"And there is someone who I can't even begin to thank," says Manny, her eyes growing teary. "He got me a job at this video store and that's when it all clicked. It...it was magic, like tonight."

Toby's gaze finds the floor, then her.

"He loves me when I'm on stage, becoming someone else," chokes out Manny. "He loves me more when I'm not on stage and I am myself. And if he's happy with what I did after a show, that's usually enough. I like that it's enough."

He removes his glasses, rubs his eyes. These words are enough...for him. Tears cover his fingers.

"Bonus points for making my heart flutter," says Manny, her cheeks wet. "_Mahal kita_, Toby. I love you."

Toby repositions his glasses, his own heart going.

"That was Tagalog," identifies Emma.

"I know, doofus," returns J.T. "I've known her as long as you."

"On that note," says Arissa, placing an arm around Manny. "We have an hour left. So let's all have a ball."

The cheering is covered by gasps as dozens of gold balloons topple from the ceiling, flitting across the dance floor as the sound system plays a fun, party song. Campers rush to the dance floor, apparently no longer caring how they carry themselves.

"Beautiful speech," compliments Anne Marie.

"Yeah," says Toby. "Excuse me."

He parts through the crowd with a purpose. Bodies bump. Horns blow. She's somewhere.

_When you wish upon a star,  
Your dreams will take you very far.  
But when you wish upon a dream,  
Life ain't always what it seems.  
What'd you see, on night of clear,  
In the sky so very dear?_

"Who you looking for?" yells a lovely voice over the noise.

"I was wandering the dance floor looking for a star," says Toby, shrugging.

Manny wraps her arms around him, lets her nose graze his.

"There are a lot here," says Manny, playfully.

_You're a shining star, no matter who you are.  
Shining bright to see what you could truly be._

_ (what you could truly be)_

A balloon bounds off their joined bodies, Manny laughing. Other gold balloons surround them, sectioning them off.

"I reached...found the one I wanted," assures Toby.

Manny kisses him deeply. "You don't have to reach anymore."


	45. Someone To Watch Over Me

**XLV. Someone To Watch Over Me**

_There's a saying old says that love is blind  
Still we're often told "seek and ye shall find"  
So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind  
Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet  
He's the big affair I cannot forget  
Only man I ever think of with regret  
I'd like to add his initial to my monogram  
Tell me where's the shepherd for this lost lamb_

_There's a somebody I'm longing to see  
I hope that he turns out to be  
Someone who'll watch over me  
I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood  
I know I could always be good  
To one who'll watch over me_

_Although he may not be the man some girls think of  
As handsome to my heart  
He carries the key_

_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed  
Follow my lead, oh how I need  
Someone to watch over me  
Someone to watch over me_

**Someone to Watch Over Me was written by George Gershwin for the musical _Oh, Kay_!**

"No, you should go...no, wait...wait...now!" instructs Spinner.

Doing as she's told, Emma stands and moves throughout the socializing actors and theater lovers, keeping an eye on the one nearly untouched table. Pretty soon, it would be ravished by any and all hands hungry for its contents. Spinner is right on the money. Emma smiles into her cell.

"They're putting out plates as we speak," informs Emma.

Two black-vested waiters offer her grins as they fill the table.

"The first ones they put out are the freshest. Make sure to grab those," says Spinner. "What kind is it?"

"Chocolate mousse cake," replies Emma.

"Hmm, they don't serve that at my job," sighs Spinner.

"I'll enjoy it for the both of us," teases Emma.

"Or you could sneak away a piece in your purse," says Spinner. "I did use my catering knowledge to guide you to the best pieces."

"Bye Spin," laughs Emma.

"Man," mutters Spinner, then more genuinely. "Tell Manny I said congrats."

"Alright...thanks," says Emma.

She clicks her phone off and retrieves a piece of cake from the arrangement of desserts for the diners. There were also small scoops of lime ice cream, topped with a wafer, and thin brownies, but she wanted something filling.

The evening wasn't as filling as she would've liked. Sure, she loved Manny's speech and the food was good, and she was having fun on some level. What the evening hasn't done is provide her with enough of a distraction to forget what's at home. The drama camp was over and Edwina would be coming back to the Andrews pretty soon. Then, it'd be the same as it was before she came to L.A. She'd be with her mom and Jack, pretending that there isn't someone absent, pretending that these new adjustments would make do. They'd do their best to make do. Emma stares at the uneaten slice, returns it.

Lia, heels clacking away, and Colin approach her, not bothering to say hello. She found it a little rude until she notices that Lia's scowling. Besides, she was lucky to be invited.

"He can't bother to text me to let me know he's here," groans Lia.

"Last year, he did the same thing," says Colin.

"Dad is so transparent," continues Lia. "He misses me getting my award, but is all available to track down studio heads to make potential business deals."

"That's the way they think, ma," comforts Colin. "Loving Anne Marie, though."

"Agreed," supplies Lia, handing a dish of ice cream to Colin.

They leave, Emma staring after them. Wait, her dad's here? Kel Andrews, Hannah's dad? She can finally meet her boss, so to speak. Who is he? There are quite a few adult males in the ballroom. That took Emma by surprise. Apparently, the campers came to celebrate and the executives came to network, based on what she picked up from the conversation. The best choice would be to search for someone who resembles Hannah. Lia said they had similar personalities, though she can't recall if she mentioned similar appearances. There are no blonde men so she rules that out. She spies a red-haired man in the corner and walks to him, pretending to stare out a nearby window. No luck as another man calls him "Pete" and they begin talking about stocks. Emma repositions herself back at the dessert table, wagering if she should give up and find her friends.

"There's a prime location in Calabasas," says a deep voice to her right.

Emma glances over her shoulder, views a handsome man in a navy suit, white vest, and cream-colored tie. His brown hair shimmers under the bright lights.

"Natural beauty shots...you could do them there," encourages the man. "Ursula took Lia there when she was younger."

Kel, mouths Emma to herself. He really is inches away. Emma smooths her hair, then her dress, and looks on awkwardly as Kel chats with another man. The another man indicates that someone is behind Kel, and Kel turns. Emma smiles out of instinct.

"Mr. Andrews?" greets Emma. "Hi. I'm Emma...Emma Nelson."

"Emma Nelson?" says Kel, blankly. "Oh! Emma Nelson!"

She nods enthusiastically.

"Gabe, if you'll excuse us," says Kel to the other man.

He politely dismisses himself, ducks back into the party. She wishes he hung around a bit more. The only thing she wanted to do was introduce herself to him. She hates not having anything sensible to say following that.

"So you're Hannah's sitter," muses Kel. "She talks about you all the time over the phone."

"Hannah's great. Truly," says Emma quickly.

Ugh, she never uses the word truly. Okay, maybe once in awhile.

"I know she's going to hate losing you when the time comes," says Kel. "How has your stay been? Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you," assures Emma.

"My daughter has quite the imagination," sighs Kel. "Think she'll wind up in film school like me one day?"

She'd be willing to make a bet on it, thinks Emma with a smirk. That is, if she ever became comfortable being around people her own age. Emma's certain you can't do film school while being home-schooled. You'd actually have to get out there, be in the thick of things.

"Have you thought about...um, putting her in private school? Or public?" questions Emma.

"Pardon?" says Kel.

His eyes have wandered to his pager, Emma raising her eyebrows. He can't stop doing business to answer a question regarding his daughter? No wonder Lia's miffed.

"You know, sir...Hannah's extremely nervous around other kids," says Emma.

"Which is why she's home-schooled," provides Kel, checking his watch.

"Yeah, but what about when she's not in school?" asks Emma. "Like kids in the neighborhood or her cousins or..."

"Cousins?" interjects Kel.

"It's not even that she's shy, because she's very kind and talkative with me," says Emma. "It's...I don't know. Hmm, that saying, children should be seen and not heard. Hannah would rather not be seen _or _heard."

"I didn't raise her to be that way, if that's what you're implying," says Kel, sternly.

"Oh...I wasn't implying...," stammers Emma.

"My child is well-behaved, well-educated, and well-spoken," interrupts Kel. "Lia is making a name for herself, as evidenced by tonight."

"Yeah, I saw..."

"And I expect your own father taught you to be independent."

Emma's gaze falls to the floor. "Stepfather."

"Excuse me," says Kel, then clearing his throat. "But my point is that we all have our way of parenting. You aren't paid to criticize mine."

The jist of what he is saying is totally clear. Emma glances at the desserts to keep her eyes moving so they won't grow more wet.

"Is that understood?" asks Kel, frowning.

"Very understood," replies Emma.

"Good," says Kel. "I believe in keeping matters of the home strictly between the members of that home."

With a patronizing smile, he leaves her to go and find his associate. She didn't think he'd be that cross to hear a question with good intentions. He so took it the wrong way. Emma wipes her eyes, plays with the waist of her dress. Maybe she should leave it alone. She doesn't feel like getting fired so close to the end of her time with Hannah. Not to mention Kel is right. She should be more concerned with her family problems than with the Andrews'. The problem is that she has no idea how to face them, though, and she'd be facing them fast.

"Ms. Nelson, I don't think you've danced at all tonight," says a familiar voice.

"Ha ha," she says, dryly, shaking her head at Manny.

Manny yanks her best friend's arm lightly, proceeds to drag her to the dance floor. Toby must be occupied if Manny's free. Then, she notes that he's not, Toby smiling at them before sitting down with J.T.

"This is you and Toby's night," demurs Emma.

"That's subject to interpretation," says Manny, sincerely.

They giggle as Manny wraps an arm arond Emma's waist, swaying to the music as a slow song plays. Emma rolls her eyes and twirls Manny briefly. Despite the odd glances they're getting, it's nice to not be forgotten.

_The way you hold your knife  
The way we danced till three  
The way you changed my life  
No, no, they can't take that away from me  
No, they can't take that away  
Can't take that away  
Can't take that away from me_

"Em, I hope you still aren't feeling all neglected," says Manny, quietly. "I mean, I hope you know you can talk to me and that I'll be there. And I'm not saying this only because Toby's going home tomorrow."

"I know," reassures Emma. "It's just...you're my sister, too. I'll miss you around the house."

She and Manny continue to move to the music, Emma relaxing more. It was nice to get that off her chest. She's wanted to say that for weeks.

"You can't get rid of me that easy," teases Manny.

Emma laughs. "Oh no."

"Yep, told Jack I would finish watching his _Thomas the Tank Engine_ DVDs with him. Then, I have to introduce the boy to _Fraggle Rock_," says Manny.

"Cause I am not doing that," groans Emma, dipping Manny.

Manny chuckles, playfully hits Emma's shoulder before they resume dancing.

She is very proud of her best friend. Ages ago, she would've never thought that Manny would be center stage. She'd always check with Emma before doing anything, so shy that she kept her head head down when they walked through the halls. Today, she's standing on stages alone, exposing her emotions at the drop of a hat to pleased audiences. They sure are changing, aren't they?

"Manny, you look so happy," says Emma with surprising sincerity.

"What?" says Manny, her lips twisting.

"Like I've never seen you like this," explains Emma.

Manny smiles confidently. "Yeah."

"And you deserve all of this," says Emma. "Out of all the people I've ever met, I've always thought you had the biggest heart."

"Aw, Em," replies Manny, pausing briefly.

Emma leads them to dance again. "What I'm thrown by is that you've found someone whose heart is just as big."

They both glance at Toby talking with a chuckling J.T. Manny beams.

"He was right there all along," muses Manny.

"As long as you don't miss the opportunity," points out Emma. "You didn't."

"You're right," admits Manny.

"Huh? What? Say it again?" teases Emma.

Rather than hit her or counter her, Manny gives her a bear hug. Emma would take it.

"You're right," says Manny.

II.

"I've only ever heard of these," says Toby, pressing a button.

Toby flips over the small black, remote control-sized gadget, J.T. looking on. These were at Gizmos and Things, but he didn't have the cash to buy it. This has been newly acquired by Anne Marie. She offered to purchase an iPhone for him, but he'd taken more than enough from her.

"Since she's your mom, she probably is on that thing all day," guesses J.T.

"Meanwhile, my dad is forever attached to his VCR," provides Toby.

"Gotta watch those orchestra concerts from the eighties on something," shrugs J.T. "But this thing is amazing. Ipod, Internet, camera, and e-mail all in one? Awesome."

"Yep," says Toby. "Mmm, haven't checked my e-mail in forever."

Toby presses a few buttons, thankful it's not too difficult to access his account. J.T. taps the tablecloth.

"Um...can I e-mail Liberty?"

"Sure, but what happened to letter writing and postcards?" laughs Toby.

"An e-mail is letter-ish," defends J.T.

"Okay, J.T.," says Toby, pulling his inbox up.

Whoa, it was good that he checked. His father was going to arrive at the airport an hour earlier. Toby took that as a nice sign that he was missed. There was a message from Darcy to all school officials about the Spirit Squad's desperate need for new uniforms before regionals. He'd make sure to tell Manny that since she was good with fundraisers, though she'd be dedicating most of her time to the Drama Club next year. Then, there were two more messages...from eaglerabbiofdoom.

"Justin," mutters Toby, massaging his temple.

"What?" cries J.T. "Toby, why is that racist jerk contacting you? Do me a favor and delete those."

He's severely tempted to do exactly that, but he did say he'd mail him throughout the summer. But he won't do it tonight. He only has a few more precious moments with Manny. The subjects of the mail didn't look too urgent, either: "Disney" and "No Subject." After Clara called, he replied to Justin, telling him that he should contact Clara or him if he's in any trouble. Despite their past, Toby didn't want the guy turning up dead. It sounded like he finally broke after Clara rejected his plea for them to skip town. He added in some light-hearted stuff, about the Disney internship program and the weather, just to make it seem as if the message was his idea and not a request from his desperate girlfriend.

"Eh, I can't," sighs Toby.

"Toby...," starts J.T.

"Here, mail Liberty," encourages Toby, about to hand the iPhone to him.

"Maybe I will send her a postcard," reasons J.T., standing. "There's one of the state flag she'd like. Did you know it's..."

"A bear and a single star," finishes Toby.

"There will be a day when some fact will escape you," guarantees a disappointed J.T.

"There will be a lot of days," promises Toby. "But not today. I'll walk you out."

They reenter the lobby, a few camp actors sitting on couches, though the whole room is at a quiet lull. Most people were probably still eating dessert. Toby decided to indulge too once J.T. left. He could recognize cake, and he liked it.

"Anne Marie and I came in a limo," brags J.T., wiggling his eyebrows. "Your mom is a pleasant date. Not too bad on the eyes either."

"Gross...shut up," winces Toby.

"Okay," chuckles J.T. "How are you going home? Not by carriage certainly."

"Catch a ride with Lia and them, I suppose," answers Toby.

"Fine," says J.T. "What I'm more concerned with is you actually contacting that bigot..."

"J.T.," interjects Toby. "This is the last reply he'll get from me. And I won't even do it 'til I get home."

"Good, but if I were you, I'd scratch it all together," says J.T.

"You always have my back," says Toby, patting J.T.'s arm.

"Comes with being the best pal of the illustrious J.T. Yorke," says J.T., proudly.

He really has always had his back, for the most part. Toby's very aware that without him, this trip wouldn't have ended the way he wanted it to, with things going well. He might be so bold to believe that it's as important as him helping J.T. and Liberty throughout her pregnancy. Yeah, to him, it is.

"J.T., on this trip, you've been...," says Toby, then losing his words.

"I get it," supplies J.T.

"Hey, maybe when we get to T.O., we can...kick it?" suggests Toby.

J.T. laughs loudly. "Kick it? Toby, just say hang. Manny's the cooler one."

"Okay," sighs Toby. "Hang?"

"I'd like that," says J.T. "You without Manny is rare these days. But Manny's the hotter one. Which leads me to push you one more time, before we leave, to go for..."

"Don't you have a taxi to catch?" says Toby, leading J.T. to the doorway.

"Leaving...leaving," laughs J.T., then disappearing through the revolving door.

Toby shuts down the iPhone, is distracted by cries of outrage. They're the first negative words he's heard all evening. The ball's practically done, so why would anyone be upset? Toby looks at the source of the noise. His mom's friend, Mack Patchett, is throwing his arms up in the air, glaring at a scared young man at the front desk. They were both staring dismally at a computer monitor.

"How could it not be there?" demands Mack, pulling his blue and white bowtie.

"Sir, I swear...I swear I saved it," stammers the young man.

"Well, it's not there, is it?" shouts Mack, eliciting some whispers from a few actors.

Mack offers them an apologetic smile. His eyes find Toby and his mouth drops. Toby hesitantly smiles back.

"You...Anne Marie's son! Um...Toby?" he calls.

After all his mother has provided, he should at least go. Toby pockets the iPhone and heads to Mack. Closer to him, he can really tell that he's worried. Whoa, if the chief director of the Starlight Ball is panicked, you know something's wrong.

"Someone who's not incompetent around a computer," sighs Mack, exchanging a glance with the young man.

"I do okay with them," says Toby, softly.

"My staff member has completely lost the financial records I was to turn into the owner of the hotel," explains Mack, wiping his brow.

"They're not lost!" insists the young man. "I...saved them and now they're gone!"

"Mind if I...," proposes Toby.

"Yes!" exclaims Mack, moving to let Toby behind the desk.

"Did you try rebooting it?" asks Toby, bending down.

"Please...please don't!" cries the young man.

"Let..him...do...it!" exclaims Mack through gritted teeth.

The young man buries his face in his hands as Toby switches the power on and off. A lot of troubleshooting problems required this. Of course, he has faith that the files were initially saved. The computer's desktop is clean so that's no good. Mack grumbles, saying something about not cursing in front of his friend's son. Toby goes to My Recent Documents and has no luck.

"What's the name of the file?" questions Toby.

"Charmont Finances?" answers the young man.

"Trying to be cute combining the names," mutters Mack.

Shrugging, the young man gives Toby a hopeful look. Toby goes to Excel and it's not there either. His last option will hopefully work. He opens the local disk drive, sifts through Programs, and yes, finds the document. It's titled Charmont Records Final. The young man claps his hands while Mack pats Toby on the back.

"I forget file names too," comforts Toby.

"Thank God," breathes Mack. "I was ready to faint. The owner would've killed me if I didn't fax him the final numbers."

"They're finalized," guarantees the young man.

"And saved," adds Toby, doing so himself.

"Good," says Mack. "Toby, you rescued us. Anything you want, you can have."

Toby produces his wallet.

"No, you wouldn't have to pay!" insists Mack. "Not at all."

"I don't know," says Toby.

"It's on me...we wouldn't have to tell Anne Marie I was doing you a favor. Please."

Toby opens his wallet, taps the outside of it.

"Um...maybe."

III.

"Where'd you vanish off to?" asks Manny, lifting the skirts of her gown as she sits next to Toby.

"J.T. left," replies Toby.

"Before dessert?" says Manny, her mouth falling open.

"He got some," says Toby. "Now, it's my turn."

"Oooh, yummy," sighs Manny, scooching her chair closer to Toby's.

"You and your chocolate," teases Toby.

"I wasn't talking about the cake," whispers Manny, nestling her nose against Toby's neck. "Ah, your mom!"

Manny immediately rights herself and plays with her fork. Yeah, if Toby can act civilized around her father, she sure can. Anne Marie passes them anyway. Toby chuckles, digging into his cake.

"You knew she wasn't coming to us, didn't you?" groans Manny, shaking his shoulder.

"Kind of guessed," says Toby.

She's about to lay into him some more, or kiss him some more. She's not sure which. Spying Blake in the rear of the ballroom, she decides to put a pause on either. Any actor, no matter how aggravating, doesn't deserve to celebrate alone.

"With you in a sec," says Manny, kissing Toby on the cheek.

Blake leans against a column, scooping ice cream into his mouth. He casts a wary glance at the other campers. Lia and Colin were shaking their bodies on the dance floor so this would be an opportune moment to let Blake sit with her and Toby. The presence of Kel was surely keeping Lia the furthest distance away from the other adults.

"Ice cream tastes better sitting down," insists Manny as she nears Blake.

"Are you kidding?" says Blake. "The most attractive girl at the ball came to me anyway."

Manny smirks. "Seriously. There are more than enough empty chairs."

"Nah, Lia would rag me," says Blake. "Not in the mood."

"You're in the mood to people watch," returns Manny, following his gaze. "Oh, Camille, right?"

"Let's just say I have a thing for pretty girls with raven locks," shares Blake, winking at Manny.

"Okay, you flirting with me ends now," laughs Manny.

He is eyeing Camille anyway, as Lia plays with Camille's jet-black tresses. Blake nods encouragingly.

"She can sing your praises," jokes Manny.

"How I wish," says Blake. "Anyway, you will miss my flirting, Ms. Santos. Our camp time together has come to its sad end."

"I liked post-camp Blake a whole lot better, for the record," shares Manny.

"Well...good," says Blake.

What do you know? He's blushing a bit. Manny grins. She spoke the truth, and would remember Blake bailing her out more than any of the small annoying things he said or did.

"Any plans for the rest of the summer?" asks Manny.

The coy expression on his face changes to a more fearful countenance. Blake sets his ice cream dish down on a table and walks in the other direction. What's going on? Manny follows, as another song is played boisterously by the band.

"Blake!" shouts Manny.

They were on the second floor, Manny having climbed the rest of the staircase to reach him. Blake finally halts as the music floats through the ballroom doors.

_I never cared much for moonlit skies,  
I never winked back at fireflies,  
But now that the stars are in your eyes  
I'm beginning to see the light._

"I'm going to see Brian," answers Blake.

"Brian?"

"My brother."

Manny and Blake exchange a smile. Why is he running away when he has something wonderful to tell her? Wow.

"That's great!" says Manny.

"I called him yesterday at the hotel," shares Blake. "I'm going to Colorado before...uh, filming starts."

Blake could start repairing his family, like she did last year. She'd hug him, but is afraid he'd get the wrong idea.

"The reason I've been avoiding you?" says Blake. "I didn't want to disappoint you."

"Why would I be disappointed with that? I'm happy for you," insists Manny.

"No, Manny," sighs Blake.

"What?" says Manny.

"Pinecrest offered me a drama, the drama I've been wanting," clarifies Blake. "That's what's being filmed."

"Oh," whispers Manny.

Yes, she can't lie and say she's not disappointed. She was hoping Blake wouldn't return to such an awful agency.

"I have another year with them on my contract," defends Blake. "I'm sorry. But the movie's in Toronto, so yay, Canada, right?"

Manny crosses her arms, looks down.

"They started my career, Manny," continues Blake. "If it means anything, I asked for another agent. Me and Martika...done. There's good people at Pinecrest too."

"Pinecrest paid for your suit?" guesses Manny.

"The whole wardrobe," mutters Blake.

"Blake..."

"The contracts are extremely hard to get out of," says Blake. "Ask Lia."

She doesn't have to ask. Lia told her. She knows Blake is trapped.

"If you have any problems getting out of it, call Colleen, okay?" advises Manny.

_I never went in for afterglow,  
Or candlelight on the mistletoe,  
But now when you turn the lamp down low  
I'm beginning to see the light._

"A total switch...you giving me career advice," notes Blake.

Manny shakes her head. "I guess so. And we can do lunch in Toronto."

"I'll pay," says Blake.

"It's the least you can do," says Manny, bumping him to the side as he laughs.

Manny manages to stare past Blake at the person she loves giving advice to the most. Toby stands at the bottom of the staircase. He must've come looking for her. She hopes he always does. Excusing herself, she walks down each step, erasing the space, the distance between them. Her heels, which she thought be a nuisance all night, seem to glide gracefully. She can hear the light strings of a violin, fresh music playing. It's a song she's heard every now and then, Manny never paying too much attention to the lyrics. It's slow, sweet, tender, almost vulnerable; it's a plea to find him.

_There's a saying old says that love is blind  
Still we're often told "seek and ye shall find"  
So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind_

Toby gently takes her hand when she reaches him. He starts to talk, is silenced by Manny putting a finger against her mouth. She bites her lip as they reenter the ballroom. Leading him to the dance floor, surrounded by others, she puts her hands around his head. His shoulders were so firm. His eyes were so warm. Manny lets her nose touch his, closes her eyes, releases a deep breath.

_Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet  
He's the big affair I cannot forget  
Only man I ever think of with regret  
I'd like to add his initial to my monogram  
Tell me where's the shepherd for this lost lamb_

"I keep falling for you more," whispers Manny. "You'd figure it'd reach its peak, stop at some point."

"You can't measure this type of stuff," says Toby.

"What if it feels like it's too good?" asks Manny, opening her eyes.

"Then we're doing something right," replies Toby.

He brushes his lips against her forehead, Manny turning red. She's so red she's thinking her gold dress now looks orange to everyone. She stares at the rim of his glasses, at his ears, where her charm bracelet is dangling. She's glad for this symbol; she's glad for the snowflake to show how they started, for the heart that showed why they remained, and for the four-leaf clover to show that he'd always care for her. They're charms that trace right to her heart.

_There's a somebody I'm longing to see  
I hope that he turns out to be  
Someone who'll watch over me  
I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood  
I know I could always be good  
To one who'll watch over me_

"In the lockerroom, you said I was your best friend?" reminds Manny.

"In a way...yeah," says Toby.

"It's like getting to know someone inside and out, and liking it?" proposes Manny.

"Or loving it," says Toby.

_Although he may not be the man some girls think of  
As handsome to my heart  
He carries the key_

Manny smiles slowly. "How do you say it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I love you? In Hebrew."

Toby glances at the shining ceiling, then back at her.

"Ani ohev otach, Manny," answers Toby.

"You added the Manny," breathes Manny.

"I added the Manny," whispers Toby.

Manny wraps him in her arms, tears wetting her eyelids. They're the most natural thing on her face, full of the most expensive make-up she could think of. He says it with such ease, that he loves her, that he'll be there. She can barely believe it, but she does, loves that she can believe it and return it.

_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed  
Follow my lead, oh how I need  
Someone to watch over me  
Someone to watch over me_

IV.

The last of the unpopped balloons travel across the floor, candles reaching the low point of their wicks. Final good-byes are being exchanged as the waiters race to clear the room. Violins, a trumpet, a cello, a clarinet and all manner of instruments Toby has seen by being a musician's son are tucked away into their cases. Remnants of cake and ice cream stay on plates as they're removed. The ball is evaporating right in front of his eyeglasses.

Toby views the same garden that he saw with Manny when they entered. Lightning bugs were still dancing among the trees. Man, this was a gorgeous place. It felt so forbidden to be here, like he wasn't allowed.

"Toby!" calls Anne Marie.

His mother approaches him with a cheerful expression. Hours have passed and she's as clean and pretty as when they first arrived. In fact, her hair looked better.

"Are you getting a ride with Lia?" asks Anne Marie.

"Yeah," says Toby, after coughing to clear his throat. "And...um, I might stay over Colin's, if that's okay?"

"Colin?" says Anne Marie. "Oh, the boy that sat with us and complimented my gown."

"I stayed with him the other night," reminds Toby.

"Right...right," says Anne Marie. "Well, your bus tour starts at ten so be there at nine. I gave J.T. the directions."

"Thanks," says Toby.

"Definitely want to see you off at the airport since you're abandoning me tonight," pouts Anne Marie.

"Mom!" exclaims Toby.

Anne Marie chuckles, goes in for a hug. He's more than willing. What could he say to show he appreciates everything, appreciates her? So many thanks would eventually wear thin.

"You...you made our night," thinks Toby aloud.

"Toby, it was really you," affirms Anne Marie. "But...you're welcome."

She releases him, exits the ballroom after he gives her her iPhone. Toby takes a last overview of the floor where they danced, the table where they ate, the podium where Manny accepted her award and told the crowd she loved him. He's one hundred percent sure they'll never be here again so he's not embarrassed playing the romantic. That's who he is...fault him for it.

He eventually leaves too, immediately spies Manny sitting at the edge of the lapping lobby fountain. The stone angel is on his tip-toes above her body. She plays with her hair, unbound now, shining due to the reflection of the spurting water.

"My hair finally fell," says Manny when Toby's in front of her.

"It's pretty," compliments Toby.

"You always say it's pretty," says Manny, blushing. "The flowers held up. They must know I want them to stay."

"You want me to stay?" kids Toby.

"Yeah, you've remained perfect, regrettably, as I've fallen apart," sighs Manny, pulling him down with her. "The story of our relationship."

"The story of our relationship?" says Toby. "Hmmm."

He takes the arm with her bracelet, starts tracing the charms.

"Close your eyes," instructs Toby.

"Toby, you said no more mysterious!" cries Manny, then doing so anyway.

Removing it from his pocket, he places it squarely in Manny's palm. Toby takes a deep breath, looks her up and down, and smiles.

"This is the biggest yet," says Manny, wrinkling the nose.

"It's a big gift, but I want you to have it," assures Toby. "It's only for you."

Manny sticks out her chest, raises her eyebrow. "Like the sound of that."

"Open," says Toby.

"A gift for me too," adds Toby as he watches Manny's face grow pale.

"It's...it's a key," breathes Manny. "To?"

"A room," answers Toby, closing her hand and putting his over it.

"When did...," begins Manny.

"This is all me," insists Toby. "I did something, got it, and there's nothing owed."

"Are you sure?" whispers Manny.

"Yes," replies Toby, smiling widely. "Like...green light sure."

Manny's eyes widen as she stares at the key, then him, at the key, then at him. Oh boy. Did he totally do this wrong? She's not responding the way he'd like her to respond.

"Manuella!" shouts Blake, jogging to them.

Toby releases Manny's hand, lowers his sight to his lap.

"Lia's amazingly offered me a ride to the hotel. You know, the one where you slept last night?" says Blake. "Paid for two nights. Need a lift?"

Manny gingerly touches Toby's knee, forcing him to stare at her.

"I have other plans," answers Manny, nodding at Toby.

"No skin off my nose," shrugs Blake, returning to Lia, Emma, and Colin.

"She's got a ride!" informs Blake as the four of them exit.

Emma throws her a confused stare, is the last to go through the revolving door. Toby stands hurriedly.

"Yes!" squeals Manny, throwing her arms around him.

Toby places his mouth on hers, getting so swept up in the kiss that he doesn't notice that their bodies are moving towards the elevator. Their lips are that furiously in sync, Manny holding onto the key as they go. Toby fumbles for the button to the top floor. It lights up as the elevator door flutters open. Manny sighs, presses him against the back panel of the elevator. Toby rubs her shoulders as they continue to kiss with the doors shutting. All he can think of is how he'll be touching more of her skin, how incredible it feels already.

He separates from her briefly to check which floor they're on. Manny wipes her lips in the mean time.

"This hotel has too many floors," breathes Toby, reaching for her again.

"I know," says Manny before their lips meet.

"Seventh," sighs Toby when they reach the floor.

"New favorite number," mumbles Manny, kissing him as they escape the elevator.

"Or seven-two-five," options Toby as Manny holds the key in the hallway light.

"I stand corrected," says Manny.

"Go ahead," encourages Toby, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Manny smiles back at him, slides the key into the lock, and turns the knob. They're in. Manny flicks on the light and guides Toby inside, hugging his arms as they enter.

"Whoa," sighs Manny.

Toby drops his arms. He's having a whoa moment too. This is Mack Patchett's private suite. Mack found it a strange request, but wouldn't back down from his promise. Manny had done something special for their first time, and Toby had to do something just as special. He didn't pay for this, but he earned it.

"You can do the honors," says Manny.

Her voice breaks him from his thoughts. She's holding a Do Not Disturb sign for the door. Toby chuckles.

"First time," says Toby, sliding it on the knob.

Manny closes the door. "What an appropriate choice of words."

The small living area is nice, with a Western color theme. The walls were a light red, the furniture is a rich mahogany, and the sofa in front of the small TV is a dark green. They aren't looking for the living area, however. They want a bedroom.

They hold hands as they press through a white door. If the living area is nice, the bedroom is sensational. It is extremely large, double the size of his bedroom at home. If Toby were in a different mood, he'd awe over the humongous, flat-screen TV, DVD player, and stereo system. Manny is all he needs to be in awe of. The walls are a majestic purple, deep and sturdy. On the far wall is an electric fireplace. There are two small nightstands with a high-tech phone, room service menu, and channel listings. Three closets lined the walls, and five black wood drawers stretched from side to side. And the bed...king-sized, with dark purple and red sheets and pillows. It was like straight from the set of _Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous_, with that Robin Leech guy. Everything is clean, made up, or ready...for them. Toby shuts the bedroom door.

"Tobes," breathes Manny, going to kiss him.

"Don't move," sighs Toby. "Please."

Manny smiles, and shrugs before taking a seat on the bed.

Mack had told him how to start the fireplace and thankfully it is no trouble, flames flickering before he knows it. He then goes to the sound system, starts fiddling with the stations. What did she like? There's a station he thinks she likes so he turns it to that one.

"Toby?" says Manny.

"Is this...," begins Toby, glancing at her.

Toby's fingers freeze as Manny stares at him. Her dark eyes are gleaming from there, the firelight playing against the golden material of her dress.

"Leave it there," whispers Manny.

She doesn't have to ask twice. Toby walks to the bed, sits.

"How'd you swing this?" asks Manny.

"Helped a guy with his computer," shares Toby.

"My digital knight in shining armour," gushes Manny, setting the key on the nighstand then sliding back to him.

"No big deal," sighs Toby.

"Tonight is a big deal," sighs Manny. "No matter how we got here, or when. It's big."

"Yeah," agrees Toby, smiling timidly.

"I'm not letting you unless you're ready, sweetie," says Manny. "There's no pressure."

"That's why I like it," confesses Toby. "And why I'm ready."

Manny hunches her shoulders in excitement, Toby putting his mouth to her ear.

"Manny, I want to make love to you," whispers Toby.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, Manny strokes his chin, then his neck. Her hands stop at the top of his tie.

"Then I don't want this poking me," whispers Manny.

Grinning, Toby lets her take off the Star of David necklace she gave him. He'll let her take it all off. Manny raises her neck instinctively, allows Toby to remove the lilies from her ear. Manny sets them down on the nightstand.

"Careful," cautions Manny as Toby starts to remove the diamond necklace.

Oh yeah. He figured these weren't hers to keep. He's careful, places them on the nightstand.

"Before we get to bedsheet bumping...I'm on the pill," says Manny. "And your...your precautions?"

"Definitely," says Toby, removing his wallet from his jacket.

Manny sees it, places her hands on his cheeks and kisses him. He's glad J.T. told him to have more than one in there. Toby puts the condom next to his necklace. Her fingers are so gentle, he hates that she lets them leave his face. His heart tells him her fingers belong there, belong everywhere. There's no second guessing in there, his heart, or his head.

"I feel...grown up," confesses Toby. "Excited? Like these...heavy butterflies."

"Near your heart?" guesses Manny.

"Yeah. Who knew?' sighs Toby.

"That's the best part," insists Manny, softly. "We didn't know."

"I love you so much, Manny," whispers Toby, removing his glasses. "I know that."

"Tobes, I want you so bad," sighs Manny, pulling him to her.

Breathing heavily, Manny quickly undoes his tie, the silver cloth falling to the purple carpet. Toby massages her shoulders for a second, Manny lifting slightly to give him access to the zipper on the back of her gown. The metallic zip is the clearest sound he hears as Manny takes his glasses and puts them in a safe place. Then it's piano keys and a gentle female voice playing on the speakers. Toby doesn't identify the song, keeps his eyes on Manny's dress unfolding in his grasp. The dress slides down her chest, so light and slow like a lily in blossom. Manny's bosom goes up and down, white strapless slip visible.

Toby runs his hands through her hair, moves it to the sides as he leads her head to the pillow.

_Sometimes it's hard when you're so deep inside  
To see all you can lose in a blink of an eye  
Dreams could be shattered  
You could be gone  
How would I survive  
Cause you're where I belong_

He raises her leg, kisses the top of her foot through the hose. Manny smiles at him. He removes one shoe, then the other. As the stillettos meet the floor, he return to her waist, inches the gown all the way off. He checks. The smile hasn't left her face.

Manny makes a grab for his arm. She manages to remove his jacket, tosses it on the floor. Her fingers are not rough in the least as they unbutton his dress shirt. Toby's brow grows hot, Manny gazing up into his eyes.

"Manny," groans Toby as she takes hold of his undershirt, wresting it from his body.

They kiss, Toby feeling the sweat against his forehead, her forehead. This can't be because of the heat from the fireplace.

"Ah," sighs Manny as their mouths part momentarily.

This would be a good time to get the rest of her clothing off. He pries the hose from her legs. Toby moves the slip down the length of her body, the fire illuminating her curves. He kisses where the slip exposes, Manny arching her back in response. His lips go over the gold strap of her bra, between her breasts, towards her abs, stalling above her panties. He lets his tongue trace her navel. Manny whimpers, grasps the sheet with her left hand.

Toby drapes the slip on the other side of the bed, the undergarment falling. Manny releases the sheet, steers her hand to Toby's belt. It snaps open, Toby sighing as it unfurls in her grip. Toby kicks off his shoes. Manny guides his pants past his waist, his legs, his feet.

_My soul-believer  
Without you, I don't know who I would be_

Manny licks her lips as Toby raises her a bit, unhooks her bra. He kisses her neck as the bra descends, then her throat, the area above her breasts. Manny flings the bra away and rests her head against the pillow.

_Underneath, I can feel you move through me  
Inside out, you surround me  
I breathe you like I'm taking my last breath  
Oh, you're everything I know  
So how could I let you go_

What comes next he's never done. But he's sure she'll be patient. He's sure she'll be okay with whatever. He's sure she loves him.

Toby and Manny manuever on the bed, able to get the sheets undone. Then, he's hovering over her again, grinning at her as he gets his boxers to go down his legs, his feet. Manny blushes at the movement, turning more red and smiling as Toby fetches the condom, rolls it on. Good, he sighs inwardly. She's still here.

_Sometimes I listen to a voice that isn't mine  
I disconnect from everything inside  
And I have made choices  
And wasted all the days  
I could have been with you  
Where my heart stayed  
I know you've waited faithfully  
Blessing our love even stronger_

She's always there, isn't she? If she wasn't, she wouldn't be Manny. As Manny holds him, he wishes he could hold her forever. But yeah, one final item. Toby's hands dip, touch the lace of her panties, the gold fabric, and tug. Manny moans when the last of the fabric has departed. Her panties were near his boxers. No more barriers, Toby stroking Manny's cheek.

"Toby," sighs Manny, as he stares into her eager, sparkling eyes.

He nestles her thighs apart, Manny's eyes closing as they move. Toby's heart beats against his own chest, her heart. Manny's arms find his shoulderblades, the sides of his chest, his thighs. She breathes his name. His name never sounded so sweet. His body never felt this sweet, this full. He lets his mouth groan her name, barely able to say it with all these swirling emotions. It's the name he's wanted to say, can only say as she wraps her legs around him. Manny's red lips shine in the firelight, her mouth moaning louder than the crackling fire.

_And I've been blessed  
For every kiss  
For every breath  
(How could I let you down)  
And I've been touched,  
By hands I trust  
My love is risen_

She's pulling him closer, to her. He loves the rhythm. He loves the closeness. Toby continues to move, enveloped by her warmth. Manny gasps. She shudders against his skin.

"Mmmm," sighs Manny, kissing him as he shudders after her.

Toby's hand reaches for Manny's, laying against the sheet. It winds with hers. The charms and the chain graze his wrist.

_Underneath, I can feel you move through me  
Inside out, you surround me  
I breathe you like I'm taking my last breath  
Oh, you're everything I know  
So how could I let you  
How could I let you go_

"Uhhh," groans Manny as Toby releases her hand.

"You okay?" whispers Toby.

A single tear goes down her cheek. She's crying. Why is she crying? What'd he do? Toby strokes her forehead, then her wet hair.

"Wow," sighs Manny, wiping her tear away.

Toby beams. Manny takes his hand and kisses each of his fingers.

"I love you, Manny," says Toby, feeling wetness behind his own eyes.

"I love you, Toby," breathes Manny.

He's not completely sure how his body did it all, but he's completely sure how his heart did. It was simple after all that difficulty. He made love...to the woman he loves.

"I want to hold you," whispers Toby.

Manny nods as Toby rises so she can shift. She breathes a sigh of contentment against the pillowcase. He's just as content. Manny kisses his arm as he puts it over her, his fingers near her waist. Her hand travels when Toby's head is against hers, his breath warming her ear. It travels to massage his head briefly before she falls asleep. Then, it drops to the blanket. He falls asleep too, finally, his heart beating a steady rhythm. It's relaxed in the quiet as he holds her. He doesn't try to dream, though, certain no dream can eclipse this.

V.

The glow of the yellow flames dance across the lenses of his glasses, make the rims shine. Manny delicately holds them. She stares warmly at Toby's face, head pressed against the dark red blanket. She's seated by the bed after finding a stray automon from the other room. From the floor, she retrieved and put on her slip and panties, that somehow rolled from the bed. She likes watching him sleep after watching him a couple times before.

He's a gentle breather naturally. But naturally, he panted when he was above her and she could feel her body lifting, her heart lifting. She has no idea why she cried. The only explanation would be that it was an emotional release since the words were so hard to say. They came out in the end. _I love you_. She told others she wanted to hear that from him before, after they made love. With Toby, she wants to hear it everyday.

No guy has touched her like that, or caressed her like that. You wouldn't think the flow of his hands would touch her so expertly. She didn't register any awkwardness. That's probably because they were on the verge of doing it twice before. Well, third's time is a charm, thinks Manny, smiling. They even did it to her favorite artist, Jessica Simpson. That might make Toby feel less manly so she won't mention it, because yeah, he's all man to her.

"Mmmm?" stirs Toby.

His eyes flutter open.

"Go back to sleep," whispers Manny.

"Why are you there?" says Toby.

"I'm thinking," replies Manny.

"Of what?" asks Toby.

"Of how glad I am," confesses Manny. "I'm glad that you moved to Toronto. I'm glad that you were friends with J.T. I'm glad we were friends...are friends."

Toby yawns, grins at her.

"I'm glad we ended up here," finishes Manny.

"I agree with that list," sighs Toby.

Manny giggles, smooths some hair from his forehead.

"Do I...do I look less innocent?" says Toby, shrugging.

"Let's see," thinks Manny aloud. "Naked...ruffled sheets...tousled hair. Tough call."

"What?" says Toby.

"You're always going to be a bit innocent, Isaacs," answers Manny. "It's just something you are."

"That's not sexy, though," groans Toby.

"It is to me," compliments Manny, kissing his forehead. "Besides, I plan on dirtying you up whenever we feel like it."

"I'm taking advantage of that," chuckles Toby.

"Miss me?" says Manny, playfully.

"Come here," says Toby, sitting up.

Manny rejoins him, pretends to put his glasses on her face.

"I love these," says Manny.

"They prevent access to your face," sighs Toby.

"That they do," says Manny.

Toby kisses her intensely, Manny returning the glasses to the nightstand.

"I still love them," giggles Manny as Toby guides her to him.

Kissing for a full minute, Manny does realize that the boy hasn't had a full night's sleep in about two days. He'd only sleep if she slept.

"First post-sex lesson," whispers Manny. "We cuddle, we spoon."

"We already did that," says Toby, placing the blanket over her.

"Not on this side," says Manny.

"Ohhh," says Toby in mock astonishment.

They haven't either. This side is better because there's a window. She opened it to locate her slip. The moonlight helped and the city is shown in all its beauty. Thousands of tiny lights dot the night, in yellows, reds, purples, and greens. They glow so intensely, shine past midnight. The city is alive. She feels alive and fresh as the day she set foot in L.A.

"Look at the city, Tobes," sighs Manny as Toby lies down with her.

"Beautiful," comments Toby.

"It glistens, right?" says Manny.

"I wasn't talking about the city," whispers Toby, gently kissing her neck. "You're beautiful and glistening."

"Stop," begs Manny, smiling.

"It is gorgeous...the city, I mean," provides Toby.

He gazes at it with her. California is finally doing them some good...some wonderful, actually.

"You said you and Cali wouldn't mix," sing-songs Manny.

"Fine. I was seriously mistaken," chuckles Toby.

"We're seriously in love," sighs Manny.

She glances at him before letting her head retreat once more to the bed.

"Seriously," whispers Manny against the softness.

**Underneath is the property of Jessica Simpson.  
I'm Beginning to See The Light is the property of Bobby Darin.  
They Can't Take That Away From Me is the property of George/Ira Gershwin.**

**Author's Note:**

**Alright, so I held out on the writer's note so I wouldn't spoil what occurs at the end of this chapter. ;) Anyways, I'm only writing this to bring up the rating. Whenever I do a love scene, I always make sure to try and make it fit the couple. Like in Cherish, Sellie's was natural and unfussy. With Tobanny here, it's somewhat pure and pretty romantic. But I always try to make it sensual and classy, with the feelings made very evident prior to them getting down. But I don' t know how young the readers are and what their comfort level is. So if anyone thinks this should shift to M, please let me know.**

**Additionally, the focus of the piece will shift a bit as I dig into the CrAsh and Sellie storylines further. There's still minor drug/alcohol use, not anymore than you'd see in primetime TV, but the violence will increase a bit. I'm just being precautionary. The foul language or seemingly the lack of it will remain. I'm not a casual user of it and the writers I like don't use it. Maybe it's because I was raised by a high school principal and it's been imprinted in my brain. lol. But yeah, any discomfort with the rating, please speak up. Hope you're enjoying it! Nikki**


	46. Golden

**XLVI. Golden**

_Oh yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah_

_I'm taking my freedom  
Pulling it off the shelf  
Putting it on my chain  
Wearing it 'round my neck  
I'm taking my freedom  
Putting it in my car  
Wherever I choose to go  
It will take me far  
I'm…_

_Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden, golden  
(Repeat)_

_I'm taking my own freedom  
Putting it in my song  
Singing loud and strong  
Grooving all day long  
I'm taking my freedom  
Putting it in my stroll  
I be high-stepping ya'll  
Letting the joy unfold  
I'm…_

_Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden, golden_

_I'm holding on to my freedom  
Can't take it from me  
I was born into it and it comes naturally  
I'm strumming my own freedom  
Playing the God in me  
Representing His glory  
Hope He's proud of me!  
Yeah!_

_Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden (Hope he's proud of me!)  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden  
Living my life like it's golden, golden_

**Golden is the property of Jill Scott and appears in the film _Beauty Shop_.**

**"Practically Perfect" is a song from the Broadway play _Mary Poppins. The song is not my property and was written by the Sherman Brothers. _Original characters by the author Julian Fellowes.**

Of course, he's never noticed this before. The abundant sunshine of Los Angleses is revealing it to him. It highlights every fleck of the brown tints in her hair (he had no idea she had so many), stretched almost endlessly against the pillow. It showcases every perfect pore, the gentle curves of her cheekbones, the graceful length of her neck. Each crease, bend in her limbs seems so perfect. His favorite has to be the line going down her back. Her golden skin is luminiscent, glowing with a set smoothness as the rays play against her body. She looks like a painting, untouchable, beautiful with its rich color. Yet he can touch her.

He tenderly strokes the long line down her back, Manny failing to move. It feels like bumpy satin. At the base, her skin is tanner, almost the color of lighter honey. Toby's not sure whether to leave her side or stroll to the washroom as the clock switches to six-thirty. Luckily, the alarm clock doesn't sound to wake her. He'd hate that.

Toby slides from under the covers, pulls on his boxers. Manny's still fast asleep. The washroom door is already open so that's good. Stepping inside, he takes a look at his reflection in the mirror. Okay, so there's a girl in the bed right outside. That fact remains pretty shocking to him. He slept with someone, and by all accounts, she enjoyed it as much as he did. Then, more unsurprising thoughts spring to his conscious. This is his girlfriend and she loves him for the person he is. He's known her since they were twelve, has been unflinchingly loyal since they were twelve, kept up with his love life since they were twelve. Now, she is his love life. He couldn't have asked for a more amazing first time, and there are a fair amount of people that don't get one like that.

That doesn't change the feeling he has in regards to his hair. A large portion of it sticks out at the center of his head. Ugh, he can't let Manny see him like this, especially after last night. What better way to ruin the afterglow than to look all rough. True, Manny didn't have any gripes with his appearance when they were together. But it was dark and they were caught up in each other.

Toby stares into the mirror one more time. Despite his tired countenance, he's no different than he was yesterday. His facial features haven't changed or his figure or his eyes. Inwardly, well, that's another story. He feels ready to smile at every minute or feels that he's taller. There's an instant spark that makes his heart dance a little.

He was kind of hoping that the body would match the soul, but that's put to rest as he checks his breath. Yeesh. It wasn't bad, though it's not fresh either. Here he is without any means to correct it. He searches in vain for a hotel mint or maybe he can swish his mouth with a cup of water. Both ideas prove fruitless. Toby sighs and walks back to the bedroom.

Walking to the bed, he grins. Manny's hand shifted to hold the blankets tighter to her frame. He loves that she doesn't snore, among other things. Kate snored...loudly. His father said it was just another flaw to love. Well, he's not fond of Manny viewing his early morning flaws.

The relief comes from the sight of a wrapped mint on the nightstand, beside the phone in a small dish. Toby nods, sits at the edge of the bed. The wrapper's firmly on there. The light crinkling fills the quiet room. He is trying to be as silent as possible. Nope, very stuck, thinks Toby, tugging at one end. Then it flies, flies right to Manny's forehead.

"Hmphhh," moans Manny, eyes remaining closed as she wrinkles her nose.

Toby puts his hands against his face. Dumb, he condemns himself. He's assaulting his new lover with candy...great.

"What's going on?" murmurs Manny, eyes finally showing.

"Um...," begins Toby.

How do you explain something strange to the girl you love, or admit that your breath is less than nice? Toby doesn't have time to answer as Manny tugs at his arm, signalling that she wants him closer.

"Good morning," says Manny, brightly.

"Morning," returns Toby.

"There's like six million things I want to say to you," shares Manny.

Toby lets his head settle against the blanket. He kind of likes that she's doing the talking, and not only because he lacks a toothbrush.

Manny's gaze falls to the blanket, then gleam as they focus on him.

"The main jist of the million things?" continues Manny. "Last night...ranks at the top of the most beautiful love scenes. And..."

"And?" whispers Toby.

"And I'm happy," says Manny, hugging him from the side.

Well, sprawled against the sheets with her like this is resulting in him loosing all trappings. That's for sure.

"I kinda hit you with a mint," sighs Toby apologetically.

"Tobes," laughs Manny, locating the mint in the space between them.

"Aside from that, though, I don't feel bad about anything that's happened," says Toby, smiling. "In fact, I feel...feel incredible."

"I love you, but if we're going to make this work, you have to be more than Mr. Incredible," says Manny. "You know that, don't you?"

Toby arches his eyebrows in confusion, then smiles in recognition.

"_The Incredibles_," offers Manny.

"Uh...okay," says Toby. "Sometimes I wish I had never met you. Because then I could sleep at night knowing there was someone like you out there."

"_Good Will Hunting_," identifies Manny, clearly impressed. "About the math genius."

"I like math," defends Toby.

"Yeah," says Manny. "Those congruent triangles and quandrangles and...pentangles?"

"There actually are pentangles," says Toby. "More of an astronomy thing, though. Five straight lines between the vertices of a pentagon, enclosing another pentagon..."

Manny smiles softly. "This is the most educational pillow talk ever..."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," laughs Toby.

"No, it's cute and only six thirty," says Manny, letting a finger trace the back of his head. "Go on."

"Gotta start getting dressed. The tour bus, remember?" says Toby.

He stands, reaches to help Manny to her feet.

"Can't we do a _Groundhog Day_?" complains Manny, burying her face in the blanket. "Relive the last twenty-four hours?"

Toby bends to her ear, kisses it. "Up."

"Then you wouldn't have to leave," says Manny, exposing a frown to him.

Yep. At the end of the today, he'd be off to Toronto, home while Manny is thousands of miles away. He can't think of that currently. They have to be at the tour space at nine or so.

"Yeah," says Toby, finding his shirt and folding it.

Releasing a defeated breath, Manny manages to rise and rub her eyes. Her feet pitter-patter to the washroom. Her absence for those few seconds practically drills in that she's going. Their night together wouldn't make him miss her more...he was always going to miss her more after the events of this trip. That said, it adds greater weight to what will occur this evening.

"Toby!" sing-songs Manny.

"I'm here!" says Toby playfully.

"You better be," kids Manny.

Manny reenters the room, leads Toby to the bed. It takes all his resolve not to suggest that they hop right back in there.

"As you know, I woke up before you," reminds Manny.

"You're going to hold that against me or something?" teases Toby.

"Nope," says Manny, climbing behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders.

"I wanted you to know that last night...was just as special to me," says Manny in a lower voice. "A smorgasbord of special."

"Alright," says Toby, eyes falling to the carpet.

"For some guys, the girls give them their panties, but that's not really you so...," begins Manny, turning red.

Toby's cheeks match her redness. Honestly, would he know where to put her underwear? No, he has to confess to himself. Manny removes an enveloped-size piece of paper and presents it to him.

"I decided this would be more you," shares Manny.

He takes it, identifies it as a piece of the Chateau Marmont's stationary. In the center is a pink lipstick stain, last night's date in the middle of the lips. M.S. and T.I. were also written in Manny's handwriting in clear, black pen. Toby beams.

"Has the date, address, everything," breathes Manny. "Very historic...very precise...very Toby. Memorable and romantic. Stick it in your wallet?"

"Going in there now," promises Toby. "Thanks, Manny."

This is him. He'd cherish this small piece of paper until...well, forever. He's certain he'll care for her that long, too.

"My favorite gift," reveals Toby.

"Nothing beats the gift you gave me last night," assures Manny. "Being your first...your first experience? To me, it's a treasure."

"Don't spend it all in one place," jokes Toby.

Manny rocks him to the side, making Toby chuckle.

"Oh yeah?" laughs Manny. "How about I make you spent instead?"

"Okay, even I got that dirty innuendo," says Toby, pulling her to her feet.

"For real?" says Manny. "Then it really is a brand new day."

"Get dressed," says a grinning Toby, leading her to the washroom.

II.

"The hall lights aren't even on yet," groans Alex as Ellie peers into the MI lab.

"I can't believe someone will be sitting in my assigned seat next year," says Ellie.

She can't believe a lot of things after returning to her alma mater. This is her first time coming in as an alumnus to her alma mater. Wow. She has an alma mater. Suddenly, she feels so old. Alex strolls beside her.

"Nobody's here," comments Ellie.

"Heh," says Alex. "Maybe because at nine-thirty, sane people are in their beds during summer vacation. Maybe because at nine-thirty, your mind is still getting that it has to function. Maybe because it's July...oh yeah, and it's nine-thirty!"

"Have to get another handbook," defends Ellie. "So sue me."

"I love you, and the ride...no biggie," says Alex. "But...nine-thirty!"

"On your day off," consoles Ellie. "I'll repay you...it's a guarantee."

Ellie spots the light she was searching for. The phone message said that someone would be in either the MI lab or the main office. The main office is lit and she can detect some shuffling feet. Ellie and Alex walk in to view Ms. Kwan straightening some folders in a file cabinet.

"Hey, girls!" greets Ms. Kwan. "Never thought I'd see a pair of graduates so soon."

"Nice to see you too," returns Ellie.

"Hey," says Alex, nonchalantly.

"Came for the driver's ed student handbook," says Ellie.

"Right," says Ms. Kwan. "Let me go get it for you."

As Ms. Kwan exits, Ellie and Alex lean against the front desk. To her knowledge, Alex hasn't picked up on the real reason why she needed a lift to Degrassi. Sean was coming to the school's parking lot at noon. He'd phoned her right before she went to bed. It was great to hear him speak, though it was on her voicemail. She'd have to reward Alex for the ride, and since she talked to Sean for her.

"Shopping spree to Movie Maniac at the mall?" offers Ellie.

"Why does everyone always assume that since I work at the movie theater that I'm a film addict?" wonders Alex aloud.

"It's a forgivable assumption," says Ellie, twisting her lips.

"If there's no guts, guns, or funny gags, I'm not interested," shrugs Alex. "Alright...a spree it is."

"So you wouldn't be open to a Roman Polanski box set?" questions Ellie jokingly.

"Roman Polans-what?" says Alex.

"Never mind," says Ellie.

She enjoyed making Alex clueless once in a while, especially since Alex killed her whenever they played cards. She should've harrassed Marco to teach her more games. Oh well, journalism over poker. Ellie rifles through the university mail she received, the mail that she didn't read since she was too busy immersed in Sean's thesaurus. Some financial reminders, event fliers, and...roommate information?

"Hey, I get to know who I'm living with for a year," announces Ellie.

"I'm roommate curious," says Alex, brushing some hair from her face. "Open."

Ellie reads the introduction of the letter after tearing the envelope. There was nothing exciting, the paragraph merely explaining how roommate selection was practiced.

"Hopefully, it's a journalism major," says Ellie to Alex. "Or English. Film would be cool too."

"Where's her name?" asks Alex.

"I don't...," says Ellie, then scanning the bottom. "What? Amberly?"

Alex laughs loudly. "What kind of name is that?"

"Cool people can have interesting names...or not," says Ellie, frowning. "Ugh, please don't let this girl be a sorority bunny. What parents would name their kid that?"

"The same that would send their daughter to a place with a president's tea social?" grimaces Alex, glancing at the flier.

"Uhhh?" blanks Ellie.

"What the heck do you do at a president's tea social?" grimaces Alex.

"Drink tea and meet the president?" guesses Ellie.

These events are sort of not her thing. Why can't she drink mocha lattes with the English professor or something?

"I bet Amberly tries to make you make a quilt with her the first day," teases Alex.

"I'm not stitching," assures Ellie. "And this president's tea thing..."

"Oh, the president's tea social," remarks Ms. Kwan, returning to her with the handbook. "The one at U of Toronto? That's such a nice way to meet people. Glad you're going, Ellie."

Gross. She's not going anywhere. Ellie smiles politely.

"Thank you," she says.

"Those were the most intellectually stimulating years of my life," reminisces Ms. Kwan. "I had to commute from home to school, though. That was a pain."

"That's what I'll most likely be doing," says Alex.

"University, Alex?" says Ms. Kwan, grinning. "Good for you."

"Yep...soon as I get some tuition money," supplies Alex.

"There's a possible job for you during for the next school year," says Ms. Kwan. "Assistant to the lacrosse coach. Interested?"

"Hmm, that doesn't...suck," muses Alex.

"We'll using Daphne's computer to find the ad," says Ms. Kwan. "Come on back."

Alex walks behind the desk as Ms. Kwan goes inside the office.

"Going to the prinicipal's office for a good reason?" whispers Alex. "How...not me."

Ellie smirks as Alex disappears as well. She can't help being a bit proud of her friend. She knows she has it easier with two parents funding her education, not to mention her room and board. Her room with...Amberly? She can't judge someone by their name, though. However, she's heard so many first-year roommate tales of terror. Suck it up, Ellie, she tells herself. You won't know until you get there.

"I can't feasibly write you a recommendation, Jay," says a voice from under the office door. "Not until you tell me why you were fired from Luis'."

Creeping to the door, Ellie glances through the small window. Jay's tall body is indeed right smack behind it and the second figure is harder to view. She stands on her tip-toes. Oh, it's Mr. Ehl in his wheelchair. Mr. Ehl would serve as the main driving instructor, and when she was dating Sean, she learned he was a kind teacher too. Mr. Simpson kind? Nah, he's rough around the edges, but he gave Sean a second chance like Simpson did. Ellie could understood anyone wanting to give Sean a second chance. Hasn't she?

"What's to explain?" moans Jay. "Luis hates me."

"Luis doesn't hate anyone," sighs Mr. Ehl. "Tell me."

"Fine. We had a disagreement," shares Jay.

"Jay, told you to watch that temper. There's always a disagreement, isn't there?" scolds Mr. Ehl.

"Look, I'm trying," says Jay, softly. "That's why I need this."

"Gimme the form," says Mr. Ehl.

Jay smiles slightly, then his eyes find...her. Ellie glances at the floor guiltily. In any case, Jay's expression changes drastically.

"This would be a good...good recommendation?" asks Jay, tentatively.

"An honest one is the best I can do," provides Mr. Ehl.

"A pity one?" cries Jay. "Nah. Uh-uh. Scratch it. I'm done taking hand-outs."

"Jay!" exclaims Mr. Ehl.

With that, Jay starts to walk away. Man, was he acting that way because of her? Ellie takes a deep breath, pushes through the office door. She gives Mr. Ehl a quick look, then trails Jay. He was almost at the Degrassi entrance.

"You walk fast," calls Ellie after him.

Jay halts. When she's closer to him, she can see that his eyes, though clear and alert, are distracted. His basketball cap is fraying at the edges and his jeans are wrinkled.

"Fleeing from the scene of the crime," says Jay, grinning sadly. "I am expelled."

"How's it going? Haven't seen you in weeks," says Ellie.

"Working," answers Jay.

"That recommendation for Hill's?" questions Ellie.

Perhaps she's being too nosy, though she's certain Sean told her that all Hill's mechanics came with recommendations. She considers this question not to be too intrusive.

"Something else," replies Jay. "Not gonna pan out...whatever."

Ellie glances at his hands. He's gripping multiple sheets and forms, a thicker book. She doesn't ever think she's seen Jay with homework, or books for that matter.

"Care to share?" encourages Ellie, smiling.

"Uh...the thing I've noticed?" says Jay. "I kinda don't like having a boss. Like at all."

"People telling you what to do...get it," assures Ellie.

"So I'd like to know what to do, when it comes to everything," continues Jay. "Having a paper that says I can do everything."

Ellie looks blankly at him, takes the paperwork that Jay gives to her. The thin book is a starter text on mechanics, and the documents and forms consists of a syllabus, class schedule, and classroom checklist.

"Jay, this is...," begins Ellie with excitement.

"It's a mechanic's license," waves off Jay, grinning anyway. "Not a high school or college diploma or..."

"A thing not to try to do," says Ellie.

"Have this stupid dream to get my own shop," says Jay, readjusting his cap. "Hogart's Body Shop. Not actually selling bodies. Although, I'd make sure those bodies were hot if it were."

Ellie laughs. "Hey, maybe you and Sean can go into business together."

Jay's expression falls. Why? She didn't think it was a stupid concept. Sure, Sean would like his own business too, but they could be partners.

"Like Sean would want to," mutters Jay, then more clearly. "That's why I'm bothering Mr. Ehl."

"It's not a bother to him," reassures Ellie. "He's seen your talent with cars."

"And me getting into a lot of trouble," says Jay.

"Jay, ask for the recommendation. What harm can it do?" says Ellie.

If he's agreeable to her, she can't tell. Figuring it best to leave the advice button off after that, Ellie returns the paperwork to Jay. He stares at it.

"Don't tell Lexi," whispers Jay. "If it's not gonna happen, she'd be...like disappointed."

Not that she likes keeping secrets, but Jay's already so nervous that she doesn't want to increase it.

"Secret's safe with me," says Ellie.

Jay offers her a thankful smile, waves before retreating down the hall. Ellie wonders if that's the sole secret Jay is keeping. If Sean has one or two, Jay might have some as well. Whatever they are, she wishes him the best of luck.

III.

A pigeon bounds around the pavement, beak chattering as it locates crumbs of bread. Finding a morsel, it chews greedily, swallowing hard as it peers at Craig. Seated at the table at a cafe, he eats the rest of his sausage. Craig's eyes keep darting from the bird to his cell. Robert Kerwin or Chris would be ringing him shortly. They'd come down the street, all smiles and lightness. They'd accompany him and Ashley to a show Robert paid for. They'd be totally unaware that their daughter hates him. Okay, maybe hate's too strong a word.

He's having a hard time reading Ashley after their performance at the Pic and Pub. She chatted with everyone but him. She didn't say anything when Craig told her he'd be sleeping in the common area. She didn't ask to borrow a CD of his, which she usually did when she felt like zoning out. On the other side of the coin, she was avoiding Mark, and she asked Aja on several occasions where Craig was if he wasn't on the bus. Aja told him that. Unlike the audience reaction when they performed, Ashley's reactions were mixed.

The tune on his cellphone rings, Craig answering.

"Hello, Mr. Kerwin?" says Craig.

"Yeah, if he had less hair," replies the voice on the other end.

"Hey, Joey," says Craig. "What's up?"

"Calling to see how you were," answers Joey. "How the tour's going. How Ashley is."

"It's eventful," says Craig.

"As long as you're acting with some sense," says Joey, chuckling. "No. I'm not worried about you or Ashley. That girl's got a good head on her shoulders."

While Joey is right, Ashley has been emotionally all over the place, has to the point where she's reaching for distractions. Liquid distractions in the form of alcohol.

"Ashley's...being Ashley," says Craig, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Ang!" shouts Joey. "Get the phone and say hi to Craig."

Craig eagerly awaits hearing Angie's hello. She usually managed to put him in a good mood.

"Hello? Craig?" says Angie.

"Hey, Ang!" says Craig. "How's it..."

"Can I have your room?" interrupts Angie.

"What?" exclaims Craig, sitting up.

"You're at university...in what, three months?" says Angie. "I want to paint it lavender!"

"Angie," chastises Joey.

"He'll be eighteen soon," defends Angie. "An adult."

"Don't touch my room yet...please," sighs Craig.

"I already put my _Zoey 101_ poster on a wall," says Angie.

"No!" protests Craig. "Get that teenybopper off my wall!"

"I'll handle it," says Joey, the phone clicking off.

Ugh, watch him come home to a Nickelodeon museum instead of his bedroom. He would be leaving home shortly. Angie did have a point. The University of Toronto is an option what with half his friends attending. He might room with Marco maybe. His original, most appealing plan is to find an apartment with Ashley. They could live at home, each of them, and save for a place to move in during the spring semester. Highly possible.

Or it's not so possible, laments Craig inwardly. Perhaps he was rude last night. He liked Sarah Lincoln alright and he and Ashley played to a boisterous crowd. Still, he doesn't want Ashley slighted. Her agreeing not to play her original song is so not like her. Was she that caught up in the wave of compliments? This is her moment so she should make the most of it, and the most of it includes sharing her own work.

Are these his principles that he's throwing on her? Shouldn't you have high expectations for someone you love, especially if it helps that person love themselves? He's been getting on her so much lately, not having as much fun as he'd like. Craig wipes his hands with his napkin.

The wiping is the single sound he hears until a chair is pulled from his table. Craig blinks maddeningly as Ashley takes a seat opposite him. She's wearing a white shirt, denim jacket, and that skirt they'd retrieved at the thrift store. The outfit made her appear more carefree than the frown on her face.

"Angie's turning my room into a preteen paradise," says Craig.

Ashley releases a sigh, begins playing with her thumbnail. Craig raises his arm for the check.

"Wanna know how many pounds this is?" asks Craig, lifting his empty plate.

"A bigger fan of euros," says Ashley, quietly.

Craig props his chin against his palm, as his elbow meets the table. Ashley casts subtle glances at him.

"Are you going to tell your parents why we're not speaking or am I?" says Craig.

The last statement comes out annoyed because he certainly is, and she should be made aware of that fact. Craig shakes his head.

"You arranged this little meeting," says Ashley.

"Actually, your dad did," corrects Craig. "He thought it'd be a wonderful day for you. I was sort of hoping for the same."

Craig and Ashley exchange a long look, clocking in at around thirty seconds or so. He did want this day to go off without a hitch. This would earn him some credit with Robert or Chris. He almost thinks Kate is a lost cause. But if their daughter can't stand him, why try?

"We're not speaking because...," begins Ashley.

"Because?" prompts Craig.

"Because you're looking out for me a little too much," finishes Ashley.

"I love you...so why is that a problem?" says Craig.

"It's a problem since I want my freedom," counters Ashley. "I want to decide what to do without worrying what you'll think. I mean, remember the first day on the bus?"

The first day on the bus? Craig thinks backwards to that moment. Yes, he recalls Ashley saying that she was going to enjoy having that freedom and how he was going along with it. That's the day he also sipped from Aja's flask. It's funny how some moments aren't important until they're brought back up in conversation.

"I understand," sighs Craig.

"Craig, I appreciate your concern," says Ashley, taking his hand. "I love that you want what's best for me. But I have to decide what's best for me."

"Not me," adds Craig.

"Not you," affirms Ashley. "Though I'm always into hearing your opinions."

"My opinion is that...yeah, I've been nagging you," sighs Craig.

He rolls her hand a couple times with his, grins at her.

"My opinion is that...I'd like to have a good time with you today," says Craig.

Ashley leaves her chair as Craig accepts the bill from a waiter. She kisses Craig's head through his curls. He's just paid as his cell rings again. It's Robert and they were waiting at the venue. Craig stands.

"The rents are stationed," announces Craig.

"Okay...no idea what that means," admits Ashley as Craig drags her to the end of the street.

The early London morning hours are somewhat hectic. People still worked in the hot months. Wandering Picadilly yesterday makes him less of a stranger, though. Besides, it's easy to spot a theater.

Britain has a lot of theaters. Craig noticed that as the tour bus rolled on from stop to stop. There aren't many theaters like the Picadilly Theatre London, however. The building looks fresh from outer space. A circular white building, resembling the dome of a stadium, stands in the middle of the busy sidewalk. Red banners present the name of the stage actors. Well-dressed theatergoers clasp richly colored programs as a couple ushers check their watches.

"Why are we...," says Ashley, her questions evaporating as she takes it in.

This is the reaction Robert was counting on, a reaction that left Ashley speechless. Craig's glad he is the first to view it. Ashley's eyes scan the posters attached to the windows. The gallery showcases pictures of a neatly dressed woman with flowers on her hat, rosy cheeks, and her infamous umbrella. There were two children, a blonde girl and a dark-headed boy, at her side. The children weren't in every poster; the woman is since she's the true star of this production.

Craig catches sight of Robert and Chris, both nicely dressed for a night at the theater. Craig didn't have any dressy clothes. He hadn't figured that he'd need them on tour. He told Ashley to wear something dressy, so at least she's alright.

"Ashley!" greets Robert as they go forward.

"Mary Poppins!" cries Ashley, hugging her dad instantly.

"We all know it's your favorite," says Robert, glancing from Craig to Chris.

"The musical?" says Ashley. "I've never seen it."

"That's why we bought tickets," says Chris, chuckling. "Entrent, madamoiselle."

"We're not in France, Chris," laughs Robert.

Chris and Ashley walk into the theater, Craig starting to follow. He's stopped by Robert putting his program against Craig's chest. What? They didn't want him to come? It sounded like they did. Maybe Kate has badmouthed him so horribly that it's earned her father's venom too.

"Thanks for getting her here," says Robert.

"My pleasure. Should I wait outside or..." offers Craig.

"Outside?" says Robert, forehead wrinkling. "Then we'd be wasting a ticket."

Craig's sure his smile can't get any wider as he takes the ticket from Robert. They would like to get to know him. The sad thing is they probably wouldn't hurt him like his own dad did, even if he and Ashley split.

"You're keeping an eye on her?" asks Robert, holding the door open for him.

"As much as she'll let me," answers Craig.

"Well, that's all a father can ask," says Robert, nodding as they head into the dark warmth of the playhouse.

IV.

"Hey, mint murderer!" yells Manny as she turns off the running faucet.

She can practically tell Toby's smiling from the other room based on his reply.

"I never should've told you!" yells Toby back.

"I've got tons more," assures Manny. "Butterscoth batterer, peanut butter cup pulverizer, caramel killer..."

"I'm a pacifist," remarks Toby, standing in the doorway.

"Tell that to the innocent candy," says Manny, smiling and shaking her head.

Toby throws up his arms, Manny laughing. After showering and putting her hair in a ponytail, she has her own mint secret. Mack, the owner of the suite Toby revealed, has stored a bottle of mouthwash in the rear of the cabinet under the mirror. She swigged some, spat it out once she thought her breath was passable. Manny had to phone Lia for the other necessities. She couldn't very well go on a Hollywood tour in her ball gown. Not even actress want all that attention. Surprisingly, Lia was up and raring to help. They'd be meeting in the lobby and...

"Hello?" says a distant voice.

A Lia voice. Manny's mouth falls open. There's a persisent banging on the door of the suite. Toby, none the wiser, goes straight to the direction of the pounding.

"No...Toby!" whispers Manny.

Ugh, the boy's out of earshot. Manny, in her slip and undies, peeks from the bedroom to the living area.

"Oh, hi Toby," greets Lia. "Looking for Manny."

Toby scratches the back of his neck. "Uh...she's...she's..."

She should put her boyfriend out of his misery.

"I'm...right here," says Manny, presenting herself and biting her lip.

"Whoa," says Lia, smiling at them both.

Manny moves Toby to the side so she's in the hallway with Lia. Dressed immacuately, unlike herself, Lia wears a cropped green jacket over a white halter dress, gladiator heels on her feet. In her grasp she has a bag full of Manny's street clothes, and a garment bag for Manny's ball gown and accessories. Manny asked her to bring a shirt for Toby, quite sure one of Kel's might fit Toby.

"Good morning," greets Manny, leaving the door ajar a sliver.

"I'll say," giggles Lia.

Manny touches her warm cheeks, then glances awkwardly from left to right.

"Where is Toby supposed to be?" says Lia, winking.

"Colin's?" admits Manny.

"Winging it...winging it," says Lia with a satisfied nod. "Colin can spin a good lie. Don't worry."

"Thanks," says Manny.

"Am I the first to...," starts Lia.

"Yes," interjects Manny. "We've been on the D.L...the downlow."

Manny laughs nervously, then grows silent.

"Well, I'm honored to be the first recepient of these glad tidings," jokes Lia. "The visuals are helping too."

Manny covers her slip instinctively as Lia laughs. Alright, yes, she looks foolish in this get-up. That's why she requires the clothes.

"So details, details," says Lia. "Steamy or sensual? Awkward or amazing?"

"I have absolutely no complaints," answers Manny, smiling from ear to ear.

"Manny!" cries Lia.

"That's all I can offer pre-tour," says Manny. "Outfit...please."

Lia begrudgingly gives her the set of bags. It's not her fault the timing's off and she can't blab about it. In fact, she's not sure if she wants to...not before telling Emma. This is kind of a best friend thing.

"Or you could come on tour with us and I'll tell you later," suggests Manny.

"I've seen that Hollywood sign so many times I know which letter is the biggest," dismisses Lia. "It's the W."

"Okay," says Manny. "What are you doing today? Staying home?"

"Uh, there's this acting discussion Arissa told me about," says Lia, playing with her hair furiously.

"She didn't mention it at camp," says Manny.

"Yeah, at the ball last night," explains Lia. "An all day thing on acting for the camera. But you've been in a movie so it's not like you need it."

"Mmm, I'd rather trek across Beverly Hills with Toby," admits Manny.

"Who could blame you?" says Lia. "Especially considering..."

Lia bounces on her heels with a smile as Manny lightly pushes her.

"I want the extended version eventually," says Lia.

"Can't promise you bonus features," says Manny.

"Or director's commentary," kids Lia. "Ahhh, I gotta leave."

Right. She didn't want Lia to be late for her discussion after she'd driven to give Manny last minute items. Lia was going beyond the call of duty as far as she's concerned. The petty fights they'd had seem pale in comparison to Lia being there for her.

"You've been great to me, particularly the last couple days," thanks Manny. "Calling Colleen...getting me the script. Letting Em go to the ball. And this."

Lia glances at the ceiling, then at her.

"Manny?" she says.

"Uh-huh?" says Manny.

"Manny, that audition is...," begins Lia.

"It's tomorrow," says Manny. "You told me. Thanks."

"It...it is tomorrow," says Lia, with a faint smile. "Enjoy your last day with Toby."

"Awww," says Manny, then hugging her.

As they part, she feels that Lia's hands are cold and her heart has quickened. Without looking at her, Lia ducks into the open elevator. Not sure what elicited that response, Manny shrugs, balances the bags in her hands.

Toby takes one before she topples to the ground. Manny moans and gets up to go to the bedroom. All Manny's things are meticulously arranged.

"You like me," says Manny, putting her hands on her hips. "You really, really like me."

"It saves time," demurs Toby.

"Saves time so we can kiss more?" options Manny.

"Exactly what I was thinking," says Toby, leaning in to kiss her.

"We were always ending up in hotels," sighs Manny, thoughtfully. "I'm starting to think this was inevitable."

"As inevitable as me kissing you right now?" whispers Toby.

"Exactly what I was thinking," says Manny, letting the inevitable happen.

V.

"We better keep our eyes on this one," says a dark-haired boy of nine. "She's tricky."

Collective laughter sounds through the theater, Ashley joining in. That was the great part of the theater. You could disappear, be so unnoticeable. It's almost a law. There's no flash of cameras, phones to expose your voice, and there's this divide that signals who you're really supposed to pay attention to, the performer.

The performer has a hard task in front of them, the most difficult task. They're onstage, under the lights, praying or wishing or desiring that audience members will like them, even if it is for just under two hours. They'll dance until their feet bleed and blister. They'll sing until their voice cracks and the song ends. They'll act until you believe they're someone else.

Mary Poppins, or the actress portraying her, appears to be a consummate performer. Her singing is as lovely as a songbird, clear and crisp as a bell. She stands with the most confident posture. Her hair is tucked in the primmest of updos, and the blue coat, black skirt, and white blouse are spotless. Ashley couldn't separate the actress from the character and that's a good thing. With the children, Mary is pacing in an erected park with black benches and high brick walls. She sings as Ashley breathes:

_By the tune the wind has blown the weather vane around  
I'll show you if I can  
No matter what the circumstance for one thing I'm renowned  
My character is spit spot spic and span  
I'm practically perfect in every way..._

Mary is revealing her many fine attributes to Jane and Michael, and you have to agree since the actress is giving off an aura of timeless perfection. Robert throws her a smile and faces the stage again. Chris, the bigger theater fan, is apparently having the time of his life. He already sung along to two songs and they weren't at the intermission yet. Craig, seated on Ashley's other side, would squeeze her hand whenever they came upon a moment she told him she liked in the actual film version.

"_Practically perfect_?" sings Jane in disbelief.

The blonde-haired girl in a pretty pink dress and high stockings stares widely at Mary Poppins.

Mary nods, smiles assuredly and sings:

_So people say  
Each virtue virtually knows no bound each trait is great and patiently sound  
I'm practically perfect from head to toe  
If I had a fault it would never dare to show  
I'm so practically perfect in every way_

_Both prim and proper and never too stern  
Well-educated yet willing to learn  
I'm clean and honest my manner refined  
and I wear shoes of the sensible kind  
I suffer no nonsense and whilst I remain  
there's nothing else I feel I need to explain_

The three characters mosey in the English park, Mary Poppins consistently telling her charges that they've found the right woman for the job. Her qualifications were so broad, abundant. Ashley thinks of why she likes this character. Honestly, most of Ashley's likes had a touch of realism to them. She enjoyed raw, natural things, things that weren't tidy. Yet, Mary Poppins is tidy and magical and would be appalled by most rock music she guesses. But she is attractive in other ways. She can do most things at the drop of a hat, can sing beautifully, and doesn't crumble when people, namely the children, are counting on her. It's like she can't crack under pressure.

"Be right back," she whispers to Craig.

Ashley pardons herself as she passes two elderly women discussing what period the wardrobe for the play is. She goes through the red double doors, encounters a lot of movement. That explains it, thinks Ashley. Play paraphernalia crosses her gaze as employees wheel carts with CDs, faux umbrellas, real umbrellas, coloring books, and many other things to the right of the lobby. They'd be getting them during intermission, she wagers. Go where the cash flows.

Or where the wine flows. Ashley watches as a man pours dark red liquid into a martini glass and adds ice. She turns her head when another burst of laughter sounds from behind the theater's doors. A part of her is aware that she should be getting back to her seat. That's what she told Craig. The other part...isn't so prime to return so soon.

"Thirsty?" shouts the man at the bar to her.

"I don't know," says Ashley, walking to him. "What is it?"

"A Chim-Cheree Martini," says the man, settling the glass on a napkin in front of her.

Ashley smirks. "A theme drink?"

"You've entered the realm of artists," shares the man. "There's a name and a theme for everything."

"Don't have to tell me twice. I'm an artist," says Ashley.

"Could tell," says the man. "Pretty girl like you? Thought you had to be an actress or a singer or a dancer..."

He continues his list, Ashley clicking her tongue as he prattles on. Fiddling with her skirt, that horrible conversation with the two girls returns to her mind. They thought she was a pretty groupie who slept with Mark to get on the tour. This assessment, of course, came before they heard her music. Why didn't people look past the pretty? It's been like that since she was a kid, a kid who just wanted to play.

_"I can choose anything?" cried Ashley._

_She linked arms with her father, Kate Kerwin playing with her daughter's hair from the rear._

_"Robert, I'm not sure about these bangs," commented Kate._

_"They're fine, Kate," said Robert._

_The three of them passed Pebble Road, then Fourth, then arrive on Morgan. The summer that year was stifling. Sweat was more frequent than rain. Ashley didn't mind, though. That day was tailor made for her. First, head to the music store to select her first ever instrument. An instrument is better than a doll, which Paige, Barbie's biggest fan when she was seven, disagreed with. Secondly, they'd be having cake at Terri's house. Her father got them an ice cream cake every year for Terri's birthday. Finally, she'd eat dinner with her parents before Robert went overseas to shoot his newest documentary._

_It seemed as though her father was leaving a lot, and it seemed as though her mother didn't care. Ashley cared. She liked having Robert bring her back things from his travels, but that didn't replace the lack of gentle hugs she got at bedtime or the smell of his aftershave when they sat down for breakfast._

_"If you're buying this for me, you have to be here to listen to me," said Ashley._

_Her smile revealed a missing tooth in the corner of her mouth. Only her father could love that imperfect, seven-year old smile, Robert patting her head._

_They reached the music store...**the music store**. Guitars were angled in the display cases, strings shining in the summer rays. The black surface of oboes and clarinets glittered. Shapely violins were propped up in various places like prizes. When they entered, Ashley's awe increased tremendously. There were dozens of stands holding sheet music. A timpani is against the wall, two French horns at rest not too far from there. It was a delicous playground for items that created harmony._

_"Robert, who is this young lady?" asks a genial man from behind the counter._

_Ashley stared at the contents of the glass windows of the counter. Woodwind reeds, polish, guitar picks._

_"This is Ashley," introduced Robert._

_She extended her hand for him to shake._

_"What a little lady," laughed the man._

_"She's got manners," says Kate, proudly. "Max, we're here to select an instrument."_

_"Is that so?" says Max happily. "What do you fancy, Ashley?"_

_She hadn't thought about it. At school, she'd go through this particular hallway, just to hear the band play. They made ugly noises, weird noises, and then they became beautiful noises. There was something enchanting about the switch. Ashley loved to hear the music swell, the clack of instruments when they were being packed up, and it was cool to see kids carrying those black, odd-shaped instrument cases. It was some rich fascination, a club she'd love to be part of._

_"The violin?" replied Ashley shyly._

_"Do you have good arms and strong fingers?" asked Max._

_"Strong fingers...yes," confessed Ashley. "I have small arms."_

_"What about the harp?" said Max._

_"I don't want to hide," replied Ashley._

_That elicited a wave of laughter from the three adults, leaving Ashley flummoxed. At that age, she didn't want to hide behind a tall instrument. If she was going to belong, she wanted people to see why she belonged._

_"The piano!" exclaimed Ashley._

_To her, it made perfect sense. She had the strong fingers and patience. The audience could view her as she tapped the white and black keys. She could support her other band members, while still managing to stand out. Plus, her grandmother played when she was little._

_"Aw, a pretty girl like you behind a big old piano?" remarked Max. "I know! The flute! Very quaint and light."_

_"I can play...play the piano. I'm...I'm dedicated," stammered Ashley._

"_A couple accomplished flautists bought their flutes from me," encouraged Max. "Their delicate arms were a lot like yours when they started."_

_Delicate? She was willing to shove Max into the timpani and show him how delicate a girl she is._

_"The piano's for me," insisted Ashley._

_Robert beamed at her. "I think the young girl has selected her choice."_

_"She'll play piano," added Kate._

Max sighed. "Let me get the catalogue."

_Ashley stood between her two parents, both of them placing their hands on her shoulder. She let them stay, clasped them with her small hands._

_"I'll play the music I like," said Ashley._

_"We have no doubt you will," said Robert, sharing a smile with Kate._

Perhaps they should've had doubts. Ashley has doubts when her first tour performance replays in her mind, the boos louder, the stage bigger. That's when the performer disappeared and she panicked. Would she panic again? Who knows?

"Who cares?" breathes Ashley, sitting at the bar.

"You paying for that?" jokes the man after Ashley presents her ID.

Ashley hands him some money. "This isn't deadly, is it?"

"The only deadly thing is how good it tastes," answers the man. "Chim Cheree Martinis are delicious poison."

Sure, they are, thinks Ashley. How much does he get paid to say that every night?

Ashley momentarily swishes the liquid in the glass. There's a cherry at the bottom. She fishes it out, bites into it. The fruit is sweet and tangy against her tongue. Ashley nods appreciatively.

"Can barely taste the alcohol," says the man.

"Looks Shirley Temple-ish," says a pleasant voice behind her.

Ashley grins as her dad takes a seat. The man offers him a drink, but Robert declines. That makes Ashley almost wish she'd declined, emphasis on almost as Ashley takes a couple sips of her drink.

"This is my first and only," reassures Ashley.

"I'm not getting on you for one social drink," says Robert.

One social drink? Uh, there were some other drinks this week. No more after this. No more.

"Going in after this," promises Ashley.

"Take your time," says Robert. "Came to escape Chris singing A Spoonful of Sugar. Which I'm surprised you're missing."

"Wanted to clear my head," says Ashley.

"We have a right to do that," sighs Robert. "Especially when things don't go the way we want."

What hint is he trying to give her? Oh no. Ashley takes in two gulps of her martini.

"You saw the dailies," says Ashley as simply as she can say it.

"Some journalists get paid to write scathing reviews," offers Robert. "To get noticed."

"The only scathing part dealt with me," says Ashley.

"Tonight, let's throw our cares away," suggests Robert, putting an arm around her.

She thought her parents wouldn't be pleased with the broadcasts. The broadcast is the least of her problems. Her dad's taking her out on excursions to cheer her up because she sucks. She should've stayed on the bus. Ashley shrinks from her father's hold.

"Remember Max's music store?" asks Ashley.

"How could I forget?" laughs Robert. "You were addicted to that place when you were small."

"He thought I was pretty enough to play the flute," reminds Ashley.

"Eh, Max was set in his ways. He wanted a third genius slash flautist," assures Robert.

"Other people have those views," says Ashley, rolling her eyes. "They expect me not to screw up because I'm so put together."

"Ashley, people pretend they're put together, and no one is supposed to be perfect."

The brevity of his words brings tears to the corners of her her eyes. They slide to her martini-soaked mouth. The tears aren't because he's telling her the truth. The tears are because as sweet as the words are, they aren't enough anymore. They aren't, not after all the disappointments she's had. She'd love for her father's words to be enough.

"Thanks, Dad," says Ashley, her voice scratchy.

"Your mom and I are so excited for you," says Robert. "To us, you're perfect the way you are."

"I know," chokes out Ashley.

"No more burdens?" prompts Robert. "You'll feel free to do your best?"

"My best," repeats Ashley, barely above a whisper.

"That's my girl," says Robert.

"To freedom," breathes Ashley, raising her glass, then tasting her tears as she drinks.


	47. Life Is A Highway

**XLVII. Life is a Highway**

_Life's like a road that you travel on  
When there's one day here and the next day gone  
Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand  
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind  
There's a world outside every darkened door  
Where blues won't haunt you anymore  
Where the brave are free and lovers soar  
Come ride with me to the distant shore  
We won't hesitate, break down the garden gate  
There's not much time left today_

_Life is a highway  
I want to ride it all night long  
If you're going my way  
I want to drive it all night long_

_Through all these cities and all these towns  
It's in my blood and it's all around  
I love you know like I loved you then  
This is the road and these are the hands  
From Mozambique to those Memphis nights  
The Khyber Pass to Vancouver's lights  
Knock me down get back up again  
You're in my blood I'm not a lonely man_

_There's no load I can't hold  
Road so rough, this I know  
I'll be there when the light comes in  
Tell 'em we're survivors_

_There was a distance between you and I  
Misunderstanding once but now  
We look it in the eye_

_There's no load I can't hold  
Road so rough this I know  
I'll be there when the light comes in  
Tell 'em we're survivors_

**Life is a Highway is the property of Tom Cochrane and appears in the film _Cars_.  
The World I Know is the property of Collective Soul.**

The grinding whirr of it almost sends his pulse racing. Never mind that he has to fix this. This may be the first time that everything seems possible. They'd take off on different stretches of road, watch the yellow lines become blurry, the wind at their back, his tennis shoes on the pedal. The gleaming, red metal body...the large shining wheels...the blinding headlights...the soft black seat. It was all such a tease. This was the bike if he could pick, the motorcycle that would guide him and Ellie from Montreal to Niagara and back again. That is, if their talk goes well. Sean coughs before approaching the owner of the near perfect vehicle.

"I'd want to be buried with this," praises Emmitt.

Unfortunately, Emmitt, unlike Sean, was voicing his admiration for the vehicle and annoying the owner. Sean liked Emmitt, especially since he got him out of trouble with Dale, but sometimes the boy would just go on and on.

"This a Suzuki?" asks Emmitt.

"Man, where you'd come from?" snorts the owner.

He lights a cigarette, a blue and white bandanna over his blonde hair, in a sleeker version of Dale's long ponytail. He wears a leather jacket, and one long earring, a chain with some beads on it.

"It's a Ducati," speaks up Sean, receiving a thankful grin from the man. "Monster model."

Emmitt appears offended, stares longingly at the bike.

"Well, they don't teach bikes in summer school," murmurs Emmitt.

Sean gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before bending down to check the rear.

"Swingarm," identifies Sean. "Mmmm, too many bumps in the road?"

"I ride fast and hard," admits the man.

"Well, when you've got a Monster...," says Sean, nodding affirmatively. "Shouldn't take long."

His assessment is interrupted by the sharp clang of a door. Sean raises his eyes briefly, his sight immediately heading south. Dale, in a white business shirt and black slacks, has a smarmy look on his face. Sean guesses this must be one of the wealthier customers. He'd gotten used to the horrible sight of Dale. What makes his eyes wander is the first sight of Ty ever since Sean saw him ill in that locked room. The things he saw in that room float to his mind once more. Ty shivered and struggled to breathe. There were several unoccupied beds. Becca sang of a home she might not have, in her torn clothes and with a hopeful smile. Now, here's Dale hiding those images. Why? At least Ty appears healthy today, though if Sean isn't imagining it, a little skinnier?

Dale shakes hands with the man.

"Vic, you've returned," says Dale.

"Stupid swingarm's acting up," shares Vic, puffing some smoke.

"How's April?" asks Dale.

"Rejoicing that she gets to be my girlfriend," replies Vic, then laughing. "Nah, she's fine."

Ty leaves Dale's side, grins at the bike.

"Testastretta engine?" whispers Ty, loud enough for them all to hear.

"Yep," says Vic. "Got a smart kid running around this dump, Dale?"

Dale produces a forced laugh. "Kids are getting smarter these days."

Emmitt offers Ty a stony stare, shoves his hands in his pockets. Sean can tell he's uncomfortable with the conversation.

"But of course, Sean here is the smartest employee we have," says Dale, grinning at Sean.

Sean would like nothing more to dislocate every last tooth in that disgusting smile.

"He's always working," continues Dale. "Makes sure it's perfect. Makes sure that whatever can't be found is found."

Sean meets Dale's persistent look.

"A real know-it-all," finishes Dale.

Okay, it's obvious. Either Ty or Becca had squealed on him. He can't blame them because he never told either of them to keep it a secret, and Dale would've suspected something since he saw Sean in the office. That doesn't mean he likes that Dale's insinuating the fact in front of a client.

"Vic, Sean will take care of you," assures Dale. "And Sean...meet me in the shed in five."

Without waiting for an answer, Dale glides by him, Ty in tow. Sean tries to read Ty's expression, but his face is so stoic. He is skinnier, Sean finally decides, before they go into the shack.

"Sean, you should get a Ducati," says Emmitt.

"You looking to buy?" questions Vic. "My girl April's trying to sell hers. Practically the same. Only it's silver."

Whoa. The edges of Sean's mouth turn up, even after that verbal poking by Dale. Because of the money he made from this gig, he had three options. His first option, his original plan, was to sell his car. It was an okay car, but it wasn't ideal for a road trip. While it ran smoothly, it would be a nuisance to find good parking spots at some of their locations. The other option was to buy a cheap one and repair it. This option appealed to him until the job at Hill's became so time-consuming, thanks to Dale's laziness. Now, he has this third option, to purchase a completely good motorcycle.

"The cost is?" prompts Sean.

"I don't believe in setting prices until you try it out," replies Vic. "If Dale trusts you, I trust you."

"Sweet," comments Emmitt, exchanging a smile with Sean.

Sean eagerly checks his watch. Nine-thirty. That's plenty of time before he has to meet Ellie, and yes, he has to meet Ellie. Since he came in early today, Dale probably wouldn't expect him to stick around. Emmitt and a couple other boys were handling most of the new parts.

"You free now?" asks Sean.

"Here, aren't I?" replies Vic. "Go meet the boss man and I'll call April."

That more than works for him. Sean and Emmitt approach the shack, Emmitt chatting on the way.

"Just cause I'm in summer school doesn't mean I'm dumb," mutters Emmitt.

"Yeah," agrees Sean.

"I mean, it takes more brains to fix stuff than to say what stuff is," says Emmitt.

"Don't worry about it," says Sean.

"It's because I'm white and he's black, isn't it?" remarks Emmitt, stopping Sean in his tracks.

"No, man," assures Sean, finding that a strange observation.

"They got higher expectations for me," continues Emmitt. "I got a family, yeah. Tough for me too since I gotta bring money to my mother. Maybe I don't have time to read car magazines."

This is definitely the most open Emmitt's been with him. He can't help wandering if perhaps Jay had a point. None of them particularly have that home with the two wonderful parents and steady money coming in. He doesn't even have what Ellie has, since Tracker and his folks were in Wasaga. They had no one to guide them, except themselves. Or Dale, for whatever reason.

Since they were on the subject of Ty, he can't resist.

"Does Ty have a family to take care of him?" says Sean. "I mean, when I saw him in there, the kid was like trembling and heaving and..."

"He's got bad lungs," shrugs Emmitt. "Can't say more."

Bad lungs? Then he recalls why that name on the bottle of pills sounds so familiar. Decadron. His mother had Tracker go to the store to fetch some for her asthma. Her asthma was really bad during the spring and summer, though not as bad as her insults to her sons during her drinking days. Nevertheless, her heaving breaths were upsetting to him, like they are now at this newest reveal. Why didn't Dale take him to the hospital? Sure, Ty seemed to come through it okay, but what about another day?

"Dale won't take him to a doctor or...," begins Sean.

"Sean, drop it," whispers Emmitt forcefully.

Alarmed at the tone of his voice, Sean's mouth closes.

"Sorry...it's a sticky subject," says Emmitt with an apologetic glance.

"Fine," says Sean.

He steps through the door of the shack, leaving Emmitt behind. There were a couple other boys at the back of the shack, out of earshot. Ty's head rested against a clear table. The guy is so quiet that he even sleeps quietly. You could only view his chest go up and down. Dale was turning over a caliper with a grimace on his face.

"Here," announces Sean.

"Where's your pal, Jay?" questions Dale.

"Not sure. We don't talk," answers Sean.

Sean hates that that is the truth. He's seen less of Jay than he's seen of Ty recently. Jay's hours at both Hill's and the shack were preventing any interaction. Basically, Sean believes this is intentional. He'd love to talk to his best friend, however, and smooth things out.

"Maybe he's not interested anymore," supplies Sean.

Of course, he'd love that to be the case. He'd be leaving soon too if he had anything to say about it.

"Maybe he should be interested," says Dale. "I've done a lot for that pathetic pothead."

"That pathetic pothead is a better mechanic than you, and I bet your daddy would say the same," shoots back Sean.

Dale roughly tosses the caliper on the table, getting the attention of the other boys and waking Ty. Sean couldn't help it. While he may not always say the right things to Jay, he wouldn't let anyone else, least of all Dale, speak lowly of Jay.

Walking to a desk, Dale leans against its side.

"You ain't jack, Cameron," exclaims Dale. "You come from some trailer park, which is a notch above a crackhouse. Your parents were drunks. Your brother ditched you. What kind of family is that?"

"Mine," answers Sean simply.

"Well, I don't care," returns Dale, softly. "This is your family now. And me? I'm Daddy Dearest. You're either finding Jay to fix these calipers or you're staying and doing it."

No way is he doing either. He's already disappointed Ellie and he's not ditching her for anyone.

"Screw you," says Sean.

Sean turns and heads for the door. He hears a collective gasp in his ears and a click. A little click. He's heard that click before, about two years ago. Sean swallows a lump in his throat, stares at the cold, black barrel of a gun. From the corner of his eye, he spies Ty shaking slightly.

"This is what I call a family emergency...meaning these have to be done today," says Dale, his hands shaking as he holds the gun.

"I'm going to see my real family," says Sean, his whole body getting cooler by the moment.

He has to move. He has to act like he's unfazed. Sean takes a step toward Dale.

"They're in Wasaga," laughs Dale, then his face growing tense. "Unless you mean..."

"Ellie is my family," fills in Sean.

Dale lowers the gun without another word. He's uncertain why he does or what he's thinking or what this means for him. All he knows is that someone's waiting for him, someone who made him feel more at home, in any surrounding, and within himself. This is what moves him to cross the floor, to press through the door, to not look behind in fear.

II.

"Where were you last night?"

It figures Emma would ask the most obvious and most complicated question first. Manny straightens her lime green camisole top, then strokes the legs of her denim shorts as she sits on the fairly hot bench near the bus stop. Toby had gone to retrieve snacks for them with J.T. volunteering to help. No one had to help the man who came minutes earlier to retrieve something more precious-- the jewels she wore last night. Sure enough, a uniformed employee arrived promptly at eight-thirty with sleek velvet boxes for her earrings and the necklace. She hated that she had to say good-bye to them, but it was a deal Anne Marie made with one of her contacts. Seeing how disappointed she was, that's when Toby had the sweet idea to go get her food.

"Bubblicious?" offers Manny, presenting her with a packet of gum.

"Don't change the subject!" exclaims Emma. "I was worried."

"Watermelon Wave? Paradise Punch? Kickin' Cola?" continues Manny, rifling through her miniature backpack that Lia made sure to bring.

"Ugh!" cries Emma. "Fine...fine. I'll bug you later."

Well, it's not like she didn't want to share the big news with Emma. She just didn't want to do it with so many strangers milling around the bus stop. The tour group is pretty big, mostly Americans judging by their accents. There are families of four, a few young couples, and a small set of women above sixty. They all came across as friendly, which is a plus. J.T., Toby, Emma, and herself were the only unaccompanied teenagers. Ever the early planner, Anne Marie didn't wait until she got home from the ball, remembered that Mulholland Tours went not only to the sign, but to a souvenuir store afterwards. That was good because she hasn't picked up anything for her parents or J.J. They didn't ask, but she knows it's kind of expected. The bus is long, black with a purple stripe across its side.

"We've returned...with provisions," announces J.T.

Between them, they had retrieved a decent sized amount of chips, pretzels, and candy. Emma goes for the Three Muskateers with J.T. pulling away. While they argue about who gets what, Toby presents Manny with a bag of pretzels and M&Ms.

"My salt weakness and one of my fave confections," praises Manny.

"And we're not even at the drive-in," says Toby.

They kiss as J.T. finally surrenders the chocolate bar to Emma. Their mouths only break when they're interrupted by a cheery tour guide, standing next to the bus.

"Good morning, my fellow adventurers!" greets the tour guide. "You may now board our faithful vehicle, a bus we lovingly call the Mayhem Machine. Driving in L.A. is paramount to mayhem, and when I say paramount, I'm not talking about the big movie studio."

Boy, this guy talks fast, thinks Manny, as the group responds with polite laughter.

"Today's a beautiful day to go on a tour!" continues the tour guide. "The sky is clear, the sun is bright, and I'm eager to take your tips."

He puts out his hand to a pair of giggling seniors.

"I'm being serious," says the tour guide. "Alright, alright. Enter and find a seat."

The crowd bunches around the bus as the tour guide steps to the left. J.T. is at the head of the four of them, gives him the tickets, and they board the bus. When Manny was younger, she'd always ride in the center of the bus so she guides Toby in that direction. The ventilation is nice and Manny's not too cold or too hot. She allows Toby to sit near the window, seeing as she could honestly see the sign whenever she felt like it before the end of the month. J.T. and Emma were less hospitable.

"Window!" affirms J.T., quickly getting in front of Emma.

"J.T.!" cries Emma.

She leans over J.T. and starts adjusting the window.

"Uh, permission?" says J.T.

"Sunlight is the purest form of vitamin D," informs Emma. "We shouldn't waste the day. It's...it's not shifting."

Emma tries in vain to get it open. The tour guide views her.

"Miss, they don't work like that," he scolds. "Please stay in your seat."

"Ha, you got in trouble!" laughs J.T., quietly.

Emma punches his shoulder and crosses her arms. J.T. rubs his shoulder, still smiling. Manny shakes her head and turns to Toby.

"Where's your award?" asks Toby. "I didn't see it when we were stowing away your bags."

"Oh. They take it and engrave your name on it," says Manny. "You know, like they do at the Oscars?"

"See, I didn't know that," admits Toby.

"That's why I'm around. For the interesting little tidbits," kids Manny.

"Well, something tells me that this bus will be going by your house one day," says Toby, sincerely. "A tour of the star homes."

"And you'll be in the home with me, of course," adds Manny, taking his hand.

"Definitely," says Toby.

Manny lays her head against the soft top of her seat, focuses on the tour guide retrieving a microphone from the driver, a grey-haired man in a blue uniform. He taps the microphone a few times before speaking.

"Hello again!" he says. "My name is Greg Kiplinger, but everyone, including my mother, calls me Kip. Everybody say hi Kip!"

"Hi, Kip!" greets Manny, Toby, and the rest of the bus.

"Okay, say hi to our driver, Allen!" says Kip.

"Hi Allen!" they reply.

He acknowledges them with a short wave, starts the engine.

"Okay, say hi to your neighbor," commands Kip.

"Hi, neighbor," says Manny to Toby.

Toby laughs. "Hi."

Manny squeezes his arm and glances at J.T. and Emma. J.T. pretends to sleeps when Emma says hi to him. He guffaws while Emma rolls her eyes.

"Say hi to someone new in your vicinity," says Kip.

Manny says hi to a pretty blonde mom in front of her, and Toby does the same with her young son.

"And since we're in L.A., and you never can tell when a camera makes an appearance, practice saying 'hi Mom!'!" finishes Kip.

"Hi Mom!" they all respond.

"Good. You guys sound ready for your close-up!" says Kip.

Kip swerves as the bus goes into motion. Manny can see the driver smile in the large overhead mirror and she feels bad because she smiles too. There was just something funny about a wobbly man holding a microphone. Kip's a nice-looking man, probably in his early thirties. He has thick, brown hair and wears a cotton red T-shirt, with Mulholland Tours printed above the chest pocket, and black pants.

"Our first stop is the most revered Hollywood landmark, and not only because it says Hollywood," jokes Kip. "On the way, we'll be going down the infamous Mulholland Drive. One of the most famous roads in the world, it's been showcased on the TV show _24_ and _Knight Rider_, the movies _Lost Highway_, _Death Becomes Her_, and of course, the aptly named _Mulholland Drive_ with Naomi Watts. It was titled Bad Boy Drive, because Jack Nicholson, Warren Beatty, and Brando himself all lived there at one point. Speaking of bad boys, the popular video game Grand Theft Auto San Andreas has a town named Mulholland, where they show you the road and our very own Hollywood lettering."

"GTA!" cries J.T., giddily, the son in front of Toby also whispering excitedly.

"Yes, yes, that game that is ruining my marriage," says Kip to a chorus of laughs. "We'll be passing the Santa Monica Mountains, deep in the heart of the Hollywood Hills on Route 101. Celebrities seeking properties in this area include Lindsay Lohan, Leonardo Dicaprio, and Bruce Willis, who recently purchased a home nearby."

"Bruce Willis is cool," whispers Toby to Manny.

Manny kisses his cheek as the bus swerves again, Kip flailing forward.

"Yeah, I'm going to sit for a few," says Kip. "If anyone has any questions, feel free to shout them out."

Kip takes as a seat as they pass office buildings and a few houses. Manny believes they aren't anywhere near it yet, which is fine with her. She'd love for this day to last as long as it can, for the hills to be their permanent home like they were joking about. But yeah, it has to end, and she'd eventually miss her family. She'd eventually have to get used to missing Toby until August.

"To warn you, when we get to the sign, I might say something unbelievably cheesy and romantic like...I love you, before and after the sunset," says Manny, then smiling.

"Just to warn you, I could say it back," confesses Toby.

III.

Ellie shifts her bag as she paces across the hot Toronto asphalt. Once Alex left, she attempted to read the university course catalog for the seventh time. Failure. She flipped through the thesaurus absent-mindedly, looking for words she was unfamiliar with. Failure, because it would eventually flip to the earmarked pages. She picked some lint off her black jeans.

Yeah, mid-July, and she's wearing black. Eh, it's the style she likes. She never got fussy with her clothes, but she did make sure to wear flattering clothes if she was meeting someone special. Despite the tense situation, Sean is special. Ellie faces the school, remembers how and when they met. Everyone thought Saturday detention was bogus, a lame concoction by Raditch to make him appear stricter. Strangely enough, it was before the shooting when most people felt safe. The bogus punishment turned out to be the best punishment she'd had in her life. The day was fun-- racing through the school, viewing Toby's expression after Hazel kissed him, and at the top of the list, having the first real conversation with Sean. He was honest, tender, the total opposite of the rumors. He wasn't repulsed by the scars. Then, in following days, he accepted every part of her life-- her mom's drinking, her father's absence, her friendship with Marco. He fit like she never suspected he would.

None of this is fitting. What connects Sean to Dale's business? Didn't they hate each other? Didn't Sean get beat up because of him? What is he hiding? Ellie pauses. This school, where Sean provided her witn answers, is not offering any answers today.

The alarm on her digial goes off. Noon. He isn't there. Great. It is just like the other days when he's been a ghost. Her inward moaning is hushed by the loud roaring of an engine. The source of the roar makes her mouth drop. Sean drives a large, silver motorcycle to a few parking spaces ahead of her. Though he wears a black helmet, she can tell it's him by his slightly torn jean jacket. Sean takes off his helmet, beams at Ellie.

"Sean?" cries Ellie.

"Hey," says Sean, dismounting.

"Apparently, Harley Davidson was having a walk in and get one free deal?" guesses Ellie.

"Or I bought it," provides Sean.

"Okay!" says Ellie. "I mean, you talked about it..."

"It's a reality," assures Sean. "Well, after tomorrow. That's after we do the paperwork."

"Cool," congratulates Ellie.

"First step in the road trip complete," says Sean, nodding.

Hmm, she'd rather him explain a few other things. Ellie walks to him and stares into his eyes. They were still blue and calm as always.

"First step in operation you tell me what's going on," says Ellie, grinning a bit. "Thank you for the thesaurus. Property of Sean Cameron, English 322, Kwan's class...much appreciated."

"You don't have to return it...never used it," says Sean with a gentle laugh.

"That said, where have you been?" sighs Ellie.

"Can I take you for a ride first?" offers Sean.

Ellie raises one eyebrow and cocks her head. She was going to work up the nerve to get on the bike, but the road trip was scheduled for November. Getting those guts in the very near future...she's not sure.

"Um...," says Ellie, cheeeks going red.

"I'll answer whatever," promises Sean.

"If...if I get on?"

"If you get on."

The motorcycle certainly seems safe in the parking lot. She's not one hundred percent sure about its safety on the road, however. When she told her mother about the trip, Amanda Nash said she'd been on a motorcycle before. That's right. Her mom. If her mom can risk it, then...alright, she'll bite. The bargain's too tempting not to take.

"I'm holding onto you for dear life," says Ellie, putting a finger in his face.

"I like that," says Sean, smiling from ear to ear. "Then..."

Ellie gives him a puzzled look as he retrieves a helmet from the rear of the bike. There were also tied up blankets, a carrying bag, a thermos, and two pillows. How long would this ride be, anyways?

She starts to speak, grows silent as Sean situates a red helmet over her sleek tresses and her forehead. Ellie blinks behind the visor.

Sean chuckles. "Matches your hair."

"My voice is all muffled," complains Ellie, feeling her hot breath against her nose.

"I can hear you," assures Sean.

"Or maybe you don't want to hear me," returns Ellie. "I better not swallow a fly or preying mantis or whatever."

Sean smiles as he fixes the helmet strap. Sean massages the seat then pats it. Ellie takes a deep breath and climbs on the seat. She makes sure her bag is on tight against her body.

"How's it feel?" asks Sean.

"Like Born to be Wild should be playing," shares Ellie.

"That's not cliche at all," teases Sean.

"You're missing tattoos and you have to rescue me from the prom or a wedding," adds Ellie.

"I do have a senior prom coming up," reminds Sean.

"We'll have Jay spike the punch," shrugs Ellie.

Sean manuevers onto the bike, putting his hands on the handlebars. Ellie does feel taller, her feet dangling against the sides. This is nice, she thinks, as she wraps her arm around Sean's waist. It wasn't a gesture they usually did. Well, not like this. Ellie's helmet bumps against his.

"I need my head to drive," kids Sean.

"No, you don't," says Ellie. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," replies Sean.

He makes the engine roar before they're hurtling into the air, Ellie releasing a high-pitched scream. He may call her a baby later, but man is this fast. And exhilarating, she hates to admit. They're flying past trees, the leaves shaking. They're passing cars that move as slow as turtles. There's cool wind that wasn't present minutes ago. She can tell Sean is laughing by the shake of his frame, her hands moving too. His body is the most secure thing she's feeling in this moment. That's a comfort. As much as she's upset with him for dodging her, it is a comfort. Her heart pounds with an alien beat, a beat she's unfamiliar with. The bike bristles with life, a loud and beautiful, brazen monster. She suddenly realizes why bikers do this everyday. The rush is a thing you can scarcely put into words. No thesaurus needed.

"Okay back there?" yells Sean as they reach a stop light.

"I'm starting to like my helmet," supplies Ellie, smirking underneath.

"That's the only reason to ride," laughs Sean. "The only reason."

IV.

The air conditioning dances across her legs. She still would've preferred the sunshine and the California breezes. When Kip started lecturing on the architectural design of the place, that's when Emma tuned out. She has no interest in urban development, especially when the result are mansions and Olympic-sized swimming pools. Alright, so she's staying in a high-priced home for the time being. That didn't affect the disenfranchised at least.

Emma sighs, glances at Toby and Manny. Both nestled under a grey blanket retrieved from the overhead compartment, Toby is actually asleep while Manny stares into space.

"Psst," says Emma.

Manny looks at her. "Yeah?"

Toby's glasses become askew as Manny lowers her side of the blanket.

"Why are you two so tired?" questions Emma. "I barely got two hours myself."

That's not a lie. Perhaps it was the awkward discussion with Kel, regarding Hannah and school. He mentioned her parents and that lead to her actually thinking about them all night. Kel said he raised Lia and Hannah to be self-reliant. The thing is she'd like to rely on herself, but that's hard when she's used to having Snake in her life. Snake made it a point to be in her life. She refused the house key because of her anger. However, it also made her angry that he took Jack to his new place regularly. The knowledge that she was technically his stepdaughter and Jack's birth father didn't help matters. Maybe she should've taken the key. Manny's appraising eye forces her to break free from her thoughts swiftly.

"Toby didn't sleep the night before the ball," replies Manny, tugging on a strand of hair.

Uh-huh, thinks Emma. Manny tugged on her hair when she was nervous. The girl was a notable bad liar. Toby was quite aware of that, too.

"He's a cute sleeper, right?" gushes Manny, kissing his forehead.

"Vomit," says Emma, scrunching her nose. "You look exhaused too."

"Happily exhausted," sighs Manny, lowering her gaze.

Happily exhausted? What? Wait a second. Nah...no. Emma makes a loud gasp. Checking to see if J.T. is listening, and glad that his ipod earphones are on, Emma turns so that she's practically in the aisle. She leans towards Manny.

"What?" whispers Emma, excitedly.

Manny glances at her briefly, cheeks as pink as she's ever seen Manny's.

"Toby didn't sleep alone last night," whispers Manny.

They stare at Toby, breathing soundly. Manny nods, grinning.

"Oh...I have no idea what to say!" says Emma, then covering her mouth.

"We're in the same boat, because neither do I," says Manny.

"Well, I'm shocked...happy for you?" celebrates Emma, softly. "Wow. I'd hug you if it wouldn't wake Toby."

"Good, cause I like him there," says Manny, her eyes gleaming.

"Yeah, I bet," giggles Emma. "Was it everything you wanted?"

"Like ecstasy level," answers Manny. "I mean, that's what happens when someone gives themselves to you completely."

Emma lets her head fall. She hasn't had that really. In fact, to be totally honest, she thought she'd have that before Toby. Not that Toby didn't deserve it. He's the sweetest guy she's met.

"We should all be so lucky," says Emma, sitting straighter in her seat.

"It'll happen for you, Em," reassures Manny. "Maybe sooner than you think."

She wishes it were sooner.

"So it was at the hotel?" says Emma. "How'd you score a room?"

Manny explains every detail of the rendevous, Emma growing more and more impressed. This had to be Toby's most extravagant surprise and Manny's joy matched the extravagance. Manny seemed more caught up in the romance than in the price, which was more her and more important. Meanwhile, Toby is resting like a runner after a marathon. They were careful to keep their voices low.

"I'm going to leave you alone," promises Emma. "Let you listen to Kip go on and on about the San Fernando Valley."

Smiling, Manny listens to the information as Emma removes her knitting from her bag. She finished Jack's socks and is sewing him a scarf for winter. This is a tie to her other father, Shane McKay. They'd have two phone calls every year, on days near Christmas and her birthday. Spike said she could visit him this year if she felt compelled. All the talks revolving around Shane were short and sweet. She was caring more for him, but the guy who came home every night, made dinner on alternate days, and helped with the taxes is who she considers Dad.

He'll always be considered that way and it hurts to have that cross her mind as the bus halts. Emma takes a deep breath, continues to knit fiercely.

V.

"_Hooray for Hollywood_!" sings Kip to the more than anxious crowd.

Toby bites his lip to contain a laugh, then stares at Manny who's doing the same. Emma and J.T. appear to be both immobile and embarrassed.

"_That screwy, ballyhooey Hollywood_," continues Kip.

He moves to Toby, pats him on the back. "_Where any office boy or young mechanic can be a panic, with just a goodlooking pan..."_

Manny giggles as Kip strolls from person to person, singing to them. Toby wasn't digging another possible serenade so he leaves the group, strolls closer to their target destination.

They were miles from the large white letters you could view no matter who you were. Hollywood. The locale is gorgeous: swaying palm trees, majestic mountainous terrain, finely etched hills. It was like nothing he could construct on a computer. He almost loves it as much as he did holding Manny last night. Almost. He stands at the railing, a few telescopes to his right and left.

They're at Griffith Park, the best spot for the best view. Kip said the sign dated all the way back to 1923. Then, he shared a more graphic story. Because her dream were dashed, some young actress committed suicide by jumping off the H of the sign in 1932. That gave Toby chills despite the historic resonance of it. According to Kip, that's how Hollywood got the stigma for being a land of lost opportunity. Toby would've liked more opportunities with Manny on this trip. The other days should've been like today. They were having fun with their best friends and enjoying it. He was too busy trying to save his relationship from meeting the same fate as that actress-- gone in a flash. Toby shivers, settles his hands on the railing.

"_Hooray for Hollywood_," sings a voice from behind him.

"Don't scare me like that," laughs Toby, watching Manny's arms wind around his waist.

"Mmmm, you were looking all picturesque," compliments Manny.

"I was remembering that story...about the actress," explains Toby.

"Don't think of that bad stuff, Toby," says Manny, hugging him closer. "That was ages ago. New millenium and a whole bunch of happy."

Toby nods at he scans the tall, white letters. "You're right."

"Speaking of the future, have you decided where you're going to school?" asks Manny, kissing his shoulder.

"Toronto probably," says Toby. "Or Montreal or Vancouver..."

"Or California maybe," says Manny in a softer tone.

"Ummm...," starts Toby, looking over his shoulder at her.

"There are tons of good ones here, Toby," continues Manny, hopefully. "And Anne Marie would like it, I'm thinking."

Something catches in his throat. When his mother suggested California during his senior year, he was one hundred percent against the idea. He didn't want to graduate anywhere except Degrassi. For university, he thought he'd stay in Canada too, but after being in L.A. for awhile, he's liking this new prospect if it means Manny's there.

"If these auditions go well, I could come back after graduation," sighs Manny into his ear. "I could get an apartment. You could visit every day, or we could wake up to each other every night. I could sneak you into a closet whenever my parents come to visit."

Toby smiles, looks to the opposite direction. It's way too tempting to refuse it.

"Just...just think on it," says Manny, releasing him.

Toby turns to her quickly, hates that the rest of the group is zeroing in on their territory. Okay, so it's a public park. Toby lets out a frustrated sigh.

"You guys cheated!" scolds Kip playfully.

"Wanted first dibs on the telescopes," defends Manny, walking to an instrument.

"Crafty," says Kip. "Now, folks, I am more than willing to take any pictures. We'll be here for twenty-five minutes so use your time wisely. After all, there's only one Hollywood sign!"

"Two quarters for you," says J.T. as he walks with Emma.

"Awww, this more than makes up for you being a bad bus mate," says Emma, putting an arm around him.

"I got a better idea!" cries Manny. "Let's have Kip take a photo of us."

"But...but that means we'd have to talk to Kip," says J.T., pretending to gag.

"J.T., don't ruin this," sighs Manny.

"Toby?" pleads J.T.

"It'll take...what, five seconds?" says Toby.

"Fine," moans J.T.

Manny goes to Kip and easily convinces him to take their pictures with Emma's digital camera. They crowd around an unoccupied portion of the railing, Hollywood spelled out behind their four forms. Toby and Manny are in the center, with J.T. to Toby's left and Emma to Manny's right. It worked seeing as though Toby and Manny were the same size, with J.T. and Emma a bit taller. Toby slides his hand through Manny's.

"Where are you guys from?" shouts Kip.

"Toronto!" answers J.T., forgetting that he didn't want to talk to Kip.

"The home of maple syrup and hockey, eh?" says Kip. "Okay, when I say three, you shout Eh!"

They all shrug, apparently not minding the request.

"One...two...three!" exclaims Kip.

"Eh!" the four of them yell.

The rest of the group applauds, maybe tickled that they were willing to do something lame. Toby hopes this doesn't elicit some Canadian jokes coming their way. J.T. and Emma go to retrieve the picture, leaving him with Manny.

"This...this might be my favorite day ever...after my favorite night," shares Manny, her face flushed.

Toby's face grows crimson as well.

"I have a lot of favorites...with you," says Toby.

"Toby," sighs Manny, hugging him as the white letters glitter behind her.

VI.

It's a little strange to return to this particular street. When visiting Grauman's the second day of his arrival, Toby had scarcely paid attention to the adjoining souvenuir shops. Some might call it tacky, with its dollar store knick knacks and quarter postcards, but he found it charming. The traffic is light and he was going to spend the last of his money. The movie stars of the past and present stared at him from posters behind the cashier, in black and white, or in color. Costume clothing and accessories were on various racks. Miniature license plates were on one turnstile. His father inexplicably liked those so he walks to it. Jeff isn't hard to find at all, the small blue license plate shining under his glasses.

"They never have me," laments Manny.

Toby searches for her name, and then his...nope.

"Closest is Manuel," announces Toby.

"Don't start that again," says Manny, revolving the turnstile.

Yeah, she hasn't been called Manuel since the ski trip. Still, that mix-up might be responsible for them being together. He couldn't be sure if that would be the case without it, but hopes it might've happened without it.

"No Toby either," sighs Manny.

He likes that she checked, placing her arm around her shoulders.

"What'd you get?" asks Toby.

Manny raises her small white bag and allows him to view the contents.

"Three magnets and a novelty pen for my dad, a snowglobe and palm tree pin for my mom, and an Angels pennant for J.J.," lists Manny.

Out of the two of them, Manny was definitely the shopper. He could shop for her and J.T., and the rest were extremely difficult. He selected a CD with the L.A. Philharmonic at the Hollywood Bowl for Ashley, then drew a blank. Toby plucks a license plate titled Clara.

"Girlfriend approves," says Manny.

"Wanna get two things for my dad and Kate," shares Toby.

"Might want to wait until you get to the airport," suggests Manny.

"Yeah, I'm leaning in that direction," says Toby.

There is a license plate for Kate too. She might like that he gave them the same miniature gift. As he reaches for it, the shadow of his hand darkens another name. Toby shakes his head.

"Justin," reads Manny, watching his eyes. "That name give you a bad taste in your mouth too?"

A bad taste in his mouth and bubbles of anger in his stomach, thinks Toby. Should he be having this reaction to someone who said that he was done tormenting them? It's just his actions were so terrible, and his remorse wasn't that genuine either. Toby doesn't even know if he wants Manny in the same room to hear his apology, an apology Clara thought was coming.

"He e-mailed me...twice," reveals Toby.

"Ugh," groans Manny. "I was so hoping he wouldn't."

"Me too," says Toby. "J.T. told me not to respond."

Manny's lips open and she makes him face her.

"Then don't," says Manny, tenderly. "Toby, he ruined your and his girlfriend's Confirmation. In the video store the night before, he..."

Huh? This is the first time he's hearing this.

"What?" prompts Toby.

Manny no longer talks, walks to the costume racks. Hurriedly, she starts to sift through the clothes, some scarves, a few feathery boas. She locates a pink boa, drapes it around Toby's shoulders.

"It's not important," says Manny, producing a forced smile. "Shouldn't dampen the mood on our last day."

Toby can barely see her face through the pink feathers of the boa going across his nose. Perhaps that's her plan, but he's not distracted.

"Manny," says Toby pointedly.

"You need a hat," murmurs Manny.

She fetches a fedora, places it on his head. She stares at him with glee.

"Amazing work if I do say so myself," assesses Manny.

As she guides him to the mirror, Toby refuses to shake what she's said from his consciousness. What did Justin say at the video store?

"Tobes, you're still not mad at me for that admiration exercise, are you?" asks Manny, guiltily.

"No," replies Toby. "That was a joke. I got it. I'm convinced that...that you like me for me."

Manny beams.

"What I'm not convinced about is that what Justin said to you wasn't important," adds Toby.

That stopped Manny from retrieving any more clothing and he's thankful for that.

"He asked me if I had any idea what the Star of David meant, and then he said if I wore it, I should know what it means, stop pretending to be something I'm not," whispers Manny. "Then, he kinda looked down my top."

Toby massages his forehead, growing hotter, and hits the doorknob of a dressing room, making it shake.

"Toby," says Manny, tugging on his arm.

"When he says stuff like that, how do you want me to react, Manny?" cries Toby. "I...I have to do something..."

"No," interjects Manny. "If we cut him off, he won't be a thorn in our side."

Justin's way more annoying than a thorn. That said, Manny's advice is usually both practical and straight from her heart. When he listened, things generally improved.

"Promise me you won't e-mail him or call or go over there again," says Manny.

Her last piece of wisdom ended in an amicable break with Kendra. He'd be foolish not to go with her advice this time too.

"I promise," he says.

Manny tips his fedora, then inches the boa to her, dragging Toby along with her. She lets her mouth kiss one lip, eventually finding the other. Toby sighs, joining the rhythm of the kiss, one of their last. They don't separate until Kip calls from the front door of the store that Allen is ready to shake a leg.

"He's so annoying," murmurs Manny.

Toby chuckles because he's surprised she's the first to stay it. They approach the cash register, a blue-haired girl with multiple earrings flipping through a copy of the _National Enquirer_. Toby's forgotten what he's wearing until the cashier snorts when she stares at them. Manny removes the fedora and boa, places them on the counter.

"Last day keepsakes," she explains.

"Where do you expect me to keep this?" laughs Toby, lifting the boa.

"Around your computer monitor, of course," answers Manny.

"It'll be the first computer in Toronto to have it," says Toby.

Manny elbows him.

"Oh, you guys are from Canada!" cries the cashier in her deep, throaty voice. "Have you guys...like...seen Brendan Fraser?"

Toby and Manny exchange a look of bewilderment.

VII.

The sun is setting as they race in the crisp wind. He can feel the thrust of the force, the throttle of the engine, the caress of the wheels. When he turns, their bodies pivot. When he's on a straight line, they glide like they're on ice. It's the best high. Ellie also seems to be enjoying it, her arms growing more lax as they went. They would be ten minutes late.

His first experience with a Ducati came via Tracker. A friends of his brought it to their house for him to repair. As Tracker told Sean to pass his tools, he told him the different parts. Sean wasn't a patient reader like Ty and couldn't learn it if he didn't use his hands once in a while. So when Tracker was inside, he'd touch each element of the bike and catalog what they were, hoping that he'd be fixing bikes one day. The day has come, with unappealing circumstances. He has to answer to a gun-toting maniac who seems to have a soft spot for runaways or lost kids or whatever those beds signalled. He'd like to fix things there too, get Ty to a decent hospital for a check up. Who doesn't do that for a kid they care about? Dale apparently.

"Almost there," calls Sean over the noise.

Ellie moves her head to the other side of him.

The thing with Vic is that he was a boaster. He wanted Sean to see what he was paying for so they agreed to a meeting spot. It was a campground near Lake Ontario. Sean was clear how to get there so he agreed and thus far, the Ducati's served him well. The motorcycle ran smoother than his car, that's for sure.

Turning right, the campground comes into clearer view. Elm trees and brown picnic benches surround the shimmering lake, latrines and waste baskets scattered in more hidden places. Squirrels and birds bound across the dirt and grass. The sole people there are Vic, sitting on his leather jacket as he stares at the water, and April, an attractive, slim redhead in a black tank top and tight, white shorts. She didn't look much like a biker when Sean was introduced to her, but admittedly, he didn't look like a biker either. He did notice she liked to flirt, and that was reflected in her outward appearance.

"Done," says Sean, pulling the Ducati into a space near the site.

"I'm...lost," says Ellie when the engine shuts off.

"I'm not, so follow me," provides Sean.

Ellie seems content with that and leaves the bike, Sean doing the same and grabbing the keys. Sean puts his helmet underneath his armpit and fetches the blankets and thermos. Ellie, to be of some use, grabs the pillows without being asked. Sean thinks that's nice, that it's very Ellie. He loves that she got on, and that she's acting friendly to him. He doesn't feel she should.

"Hey Vic!" shouts Sean.

"It's Sean Cameron and his better half," says Vic, waving.

"Better half?" says Ellie.

"Every woman is the better half," asserts April, walking to Ellie. "Even if the other half is cute. Hi, I'm April."

"Ellie," she says, giving April a slightly jealous look.

"Weird when you meet a fellow redhead," says April, giggling. "It's like a secret club or something."

Ellie laughs politely. Sean scratches his neck at the mention of secrets.

"Got some grub," offers April. "Before we discuss prices. Ham and cheese?"

"Yeah," says Sean.

"Thanks," says Ellie.

April heads to her car as they walk to Vic. Vic hops up and grabs his jacket.

"Beauty ain't she?" says Vic, gesturing to the bike.

"Definitely," commends Sean.

"If I'm lying, I'm flying," says Vic. "But April wants to retire from it. Wants to settle down, raise kids."

He smiles fondly at him and Ellie.

"You guys are young...don't have worries," sighs Vic.

Wrong. He has worries that Ellie won't stay with him after she hears the latest going ons of his life. They sort of settled down before all this drama...they lived with one another. Now, for the past few months, Ellie made it her routine to come over. They weren't that different from Vic and April, actually.

"Going to get my light so we can read," explains Vic.

Whoa, it's like they knew he had to talk to Ellie. Avoiding it isn't doing them any favors. Sean unfurls the blankets, sits on one while Ellie sits on the other. A pretty fair distance away, April is fixing sandwiches and flips on a radio she took from her car. Ellie smirks, lays her head against Sean's shoulder.

"It's official," says Ellie. "You meet the most colorful characters."

"Not on purpose," says Sean.

"They're sweet," comments Ellie, defensively.

Sean stares at the lake, so long and wide. There is Toronto at each angle. Grey buildings escalate in the dusk. White boats gleam on the distant shore. The sky is a pinkish purple. It starts to fade into a midnight blue. You wouldn't think the change in color would work, but it does. Further, he's aware, are other cities. Go further and there's Detroit. Then, keep going, and there's New York. His mind jumps from city to city, no charge. He can't imagine Ellie on the bike, anywhere else, if he isn't honest.

Ellie takes the liberty of opening the thermos and pouring herself a cup of coffee. She is the caffiene addict out of the two of them.

"El, I had these two dreams," begins Sean. "I mean, I don't dream much, and these two looked pretty simple."

She takes a sip, nods her understanding.

"The first is the shop," says Sean. "I'd still like to do that when I'm ready. The second...see, my parents never went anywhere. Stayed in Wasaga. Tracker would only travel if there was an available job."

"I remember," says Ellie.

Yes. Their relationship nearly ended before it began thanks to Tracker's job commitment.

"But me...I want to see these other places," continues Sean. "And I want to give you it too. Your mom has her doubts in me, and I have to respect her."

"Sean...," starts Ellie, weakly.

"I have to show her and you I'm reliable," interrupts Sean.

"You do," insists Ellie.

"No, I mean...with what I promise," says Sean. "This trip is a promise. This has to happen for us."

"So you're putting up with Dale, and hiding his sham business?" whispers Ellie.

"The thing is," sighs Sean. "Is that the business is legit."

No, he's not lying. Although, this is heading where it did with Alex. Sean shakes himself to clear his head.

"The parts aren't shady, or the people?" inquires Ellie.

"Dale handles it," confesses Sean. "I couldn't tell you what to expect from an outsider's point of view."

Exactly. He can't because he's an insider.

"That guy's twisted, Sean," says Ellie.

"Maybe he's not all bad," says Sean, hesitantly. "Some of his staff might need cash, or something important."

Ellie narrows her eyes, sniffles.

"Does this staff know how he treats you?" asks Ellie. "Because then he wouldn't have a staff anymore."

"I can take care of myself," assures Sean.

Or he was trying to, with not a lot of luck. Sean remains silent as Ellie lays her head on his chest and stares at the lake. Her red hairs tickle his chin. It's a good sensaton.

"I'm glad you work at Hill's," breathes Ellie. "You're busy, but at least Dale's dad is okay."

Sean's shoulders tense. He should blurt every word out, clear the air. I work for Dale because he got me fired, he might exclaim. I tinker with illegal parts and I'm teaching others to do it too.

"Why have you been invisible then?" asks Ellie.

"Laying low," answers Sean. "Being...aware of Dale's shop could be bad."

This is where he stupidly avoids doing the good thing, to save Ellie's opinion of him. He loved her. What he told Dale is right. She is his family and that unflailing warmth and trust is what he'd hate to damage.

"Seems an odd way to help others," remarks Ellie.

"Might look less odd when you're desperate," shrugs Sean.

He eagerly awaits her response. Ellie shows her trademark compassion.

"You can't say what you'll do unless you're there," says Ellie. "My dad says that."

"That's how I feel," whispers Sean.

She summed up what he's too scared to say, that he's acting on instinct to survive. Dale is a last resort.

"I'm sorry I've been keeping you in the dark," says Sean.

"As long as you tell me what I need to know," says Ellie.

As he shuts his eyes, the lake disappears and yes, he's in the dark too. Soft music plays in the background.

_Has our conscience shown?  
Has the sweet breeze blown?  
Has all the kindness gone?  
Hope still lingers on._

What should he be hoping for? That he'll find the guts to tell her every morsel of truth? That he can leave Dale's on his own terms? That he'll lose this attachment to the people who work there? No hopes come easy. He's uncertain if his shop will ever be more than a dream, or if this road trip will occur.

_I drink myself of newfound pity  
Sitting alone in New York City  
And I don't know why._

Ellie lays further into him. Her body is so frail in the newfound chill of a summer night near the water. If she ever does find out, Dale would aim the gun at another target, a redhead whose name isn't April.

_Are we listening  
To hymns of offering?  
Have we eyes to see  
That love is gathering?  
All the words that I've been reading  
Have now started the act of bleeding  
Into one._

He recalls when he first met Ty after the initiation. Ty barely spoke. Perhaps he knew talking would make things worse for him. Talking lead to hurt and pain.

_So I walk up on high  
And I step to the edge  
To see my world below.  
And I laugh at myself  
As the tears roll down.  
'Cause it's the world I know.  
It's the world I know._

"Sean?" says Ellie, a bit panicked.

Sean peers over her shoulder, sees April making her way to them with sandwiches.

"Just being quiet," explains Sean.

"Good," sighs Ellie, patting his thigh. "I like it."


	48. I'll Be Okay

**XLVIII. I'll Be Okay**

_I had to let you go,  
I had to say goodbye.  
No more excuses,  
No more tears to cry.  
There's been so many changes,  
I was so confused.  
All along you were the one,  
All the time I never knew._

_I want you to be happy,  
You're my best friend.  
But it's so hard to let you go now,  
All that could have been.  
I'll always have the memories,  
She'll always have you.  
Fate has a way of changing  
Just what you don't want it to._

_Roll away the chains.  
Let love fly away.  
Till love comes again,  
I'll be okay._

_Life passes so quickly,  
You got to take the time.  
You'll miss what really matters,  
You'll miss all the signs.  
I spent my life searching  
For what was always there.  
Sometimes it will be too late,  
Sometimes it won't be fair._

_Roll away the chains.  
Let love fly away.  
Till love comes again,  
I'll be okay._

_I won't give up, I won't give in.  
I can't recreate what just might have been.  
I know that my heart is broken in two.  
Now is the time to begin._

_Roll away the chains.  
Let love fly away.  
Till love comes again,  
I'll be okay._

_Can't hold on forever baby,  
Can't hold on forever baby,  
Can't hold on forever baby,  
I'll be okay._

**I'll Be Okay is the property of Amanda Marshall and appears in the film _My Best Friend's Wedding_.  
The Way I Are is the property of Timbaland ft. Keri Hilson.  
When Can I See You is the property of Babyface.  
Steppin' Time and Jolly Holiday are songs featured in _Mary Poppins_ and are the property of Walt Disney.**

The balancing of the plates almost makes him miss his job. Almost. Spinner manages to hold a grilled cheese with French Fries, a green pickle on the side, and a meatball sub with onion rings. While they're not the healthiest lunches in the world, they are typical diner fare. It's food they can eat without the scrutinizing eye of their grandmother. Plus, it's comfort food for Kendra who has enough on her plate to worry about.

Tomorrow is Kendra's bone scan. The test would answer a lot of the doctor's questions on Kendra's condition. Kendra seemed so mature when she agreed to go to the hospital with her grandmother the day after they came home. In fact, it may've been the strongest he's seen her. Kendra dismissed it as no big thing. No, it is a big thing, argued Spinner. Tonight, she would phone their parents and discuss the situation with them. Spinner's certain they'll be taking a trip to California to support her. It's how they were. Unfortunately, for him, he couldn't stay as long. The job actually is calling, he realizes, as he does what he does at the Dot everyday and sets Kendra's plate on the table.

Kendra silently goes through a shoebox. She offered no explanation for the odd item. There weren't any shoes in there. Boomer, who has made it a point to tag along ever since he returned from Santa Monica, asked her and couldn't get anything out of her either.

"Extra salt?" says Kendra, not looking up.

"There's already enough for a salt mine on there," sighs Spinner, retrieving a few packets from a nearby table, then returning. "But hey, it's your tongue."

"Might not be having fries for awhile," reminds Kendra.

"Grandma's grocery list...man," complains Spinner. "Did you see all that carob?"

"We won't get through it before you go," guesses Kendra.

She shuts the shoebox and reaches for the ketchup. Spinner continues to gaze at the box, then at Boomer, peering through the glass of a jukebox. Boomer appears frustrated with the selection, grabs at his necklace full of shells.

"Going with ol' Boris there to the surfing finals," shares Spinner.

Kendra smiles and stops a fry from going to her mouth.

"You aren't going for the surfing finals," laughs Kendra.

"Yeah, I am!" cries Spinner. "Dude, it's my favorite sport in an awesome competition..."

"Mmhmmm, how gnarly," teases Kendra, making devil horns. "Please, Spin. You're going there for a girl who's probably never been on a board."

"Hey, I got her on a board!" announces Spinner, proudly.

"Must've missed that," says Kendra.

"You were...uh, busy," waves off Spinner.

"With Toby?" fills in Kendra. "Well, let's call that a useless diversion."

Kendra lets the fry fall to the dish and slides the shoebox to her chest. Spinner dips an onion ring into some ketchup, believing that the mystery contents of this box are close to being revealed.

"I brought this from Toronto," says Kendra, lifting the lid. "When me and Sam weren't working, I'd find them and look at them. At first, I smiled all the time when I was going through them. Then I started smiling less and less."

Spinner glances at Kendra's hands as she flips from photograph to photograph. One of them was of her and Toby at an anime convention, both dressed as characters he's unfamiliar with, though Toby resembled a ninja and Kendra a schoolgirl with a green wig. Another shows them at a gymnastics meet, post-win, Kendra releasing a joyful yell as Toby stands there placidly. Another picture has Kendra wearing a dressy top as she and Toby dine on sushi. He's kept photos of himself and Paige, him with Darcy, and a couple with Manny, but he didn't take them out routinely.

"Maybe that was a sign," says Kendra. "You shouldn't be smiling less, right?"

Rather than speak, he nods and shrugs. It's a quick, easy answer.

"Spin, I think I want you to take this with you to Toronto," sighs Kendra.

"Really?" says Spinner.

"For the best," reassures Kendra, sliding the box to him. "I'm not going to move on if I keep wanting to move back."

"You got it," says Spinner.

"And if _you_ don't move at all," says Kendra, beginning to smile. "You'll miss your chance."

Spinner rolls his eyes. He made it clear to Emma that he'd like to move on. Kendra didn't have to rub it in that they weren't progressing.

"My dating life is none of your bees' nest," says Spinner.

"Beeswax," remarks Kendra. "And hello, who was trying to play Love Connection between me and Boomer?"

Okay, she had him there. Boomer does some moving himself, from the juxebox to the table soccer machine. Boomer absent-mindedly turns one of the knobs. He needed a partner.

"Different," mutters Spinner.

"Whatever," says Kendra.

"Maybe Emma isn't into me," remarks Spinner, pushing his meatbull sub away.

"Maybe if you changed that ringtone," suggests Kendra, Spinner's phone playing a familiar tone.

_I ain't got no money  
I ain't got no car to take you on a date  
I can't even buy you flowers  
But together we'll be the perfect soulmates  
Talk to me girl_

"_Thug it out 'til we get it right_," sings along Spinner.

Kendra shakes herself. Their grandmother's calling. With Kendra home, Grandma Mason had her on a pretty short leash now. Kendra could only go somewhere with her or Spinner.

"It's Timbaland, man," defends Spinner.

"Hmm, now that I think about it...it's interesting. I didn't see the attraction before."

"Huh?" says Spinner.

"Emma's like a nice mix of your previous girlfriends," supplies Kendra. "Pretty blonde...Paige. Clear conscience and ideals...Darcy. And though I hate to admit it, she's pretty spunky like Manny."

"Eh, she's more calm than Manny," disagrees Spinner. "Most of the time."

The rest? He'd have to agree with that. Still, Emma is very much her own person. That's why he liked her. Out of all the girls, he believes she's the most self-willed and he thought it was cool that she didn't care what anyone thought of her.

"You're around them more than me," shrugs Kendra. "Speaking of, can you give this to Manny?"

Kendra removes an envelope from her jeans pocket. Spinner casts a wary glance at her.

"It's not laced with poison or anything," adds Kendra.

"Alright," says Spinner. "If you stop examining my romantic problems, go over there and play with Boomer."

She takes a deep breath and socks him lightly in the shoulder. He chuckles as she walks to Boomer, starts discussing the game. Boomer appears pleased as Kendra goes to the other side of the machine. Pretty soon, Kendra's laughing as she sinks the ball into Boomer's goal in nanoseconds. Some guys would be turned off by that, but Boomer congratulates her with a wide grin. Competitors love competitors, guesses Spinner. Luckily, he doesn't have to compete for Emma's affections. There is no guy in the picture...or is there? Ugh, she's not still hung up on Sean, is she? Hearing from another guy friend might help. Spinner calls him.

"What's up, Spin?" answers Jimmy.

"Not a lot," replies Spinner. "Can't a guy ring his boy without wanting..."

"Man, spill," interrupts Jimmy.

"Okay," admits Spinner. "Um...I'm lost, dude. Girl stuff."

"So you require some guyvice, do you?"

Spinner blinks maddeningly. "Wha? Guyvice?"

"Guy advice," explains Jimmy. "Advice between bros. Especially when it comes to the fairer sex. Lay it on me."

"Asked Emma to be my girlfriend and haven't got a reply for weeks...months!" shares Spinner. "She said we'd talk about it. Never did."

"The cold shoulder," breathes Jimmy. "Continue."

"That's...it," says Spinner. "Oh, we kissed and I'm going to visit."

"Smooth, smooth," praises Jimmy.

"So post-smooth smooth?" encourages Spinner.

"Emma's probably waiting for you to do something," says Jimmy. "Going official during the summer? That's the best time. Have a girl right before the school year. How I sealed the deal? Hung out with her all the time, showed the charm, and wham, we're steady!"

"Simple as that?" asks Spinner.

"Simple as that," answers Jimmy.

"I've got charm to spare!" cries Spinner. "I'll hit Emma over the head with it."

"Then, do your thang, playa," says Jimmy. "And do it soon, man, because we're getting sick of you being the third wheel."

Jimmy laughs.

"Ha, so funny I'm busting my gut laughing," says Spinner, narrowing his eyes.

"Alright, single Spinner," kids Jimmy.

"Not single Spinner," he says, clicking off, nodding affirmatively.

What was Jimmy talking about? Third wheel? He always brought the popcorn when he tagged along with them to the movies, and his Ashton Kutcher impersonations? Hilarious. Hazel loved those. You couldn't put a price on those.

Spinner bites into his meatbull sub and grimaces. Terrible. Rather than continue the torture, he goes to the jukebox instead. Surfin' USA. He likes that one. Inserting two quarters, he presses the number. Another selection plays. Dude, so not his day. He's tempted to shut his ears to the light pop anthem, ultimately decides it's not that bad.

_I had to let you go,  
I had to say goodbye.  
No more excuses,  
No more tears to cry.  
There's been so many changes,  
I was so confused.  
All along you were the one,  
All the time I never knew._

Kendra shouts happily as she sinks another goal, then starts to sway to the music. Boomer follows, takes Kendra's hand and starts to dance with her. Spinner leans against the machine, grins at them.

_Roll away the chains.  
Let love fly away.  
Till love comes again,  
I'll be okay._

_Can't hold on forever baby,  
Can't hold on forever baby,  
Can't hold on forever baby,  
I'll be okay._

Smiling less and less, huh? Maybe that won't be the case anymore.

II.

Kip has worn out his welcome. As he rattles on about the flora and fauna dotting the area, Emma knits. There is a polite quiet as most of the adults were too tired from hiking the Hollywood hills and shopping. J.T. is remaining quiet for another reason entirely. Whatever the reason is, Emma hopes there's no disturbance. Her wish is premature.

"We're not too far from Seattle, are we?" says J.T., softly. "I mean, in terms of the States.

"Suppose not...West Coast and all," sighs Emma.

Seattle? That explains why J.T.'s mouth isn't running. Emma stuffs the scarf into her bag and pats J.T.'s hand, sitting on the armrest. His son with Liberty, the child he gave up, is in the same time zone as them. That never crossed Emma's mind. You had this boy who was a stranger, and wasn't a stranger in some sense, not too far away. When she discovered Shane lived in Stouffville, merely a train ride separating them, she couldn't digest it. He wanted to see her, too. He wanted to see her.

"Liberty wrote me this other letter," shares J.T. "They got the treasure chest we made. His new parents."

"That's a great thing you guys did," assures Emma.

"I wonder if it was enough," admits J.T.

She'd love to tell J.T. that it is, but she isn't their child, is she? Emma hugs herself as the air conditioning grows colder. Or is she colder? She'd give anything to open that stupid window, even if it ticked Kip off.

"That's not something to be disappointed about," offers Emma. "Other things dads do..."

Emma's voice falters and she fools with the seat pouch in front of her.

"Are you ever going to forgive him?" asks J.T.

"Who?" whispers Emma.

"You know who," says J.T., pointedly. "It...it was a kiss, Em."

"The J.T. stand for Judas Traitor?" throws back Emma.

"Harsh," comments J.T., shaking his head. "And no. I like Simpson. And he's there...unlike my dad."

"Sorry," says Emma, guiltily.

"There's worse things," says J.T. "When you can't contact your kid or worry that your kid hates you for the decisions you make..."

J.T. folds his hands, refuses to finish. Emma glances at her lap. The combination of Lia and J.T.'s words, two people she wouldn't have pegged to give her practical family advice, makes her chest feel hollow. They weren't teens with two present parents, like Manny or Toby, currently playing an innocent game of tic-tac-toe. J.T. and Lia have experienced coming home to a house without a dad, a mom, a missing piece of the puzzle. They know what it's like to wonder when and why it fell apart.

"I miss him," whispers Emma.

"It's okay...it's kinda expected," says J.T.

Emma bites her lip, then weakly smiles at him.

"Yeah," says Emma. "I just hate saying it."

III.

"_Step in time! Step in time_!" sings a young boy, stomping in a rhythmic beat with a black umbrella.

He briefly duels with his brother, umbrella meeting umbrella as Ashley enters the lobby with Craig. The show was good fun for everyone, Chris dubbing it a "rollicking good time." Once Ashley reentered the theatre, the martini settling in her stomach, she let her cares sink into the world of a magical London. It was nicer than the London she inhabited. People spelled out _Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious_ with their bodies in colorful costumes the hues of candy. Chimney sweeps danced across rooftops, flues in their grasps, as makeshift stars twinkled. The Banks children learned to love their father more, and George Banks learned to love his children. It was a happy ending they all saw coming, but no one minded it.

Not Craig either, and he wasn't one for cutesy, neatly tied up plots. Ashley would gaze at him in the darkness and Craig would be as enraptured as Chris. Perhaps seeing a father that cared, grew from stodgy to caring, is a fulfilling sight for him. It took Craig awhile to find that. Ashley always had a caring father. She clasps on to Robert's sturdy arm as they move to the center of the room.

"_Flap like a birdie...step in time_!" sing two girls in ponytails, twirling their dresses. "_Flap like a birdie...step in time_!"

All the grown folks watch them in amusement. Musical theater always did seem to bring out the hidden joy in all ages. She taps her program against her knee.

"Ay, I see we have some future Janes and Michaels," remarks a loud voice from the rear of the crowd.

Ashley mouths "Oh no" to Craig, who shakes his head. The actor who plays Bert runs to an empty space in the crowd and thrusts out his arms. The crowd cheers. In his orange and white-striped jacket, white trousers, and shiny black shoes, he is the plucky chimney sweep/sage come to life. He is also quite handsome, which isn't lost on Ashley. It's most likely because Bert and Craig shared certain similarities: tall, lanky, musical, amazingly optimistic. Bert always praised Mary Poppins to the high heavens, and yes, Craig did that for her, too.

"Have a go, mate," encourages Bert to the first boy who sang.

The boy shyly backs away.

"Oy," complains Bert to the chuckling crowd. "Don't mind you sharing me stage at all."

"Nah," demurs the boy.

"Best call in the reinforcements then," says Bert, then producing a high-pitched whistle.

A group of around five fellow chimney sweeps emerge, dressed differently in their all-black street clothes. They're greeted with loud cheers. Ashley would've thought they'd want to rest their voices after all that singing. Apparently not. She trades a sly smile with Craig.

"_Ohhhh, ain't it a glorious day_?" sings Bert, his friends soft-shoeing to no music. "_Right as a morning in May? I feel like I could fly_."

"_Could fly_," join in the other men.

"_Have you ever seen the grass so green_?" continues Bert. "_Or a bluer sky_?"

Honestly, yes, thinks Ashley. To cover the alcohol on her breath, Ashley bought and sucked a piece of toffee before sitting next to Craig. She's fully aware that drinking that martini or anything won't make things better. She saw the after school specials same as everyone else. It won't erase the bad articles or the booing or her not being in the broadcasts. The skies weren't blue for her, but she's blue and the wine or champagne or whatever isn't helping. It does numb, however. It numbs that annoying voice that reminds her that the skies are grey, that the words are grim. And that feels nice.

"_Oh, it's a lovely holiday with_...," sings Bert, shuffling to her.

She hangs her head, tries to hide her face. He's waiting. Ugh, she might as well humor him, Robert and Chris beaming. Craig looks tickled as well.

"Ashley," she provides.

"_Ashley_!" sings the group in perfect synchronization.

"_Ashley makes your heart so light_," sings Bert, pulling her next to him.

Craig whoops as the cheers from the crowd echo in her ears. Ashley wagers she must be turning five thousand shades of red if there are five thousand shades. At this moment, she doesn't know what's worse-- outright derision from concertgoers or complete embarrassment in an impromptu performance.

"_When the day is grey and ordinary, Ashley makes the sun shine bright_," compliments Bert.

He attempts to get her to dance, and Ashley does allow two small steps before stopping. Bert isn't offended in the least. He places an arm around her.

"_Oh, happiness is blooming all around her, the daffodils are smiling at the dove_," sings Bert.

Motioning for the audience to help him, Ashley's surprised when they do. Even the shy boy has rediscovered his pipes.

"_When Ashley holds your hand, you feel so grand_," they sing. "_Your heart starts beating like a big brass band_."

Robert and Chris were singing the loudest and Ashley worriedly bounces from foot to foot. Staring at Craig, he gives her an awkward shrug, soothes her with a reluctant smile. Ashley finally lets her teeth show.

"_Oh, it's a jolly holiday with Ashley...no wonder that it's Ashley that we love_!" sings Bert.

Bert pats her firmly on the shoulder.

"_No wonder that it's Ashley that we love_!" sings the crowd, Craig's voice above all.

Ashley timidly bows as the crowd applauds the performers. Despite the cheesy factor, it was sweet...in its way. Bert and his band of brothers receive congratulary handshakes as Ashley moves to the people who didn't save her from being part of the sugary spectacle. She punches Craig gently in the stomach and the guys chuckle. They all leave the theater, Robert and Chris discussing where to stand to get a taxi. As Craig locates his cell, Ashley stares past him at a promotional poster. The reviews are in glittering gold. _Magical and magnificent...a jolly holiday from start to finish...the best new musical in years_. She swallows a lump in her throat. It must be nice to have that said about you and for others to see it...nicer than having your dad treat you because he's read how you're an awful musician.

"You missed some of it," says Craig.

"Washroom...had trouble finding it," lies Ashley.

He didn't have to know she was drinking. Her father knew, so yeah.

"Well, you saw the best songs," comforts Craig.

"Without me in them," says Ashley, folding her arms.

"It was all in good fun," defends Craig. "Guys telling you how great you are. You really wanted me to stop that?"

"Alright...it was okay," admits Ashley.

"Just so there's no secrets between us...," begins Craig.

Ashley darts her eyes from the poster to Craig. Did he find out about the martini? Did her dad tell her?

"I told your dad I'd be looking out for you," says Craig.

"For me?" says Ashley, cautiously.

"If it means saving you from future serenades, so be it," promises Craig.

Whew. Good. She didn't want a lecture from any of them. No, let this be a fun night. The performance with Craig was marred by Mark's comments. This didn't have to be. This can be him and her, and it can be good.

"You can serenade me...anytime," asserts Ashley.

Robert and Chris start down the street. Craig and Ashley hang behind them, holding hands.

"_No wonder that it's Ashley that I love_," sings Craig, as Ashley lays her cheek against his shoulder.

IV.

The limo ride to LAX is shorter than she anticipated. Toronto beckons, and Toby's heeding the call. All the other forms of transit seemed longer to Manny. The tour bus was leisurely, the rides in Lia's Porsche or in Anne Marie's Mercedes tortoise-like. The carriage ride was slow and steady. This time it's all moving so fast. Toby's bags were really tucked away in the trunk. Anne Marie is really sitting with Fred in the front, J.T. and Emma in the back with her and Toby, in the opposite seat. The distance between L.A. and Toronto is rapidly increasing in her mind already. It's not fair to her heart.

Manny rights herself as she stares at her script. While Toby and J.T. raced to get their luggage in order, Emma and Manny made a pit stop at Lia's to get the three pages. They took seperate taxis from the tour bus stop. Claudia isn't too difficult a part. Her lines were funny, which helped Manny remember them. During the drive, Toby ran lines with her. She got some amusement from that seeing as Toby was Satchel, the equivalent of their own source of torture, Heather Sinclair. Toby pretending to be the queen bee, and Manny giggling as he read, just reminded her that they'd come full circle in not caring what Heather thought. Emma and J.T. fed her with positive feedback. And if she isn't mistaken, she's sure the window connecting them to the front lowered itself a hair, and perhaps Anne Marie caught a listen. Manny elected to stop reading aloud after that.

"We're here," says Fred over the intercom.

They all straighten themselves. Manny tucks her script into her mini-backpack. Toby fumbles for her hand and sighs. Their good-byes aren't too far off.

J.T., with a loud grunt, pushes through the door, Emma following.

"Got it?" asks Toby.

"Oh yeah!" cries Manny, retrieving a small pink shopping bag.

Toby leaves first, helps Manny get out. Fred is removing the bags and setting them neatly on the curb. Texting, Anne Marie groans and stares at the airport's entrance.

"Is it impossible to get a trolley for my son's departure?" she asks an employee at the door. "I mean, honestly."

The young man, who looked to be on his break, goes in search of it anyway. Manny smiles knowingly at Toby. They flank Fred at the trunk.

"That should do it," announces Fred. "Well, I wish you happy travels and..."

Manny interrupts him by presenting him with the bag.

"From me and Toby," informs Manny. "Or Toby and I. Whichever. I'm too excited!"

Fred offers them a curious stare and takes the bag. He opens it, pulls out a Lucky Strike Lanes bowling shirt and a small gift card. Fred's grin is the ultimate reward. Good thing they talked that day he took her to Grauman's, or else she wouldn't have known that he liked bowling.

"That certificate is for a day with your daughters," explains Manny.

"I'll convince Mom to give you a day off," says Toby. "We probably got on your nerves all trip. This is to say thank you."

"It was an interesting trip, indeed," laughs Fred. "But it's been my pleasure at the same time."

"You can take me if they're not interested," says Manny. "I can't bowl or anything, but..."

Fred chuckles. "Okay. I hope you'll both keep in touch."

"We will," say Toby and Manny, simultaneously.

They shake his hands, Manny sure that Fred's not into hugs. He had done a lot for them. No one would deny that.

"Oh, I got you this!" speaks up J.T.

He jogs to Fred. It's another gift certificate to...In-N-Out Burger. They'd all decided to buy Fred something while shopping, but J.T. said he had his own idea.

"Fred's a vegetarian," says Anne Marie, coming forward.

"They've got salads...I think," mutters J.T.

Anne Marie points to the trolley being pushed in their direction. The young employee looks in fear of his life.

"That's prompt service for you," says Anne Marie, proudly. "Let's load the bags. J.T., Toby, please load. Fred has another appointment today."

Toby and J.T. immediately start loading. Emma aids with the littler bags.

"Manny, please accompany me inside," asks Anne Marie.

She doesn't wait for an answer, Manny going with her lips parted. What did she do? Was it wrong to give Fred a gift? Or...no. Did she discover where they were last night? This could get ugly. Manny fiddles with her charm bracelet. Ugh, she's always fiddling with something in front of this woman.

"The jewelry was in prime condition...I thank you for that," says Anne Marie.

Oh.

"Oh!" says Manny aloud. "Yeah. It was cool to see a car come just for that."

"I always hate to return them," confesses Anne Marie.

"That too," agrees Manny.

Anne Marie clears her throat. Manny senses the topic's about to get more serious and she's hoping she's ready.

"Your speech at the ball was lovely," says Anne Marie, smiling a little.

"Thanks," says Manny.

"It's obvious how you feel about Toby," continues Anne Marie. "Before, when we weren't...weren't familiar with one another, I was just trying to protect him. He's very sweet and open and...like his father."

Manny stares at the floor for a second, then at her.

"He's growing up, though," sighs Anne Marie. "And I've missed a few years. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to embrace what's happened between. Nor who he's found in between."

She's talking about her. Manny stops fidgeting and grins. Well, it can start in this airport. It can start with an embrace. Manny walks to her and takes this woman who might like her into her arms. Then, she's convinced that she likes her when Anne Marie smooths Manny's hair. That's what Joseph and Maria did to show their appreciation. It's a throwback she loves experiencing.

"This is better than the in-flight movie," says the reason for their hug.

"Toby, always eager for my attention," says Manny, rolling her eyes.

The three of them laugh. Anne Marie leaves to fetch some spare luggage tags, Manny staring at her, then Toby.

"Say bye to your mom last," whispers Manny.

"Manny!" whispers Toby, urgently. "That's not how I pictured..."

"Tobes, did you picture any of this?" asks Manny, gently.

Toby glances around, his silence the answer. None of them saw these great things coming, not after the drama-filled days and eventful evenings. They were all standing tall as the pins at Lucky Strike Lanes, after so many possibly destructive balls were thrown to make them fall.

"Don't leave yet," says Toby.

"I'll wait in that cafe," says Manny, nodding to her right.

V.

With a carefully weighted breath, Toby approachs the desk where Anne Marie is writing.

"So weird to write your father's address," says Anne Marie as the pen moves. "So weird I remember it precisely."

So weird he has these emotions. He was picturing a brisk sayonara before the ball. They'd have their typical strained hug, and J.T. would give her a warmer one. Anne Marie would've given him instructions on airplane conduct to the very minute they touched down in Toronto. Today he'd hate it more if she did any of that. He'd like to give her a warmer hug than J.T. He'd love to discuss the next time he could come to California to see her instead of Manny.

"Um, these are...," says Toby, retrieving a piece of paper.

Anne Marie pauses in her writing to stare at him.

"My e-mail addresses," shares Toby, handing her the paper. "School, home, Kytel."

"Great, Tobes," says Anne Marie, genuinely.

"Donna can maybe..."

"Or I can type them myself," interrupts Anne Marie.

"Alright," says Toby, brightly. "You can use the iPhone."

"I could," says Anne Marie. "You sure you don't..."

"No, I don't want it," insists Toby. "Our phone works too. Just putting it out there."

"And you're free in the?"

"Evenings mostly," provides Toby. "J.T. and Manny...they're more into IM."

"Excellent," says Anne Marie. "Tuesdays?"

"Yeah! I'll make sure to answer, too," reassures Toby.

He's sure that's for the best, instead of his father or Kate picking up.

"It's nice to have plans," says Toby as Anne Marie gives him the tags.

"As long as you know, I'll always adjust my plans for you," promises Anne Marie.

Toby readjusts his glasses, and smiles before Anne Marie's arms envelop him. That's a schedule he could get used to, no problem.

"I love you, Mom," says Toby.

"I love you, too," says Anne Marie.

They part with Anne Marie glancing around in confusion. Toby wonders what she's looking for. They had all their luggage heading off to baggage claim, and J.T. had their carry-on bags.

"Where's Manny?" questions Anne Marie.

"Waiting for a farewell," shares Toby. "She's leaving before you."

"Oh, no she's not," says Anne Marie. "She's been there for you without fail, and is more than deserving of a proper parting. I will leave."

"No, Mom, you don't have to...," starts Toby.

"Don't argue with an executive, Tobias," interrupts Anne Marie. "I can be a romantic once in a blue moon."

Toby smiles widely. "Thanks."

They hug once more, Anne Marie motioning for Toby to go. He does watch her exit, however. It's one of the few times she's walked away where he's grinning in her wake.

Toby walks into the cafe, locating Manny in the middle. She's staring at the top of the table, tracing the smooth surface with her finger. Her frown's very set. Toby sits in the other chair.

"We're alone," says Toby.

"But...," begins Manny.

"Her idea," defends Toby.

"Eh," resists Manny with a slight smile.

Toby's silent. He'd rather Manny not resist anymore. His mom's left. Coffee and other drinks are being poured above the light music coming from the stage. A dark-skinned man with an acoustic guitar plays while humming. Toby's heard of airport musicians before, has yet to view any until this moment. He'd rather view Manny, even if the music is soothing.

"Got something for ya," says Toby. "Since this is how I pictured it."

"I'm all ears," guarantees Manny, lifting her head.

Retrieving a small leather book, he opens it and takes out a sheet of paper. Manny takes it.

"A list," informs Toby.

"Mmmm," says Manny. "Awww, plasma ball...fedora...boa...razor..."

"That's not it!" cries Toby, staring at the paper. "That's what I needed to pack."

"Well, I like that the stuff I gave you is first," laughs Manny.

Toby exchanges that list for another. Manny unfolds, then gazes at him lovingly.

"_Stuff I Have To Tell Manny Before I Leave_," reads Manny. "Good luck with your auditions. I know you'll be wonderful."

"Go on," remarks Toby.

"I wish I had more time with you," sighs Manny, wiping the edges of her eyes.

He didn't expect any tears. This is the truth, though. There were certainly some missed, California moments.

"Your success is a measure of your character and your talent," says Manny.

"That's not too nerdy, is it?" says Toby, hopefully.

Manny massages her throat as tears fall. She sniffles.

"Call me when you're able," reads Manny, then shaking her head at him. "Toby, that's what I was going to do anyway."

"Sorry," says Toby.

The next couple things weren't too mushy. Toby relaxes.

"Wear sunscreen," says Manny, laughing. "Don't go blonde."

"Please," says Toby, raising his eyebrows.

"Hmmm, what dye can I use?" teases Manny, then returning to the list. "Alright, two more. You wanted to tell me that...that..."

Manny refolds the list and starts to cry.

"That I fell in love with you more after this trip," whispers Toby, taking her hand and viewing her shoulders shake.

"I...I can't finish it," chokes out Manny.

"Manny, it's like...maybe fifteen days," says Toby. "Counted. I mean, that seems gargantuan to me, too. But...it'll go by really fast."

Or he's lying to himself. The days will drag. They did before he came out here and he was missing her. They were horrible. Suddenly, he feels like crying with her.

Toby settles back into his chair. Fifteen days would be forever. Why does it hit him so hard? Should he blame the fact that their friendship has kind of cemented in what's in his heart, amplifying all that they are now? That's an aspect of them he adores. He shouldn't blame that. Manny wipes her eyes furiously. His words are gone. That's why he made this list. He knew that would happen.

"You're not talking," says Manny.

He responds with his gaze dropping. Then, a chair slides to them, a guitar appears in his fallen sight.

_When can my heart beat again  
When does the pain ever end  
When do the tears stop from running over  
When does "you'll get over it" begin  
I hear what you're saying  
But I swear that it's not making sense  
So when can I see you_

Toby releases a hesitant smile as Manny provides a welcoming glance to the musician parked in the middle of them. At least Manny's tears have ended. She's the more willing to listen. The man beams, bouncing his head at Manny as he soulfully sings.

_When can I see you again  
When can my heart beat again  
When can I see you again  
When can I breathe once again  
And when can I see you...again._

That's when he leaves, going to some other couple who appear to be blissfully in love. Toby wordlessly offers his hand, which Manny firmly grasps. She holds the list in her other hand and they walk to where J.T. and Emma are saying a friendly good-bye. Byes are easier when you're only friends.

"Break a leg, Santos," says J.T., hugging Manny.

Manny doesn't let Toby's hand go in the exchange. Good. He's not ready.

"Bye, Toby," says Emma, kissing his cheek, then passing him.

It's clear they were allowing him and Manny to be alone in these last seconds.

"I've been too shy to say the last part," says Toby, nodding at the list.

Manny tenderly reopens the paper, struggles to read the final words.

"Last night was what I wanted," reads Manny. "You said it would bring us closer. You were right. Then, I woke up next to you and realized that I was the one who was wrong. I said it should mean everything..."

She stares at him, disappointed.

"Read the rest," whispers Toby.

Manny does so, then blushes.

"That didn't mean everything," chokes out Manny. "It was you. It's...it's you that means everything. You are everything to me."

"You can throw that away," says Toby, shrugging.

Warmth fills his entire body as Manny wraps her arms arounds him. She's still shaking in his hold. They'd have to go eventually. They'd have to go.

"How do you expect me to top that?" asks Manny, staring into his eyes.

"I love you maybe?" says Toby.

"I love you, definitely," says Manny.

When she kisses him, the floor goes fuzzy under his feet. His skin grows hot. All voices are echoes. All time slips away.

"I'll watch your plane take off, okay?" whispers Manny after their mouths stop.

The kiss has faded and his lips are still tingling.

"Okay,' says Toby.

J.T.'s already in the line, and Toby gets behind him. Manny and Toby exchange long, sad waves. The woman at the front takes their tickets, and they start through security. Toby stares at Manny when he removes his shoes, walks through the metal detector, and repositions his shoes. He stares at her when he reshoulders his carry-on bag. He stares at her when J.T.'s on his way to the terminal. Then, he turns, goes as Manny, as she so often does, patiently waits for him.


	49. New

**XLIX. New**

_Don't let it go away  
This feeling has got to stay  
Don't let it go away  
This feeling has got to stay  
And I can't believe I've had this chance now  
Don't let it go away_

_New, you're so new  
You, you're new  
And I never had this taste in the past  
New, you're so new_

_My normal hesitation is gone  
And I really gravitate to your will  
Are you here to fetch me out?  
'Cause I've never had this taste in my mouth_

_Oh you're not old  
And you're not familiar  
Recently discovered and I'm learning about you_

_New, you're so new  
You, you're new_

_And you're consuming me violently  
And your reverence shamelessly tempting me  
Who sent this maniac?  
'Cause I never had this taste in the past_

_Oh you're different, you're different from the former  
Like a fresh battery, I'm energized by you_

_Don't let it go away  
This feeling has got to stay  
Don't let it go away  
This feeling has got to stay  
And I can't believe I've had this chance now  
Don't let it go away_

_Why am I so curious?  
This territory is dangerous  
I'll probably end up at the start  
I'll be back in line with my broken heart  
New, you're so new  
You, you're new  
And I never had this taste in the past_

_Don't let it go away  
This feeling has got to stay  
Don't let it go away  
This feeling has got to stay  
And I can't believe I've had this chance now  
Don't let it go away_

_And I can't believe it  
Can't believe it  
Can't believe it  
Can't believe it  
Don't let it go away, this feeling has got to stay  
Don't let it go away_

**New is the property of No Doubt and appears in the film _Go._  
Casual Viewin' is the property of 54-40.**

**Author's Note: Just to clear something up, in the chapter Inner Smile, I had Lia bring the script to Manny at the hotel, but I didn't have her hand it to Manny. That's why Manny and Emma swing by the Andrews' house in "I'll Be Okay". Oversight on my part, but I didn't want anyone to get confused. :)**

The swirling colors make her own head spin. Frothy soap covers the washer's windows as it cleans her delicates. Ashley sighs, hops onto the machine. Craig is at her side, trying to sort colors.

"If I can't do this today, I won't be able to do it at university," groans Craig. "Pinks with reds?"

"What do you have that's pink?" laughs Ashley. "And no."

"One of Angie's sweaters snuck in," explains Craig. "Might as well wash it."

"Such a big brother," says Ashley, massaging his left shoulder.

Granted another free day on the tour, Ashley had decided to spend it doing more mundane activities. After all, doing laundry is less expensive than shopping or attending musicals. Craig was kind of a pack rat so they had a decent amount of loose change to add to Ashley's last roll of quarters. They also elected to go early to get first choice of the washers and dryers. As it turned out, there weren't many available. This was no first-class laundromat, with coin machines or modern models. Nope, half of them didn't work and those that did work made the people feel cramped. The plus is she'd rather be cramped with Craig than anyone else.

"I saw you staring at my delicates before I put them in," teases Ashley.

"That's your dirty mind thinking that," returns Craig, tossing a clean T-shirt at her head.

Her mind doesn't feel dirty, although it does feel pretty ashamed. She told Craig a lie about the martini, a white lie, but a lie. She hasn't kept anything from him since their painful last year and she didn't have to see his happy-go-lucky face back then. He's been so wonderful lately too, outdoing his role as her confidante. There she goes again, focusing on her own problems and how Craig was helping her. He deserved a match in that area.

"Tell me what you're working on," encourages Ashley.

"That sound you hear," says Craig, knocking lightly on his forehead. "Is the sound of zero inspiration."

"Your head's never empty," says Ashley.

"Yeah, I'm not sure what's going on," confesses Craig. "I'm in a city that breathed some of the best artists in the world and...nothing."

"I'd like my head to be empty," shares Ashley, sliding off the machine.

"Which is why I brought...," begins Craig.

The top of his body disappears behind a neighboring table and he rests a CD player on a quiet dryer. Ashley grins.

"Way too silent in this place," says Craig, shutting it on.

"And I'm way hungry," says Ashley, stroking her stomach.

"Can get us something," offers Craig. "What do you want? Beans-on-toast? Bubble and squeak?"

"Anything that doesn't sound British. And bubbles and squeak...what's that?"

"Someone said it once. I don't know."

"Sounds weird."

Craig beams. "I'll get it and we can share."

"Uh-uh," says Ashley, shaking her head as Craig makes for the door.

"Too late!" exclaims Craig, then leaving.

Ashley chuckles, raises the volume on the CD player. She's not particularly okay with being alone, though who would attack her in a laundromat? She begins to hum, pours some detergent into a measuring cup. Craig didn't use measuring cups. He kind of just threw everything in there. If they ever lived together, she'd insist on doing the wash most days.

She claps as a mid-tempo tune starts, remembering the song. This must be one of Craig's mix tapes. She preferred his to hers because they were clearer and had more upbeat music. Most of her taped tunes were more mediative, only played when she was composing or sulking. They were made during grade ten, but she had a reason to be moody then. That's when Craig wasn't as amazing, flitting between her and Manny. Old news, thinks Ashley. Old news.

Her thoughts stop meandering as she sings along to the lyrics:

_What I'm really wanting, a brand new machine  
One for converting plastic to dreams  
If you ride upon the tiger you can never get off  
They get hungry_

She drums her hands against the rattling washer, then starts to fold a pair of Craig's jeans. She moves back a couple steps, swaying her hips to the cheery acoustic strumming. She closes her eyes, lays the pants down. It's nice to have a moment to herself, let a lack of inhibitions control her. Nobody's controlling her or concerned about her. Socks and shirts can't judge you. Ashley sings:

_Come on come on get up  
I wanna take you  
Away from all of this and what has got you  
Lost and feeling down_

That's when a touch sends her jumping into the air. Ashley screams. She faces a startled Mark, his black earrings shining. Ashley puts a hand over her heart. Mark remains silent.

_You just get it off your back, let it fly away  
Poetry of motion counting out the beats  
To hear a voice in every mind sounding out retreat  
And as they run they look behind to see what tempts the wandering eye  
Still she cries_

"Uh...wait," says Ashley, going to lower the volume.

She does, Mark's eyes following her.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" cries Ashley.

"Couldn't say hi while the music was playing...nice song," says Mark.

Yeah, speaking of nice, Mark wasn't exactly nice in their last moment together. Ashley rolls her eyes and gives him an irritated look.

"I was expecting a stony stare," sighs Mark. "That still doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt."

"Consider it a reaction to your hurtful comments," says Ashley.

"Coming with a gift at least," says Mark, revealing a thin, black book.

Ashley hesitantly takes it, reads the title. Classic Soft Rock Songbook. Oh yeah, their duet. She's less eager for that to happen.

"You may not like me, but I was offering you some practical advice," defends Mark.

"Inadvertently criticizing my work and my boyfriend!" blasts Ashley.

"The way I said it? Not good," concedes Mark. "The one thing you can't deny is that I know how this industry works."

"You've been signed...what, a year?" says Ashley.

"A year where I learned a lot. I was in the same place you were not too long ago."

She finds that hard to believe based on the love people showed Mark. Then again, he did tell her he'd been booed when he was a novice.

"I'm listening," says Ashley.

"Every musician has a comfort level, a stand-by," says Mark. "That's you with Craig. It may feel good, but it's not helping you blossom. You can stand on your own."

"They liked...," starts Ashley.

"They liked it that day. What about tomorrow and the day after?" interrupts Mark. "Artists adapt...they reinvent themselves."

Ashley gives him a puzzled glance, then flips over the songbook. There were a lot of artists she recognized, their songs briefly replaying in her brain. If there were one facet of being a musician that she understood, it was changing it up. How many styles has she fooled around with, and performed? That seemed like a true assessment.

"There's not enough time to change my music," says Ashley.

"Not asking you to change that," clarifies Mark. "I'm asking you to experiment. Broaden your horizons."

She scratches her head, watches as the washer comes to a stop. She's well aware that experimenting did help other musicians get a larger fanbase. In fact, those with albums that had different influences were often revered. What about her own personal contributions, though?

"I want to sing the songs I've written," says Ashley, adamantly.

"Didn't they cheer your cover of Alanis?" reminds Mark. "Let's get them listening to your voice first. Then, you'll show your own work."

Julian pretty much said the same thing. Get their attention first, and then they'll be open to new music, her music.

"Ashley," says Mark, after a heavy breath. "Madonna, Alanis, even flippin' Mariah Carey."

"Don't mention Mariah," pleads Ashley, laughing.

"Fine," says Mark, smiling. "Point is...they changed and they stuck around. I want to see you stick."

Ashley stares into Mark's eyes, searching for some hint of ulterior motives. Maybe that's not right. He was there to hear her woes after she failed, almost every time. He's more friend than foe, his sole fault being that he's too outspoken. She can't blame him for that, seeing as she's outspoken as well.

"Let me go through this thing," says Ashley, holding up the book.

"Great!" exclaims Mark. "We can work on a song tomorrow morning and play it at the next stop."

"Why the rush?" questions Ashley.

"Don't want you to forget the rush you get when you're getting well-deserved applause," replies Mark.

She nods, looks at his back as he leaves. The washer makes a loud beep, indicating that her personal things are done.

II.

"I'm ready, babe!" calls April, tying a flannel shirt around her slim waist.

Vic shakes Sean's hand hard, Sean glancing at his fingers after the gesture. The business has been settled, and the Ducati is his. He has a bike, his own bike. The silver vehicle shines under the newly risen moon. He'd been there that long with Vic, April, and Ellie. Ellie let it slip that the purchase was connected to a future road trip. Sean sort of steered the talk to the places they could go, making sure that there was no chance that Ellie would learn anything more about Dale.

April and Vic were great storytellers. Years on the road left them with quite a few stories. They'd also gone to Niagara, rode the boat that goes to the mist near the falls. They got matching registration barcode tattoos in Halifax. They spat off a bridge in British Columbia at midnight.

Tonight is well on its way to midnight. The sky is clear, with stars. A light breeze blows on Sean's neck. It's so peaceful near the lake. Trees rustle. Leaves race across the grass. Stones line the mud of the shore. Sean finds it quieter than most days he spent at Wasaga.

"Thanks for coming to the lake," says April to Sean. "Had a job interview two miles away."

"No problem," says Sean.

"And I can expect my bike in top shape soon?" asks Vic with a grin.

Sean swallows a lump in this throat. Don't mention the shop or Dale, he reminds himself.

"Yeah," guarantees Sean.

"Time to wish my bike a fair adieu," sighs April, happily. "So long, kiddies."

"Bye," says Ellie, Sean waving as they walk to his new set of wheels.

Sean reaches for Ellie's hand and they stroll to the shore. They have yet to collect the blankets or the pillows or the thermos. Of course, that was his intention. During that talk with Dale, he threw Ellie's name into the fray. It came out with no thought, and now he regrets it. He wanted Dale to cool off, and forget the whole thing. Until he cooled off, Sean felt uneasy not having Ellie in sight. Tomorrow, she had a seminar class. As far as he knows, Dale had no idea what her schedule was, or who their mutual friends, besides Jay, were. Still, he couldn't trust that knowledge. He balked at the thought of making Ellie a prisoner, keeping her with him at all hours. But he's so afraid to leave her alone.

"Mom and Dad are probably wondering where I am," says Ellie.

"Oh...right," says Sean, gaze falling to the grass.

They both look back as a car engine starts. Vic was at the wheel, honked twice to say a last good-bye. Well, they're alone.

"On nights when we don't have hotel rooms, we could...," begins Sean.

"We could?" encourages Ellie.

"Sleep...outside?" says Sean.

Ellie raises her eyebrows, then glances at the blankets.

"It was nice sitting there," says Ellie. "Sure. Why not?"

Sean smiles and sits down. Ellie looks around awkwardly for a few seconds, then joins him. This next request would seemingly come from nowhere, too.

"We could...," says Sean.

"We could?" says Ellie, then grinning. "Sean, how many times are you going to make me say that?"

"Sorry," says Sean, chuckling. "We could...maybe practice. Tonight?"

"Hmmm," mutters Ellie.

She plays with a silver ring on her finger, then her black sleeve shirt. She should say no. Saying yes would get her in trouble with her parents. Although, he can't guarantee that he hasn't caused trouble for her already.

"I have class tomorrow," reminds Ellie.

"What was I thinking?" waves off Sean. "I'll take you..."

"Then again, I am eighteen, practically in college," interjects Ellie. "Like, in a little over a month, and I'll be in a dorm, not their house."

"Your parents would freak," groans Sean.

He begins to bundle up his blanket, Ellie halting him from folding. Her face the color of her motorcycle helmet, she shrugs. Sean decides to take the agreement, tossing his blanket onto the grass. The lake ripples in the darkness.

"I'll make something up," guarantees Ellie.

"You sure?" says Sean.

"We could debate on this or we could relax," kids Ellie.

Sean makes no objections, lying next to her. The stars fill his vision. There are hundreds of them, stretching in all directions. It's like they carved their own distinct space in the night.

He wishes he could claim to be that singular. At Hill's, the customers asked for him specifically. At Dale's, he's part of a conveyor belt, moving in a steady direction, with Dale telling him where to go and what to do. Perhaps the other boys felt the same, or not. If he were Ty, he would.

"El, have you ever seen yourself in someone else?" questions Sean.

"My dad and I are alike," replies Ellie.

"Nah, someone your age or younger," says Sean.

"Kept to myself when I was younger," shares Ellie. "Um, no. Have a lot in common with others, but no real doppelganger."

"That kid?" says Sean.

"The one at the Dot?" says Ellie.

"Can rattle off any part of any car in seconds," says Sean. "It's insane."

"Like you," brags Ellie, happily.

"Yeah...yeah, like me," says Sean, softly.

Sean pounds his pillow lightly, returns it to behind his head. The pounding doesn't make the pillow softer, or his brain clearer.

"I'd call that a gift, not a curse," comforts Ellie, taking in his crestfallen face.

"Depends what you use it on," sighs Sean.

Ellie settles her cheek against Sean's chest. He's glad she's close, next to him. When they get on the road, if they get on the road, they'd have no idea what they would encounter. Tonight, he has no idea what they will encounter.

"Sean, when you said knowing about Dale's business could be bad, what does that mean?" says Ellie.

"It means I shouldn't have gotten involved," whispers Sean.

The words are to himself. This bit of truth should've been the loudest thing he's said today.

"You can't help what you hear," assures Ellie.

He's doing more than hearing, more than what she believes.

"There's one thing I don't get," says Ellie.

"What?" says Sean, giving her a panicked stare.

"Why you're so gloomy after you bought your dream bike," says Ellie, looking up at him.

"Uh," provides Sean, kissing her forehead. "I'm just hoping the bike holds up."

Content with his response, Ellie yawns, then falls asleep. He tries. For him, it's not so easy.

III.

Manny and Emma take turns pressing the doorbell. Ring, ring, ring. Three rings and no answer? Lia's acting discussion couldn't have lasted that long. The Andrews house stands stoically. Manny releases a frustrated sigh, weaves uncomfortably with the two garment bags in her grasp. What they need is a tall, burly butler with good manners to take their things.

What they get is Colin. He appears out of breath, too, so Manny doesn't complain. Anyways, Colin's tall.

"Sorry...waiting on an e-mail," breathes Colin, taking a garment bag. "Lia's in her room."

Emma closes the door behind them.

"Must be some e-mail," says Manny.

"It is!" cries Colin, then racing upstairs.

She and Emma are slower in their ascent, reaching Manny's room with their respective loads. Emma collapses on Manny's pink bed with a low moan. Colin had dropped the garment bag on her bed and vanished. Weird.

"Hannah's going to be meeting a very tired nanny tomorrow night," guarantees Emma.

"And when are we meeting Spinner?" asks Manny, happily.

Climbing onto the bed, she bounces a little. After letting all her tears run, Manny is in better spirits, mainly because Toby called from the airplane, when she and Emma were in the taxi going to Lia's. He said they'd have the first of many IM conversations tonight if she were willing. She said yes and spent the rest of the ride home rereading his list for her. She's hoping her happiness is contagious, and Emma would find what she found.

"Tomorrow morning," answers Emma. "Called and said they were leaving tonight."

"Which means you guys have a free day," says Manny.

"Manny, we spent the day trekking across Cali," groans Emma. "It's getting late and you have an audition at..."

"Three," fills in Manny.

"Hmm, same as the start of Boomer's competition," says Emma.

" Nelson, don't change the topic," sighs Manny, collecting Emma's hair with both her hands. "It's never too late for romance."

"For future reference, are you going to be like this every time you and Toby sleep together?" teases Emma.

Manny hits her with a pillow as Emma laughs. She deserts Emma so her friend can chill, going into the hallway. That's when she hears steady beeps coming from Emma's, really Edwina's, room. She goes past two doors, peers in at Colin typing furiously on a keyboard. His lime green laptop beeps again. Colin bangs a fist against his forehead.

"Won't send," murmurs Colin.

"If it's something small, Toby's taught me a few tips," speaks up Manny.

Colin trembles at the sound of her voice, then breathes. Why is he so shaky? Manny didn't mean to frighten him.

"I copied the wrong address," explains Colin. "Uh, can you..."

He nods that he'd like the door closed. Manny closes it, walks slowly to him.

"Are you part of a secret agency and didn't tell me?" kids Manny.

"Well, I...I do have a secret," answers Colin, the lines near his eyes creasing. "Hiding it from Lia, of all people."

Lia? She and Colin were as close as you could get. What would he hide from her?

"I'm auditioning for...for Eric Hegel's project," shares Colin.

Eric Hegel? Why is that name familiar to her? Oh, the guy who offered her a job on the first day of camp after he heard her monologue. That's right. The project is a musical. She also recalls that Lia thought the project was a pipe dream.

"Really?" cries Manny.

"At that academy, you get training...like with real professionals!" praises Colin. "It'd be good for me, Manny. Unbelievable."

"And it would separate you and Lia," notes Manny.

"Exactly," breathes Colin.

She couldn't imagine being separated from her best friend. There might come a time when that's a concern. But they swore on their friendship that they'd always keep in touch when they were only ten. A seven-year oath is pretty hard to break. No, no worries there.

"Well, you're in the same boat, right?" says Colin.

"Actually, Emma and I made a pact to always be together," says Manny. "I might have to travel back and forth between L.A. and T.O. Still, doable."

"No, I mean Toby," corrects Colin.

"Toby?" says Manny.

That's less difficult. She proposed going to school in California so they'd be in the same region. There was no affirmation, but Toby grinned at the proposal.

"He's maybe applying to some schools here," offers Manny.

"What if he doesn't get in?" says Colin. "Berkeley, UCLA, Stanford...tough universities. What's his second choice?"

"Toby's smart enough that he can go anywhere," insists Manny, starting to frown. "Complete with scholarships."

She hadn't considered the difficulty in the admissions processes for these schools. There were wonderful schools in Toronto, though she'd feel less wonderful without him. No, he hasn't applied anywhere yet. She has to remain optimistic.

"I'm sorry, Manny," says Colin, softly. "Of course he'll get in."

"Yeah...of...of course," stammers Manny.

"I'd rather you smile than frown," says Colin. "So feast your eyes on this. A pic of you and Toby."

Pictures of her and Toby? Great. Martika did release them. The suit Colleen filed didn't intimidate her? She guesses a final jab at her would help that evil woman sleep at night.

"Colin, I don't...," says Manny, her speech fading.

It fades because the webpage that's shown to her has a picture of her and Toby. They're in the carriage, Fred at the helm, horses standing erect on the Hollywood pavement. Toby's, in his elegant tux, reaching to help Manny out of the carriage. Manny beams and hugs Colin from behind.

"And for the second course," says Colin, pensively.

He types in the web address for Trash Talkin' Todd's page. Manny holds her breath. Please let this page be as positive as the last. Please don't show me and Toby with horrible words over our heads, thinks Manny.

"Heard that Angelina's having twins?" questions Colin with a smirk.

Angelina's pregnant belly was never so beautiful. She and Toby were nowhere to be found.

"Thank you!" cries Manny, looking upward.

Colin chuckles. "Just goes to show old news is no news."

Manny puts a hand against her beating heart. She'd be able to tell Toby they were homefree in their IM chat. This is perfect!

"Matthew McCoughaney, always without a shirt," says Colin, scrolling down.

"Oh my gosh!" laughs Manny. "Can you print that?"

"I'm telling Toby," teases Colin.

"It's not for me," says Manny mischeviously.

Colin's brow furrows, prints the picture. Manny grabs a pen, draws an arrow to Matthew's golden curls, and then to the surfboard he's holding. She writes the name "Spinner" next to the arrow, and then the word "Emma", within a heart she draws on his chest. She tapes it to the door of Edwina's room and tugs Colin to the bathroom nearby. Manny shushes him when Colin begins to talk. Then there's footsteps, the floor creaking.

"Manny!" cries Emma.

Manny and Colin close the door, their bodies crumbling to the floor as they burst into hysterics.

IV.

She thumbs through the pages. The notes and lyrics fly by in a flash. That's because she's read it from cover to cover twice. None of the songs were particularly innovative or controversial. They were golden standards that listeners would sing along to or recognize. A great portion of the selections were by females, which is why she believes Mark gave her this book. Ashley rises from her bunk, nearly hitting her head on the top.

Her eyes glide past the various photographs she's tacked onto the bunk's walls. Since Craig was a constant presence, he convinced her to leave him out of the collage. There are graduation pictures with her, Jimmy, and Spinner. Then, there's a snapshot of her and Ellie in the Grapevine offices, taken by Liberty. She and Paige were poised in front of the variety show stage in another one. She wonders what they're doing, how they're having fun. You'd think they'd be more envious of her being on this exciting city-wide tour, but no, it's them she envies. Her friends were having care-free summers. There'd be meals at the Dot, theater flicks to criticize, nights with no pressure.

Perhaps it's in her personality to always have things going on in her life. Last summer, she had the internship. The summer before, she got a job at a record store to keep her mind off Craig's drama with her and Manny. Then, yet another summer before that, she got to go through drug counselling. In fact, the sole summer she'd had as a teen, without commitments or without any pain, was the summer before grade eight. But even then, her music beckoned.

_Ashley plunked two keys, sighed, plunked again. For Terri, July meant cake with candles and gift boxes with bows. For Ashley, it meant a sudden surge of creativity, brought on by her piano teacher's persistent push for her parents to send Ashley to the music academy. Though she botched her first audition at age eight, there were some openings for junior high students. Ashley truly believed the butchered sonata would set her free from such expectations. No dice. Robert really warmed up to the idea since the academy wasn't too far from his new apartment, acquired after the divorce from her mother._

_There were so many adjustments that Ashley found it incredibly hard to concentrate on her music. She was just starting to like Jeff and get used to Toby. She'd only been at Degrassi for a year. Her first relationship, with Jimmy, became official. And now, now they want her to audition again? Ashley wished the McGreggors didn't have a piano. She'd feel less inclined to practice._

_"What'd you wish for, Terri?" asked Paige, coming into the room. "Inquiring minds want to know."_

_Ashley paid them no mind, gently tapping the keys._

_"Jared Leto," gushed Terri._

_"Ter, you're thirteen today," sighed Paige. "Wishing for boys is beyond teenager status."_

_"Well, what'd you wish for?" said Terri._

_"A cherry-red Ferrari to match my nails, of course," replied Paige._

_"That you couldn't drive," pointed out Terri, smiling._

_"That's what big brothers are for," said Paige. "Guys would gawk if they saw me riding shotgun with my athletic bro. It's not like Dylan driving around with any other hot girls."_

_"You can dream," said Terri, shrugging. "Ash, you're on that thing again?"_

_At the mention of her name, Ashley turned, her face reddening. She'd broken away from the party to practice her piece, but she made sure to stay for the opening of the presents and Terri's sweet thank-yous after blowing out the candles. That's when she wandered, found the piano to be a silent companion. The bench was clear and warm. Nobody else filled the room. It was private and perfect._

_"Audition's in two days," explained Ashley._

_"Hello, hon?" said Paige. "If you go to that artsy school, you won't get to see us."_

_"Or Jimmy," added Terri._

_"It could do good things for my career," said Ashley._

_"A full body tan could do wonders for my bikini lines, but do you see me going au natural?" said Paige._

_Terri giggled. "What bikini lines?"_

_"I have bikini lines!" exclaimed Paige. "Shut up!"_

_"No, you shut up!" said Jimmy, grinning as he comes into the room._

_"You shut up!" said Paige trying not to laugh._

"_I better not be hearing shut up in there!" called Mr. McGreggor. "This is a house where we respect others."_

_"See, guys?" whispers Terri. "Both of you shut up."_

_Mr. McGreggor was about as tough as a teddy bear so they pretty much knew they were in the clear, despite a reminder of manners. He was incredibly sympathetic with Terri and gave her rules on how to be a young lady, since her mother died. Terri was a really good daughter, wanted to show she listened to him, so they stopped for her sake._

_"Jimbo, convince your girl to stay put at Degrassi," said Paige._

_"Paige!" cried Ashley._

_Jimmy's sight drooped to the carpet. Ashley had only told him yesterday, but Jimmy played fake-supportive and sulked when they were alone. She told him she would prefer to stay at Degrassi, too. Her parents left it up to her. She promised an audition, and then would decide where to go from there._

_"Where's Spin?" asked Paige._

_She asked where Spinner was all the time. If someone heard someone else asking where Spinner was, they all knew it was Paige._

_"Out back," answered Terri._

_Similarly, Terri routinely knew where Spinner was, and that didn't sit well with Paige. Ashley couldn't make any predictions on what would happen with that trio, although she'd enjoy it if Terri and Spinner dated. They could double with her and Jimmy. Terri needed more of a self-esteem boost, and what better day than her birthday._

_"Oh, that's right," remembered Paige with a smirk. "I forgot about the cute little games portion of this affair."_

_They were cute...well, to her and Terri. Ashley liked to have organized activities so they did the limbo, did a round of charades, and did a superlative game with the faculty. It turned out most of the girls wanted to kiss Armstrong, and most of the guys went for Hatzilakos. Then, there was..._

_"Heh," said Spinner, carrying a whole pinata with a smile. "Later, guys."_

_"Spinner liked them," boasted Terri, with a shy smile aimed at Ashley._

_"Ugh!" cried Paige, heading for the washroom._

_Terri went to go talk to her other guests, resulting in Ashley being alone with Jimmy. Jimmy's frown is all he needed to say._

_"We can get together on the weekends," suggested Ashley_.

"_I have games on Saturdays...maybe Sundays?" said Jimmy._

_"If the first year's intensive, may have to play on Sundays before the school week," breathed Ashley._

_"So you basically have no time for your friends?" groaned Jimmy._

_"Jimmy, this is important," said Ashley._

_"Thought being a kid was important," said Jimmy. "Guess not."_

That was their first fight, and possibly the first hint that Ashley became too focused, and didn't let herself go. The next year, she took the X to lose control. In grade nine, she chopped off her hair to lose the weight of everything. Her moods got darker. She cemented the walls around herself. She only let Craig chip through...sometimes.

What if she changes things around? What if she goes down another path, a path with less pressure? Who will it hurt?

Ashley detects footsteps, returns to the book. Aja walks to a refrigerator in the common area with her bag, clinking loudly. Bags don't clink, Ashley setting her book on the blanket. She stands by Aja's side.

"Say hello to my little friends," laughs Aja.

She removes pocket-size bottles of gin, vodka, and schnapps from her bag and sets them in the back near a carton of cottage cheese. Everyone bought what they ate and drank, but not everyone was willing to share. Ashley purchased two sodas, and a carton of orange juice. Nobody bothered them.

"Where's the party?" jokes Ashley.

"The party is whenever we feel like it," replies Aja, tugging a strand of Ashley's purple hair.

"I'm boring at parties," confesses Ashley. "I usually go off in some corner if there's no one I know there."

"You can't be that boring," argues Aja.

"Yes I can," breathes Ashley. "Look at me."

They both stare at her outfit, simple jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt.

"No wonder those girls thought I was a groupie," moans Ashley. "I couldn't stand out if my life depended on it."

Aja pats her lightly on the shoulder, closes the fridge. Ashley squints her eyes at Aja's mohawk, colorful and exquisitely cut. Cut. Ashley takes Aja by the elbow.

"Wha?" starts Aja.

"Cut my hair," says Ashley, nodding.

"You gone mental?" cries Aja.

"Reinvention," says Ashley. "A fresh start calls for a fresh appearance."

Aja throws her a puzzled stare as she fetches a pair of scissors, a comb, and a mirror. At first, she was just talking to talk. Then, Mark's words flowed through her mind so clear and so true. If she wants her audience to wake up, she has to wake up. She has to find a new her, someone that can't be labelled a groupie, someone who they'll want to know more about.

"Have to do the first snip," comments Aja, handing her the scissors. "Or I'll feel guilty."

Ashley quickly takes the scissors, and with a loud snip, a red-brown tendril falls to the tour bus floor. Adrenaline races through her entire body. Her pulse quickens. Yes, something's happening. Something's changing. She's doing something.

"Guts, Kerwin," praises Aja. "Guts!"

She holds the mirror, watching Aja go to work. Air breathes against her neck. The scissors snip near her ear.

"Wait 'til Craig sees it," says Aja. "You'll be a whole 'nother woman."

Ashley smiles. "That's the plan."

V.

Professor Williams held them after class. He delivered the worst news possible to the future news seekers. They were switching partners for the next assignment. Two more assignments and the seminar would be done.

Normally, Ellie wouldn't blink at a change like this. If another partner worked, they worked. But Professor Williams was so complimentary of her and Matthew that she's almost afraid to disappoint the professor if her articles aren't as good. So when Professor Williams drew that chalk line from her name to Bridget Geyer, she took her time getting up from her seat to meet her. Bridget was pleasant enough. Her handwriting is neater than Matthew's, not that she could knock Matthew on anything else.

Matthew keeps quiet as he steers his car to Ellie's home. Professor Williams is responsible for this. He'd called them Woodward and Bernstein. They were the two famous journalists who broke the Watergate scandal. They didn't break any hard-hitting news, but they were a successful team. How can you separate a successful team? Matthew's like her...journalism Marco.

"No more ground-breaking stories for us to tackle," groans Ellie.

"Hey, we're working together on the Core next year," says Matthew. "I know it. And we'll have an article under our belts already."

Ellie can't argue with that. She can tell him to halt, however.

"Um...here's fine," says Ellie when they reach the beginning of her street.

"This isn't the best car, but it'll get you to the front door," kids Matthew.

"Kinda...don't want to go in...immediately," shares Ellie.

"Oh," says Matthew, then shaking his head. "I don't get it."

"They were expecting me," provides Ellie.

"Then we shouldn't have stopped at the Dot for coffee," sighs Matthew. "El, I'm sorry."

No, she suggested the coffee stop. She would've suggested anything to avoid going into that house. She got sucked into staying. Sean bought a beautiful bike for their road trip. He felt so warm against her body, telling her what he was thinking, where he hoped to go. It was very intimate and she hadn't been alone with him in awhile. Besides, what she said to Sean is true. She's an adult so her parents didn't have to know everything. Right? She debated this when she ran to Marco's to shower and changed into a shirt she'd left there. There was no conclusion, except that her parents would be ticked.

Ellie twists the strap of her bag, wringing it.

"Are you okay? You sure you don't...," begins Matthew.

"Yeah...park here?" says Ellie.

Matthew goes to the curb and lets Ellie exit. He gives her a weary look.

"Save the chivalry for Ebony," says Ellie. "I'm fine, Matt. See ya."

He holds up his hands, smiles, and backs up. Then, he's heading down the street.

Ellie locates her cellphone. Let's see, thinks Ellie. If I have Marco say I was staying at his house, that'd be less of a problem. Standing in front of the Henderson's house, a porch light shining on her, she dials Marco. Straight to voicemail. Who would be a good alternate? Alex?

The porch light goes off. Crickets chirp lightly. Ellie can't dial in the dark. Then, there's a steady, moving light. The light is bright and gold, piercing. It shines on the street, illuminating her shoes. A green Toyota comes to a slow crawl.

Ellie glances up, freezes. The window lowers, a hair at first, then all the way. She holds her cell to her chest.

"Nice night for a drive," says Dale, teeth gleaming in the shadows.

Sighing, Ellie walks down the sidewalk. Dale's car slinks in the same direction.

"So you'll be a freshmen this fall?" says Dale. "What dorm you living in?"

"A dorm where skeezy guys don't drop by," replies Ellie, staring coldly at him.

What is this guy's problem? He sees her on his way home and wants to harrass her? Ellie shivers, trying to hide it.

"Cold?" asks Dale. "I can give you a lift."

"I live on this street!" exclaims Ellie, pausing.

Great. She told this jerk where she lives.

"Whatever," says Dale. "Anyways, you don't have to worry your pretty little head about me. Sean and I have patched things up. I even let him have the day off."

"Or your dad did," corrects Ellie.

"I know what I said," says Dale, grinning widely.

Ellie looks from left to right. Huh? This guy's talking in riddles. She should ignore him, run into her house.

"The best dorm at U of T is Doser," speaks up Dale.

"I'll keep that in mind," says Ellie.

Not, she thinks. He's a liar and possibly a crook. Although, Sean did hint that there was some good in him. Where on earth that is, she can't see.

"Honestly, I respect people that go to university," says Dale. "I mean, it's hard! I'm amazed I got through."

"You did education, right?" asks Ellie.

"Yep. Student teaching and all that jazz," replies Dale. "School's tough to pay for. And so are...trips."

Ellie narrows her eyes at him, shakes her head. He's getting into personal details he has no business mentioning. She walks briskly to her home, Dale's car moving similarly.

"I'm really good at keeping up with people, El!" shouts Dale. "Especially Sean!"

She isn't certain what makes her more sick, him calling her El, or the name Sean coming from his lips twisted in a smile.

Dale turns off the car, making Ellie turn to him.

"How about you invite me in?" says Dale, grinning as he taps the steering wheel. "I'll shoot the breeze with your folks. I'm really good at...telling people what they want to hear."

Yeah, that's going to be it. Adios, freak.

"Go away," says Ellie.

"Aw, El, we've barely talked," counters Dale.

He winks at her. Ellie's breathing begins to increase. If she had a rubber band on her wrist, she'd be snapping it like crazy. She digs for her house keys as the click of Dale's car door sounds. Please be in this pocket. No. She shoves her hand hard into the other pocket.

"Car trouble?" calls a distant voice.

Ellie brushes some hair from her face, releases a relieved sigh.

"No," says Dale, shutting his car door.

"Then you're really far from your neighborhood, man," says Jay, standing next to Ellie.

She instinctively goes closer to Jay. He tosses her a quick glance.

"Long time, no see," says Dale, looking Jay up and down. "Guess I'll see you at work...tomorrow?"

"Right," says Jay.

He rocks on his shoes and Ellie peers at Dale. Dale was obviously peeved by the interruption, but she was thankful. Incredibly thankful.

"Good night, Ellie," says Dale, backing his car up.

Then, he's flying down the street, faster than Matthew. Ellie places a hand on her heart.

"Jay," she says, not able to find the words.

"It's not good to be out here late at night, Nash," says Jay.

"You are!" returns Ellie.

"Well, I'm not skinny and pretty," says Jay. "Lean and handsome? Yeah."

Ellie pokes him in the shoulder, Jay walking with her to her door.

"You know Sean wouldn't like it," adds Jay.

"Yeah," admits Ellie.

"Dale?" says Jay. "I can't figure that guy out sometimes."

"I don't want to," remarks Ellie. "Wish he would just evaporate."

"Forget him," says Jay. "Took the bus first thing this morning and got my Ehl recommendation."

Finally, a bit of good news tonight, words that didn't make her skin crawl.

"That's great, Jay!" exclaims Ellie.

"Mmm hmm," says Jay with pride. "I'm gonna sit in on one of their classes and see how it's done."

"Did the same thing for university. It really does give you a feel for it."

"No spitballs."

"Man!" cries Jay, playfully.

"No flirting."

"What?" says Jay. "Psh. I ain't promising that."

They laugh, Ellie sliding in her key. The more happy exchange doesn't erase what occured minutes before. Dale was annoying, but never that creepy. He never snuck up on her or asked her questions. It may be some sick mind game. He taunted Sean, and possibly Jay as well. Still, her heart hasn't slowed down any.

"Jay, are...are you and Sean alright?" says Ellie.

"Yeah," says Jay, looking away. "We're fine. You are too. Dale is all talk, El. All talk."

If he's all talk, why does his talking make her uncomfortable, make her dread anything involving him? Sean may have mentioned her and her studies while they were working. Maybe he's simply ragging on her like he did with Sean. Forget it, she thinks. She should move on, like Jay is moving on with his new goals.

"Alright," says Ellie. "And hey, good luck with your class."

"Thanks."

"I hope I'm not the first to say I'm proud of you, but I am," congratulates Ellie.

"You actually are," says Jay, shrugging.

"Not Sean?"

"Not Sean. Hasn't said it."

"Not yet," guesses Ellie.

She closes the door on Jay's smiling face.


	50. Before the Parade Passes By

**L. Before the Parade Passes By**

_Before the parade passes by  
I'm gonna go and taste Saturday's high life  
before the parade passes by  
I'm going to get some life back into my life_

_I'm ready to move out in front  
I've had enough of just passing by life  
with the rest of them  
with the best of them  
I can hold my head up high_

_I've got a goal again  
I've got a drive again  
I've got to feel my heart coming alive again  
Before the parade passes by!_

_Look at the crowd up ahead  
Listen and hear that brass harmony growing  
Look at the crowd up ahead  
Pardon me if my old spirit is showing  
All of those lights over there  
Seems to be telling me where I'm going_

_When the whistles blow  
And the cymbols crash  
And the sparklers light the sky  
I'm going to raise the roof  
I'm going to carry on  
Give me an old trombone  
Give me an old baton  
Before the parade passes by  
(Interlude)_

_Before the parade passes by  
Listen and hear that brass harmony growing  
Before the parade passes by  
I'm going to get some life back into my life  
I'm ready to move out in front  
I've had enough of just passing by life_

_When the whistles blow  
And the cymbals crash  
And the sparklers light the sky  
I'm going to raise the roof  
I'm going to carry on  
Give me an old trombone  
Give me an old baton  
Before the parade passes by...!!_

**Before the Parade Passes By is the property of Barbra Streisand and appears in the film _Hello Dolly_.**

**Baby, Baby, Baby is the property of TLC.**

**Livin' On A Prayer is the property of Bon Jovi.**

**When I Fall in Love is the property of Edward Heyman and Victor Young.**

Emma holds up a lavender mesh top, winces. She throws it onto the pile of discarded, possible date outfits and harrumphs. Two floral, short-sleeved dresses and three cotton shirts were already laying across Manny's bed. Why don't guys have to make these decisions? They can throw on any little old thing and be fine. Okay, not all guys, but probably the vast majority.

To make matters worse, she has no idea what they're doing and what number date this is, because then she could weed out the less appropriate numbers. If this were around, say date number twenty, she'd go for something more formal since the first dates she's had were "hanging out" dates. She went to the mall with Sean, a good pair of earrings her only luxury. With Chris, post-rave, they went to the Dot right after school. With Spinner, she'd gotten into the habit of donning dresses, slightly different from everyone else, but all her accessories were simple. If the amount of dates was zeroing in on twenty to thirty, she kind of believed that the preparation should reflect how serious they were. She'd dip into her collection of perfumes, use the shampoo the guy liked, paints her nails. It was basically to wake up the guy and say, hey, I know what you like and you should notice it. Manny certainly knew what Toby liked. Although, she was the opposite of everything else, dressing to impress on the first date with nary a casual outfit in sight.

Maybe a little too much, thinks Emma, rolling her eyes as Manny's voice carries from the shower.

"_When I fall in love, it will be forever_," sings Manny from behind the door. "_Or else I'll never fall in love_..."

Sighing in frustration, Emma knocks on the door to signal that she's leaving Manny's room. She initially wanted Manny's opinion, but didn't want to have to deal with the Toby-inspired soundtrack. It's almost nine-thirty and most of her energy has disappeared. She would ask Manny in the morning.

"Manny!" calls Emma above the roar of the water.

"_Baby, baby, baby_," sings Manny. "_I got so much love in me. Oh b-b-b baby baby baby_..."

Oh, great. Manny's moved into the r & b classics. That meant she had no intention of getting out anytime soon. Emma collects her clothes and retreats to Edwina's room. Setting her clothes down, she notices a stack of envelopes on the table where Colin left his laptop. Why would Colin leave his mail here? Or it's mine, she guesses. Nah. She'd already gotten her weekly letter from her mother and her pay from Mr. Andrews.

Emma clears her throat, taps her fingers against her jeans. Well, she can't leave it sitting there. Especially if it's Colin's. She goes to the table and sorts through the envelopes. Yep, they were all Colin's. Walking to the front door to see if Colin is still here, a flimsy, colorful piece of mail flutters to the floor. Emma bends, the sheen nearly blinding her. A postcard with a stickie note from Lia. _For Emma._ Emma's gaze goes left and right, and then she retrieves it. The picture shows a row of impressive office buildings on a campus. Various shrubs outline the buildings, and a large sign reads University of Toronto. Emma stands slowly. She flips the postcard over, her heart beating rapidly.

Snake's handwriting looks far from foreign. His "S"es were just as short and curvy, and he still wrote all the way to the very edge of the space. Taking a deep breath, Emma sits at the table and reads.

Dear Emma...

That's where she stops, has to stop. The memory of his voice rings in her head, like an alarm where she'd love to press the snooze button to shut off the sound. He must've gotten Lia's address from her mom. Part of her wishes that he had no idea where she was, even though Snake's known about Manny's camp for several months. Dear Emma, the two words continually going through her mind, her whole body tensing. Dear Emma. How come she wants to hear his voice and hateS to hear it at the same time? How can she condemn him for taking Jack to his new place and silently hope that she'd be able to go? There are so many contradictions she has to deal with, and this postcard puts them front and center.

Emma hurriedly stuffs the postcard into her knapsack. It would stay there until...well, she's ready to read it. She snags Colin's envelopeS and walks downstairs.

"Rewind it to the beginning," commands Lia.

Emma can hear the TV go quiet, watches Colin locate the remote control. Lia had been sulky all day. Maybe the acting discussion didn't go the way she planned. In any case, Lia holed herself up in the living room and said she didn't feel like being disturbed. That makes two of us, thinks Emma. As soon as she gives Colin his things, she'll get changed and go straight to bed.

Her task is interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Lia must've heard her because she turns her head.

"Nelson, you got it?" calls Lia.

Like Lia's incapable? Emma shrugs, opens the door.

A blonde woman with perfectly curled, shoulder-length hair, wearing a pink tracksuit, stares at her. Hannah, clutching her tiny brown suitcase, holds the woman's waist.

"Hannah?" cries Emma.

Hannah immediately smiles.

"That's her," says Hannah, nodding towards Emma.

"Well, then," huffs the woman. "My name is Gretchen Andrews, Hannah's aunt."

"Nice to meet...," starts Emma.

"Getting late, dear," interrupts Gretchen. "No time for a chat. Hannah, you may go inside while I talk to your tutor."

"Actually, I'm more of a...," says Emma.

"I'm quite aware what you are," interrupts Gretchen again.

"Lia's home if you...," says Emma, her throat getting tight. "Uh, yeah."

Hannah's practically pushed to Emma's waiting arms. Wow, they sure liked to pass the girl around in this family. Hannah isn't bothered, laying her cheek against Emma's waist.

"We were having a sleepover, a playdate I arranged for Hannah," explains Gretchen. "With Jayla Browning. The Brownings are fine citizens and I thought the girls would take a liking to each other."

Uh-oh, groans Emma inwardly.

"But that most definitely wasn't the case," sighs Gretchen, shaking her head. "I can only imagine the comments that I'll get at the country club. Hannah was incredibly bad-tempered, bursting into tears and refusing to play with her."

"Excuse me!" cries Emma.

Who cares what her stupid country club members say? She should be consoling her niece, not ridiculing her.

"Jayla broke one of my dolls and laughed," defends Hannah, her eyes growing wet.

"All the Brownings have good manners, Hannah," says Gretchen. "You. I expect you to teach the girl proper manners."

It takes Emma a few seconds to realizing Gretchen's talking to her.

"Maybe the other girl's bad-tempered," says Emma, crossing her arms. "Hannah's a good girl."

"You hardly know the Brownings, young lady," remarks Gretchen. "Hannah is all yours. She's been begging to come home all day. This really is for the best."

"Well, I'm glad to have her," assures Emma, putting two arms around Hannah's shoulders.

Gretchen harrumphs, shuts the door behind her. Emma would like to call her a few negative names, but yeah, she has Hannah with her. She can't believe her aunt could be so cold. Then again, she very well knows that families aren't flawless. She leads Hannah to the staircase, and they sit on the bottom step.

"I wouldn't lie, Emma," insists Hannah.

"I know," says Emma. "You and Jayla weren't getting along?"

"Had a hard time choosing what to talk about," shares Hannah. "She's into make-up...like at seven. Then, she broke my toy."

Hmmm. At seven, Emma was playing with plastic horses and trading stickers with Manny.

"That's okay," says Emma, hugging her from the side.

"Sometimes I'd...I'd like to play with other girls," comments Hannah. "But...I'm cursed."

"Cursed?" whispers Emma.

"My mom died cause of me," says Hannah, a tear falling on her cheek. "What if I kill someone else? What if I kill my dad?"

Oh, wow. What somber thoughts for a seven-year old to have, to live with everyday. Given how famous the Andrews were, she wouldn't be surprised if Hannah had heard the goings-on of her parents from somewhere. Lia, most likely, had no clue that her sister knew.

Emma leads Hannah's wet face to her lap.

"Bad stuff happens," says Emma. "That does not mean you're a bad person or that you're cursed. You...you can't stay in that bad place. Everyone deserves to be happy."

"Me?" questions Hannah.

"Especially you," says Emma.

Hannah rises, and they hug, Emma stroking her small back. If only all family problems could be solved with a hug. She's well aware that she can't cure Hannah of her blues this quickly. Her mother isn't alive and her father barely talks to her.

"Go upstairs and change," instructs Emma. "We'll read your new Madeline book!"

"Okay!" says Hannah, beaming.

As the youngest Andrews sister trudges upstairs, Emma goes to confront the other. The TV is off. Colin is arranging the DVDs on the table as Lia shuffles in Emma's direction.

"You need to talk to Hannah," says Emma, strongly.

"Later," mutters Lia.

Lia attempts to bypass Emma, Emma halting her.

"When?" prods Emma.

"Later, okay?" exclaims Lia.

That's when Emma spies Lia's red eyes, her wet cheeks. Hannah isn't the sole sister crying tonight. Emma removes herself from Lia's path.

She watches Lia retreat to the kitchen, Colin not talking to Emma either. It's the first time Emma's heard every creak in their house.

II.

"Home sweet home," sighs J.T., unclipping the plane's seatbelt.

Toby does the same, shutting off the overhead light. He'd been reading the latest issue of _Tech Today_. It occupied him so he wouldn't phone Manny anymore during the flight. He thought Manny might get sick of his voice if he called her too much, but he never got sick of hers and hoped she felt the same. J.T. concentrated on writing jokes for his TV audition so it was relatively quiet on the way to Toronto. J.T. only spoke up to get about four or five Cokes, supplied to him because the stewardess thought "he was the cutest thing ever." Toby covered a laugh after J.T. threw him a triumphant look.

"Your dad here?" asks J.T.

"Yep," says Toby, checking his phone as it rings.

He wonders if it will be a bit awkward. His main concern is that Jeff would dig for any information on his mother. Despite being happy with Kate, Jeff did pry into how Anne Marie was holding up on her end of the custody deal. It's one of those tricky divorce things. Toby sighs as he follows J.T. off the plane.

"Bye Midge," says J.T., waving at a stewardness with long, auburn hair.

"Bye!" cries Midge with a wide smile.

Toby finally laughs as they enter the terminal, tells his dad they've arrived.

"You won't be chuckling after I show you my haul of honey-roasted peanuts," brags J.T. after Toby hangs up.

"Sure," murmurs Toby.

He can't grill J.T. anymore as his father comes into eyesight, two people behind him. Jeff jogs over and flashes the boys a smile before hugging Toby.

"I missed you," says Jeff.

"Same," says Toby, returning the hug.

"What about me?" says J.T., playfully.

"Hmmm, I think she missed you more," replies Jeff, gesturing to an approaching figure.

Liberty, in a blue pantsuit, approaches them, eyes locked on J.T. J.T. claps his hands and lowers his carry-on bag.

"I had a mock debate at four," says Liberty, shyly.

"Mmmm," says J.T., enveloping her with his arms.

Eh, he can't say he hasn't had saccharine hellos and good-byes with Manny. In fact, he finds it very sweet that Liberty came. He guesses J.T. wanting attention from Midge is a thing of the past.

"Debate?" questions J.T., grabbing his bag.

"Well, I thought a debate team was needed. Talked to Principal Hatzilakos..."

The pair of them go their own way, Liberty explaining things as they walk, holding hands. Kate, the last individual in their party, greets Toby with a smile. The three of them trail J.T. and Liberty to the parking lot.

"Bubbe wants you to stop by," informs Jeff.

"Something tells me it's birthday-related," adds Kate.

That's interesting. He hasn't been to Bubbe's in a couple years, for her eightieth birthday bash. This was before Manny, of course, so he had to listen to his male relatives boast about their girlfriends. They kept asking him where Kendra was, which was annoying too. He said she was vacationing with family in order to avoid discussing their break-up.

"Cool," says Toby.

Kate unlocks the door for J.T. and Liberty. Jeff has pulled Toby to the side.

"Everything went okay? With your mom, I mean," says Jeff.

"She's going to try...a lot more, okay?" replies Toby, quietly.

He attempts to read his father's reaction. It's a mix between sympathy and surprise, an unconvinced expression. Toby's sure and his face matches that confidence. Jeff nods and goes to the trunk. He must be in wait and see mode.

"Before I forget," says Jeff. "Clara's stopped by a couple times. Would like to talk to you in person."

Toby raises his eyebrows. He's certain this visit is Justin-related, not birthday-related. Why, he moans inwardly. He promised Manny the Justin correspondence was done. What if he reads the e-mail and tells Clara what's in it? He wouldn't have to talk to him anymore, let Clara deal with him. Whatever.

"It's a difficult situation, I'm sure," sighs Jeff.

"What?" cries Toby.

If his father found out about him visiting Justin, he'd be in trouble and have to answer a lot of question he didn't want to answer.

"Clara's crush on you hasn't completely gone away, has it?" says Jeff.

"Uhhh...," begins Toby.

"Man, when I was your age, I didn't get any dates," groans Jeff. "I had the biggest crush on Rachel Lewis..."

"Dad!" moans Toby.

"Alright, alright," says Jeff. "Why do young people hate when their parents get nostalgic?"

"Because he's dealing with jet lag," supplies Kate with a grin.

"I am," confesses Toby.

Jeff loads the luggage into the trunk without another word. Toby helps him, feeling a bit guilty about keeping secrets.

"You look different," notes Jeff after they're done.

Wow. Did he kind of suspect that yeah, there is a difference? That he's kind of...well, has had sex? Toby shifts his gaze.

"More tan," says Jeff, rubbing Toby's shoulder.

"Yeah, that's me," says Toby with a smile. "More tan."

III.

The flapping of vinyl records sounds throughout the store. Craig didn't mean to be so loud. It's just these were real, retro vinyl records, the items you had to search years for. The Grateful Dead's American Beauty, The Kinks' Face to Face, Bob Dylan's Desire, all here under his fingers. He'd hate to tell her this, but he thinks he's having as much fun as Ashley on this tour.

He plucks the Kinks record from the shelves and walks to the cashier. Compared to HMV, this music store is a lot smaller. There is only one floor and two employees hovering around. There were several rows of records, with a silk, purple curtain obscuring a section titled "Extra Special Items". Craig didn't have time to look back there, instead relishing in what he could see. Too bad for those mainstream followers, because he's scoring the best prizes. Craig slides the record across the desk.

"British invasion fan," comments the cashier, a fortyish guy with premature grey hair.

"Totally," says Craig.

"The lyrics are timeless, man," continues the cashier. "The beats are hypnotic, the social commentary necessary, the babes...hot. Get what I'm saying, man?"

Craig nods politely, not exactly sure what to say. He agreed with him but this guy is a little too enthusiastic.

"You can feel the color of the music, man," says the cashier.

Uhhhh, thinks Craig, smiling nervously.

"Like I feel blue when I hear the Dead," explains the cashier. "It's like...doo...doo..doo, doo. Waa..waa...wawawawa. Got it?"

"Yeah...me...me too," stammers Craig.

Please ring the record up so I can leave, begs Craig inwardly. Thankfully, the cashier, whose nametag reads Syd, scans the record. The receipt prints as Syd reads the cover of the album.

"Musicians are known to come in. You a musician?" says Syd.

"Aspiring," admits Craig. "My girlfriend too. She's on the BBC tour. First of many, I'm thinking."

"Amazing start," compliments Syd. "All that publicity. What about you?"

"I am...kinda stuck," says Craig. "No muse."

"Without the right music, the muse won't come, mate," insists Syd, receiving Craig's money.

Syd looks behind him, towards the silk curtain.

"Lacey!" shouts Syd. "Laaacey!"

A woman with large, aviator sunglasses enters the main room, clangs two bells together. Her brown hair is thick and wavy, about as long as Ashley's. She's in a black minidress with a chain acting as a belt. Her face, the parts he can view anyway, appears a bit spacey. Craig's starting to wish he'd gone back to HMV.

"What?" says Lacey.

"Dude's in need of some serious inspiration...like, serious," informs Syd.

"What instrument do you play?" she asks Craig.

"Guitar," replies Craig, hesitantly.

"And your former inspiration?" prods Lacey.

Inspiration? Well, most of his songs were focused on relationships, namely with Ashley.

"Love, I guess," says Craig.

"Current girlfriend?" asks Lacey.

"Yes," replies Craig.

"Love songs?" condemns Syd. "Those are overdone."

"Shush," says Lacey. "Nothing from the soul is overdone. Have you looked inside your soul to find the true meaning of your relationship?"

"Well, I know why Ash and I are together," answers Craig. "We have a connection. I can't explain."

"Then, write it," commands Lacey, earnestly.

"That'd be hard," says Craig.

"Hard means it'll be good," says Lacey, nodding confidently. "And you will require...scented candles."

Lacey fetches a pack of mauve candles and presents them to Craig.

"Thanks?" says Craig.

He'd take anything to remove himself from this place.

"Five pounds," asserts Lacey.

It costs something to find his muse? Right...excellent...yeah. Craig hands her the money.

"Have a good day," says Lacey, beaming as she clangs the bells again.

"See the colors, mate!" calls Syd after him.

Craig practically rushes to the tour bus, afraid he'll run into more questionable characters. And he thought Aja was strange at first. At least he's going to a person he knows inside and out. Could he write a song about them? While it worked for Dust, their relationship has evolved so positively that he wouldn't know what well to draw from. He's never written a happy love song before. Honestly, that's not him.

He boards the black bus, the door to the sleeping compartments closed. Ashley was probably reviewing her music. That's why he left, Ashley's face buried deep in some songbook he hasn't seen. Going to the door, he raps lightly on it.

"Ash?" he says.

"Wait," replies a cheerful voice, possibly Aja's.

There's a few thuds and clunks, suggesting movement. Craig removes the album from the bag, eager to share it with Ashley. The door slides open.

"Are you ready?" breathes Aja. "Are you really, really ready?"

"For what?" laughs Craig.

Trying to peer to her left is fruitless, Aja blocking him successfully. What could she be hiding?

"For the new Ashley Kerwin!" exclaims Aja, stepping to the side.

The album meets the bus floor as Craig stares at his girlfriend. Her hair has been cut to just above her neck, a shoulder-grazing bob, hints of purple among the red-brown locks. There is still a little volume to it, rounding her cheeks, but it's extremely similar to her hairstyle a year from now. Craig's eyes fall to the remnants of her long locks covering the ground beneath her feet. Why? That's the one word that pops into his consciousness, the little consciousness he has in all this confusion.

"Ash?" gasps Craig.

"Like it?" says Ashley, happily. "I played with purple before we dated. Don't know if you remember."

Craig shakes his head, his mouth falling.

"It's wicked, isn't it?" praises Aja. "Some of me best work."

"Can you excuse us?" says Craig, tossing a glance at Aja.

"Alrighty?" replies Aja.

She brushes past Craig and closes the door. Craig sits on Ashley's bunk, scratching his chin.

Where to begin? Okay, he's not an idiot. Ashley enjoyed change, enjoyed change more than the average person. He's never minded it. That said, she hasn't mentioned wanting a haircut or considering a haircut or anything. He left for a few hours, and returns to a shorn Ashley. That's way speedier than any of her other changes.

"So?" encourages Ashley.

"So...it's different," offers Craig.

Ashley frowns, the frown growing deeper by the second.

"You hate it," sighs Ashley. "It's ugly."

"No, I don't," insists Craig.

"You were into the long hair...beautiful long hair you could run your fingers through... that's what people like."

"Ashley, you're always going to be beautiful," reassures Craig. "You are. You'd have to get a face transplant or something not to be beautiful."

She smiles weakly.

"I'm...I'm confused," stammers Craig.

"This will help me stand out," says Ashley. "A whole new image."

"What was wrong with the old image?" asks Craig.

"Craig, they were saying I was a groupie...that I'm boring," explains Ashley. "Mark says I should change it up."

"Mark?" cries Craig. "He told you to do this?"

"No, the hair was my idea," assures Ashley.

"Who's saying these things?" says Craig. "I haven't..."

"You haven't seen the newspaper reviews or heard the gossip from concertgoers..."

"Yeah, but I did see people cheering you at Oxford and in Piccadilly, without Mark's guidance."

"These are my decisions!" insists Ashley, standing.

She strolls to her bed, retrieves a hat, and puts it on her head. Craig starts to talk, Ashley turning her back to him.

"Ash," whispers Craig, scooting closer.

"I want to know what it feels like Craig," says Ashley, softly.

"What?"

"Like fans chanting my name," answers Ashley. "Or kids wanting an autograph. Or being the first musician they interview. I'm not getting it if I stay the same."

Ashley faces him.

"We're doing the duet, me and Mark," says Ashley. "The exposure would be..."

"Exposure?" cries Craig. "Your music should be getting the attention, not your hair!"

Craig locates the songbook, reads the titles. Yep, all standards that would be serviceable without a hint of Ashley's own personality.

"Some of these songs you wouldn't be caught dead singing," says Craig.

"I'd rather be dead than booed," argues Ashley, her lips trembling.

"No, you wouldn't," says Craig, her brow furrowing.

"Yes, I would," says Ashley, sniffling. "You don't understand."

She's crossing the floor before he can touch her or tell her anything else. Craig blinks maddeningly after her. He understands on some level. He does understand, or does he?

Craig bends and stares at the curly bits of hair that were on her body moments ago, imagines them falling off her head. If only he knew what was going on in her head.

IV.

"Claudia misses Satchel," types Manny.

"Is her heart for sale?" responds Toby.

"Not right now," replies Manny. "It's yours."

"I thought Claudia hated Satchel," types Toby.

"Ish kabibble," types Manny.

"LOL," says Toby. "That's not Yiddish, no matter what Dad told you. He assumes it is."

"Ish kabibble," replies Manny.

They both laugh, Manny sighing and leafing through her script quickly. She has it down pat. If she closed her eyes, made herself dizzy, or got a sudden case of amnesia, somehow she would've maintained these three pages. Ish kabibble means "don't worry." Toby's dad mentioned it before her movie premiere and Manny thought it was a cute saying. No matter the expression, she has to do well. The Best Actress award aside, she desired to have a decent career going by the time graduation rolled around. The camp was intensive. The opportunities were plenty. If she can't get work before September, when will she get work? Commitment and faith is everything. Tomorrow might be the start of everything.

"I should let you rest," types Toby.

"Awww," sighs Manny aloud.

"Say something really smart before I go," says Manny, smiling as she types it.

"If a tree falls in an endangered forest, does it make a sound?" types Toby.

Manny giggles. "I'm not sure. You got me."

"The answer is, it doesn't matter because Emma would protest, anyway," types Toby.

"Probably," types Manny, laughing. "I love you."

"Love you and good luck," returns Toby.

Toby logs off, Manny staring sadly at the screen. Her IM time has considerably gotten higher because of this boy, but she's always sad when his name disappears. She should sleep instead of pouting. Manny yawns, tugs at her cotton blue pajama top. She was going to wait to see if Emma needed her help with the date ensemble, though she could assist her better in the morning, having a more alert pair of eyes.

Manny begins to close the door, spies Lia in the hallway.

"Big day's tomorrow," reminds Manny, brightly.

"Huh?" says Lia. "Oh...the audition. Right."

It felt weird knowing a secret Lia didn't, about Colin's desire to do the Eric Hegel project. She'd be extra nice to her and be there for her when Colin broke the news.

"I'm starting to think this was all preordained," says Manny. "My monologue the first day? Teen comedy. And weeks later, what are we auditioning for? Teen comedy."

"Sure," waves off Lia, heading for her room.

"But the competition doesn't get much better," compliments Manny.

"Yeah...thanks...same," murmurs Lia in one full swoop.

She closes her bedroom door softly, Manny doing likewise. Manny climbs into bed, lets the comforter touch her cheeks.

"Mmmm, ish kabibble," she murmurs before nodding off.

V.

Spinner crouches to his knees to give his hair a final run-through. The final run-through does a world of good. He checks his teeth, his nose, and for good measure, his lips. Puckering them, he gives his reflection a confused stare. Is he getting a goatee?

"Oh, dude," whispers Spinner.

"Sir, are you quite done?" demands the cab driver.

"Oops...uh, yeah, bro," says Spinner, patting the rear view mirror in thanks.

Spinner pays the necessary fare and stands across the street from the Andrews home. During the drive, he weighed possible scenarios in his brain. What would Emma like to do? The lack of Boomer's car put him at a disadvantage. Boomer needed it to transfer his surfing and camping equipment. Spinner could have it all day tomorrow, Boomer assured him. That resulted in Spinner hailing a cab. But where would a cab or the bus take him and Emma?

Emma said she would be raring to go by ten o' clock. His watch reads nine forty-five. Being prompt or a little early is kind of chivalrous, though, right? He could wait downstairs or occupy himself for ten minutes. The skeptical neighbor scowling at him leads him to try for the former.

Spinner smoothes his green, cotton T-shirt and black shorts. Kendra okayed the clothes. She said it was just good that he didn't fetch some wrinkled stuff from the hamper. Spinner told her to be quiet, wasn't too insulting since she was on her way to the hospital. He would call to check on her later.

He rings the doorbell, flashing a friendly smile.

Emma answers with a similar smile on her face. Spinner instinctively lets his arms swing, then stops. Don't be a goob, he tells himself. Act cool.

"What's happening?" says Spinner.

She gives him a puzzled look. Ugh, gross greeting.

"Hey," says Emma. "Um..."

Should he be talking? No, let her talk. That'd be rude if he talked. There are no rude thoughts as he views Emma. Her blonde hair is out, and she wears a white chemise top and khakis. She's not dressy, but still looks amazing, just like when she won Best Personal Style in the pageant. Yes, the pageant that was his idea (well, and Darcy's), and that Emma fought for. It's funny and great where it all ended, or hopefully began.

"You look nice," compliments Spinner, then clearing his throat.

Emma nods with satisfaction.

"I'm not too early?" says Spinner.

"No, it's...it's good," stammers Emma.

Instead of Spinner paying any more compliments, Emma parts the door, Hannah's face appearing. Spinner offers her a bewildered gaze.

"Uhh...," says Spinner.

"Hannah came home early," explains Emma.

He can't sulk. This is her job. That said, he wishes she would've told him sooner.

"'Kay," says Spinner sadly.

"Well...well, how about if we make it a trio?" suggests Emma. "I mean, you came so far, and we haven't spent any..."

Emma's words falter as her complexion becomes red. He's fairly sure his is doing the same. It's basically implied she'd like him to stay. They could have fun...with an extra person. It'd be a bit awkward, but they could do it.

"Alright," agrees Spinner.

Emma beams, stepping onto the porch with Hannah. The girl appears a bit nervous, grasping one of her two, long blonde ponytails. She has in overalls over a pink T-shirt.

"Hi," says Spinner, getting to his knees. "My name's Spinner."

"Spinner?" says Hannah.

"Gavin," provides Spinner. "Everyone calls me Spinner."

"Why?" asks Hannah.

He didn't really feel like telling her about his ADHD, doesn't discuss it with many people anyways.

"Have a lot of energy," answers Spinner.

"Tons of fun," adds Emma, shutting the door and smiling at him.

"I try," says Spinner. "So what would you lovely ladies like to do today?"

"You...you don't have a plan?" says Emma.

Yeah, what a proficient date he's turning out to be, Spinner biting his lip. It makes perfect sense that she's expecting a plan. Being organized and efficient is Emma's personality. She doesn't do winging it. Remember Jimmy's advice. Remember to charm her.

"Plan is Spinner Mason's middle name," says Spinner.

Rather than dig himself into a deeper hole with Emma, he focuses on Hannah.

"Ever been on a bus before?" questions Spinner.

"No," admits Hannah.

"Great transportation," comments Emma. "They conserve fuel."

"And the price of gas these days...," starts Spinner.

Right. The kid doesn't drive.

"Uhhh, I can give you a piggie back ride to the bus stop," offers Spinner.

"I've never...," says Hannah, her eyes dropping.

"Been on the bus," finishes Emma.

"Or had a piggie back ride," says Hannah.

That had to be the cutest answer to his question. Wow, a kid who hasn't had a piggie back ride.

"That's gotta change," says Spinner, crouching. "Hop on."

Hannah tenderly places her little arms around his shoulders, Emma helping to place her legs in the proper position. Hannah smirks with the strange motion, then grins fully. Spinner rights himself.

"And so the journey begins!" shouts Spinner, running a bit.

Hannah squeals as they take off. Emma trails them, Spinner catching her smiling in their wake.

VI.

"That's the great part of being a boy," proclaims Spinner. "You're in and then you're out."

"Well, I bet ours are much cleaner," says Emma.

They both stare pathetically at the washroom Hannah is using. A public restroom is something Hannah's familiar with, Emma accompanying her to a couple in their brief stints at the airport. Hannah loved the hand dryers, watched her hands being brushed with warm air. When Emma was little, she liked the soap dispensers. Hannah also enjoyed the bus, not too many people being on there at this time of day. She continually asked Emma what stop this was, and Emma did her best to name them. Well, she didn't get many right, but at least she made a solid effort.

"Sorry I'm babysitting during our...our date," apologizes Emma, speaking softly.

"Better than sitting on your date," kids Spinner.

"Spin," says Emma, grinning as she shakes her head.

The flush of the toilet signals Hannah's near arrival. When the bus stopped, Spinner gravitated to a busy intersection, near the thirteen-story Capitol Records building. They stopped at a restaurant so Hannah could take care of business. From the window, Emma can see the building spiral upward, like a stack of pancakes. She heard the owner say it was earthquake resistant, and it looks it, with the metallic, circular floors and the tall spike at the top. It was most likely a choice made by Spinner because a lot of teenagers were in the vicinity. Emma's unclear as to why, being unfamiliar with the music scene. In any case, there's a noticeable large crowd milling the streets.

Emma kept her sight on Hannah, trying to detect any discomfort. Surprisingly, there is none. Emma basically came to the conclusion that when it came to people Lia's age, Hannah's been around them enough to not care. Lia and Colin were in her house continually. Edwina was a young adult. Manny and Emma were as old as Lia, and happily, so is Spinner. After the piggy back ride, Hannah really took a liking to him. It helped that Spinner was easy to talk to, an attribute Emma more than appreciated.

Hannah leaves the washroom.

"No hand dryer," she laments.

"Maybe next stop," soothes Emma.

"What are we doing next?" asks Hannah.

Emma glances at Spinner. She got the impression ever since they left the Andrews house that Spinner was sort of clueless, as nicely as he attempted to hide it. Honestly, she doesn't mind. Anything that meant her mind could focus on anything light, and not a certain postcard, met her approval.

"Let's walk a few blocks," says Emma.

She takes Hannah's hand, Spinner going to Hannah's other side. They're on Sunset, large grey and white trucks ahead of them. The crowd is getting thicker, Emma shading her eyes from the glaring sun. There were orange traffic cones and a few warning signs to keep them at bay. Heh, she's leading them in an unsafe direction. Do not cross. As her knapsack rattles, postcard out of sight, her sight getting more obscure with the shade from her fingers, she's reminded of who crossed the line in her family. She would've loved to go back, tell Snake not to cross the line. What was wrong with her mother? What was wrong their family? Why would Snake go looking for something, someone else?

Hannah tugs on Emma's arm, Emma's vision returning to the present moment.

"Emma, it's a pony! Two of them!" cries a delighted Hannah.

A pony? Hannah's telling the truth as always. Two Clysedale horses were fastened to a carriage, with a banner that read _Best Guy You Never Dated_. A man in a white suit, with shaggy brown hair, thrusts a fist in the air. Trumpeters, sax players, and percussionists down water as they hover around the scene. The musicians wear black T-shirts and blue jeans. Emma figures this an odd scene until she spots a camera moving along on a dolley. They're on a film set, a real film set. Emma exchanges a smile with Spinner.

Teenagers mug in front of the camera, apparently unaware filming hasn't resumed. They're less interesting than the additional musicians streaming out of the front door of Capitol Records. Clarinet players, flautists, and two drum majors join the fray. Everyone arranged themselves into their respective positions. A heavy set camera man scratches his stomach and yawns.

"We get to watch part of a movie!" says Spinner. "Sweet!"

"Daddy's on them a lot," says Hannah.

"Her dad's head of a studio," explains Emma to Spinner.

"Do you get free popcorn?" asks Spinner.

Hannah giggles. "Nope."

"Wonder what film it is," muses Emma.

Spinner raises a hand, indicating to give him a second. He walks to the sleepy camera man, Emma and Hannah in tow. He eyes Spinner dismissively.

"What movie are you filming, dude?" questions Spinner.

"Some Ashton Kutcher picture," replies the camera man. "Supposed to be his comeback or whatever."

"Ashton...Ashton Kutcher!" stammers Spinner. "Guy...guy is my fave actor. Comic gold, man!"

"He's whiny," mutters the cameraman. "A real hack, a..."

Emma covers Hannah's ears, but is relieved that the insults have ceased. Spinner's the one who fazed, but Emma couldn't exactly cover his ears.

"Man, how can you say that?" says Spinner. "Did you not watch _Dude, Where's My Car_?"

He nods at Emma to contribute. She's not a huge fan so she'll have to fish.

"And uh...the movie where he's...dating that girl?" supplies Emma.

"Exactly!" says Spinner. "And _Punk'd_. Have every ep."

"All these young actors look the same to me," groans the cameraman.

Spinner looks around despondently. Emma hates seeing him crushed, especially when they were all excited before about this. Hannah stares sympathetically at well, juts out her lip to the camera man.

"No...no, don't do the puppy face," remarks the camera man to Hannah. "My daughter does that."

Hannah hangs her head. Noticing the change, Emma frowns.

"Okay, those teenagers cheering on the parade?" sighs the camera man. "They're extras. You want in?"

Spinner's mouth falls open quickly. He waves his arms fast in the direction of the actor in the carriage.

"Yo, Ashton!" calls Spinner.

"Guy, that's his stunt double," informs the camera man. "Ashton's done for the day. But yes, you can be in the movie. Put the kid in front."

"Cool," says Spinner, beaming.

The camera man rolls the dolley away from them. The three newly cast extras traipse through the crowd, find an empty area of sidewalk.

"Wait 'til I tell Manny. She'll flip," whispers Emma to Spinner.

Only there is a problem. Hannah won't stand in the front. Spinner tries not to shield her, but Hannah's making him a shield. She peers from behind Spinner's waist.

"Stars shouldn't hide," says Spinner.

"I'm not a star," says Hannah, barely above a whisper. "I'll curse the movie."

Oh yeah, the curse thing. Although, this is something Hannah might enjoy. She loves movies like her father, and there weren't too many kids around, and she'd get to act like Lia, or well, play the part of a spectator. What could she say to persuade her?

"Know what?" sighs Spinner. "We're too good-looking to be in the background. Our talent's too tight."

"Huh?" says Hannah.

"Girls...follow my lead," whispers Spinner.

A tall man in a suit with a thin black tie approaches the cameraman. He holds a megaphone and checks his surroundings, Emma identifying him as the director.

"It's a clear, crisp summer's day," says the director through the megaphone. "Ashton's character is riding through Hollywood, preparing to serenade his love interest, positioned at one of the windows of Capitol Records. We're still debating which window to use. Ah, the plague of reshoots. Anyway, the fanfare shows what lengths he'll go to to get her attention. Think _Ferris Bueller_. Think _Pretty Woman_. Think excited, awed, inspired. Cheer with your whole lungs, you got me?"

"Yes!" screams a chorus of teen extras.

"Rolling...in five, four, three, two, one!" calls the director. "Action!"

The marching band plays a vibrant song, their feet moving in place. The carriage inches ever so slowly by the Capitol Records Building. Fake Ashton stands on the seat of the carriage, rocking back and forth before he's steady. Hannah grins as the Clydesdales pass their spot.

"_Ooooh, we're halfway there_!" sings a male voice from the speakers. "_Ohhh, livin' on a prayer_!"

"_Take my hand and we'll make it, I swear_," sings Spinner, grabbing Hannah's hand.

Emma wordlessly follows, ducking in between band members. Spinner begins to march, Hannah staring at his feet. Pretty soon, her feet are, magically, moving. Emma finds the rhythm, smiles as they go forward with the sax players. She laughs as Spinner waves at the fuming director.

"Hannah goes marching, one by one...hurrah, hurrah!" sings Spinner.

Hannah's eyes gleam as she stares up at Spinner. She has yet to see the girl's face glow so brilliantly. Instead of worrying on the sidelines, Hannah's focused on her marching buddy. Emma continues to march, the musicians halting their play.

"Cut!" cries the director. "What is this?"

Spinner grins nervously at Emma.

"Hannah Andrews' film debut," says Emma, proudly.

"Daughter of...Kel Andrews?" asks the director, pulling at his tie.

"Yes," answers Emma. "I say...we resume marching!"

Enthusiasic replies greet Emma's ear, Spinner clearly tickled as well. The director shrugs.

"At least stand in the rear," instructs the director. "Everyone will march when the parade finishes. I like that. You got that, Herb?"

"Yeah," says the cameraman, yawning once more.

"That we can do!" assures Spinner, clapping his hands. "That we can do!"

The right Clysdale does a loud stomp in the silence after Spinner's words, instigating a round of laughs, including the sour cameraman. Hannah skips to the back of the parade, smile pressed on her small lips. Spinner wraps an arm around Emma.

"We should be in movies more often," whispers Spinner.

"Or," says Emma, kissing his cheek. "Do this more often."

"I'd never call cut during that," assures Spinner.

VII.

Manny received the most intriguing text message from her best friend. In movie with Spinner. Details later. So what if Emma and Spinner were at the movies? They went to the premiere with her and Toby. Eh, maybe they got free passes or something. Manny slips her cell into the front pocket of her purse.

The cab reaches a theater she's more than familiar with. Due to this familiarity, she hopes she'll feel more comfortable during the audition. According to the sheet, Colleen had scheduled Lia's audition for four, and Manny's for three. This may not be the best strategy. Manny could wow them, but Lia could wow them and being last, make the best impression. She's also sure the Andrews name carried some weight. The pluses in her corner is that she's done a comedy film and it did well. There are no guarantees, however. Other actresses could have the same credits or more credits.

"Thanks," says Manny, paying the fare.

As the car speeds away, she calmly walks to the theater, her heels clacking. With the volume they were making, you'd figure she was Bigfoot. Her heart thumps wildly. The beats feel like they go through her whole body. Manny sighs, enters the lobby.

The flourescent lights are dim, their slight reflection being cast on the linoleum, lobby floor. A single sound is heard, a steady whirr. A man moves his buffer machine to the right.

Manny goes past him, gives a hard tug to the door of the main theater. She tries the other door. She knocks. Her brow creases. Her digital reads three o' clock.

Sighing, she pounds on the door, then paces. Colleen provided the right place, time, and materials.

Manny smiles at her bracelet, lifts the four leaf clover charm and kisses it. This would be her luck. A nice way to kill time is to think of Toby in Toronto. She'd love him to be with her, root her on before she takes the stage.

If I take the stage, thinks Manny. Where are they? It can't hurt to ask.

"Excuse me!" yells Manny as the buffer whirls.

The man's head continues to be lowered. Manny walks across the shiny floor.

"Hey, buffer man!" exclaims Manny, hoping not to sound rude.

No, the title isn't met with any hostility. He turns off the machine and smiles.

"Has anyone come in for the _Hearts for Sale_ auditions?" asks Manny.

"Those were yesterday," he replies.

"They're today," insists Manny. "I prepared for it. Been amped for it. Wrote the info..."

"Darling, I think I'd remember if a lot of pretty girls came in," he chuckles. "Which they did yesterday. Plus an agent. I been working here long enough to know the schedule."

Manny can't doubt him. Any unsmooth surfaces the floor holds wouldn't be matched by the lack of smoothness in her chest, or in her throat. They grow tight. She missed it. All the memorization is for nothing. Manny leans against the _Tempest_ poster, still hanging, her name still emboldened on the paper.

"Sorry, sweetie," says the man, then flicking on his machine again.

Tears sting her eyelids as the rushing blast of the buffer kicks into gear. Her career isn't getting that kick, anywhere. There were these lies, these dashed dreams, these screw-ups. What is she going to tell her parents? What is she going to tell Toby? She was so convinced this particular audition would work.

Manny lets her forehead graze the cold glass of the frame, the poster behind it. She's not worried that the reflection of her is now smudged. She's worried it might break.


	51. 9 to 5

**LI. 9 to 5**

_Tumble outta bed  
And I stumble to the kitchen  
Pour myself a cup of ambition  
And yawn and stretch  
And try to come to life  
Jump in the shower  
And the blood starts pumpin'  
Out on the street  
The traffic starts jumpin'  
The folks like me on the job from 9 to 5_

_Workin' 9 to 5,  
What a way to make a livin'  
Barely gettin' by  
It's all takin' and no givin'  
They just use your mind  
And they never give you credit  
It's enough to drive you crazy  
If you let it  
9 to 5, for service and devotion  
You would think that I  
Would deserve a fat promotion  
Want to move ahead  
But the boss won't seem to let me  
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me_

_They let you dream  
Just to watch 'em shatter  
You're just a step  
On the boss-man's ladder  
But you got dreams  
He'll never take away  
You're in the same boat  
With a lotta your friends  
Waitin' for the day your ship'll come in  
'N' the tide's gonna turn  
And it's all gonna roll your way_

_Workin' 9 to 5  
What a way to make a livin'  
Barely gettin' by  
It's all takin' and no givin'  
They just use your mind  
And you never get the credit  
It's enough to drive you crazy  
If you let it  
9 to 5, yeah  
They got you where they want you  
There's a better life  
And you think about it, don't you  
It's a rich man's game  
No matter what they call it  
And you spend your life  
Puttin' money in his wallet_

_9 to 5, whoa  
What a way to make a livin'  
Barely gettin' by  
It's all takin' and no givin'  
They just use your mind  
And they never give you credit  
It's enough to drive you crazy  
If you let it_

_9 to 5, yeah  
They got you where they want you  
There's a better life  
And you dream about it, don't you  
It's a rich man's game  
No matter what they call it_

**9 to 5 is the property of Dolly Parton and is the title of the accompanying film of the same name.  
Gone 'Til November is the property of Wyclef Jean.**

**Faithless is the property of Addictive.**

"Yeah, see, you have to be really gentle with the pivot area, making sure both sides are equal," instructs Sean. "We'll torque the bolt tomorrow."

"Man, I'm kinda missing cars," laments Emmitt.

Sean grins, righting Vic's motorcycle to a more secure position. He enlisted Emmitt's help this morning, mainly to give him a confidence boost since Vic laid into him. He didn't think Emmitt got much encouragement at home.

The shack is fairly empty today. There's a nice lull where Sean could do his work diligently without going to others and checking their work. That was almost second nature to him now. It wasn't even the fact that he wanted his own shop; he just wanted to occupy his hands so he wouldn't feel urged to get into it with Dale. The one saving grace? Dale removed Ashley's stolen spindle from his sight. Sean believes it's already been installed and the car with it has been driven to who knows where. Dale couldn't use it to taunt him anymore.

Besides, Sean figures most of the taunting would be changing to what Sean does or doesn't know about Ty. Truth be told, he still doesn't know much. He casts a quick glance at Ty, rotating a baseball cap in his hands.

"So we're done?" questions Emmitt.

"Right," says Sean, turning his attention to him. "Great job for your first bike."

Emmitt beams. "Thanks, man."

Emmitt grabs his bookbag and struts out of the shed with a smile. Sean wipes his brow. Whew, at least Emmitt's escaping the heat in this place. He's unforutunately been here since nine, came there right after dropping Ellie off at Marco's. Ellie said Marco would be a good cover, but he has his doubts. He didn't forget that some of Ellie's lies regarding him, including staying with family in Fergus after her kitchen caught fire instead of staying with him, would eventually come back to haunt them. He has his fingers crossed, however.

Two other workers leave, Jared and Delonte, resulting in Sean being alone with Ty. The last time that happened Ty was barely breathing. He's been warned to stay away from him, maybe should. He should head home anyway. Dale would find something else for him to do if he hung around.

"Becca's living with her grandmother," speaks up Ty, walking past a table.

Sean raises his head, unsure of who is talking, and if it's Ty, why he's talking. He does remember Becca, her haunting song.

"Oh," says Sean.

Ty smirks. "She kept asking me why Sean, the cute guy, hasn't shown up."

A soft grin on his face, Sean shrugs. He still wasn't clear about what those beds meant or what Ty and Becca's stories were.

"She stayed there often?" says Sean, looking over his shoulder.

"When things got rough," replies Ty. "Her stepfather...made her leave. They fought...everyday."

"Sounds like my folks, way back when," recalls Sean.

"You're from a trailer park?" says Ty.

Sean purses his lips and runs a hand through his hair.

"No offense," says Ty, quickly. "Haven't seen one. I was...curious, since Dale mentioned it."

"It was no four-star hotel," supplies Sean. "Wasn't as bad as Dale makes it, though."

"Dale isn't as bad, either," says Ty.

That comment seems to come from out of nowhere, and nope, Sean has a hard time accepting that. Dale is spoiled, mean-spirited, practically sadistic.

"Guy's a creep," says Sean, as simply as he'd say "hello."

Ty places his cap on, keeping his eyes fixed on Sean. There is a deep sadness buried in them, a soft glint. Sean wagers he must've offended him. Perhaps he's speaking when he should be listening.

"You asked me if I stayed with my mom?" reminds Ty.

Yes, he did ask the first day Ty spoke to him directly.

"I stay here," admits Ty, softly. "Like I'm the only permanent person upstairs. Dale lets me stay."

"Okay?" says Sean, curiously.

"It's not a moonroof, but it's a roof," continues Ty. "Since I was nine."

"What happened when you were nine?" questions Sean.

Ty diverts his gaze, plays with the cap on his head. There I go again, moans Sean, inwardly. Digging where I shouldn't be digging.

"That's when I met Dale. I was in a school for kids who were good in math and science," replies Ty. "Guess you would call it gifted. Dale was my student teacher."

Right. Dale majored in education. This is still an odd arrangement, especially since it's been going on five years. Where were his parents? What, did Dale just take him home one day after school?

"I won a couple math awards," says Ty, blushing.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did," assures Sean.

"Sean!" bellows a voice from the doorway.

Dale stands there, perched like a criminal in those corny sherriff movies. He looks agitated, his face flushed.

"Ty, leave for a bit?" says Dale.

Sighing, Ty passes Dale after a few seconds. Sean shakes his head and tries to go by Dale as well. Dale grabs Sean's arm roughly and pushes him further into the shack. The sunlight flowing through the shack's dusty window make Dale's eyes more intense.

"Mr. Hogart has yet to show...after our most recent conversation," informs Dale.

"Not my fault," says Sean.

"Yeah, see, it kinda is," says Dale. "He's switched his shifts at my dad's shop so he won't see me. And he has your former job. That ain't no coincidence if you ask me."

"I didn't tell Jay what to do," informs Sean. "So get out of my face!"

"Yeah, I kinda like being in your girlfriend's face more," says Dale, with a calm smirk.

Sean's eyes widen, his skin prickling, the hairs on his neck and arms rising. What is this? A threat? Sean starts towards him.

"Uh-uh," laughs Dale. "All I did was follow her from the Dot. Free country."

Sean pounds the table next to him with his fist.

"So tell me, does she go in daily, weekly...gee, guess that's what I'm a have to figure out," continues Dale. "Cause that red hair sure do look pretty in the dark."

Of course, Dale used a hick accent while cutting him down, like he's the most uneducated person alive. Sean cracks his knuckles.

"I'll pound you," warns Sean.

"Do it and explain it to Ellie," says Dale. "Come on. I already dropped some hints, and we both know she's smarter than you."

"It'd be worth it," insists Sean, his lips curling.

"But would the jail time be worth it?" challenges Dale. "And as you can see, your hands are just as dirty as mine."

Sean stares at his greasy hands, stuffs them in his pockets. The bitter reality is that if the illegal quality of the shop is discovered, he'd be in a cell, same as Dale. The sole difference is that he's a minor, seventeen, but he'd be eighteen really soon.

"That's my boy," jokes Dale, flashing a large grin.

"I'm not anybody's boy," says Sean coldly.

"Enough of you blowing off steam," says Dale, ignoring him. "We need Jay. Got business tonight."

"You, me, and Ty are the only ones that go to the docks?" says Sean.

"Who says we're going to the docks?" replies Dale. "High-end shopping. Stuff you wouldn't see at a trailer park."

"What, then?" sighs Sean.

"As soon as we find Jay," shrugs Dale. "Patience, Sean. Patience."

"Jay's a ghost," says Sean. "I keep telling you..."

"Found out from Dad he's buying supplies for my dad's shop this afternoon," informs Dale. "Buying stuff that's not pot? Who knew, right? Go there and tell him to meet us at Dad's at nine tonight."

"Man...," begins Sean, throwing up his arms.

This is so dumb. Dale could just as easily get a new guy if Jay bailed on him. Dale is deluded if he believes he's doing Jay any favors.

"Do it!" interrupts Dale. "He's there. Walk out that door...or you'll...no, _Ellie_ will be sorry."

The bum already followed Ellie home, is capable of spilling the beans to her, and her parents. All that progress he's made with the Nashes would fly up in smoke.

"And get me a flashlight," says Dale, retrieving ten bucks and stuffing it in Sean's palm.

"And batteries?" returns Sean with an icy look.

"I don't know," says Dale, smiling. "You call the shots."

II.

Toby squeezes into a parking space in the center, his car groaning as it comes to a complete stop. The engine rattles as he turns off the ignition. Ugh, he almost wishes he'd taken Bubbe's car to Hill's like Ashley. Well, at least it got him to Hollywood Video Hut. After leaving, he hasn't visited that often. He returned twice to give Manny a lift home. Then, he rented a couple movies during spring break. That was kind of funny. He hadn't been a customer there for a year and a half.

He exits the car, locking it. From the window, he views Clara writing on a piece of paper. Danny is next to her. He's staring up at the TV set above the new releases, his mouth moving.

Earlier, he called Clara and said he was able to meet her today. Her speech was pretty panicky, but she agreed. That basically confirmed this was linked to Justin.

His entrance is stopped by his cell ringing. He grins as Manny's name is shown.

"Hey," greets Toby, leaning against the car's hood. "How was your audition?"

"Terrible, horrible, non-existent," says Manny in an upset rush. "Toby..."

Her sobbing sounds more heart-breaking over the phone. If he stayed a day later, he could've comforted her better.

"Why non-existent?" prompts Toby.

"My stupid self got the day wrong," replies Manny after taking a deep breath.

"You're not stupid," insists Toby. "Are you alone right now?"

He hopes she isn't.

Manny coughs. "Yes. I'm at the theater."

"Manny, it'd be good to go to Lia's," suggests Toby. "Go home. Look, I'll stay on with you 'til you get there."

"Well...well, what are you doing right now?" says Manny through her tears.

"Meeting Clara," says Toby. "I can wait until..."

"No, Toby," sighs Manny. "Do what you need to."

"It doesn't have to be done today," assures Toby.

He hears the door swinging to his right. Clara's there, her streaked hair in a single braid. She motions for Toby to come inside.

"Manny...," begins Toby.

"Toby!" exclaims Clara.

"She's there?" says Manny on the other end. "Now I feel bad. Toby...Toby, I'll call you later."

"Wait!" cries Toby, already hearing the dial tone.

This isn't how he wants to leave Manny. Clara could've given them a couple more minutes. Whatever. He'll deal with this and then phone Manny afterwards. Perhaps she'd take a cab home and be at Lia's during their next call.

"Back room," says Clara. "I'm still technically working."

Toby exhales, follows Clara inside. Danny has his eyes closed, moving this fro-covered head to a light pop song.

"_Make believe I'm everywhere, living in your eyes_," sings along Danny. "_Written on the pages is the never-ending story...ah ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ahhh_."

Toby chuckles while Clara smirks. Danny catches them watching him and immediately switches the TV to a basketball film starring Nick Cannon.

"Stupid kid's movie," jokes Danny, nervously. "_Neverending Story_? Bleh. Uh...yeah, this is what I searching for."

Clara's apparently searching for a private place for them to talk. She grabs his arm, steering him to the backroom. The lights are dim, but he can see tears threatening to spill from the corner of her eyes. Toby also wonders when the last time she slept was because there were bags under them. Clara usually looked so youthful, even during Confirmation. Not today.

"Have you heard from him?" whispers Clara.

"Um, yeah," replies Toby.

"Forgot when you were coming back. Finally broke and asked Liberty. So?"

"Two e-mails," says Toby, hesitantly.

"And?" encourages Clara.

He has no information for her after that. None. He didn't feel like reading them, especially after Manny told him about Justin criticizing her wearing the Star of David pendant.

"Clara, do you really want to be with this guy?" asks Toby, tenderly.

Clara scans his face, Toby lowering his gaze.

"You didn't read them," says Clara, shaking her head. "You don't care what happens to him. You don't care that I asked."

"I do...care about you," argues Toby. "Him? I..."

"You said you'd do one simple thing!" cries Clara. "One totally simple thing!"

"What if I forward you the messages and you e-mail him?" suggests Toby.

"Then he'll know I was checking up on him," says Clara. "He's already mad. Toby, I can't believe, you of all people, would renege on your promise."

"I promised to contact him, which I did...," begins Toby.

"Yeah, contact him throughout the summer!" interjects Clara. "Which you did...once!"

"Clara, he probably knows you're checking up on him, anyway," says Toby. "I didn't agree to be you guys' liaison."

She plays with her braid briefly, stares at a row of DVDs. Why is she going through all this trouble for him? He should tell her the real reason Justin agreed to "apologize". That would make her bail on him in a heartbeat.

"If Manny was upset, I'd talk to her for you," says Clara, with an unwavering stare.

"What?" moans Toby.

"That's what friends are for," continues Clara. "And it's taken me a long while to accept being just your friend, Toby."

Boy, she's truly throwing it all out there, isn't she? It's strange how Clara wanted to be in this backroom months ago, with Toby as her boyfriend, and now she wants him to be the link to her and her current boyfriend.

"I'll read the e-mails," gives in Toby. "Then we'll talk..."

"Tonight?" says Clara, a smile forming on her lips.

"Yep," sighs Toby.

Clara hugs Toby, her Hollywood Video Hut nametag digging into his chest. Toby winces at the sharp little pain.

"Sorry," says Clara.

They leave the backroom as Derek enters the store. Though Toby was no longer around daily, he's guessing Derek is, with Danny being promoted from Trainee to cashier in May. He remembers when they came in here, seeking jobs to be closer to Manny. As it turns out, he's the one closer to Manny, he thinks, smiling.

"The computer genius has flown in from Cali!" greets Derek, raising his fist. "Woot!"

Toby awkwardly makes a fist, Derek bumping it against his for him.

"Was Mannylicious in a hot pink thong?" questions Danny, beaming.

"That Mannylicious nickname...," starts Toby with annoyance.

"Alright, alright," says Danny. "At least you have a dime piece. My detention girl has moved on to greener pastures."

"Or weeds. She's with Chester, man," explains Derek.

"Chester!" cries Clara. "Ewww, he hit on me after Computer Club."

"He hits on everybody," says Derek. "But with you, who could blame him?"

Clara gives him a puzzled look, grins a bit.

"Well, I have to call Uncle Christian," announces Clara.

Derek opens the small door of the main desk for her.

"Thank you," says Clara, the grin growing wider. "Talk with you later, Toby."

Clara walks into the hot summer day. Derek sticks his thumbs up at Toby and Danny.

"Slick Toby-like move, no?" says Derek.

He looks to Toby for confirmation. Toby being called slick makes him feel...weird. But yeah, it's a compliment.

"Whatever," sighs Danny.

"I'm a pimp!" exclaims Derek, raising his fist.

This time, Toby gets the fist bump right.

III.

A rush of grape soda hits the bottom of a cup. Popping kernels collect in a medium-sized bag. Teenagers talk excitedly as they exit. Cut-out advertisements litter the floor. Ellie sighs.

"There's no sighing at the concessions stand," says Alex, wiping down the desk.

Usually, she likes being at the movie theater. She would either come here to visit Alex, or check out a flick with Marco. Sean was only into a select few films. In any case, she liked having her mind occupied for those ninety or so minutes. Her mind isn't occupied.

The Nashes called the Del Rossis and Emily Nunez before she could. When she went inside, she heard her Dad yelling into the phone, and he rarely yelled when he wasn't in uniform. Her mother had been crying; she could tell by the number of tissues in the living room trashcan. As soon as Ellie unlocked the door, Amanda ran to it, and glared at her daughter. Then, she must've seen Jay, and must've concluded that she was with Sean or with Sean and Jay, or it had something to do with Sean. Her motherly instict definitely kicked in, while her father blinked at her blankly. Amanda didn't yell, however, told her to go to her room and they'd discuss it in the morning.

This morning wasn't any better. John Nash asked where she was, as her mother took a seat. She didn't lie. What was the point? Her parents tossed disappointed glances at each other, at her. She had never been so irresponsible. In fact, she has been completely responsible since the party at Sean's near Christmas. Can't they cut her some slack? Neither said a word, and Ellie ducked out, hoping their quiet anger would cease sometime today.

"Why didn't I go home?" asks Ellie, more to herself.

"Have a Snickers," suggests Alex, sliding a candy bar her way.

"You won't get in trouble?" whispers Ellie.

"Mary isn't even in today," says Alex. "And I'll be leaving this place starting in late August."

Ellie stares at her quizzically, Alex smiling fully.

"Confused?" admits Ellie.

Alex dodges the answer as she and Ellie view Paige coming toward them, shopping bags in hand. She was also wearing a sorority beret, one of the ones Ellie saw at the roller skating event.

"Clearance sale at Pretty Pretty!" announces Paige.

"Goody goody," says Alex, sarcastically.

"Thanks, hon, for your oh so witty commentary," returns Paige. "So how's business today?"

"Busy," answers Alex. "There's some hit movie about an earthquake or meteor or something. They all die except for, of course, the two attractive leads."

Paige scrunches her nose, sets down her Pretty Pretty retrievals. As she does, a melodic jam pumps over the theater's speakers.

"Oh, this is my jam!" exclaims Alex, beginning to move to the beat.

Doors to a particular showing open, a teenage couple coming through, lips fused together. They were more into themselves than the film. Ellie wishes she and Sean were that carefree, that Dale would leave Sean alone. Several of the things Sean talked about with her yesterday had an aura of gloom and confusion attached to them. She isn't sure Sean thinks he can do all of this for them, and more importantly, for himself. On the other hand, Ellie has no doubts that Sean is able to do them. There has to be a way to cheer him up.

"When does your lacrosse thingamajiggy start?" questions Paige.

"You got the job!" cries Ellie, excitedly. "Congrats!"

"Yep," says Alex. "No interview, no nothing. Coach Jacobs was pleased to have me. It's from August to November."

"Assistant Couch Nunez," says Ellie. "Has a nice ring to it."

"I'm with that," comments Alex. "Adios, popcorn popper, sugary candy, and ice machine that forever gets jammed."

"Still?" mutters Paige.

"Still," says Alex. "At least adios 'til November...yeah, _I'll be gone 'til November, I'll be gone til November_..."

Paige and Ellie begin to laugh, Alex grooving to the beat. Work. Whoa, what if...yeah, Ellie knows exactly what to do to help Sean believe in himself again. She stays quiet as Alex sings.

"_Every time I make a run, girl, you turn around and cry  
I ask myself why, oh why  
See, you must understand, I can't work a 9 to 5  
So I'll be gone 'til November..."_

"What is this song?" questions Paige. "Oh...I know! It's Wyclef Jeans."

Alex groans. "No, Jean, like John. Say it with me."

"Wyclef Johnnn," sound out Alex and Paige, who raises her eyebrows.

"_And give a kiss to my mother_," finishes Alex, hitting her chest with the peace sign, kissing it, and lifting it to the sky.

"I like this," compliments Ellie. "It's...not too gangsta."

Alex bursts out laughing, as Paige provides Ellie a comforting pat.

"What?" demands Ellie.

"I'm sending you guys the link to Urban Dictionary," says Alex, staring between them.

IV.

He's been in this store hundreds of times. Okay, maybe not a hundred. He knew Quentin, the guy behind the counter, pretty well. If you asked him where to find the lug nuts or the bleeder screws, he could direct you. The clang of the cash register opening, then closing, stings his ears. The clatter of carts with car parts shaking in them makes his heart quiver. He can't back out.

Yes, he got the stupid flashlight, hated himself for finding it quickly. Now, he's browsing...and waiting. He flipped through a couple motorcycle magazines, then the classifieds. Usually, he enjoyed this activity. Put Your Pedal to the Metal is a haven for motor lovers. Sean hasn't had a haven since this began, at least not a haven in his head.

While combing through his books to locate the unused thesaurus, Sean came upon a book he read for Kwan's grade eight English class. He remembered it because it was a book he actually liked, _The Jungle Books_ by Rudyard Kipling. The stories captured the exciting feeling of living in the jungle. It would probably be a world Sean never saw. In most of the stories, Mowgli did his best to protect the honor of the jungle as different enemies sought to destroy it or to destroy him. The boy, not raised in the best of circumstances, fought so many battles Sean could hardly keep track. In the end, though, he won and joined the world of men, became a man. That's what Sean got from it, anyway. You had to go through everything to get to anything.

The chime of someone's arrival forces Sean to return the magazine. Jay retrieves a cart from the front, the wheels rattling as it slides across the floor. Sean trails Jay in aisle six.

"Heh, lubricants," says Jay, chuckling while taking the container of motor oil. "Next is..."

Jay consults his list, goes further down the aisle.

"Composition book," notes Jay as he goes past the office supplies. "Hmph."

Composition book? Why did you need that at a garage? Jay fetches two books and throws them into the cart. They didn't seem to be on the list because Jay doesn't look at the list. I better make myself known before Jay leaves this aisle, thinks Sean. Sean clears his throat.

"Oh, hey, man," greets Jay.

"Hey," says Sean.

Jay holds up the list.

"Mr. Hill is letting me do inventory," explains Jay. "We're running low on some stuff. Guy trusts me with money. More than my dad does, anyway."

"Right," mutters Sean. "Ummm..."

He's weighing whether to come right out and tell Jay Dale's message, or to ease into it. Easing is easier, concludes Sean.

"What're the composition books for?" asks Sean.

"Oh, these?" says Jay. "Uh, this thing at the community center at eight. It's like...lame. Connected to work."

Jay's smile disappears for a second, then returns.

"You working at Dale's today?" questions Jay.

"Earlier," answers Sean. "Me and Emmitt were doing bikes. I actually bought a bike...recently."

"Awesome!" exclaims Jay. "What kind?"

"Yeah, a Ducati Monster," says Sean. "Took El for a spin."

"Ellie," says Jay, his head shifting to the side.

The way he said her name you'd think she was dying. No, that's a thought he won't force himself to have, to mull over. She's safe if he plays by Dale's sick little rules, including telling Jay that...

"He's been bugging her, man," informs Jay. "Like he followed her home."

Jay doesn't even have to say that particular name.

"What'd he do?" whispers Sean, urgently.

"He was this close to spilling the beans," continues Jay. "Ellie looked scared."

"And Dale's packing," groans Sean.

"I don't think he was packing then," says Jay. "More verbal vomit than anything. Sean, the guy's a control freak. That's why I'm ditching his thing."

Well, good for him. Jay's not a target, moans Sean inwardly. Dale has picked his target-- Ellie. At least Jay has the option of walking away.

"Dude, Dale would be putting me down at his dad's, _and_ at his shop," says Jay. "A guy gets sick of hearing he's a loser. I can go home and hear that from Dad."

Okay, so maybe Jay didn't have it to so easy. When they were at Degrassi, he and Jay didn't have any classes together, except shop, where they both excelled. Besides that, Jay spent more days in detention than he did in class. He'd roam the halls or go into the ravine or chill at the Dot with Towerz. Sean has no idea how Mr. Hogart feels about his son unless Jay mentioned him. Even then, Jay mentioned him briefly, so briefly.

"The night you said you'd give up some of your earnings, so the parts could be good?" reminds Jay. "Emmitt told me. Man, I've been wanting to say that. I was surprised I wanted to say that."

"Really?" says Sean, not trying to sound too shocked.

"I like doing a good job," says Jay, softly. "I'm not good at much else."

"Me too," confesses Sean.

"Inventory's boring and all, but..." says Jay, his voice trailing off.

Jay doesn't have to finish. It's a legal task, and it's for a nice boss that sees potential in his workers. He's the same boss that apologized and offered Sean a promotion. It's a job for a real man.

"Hill already hired a replacement?" asks Sean.

"He's interviewing people today," informs Jay. "Until six."

"Eh, I can't make it," whispers Sean, Jay able to hear him.

"Stuff for Dale?" says Jay.

"Unfortunately," says Sean, staring at the flashlight. "He wanted you to do something at nine..."

"What?" prompts Jay.

He's sick and tired of Dale's traps and mean words. Here he is, like a dog, doing what he's told. There has to be a way for both of them to get out of there without worrying what he'll do next. He'll confess to Ellie after tonight. Dale wouldn't have anything on him, then. As for Jay...

"Ain't important," replies Sean, shrugging at him.

"Good," sighs Jay.

"Yeah," insists Sean. "Tonight? Just do your own thing."

V.

Ellie runs a highlighter through the various chapter titles of the book she bought at the mall. The book is composed of useful tips for newspaper editors, and most of them Ellie hadn't heard of, so that was great. What's not so great is where the bus is taking her-- home. It pulls to a gentle stop at the corner of her street. She can't wait to get her license.

She thanks the bus driver, starts the walk to her house, grateful that it's daylight. Another Dale encounter would be too soon. Yesterday, she and her mom were supposed to go to Home Depot. It was going to be a mother-daughter outing. Maybe that's why Amanda Nash was so affected when Ellie didn't phone or come home. Maybe she saw it as her choosing Sean over her, which wouldn't seem impossible given past events. She never desired to make that impression, on either of her parents.

Inserting the key, Ellie peeks inside, then goes into the foyer. She hears some soft shuffling, views her dad in the living room. He's sorting through some books. Her guess is that her mother's gone, to work or somewhere else. John Nash liked having other people in rooms when he could, part of his military unit personality. He'd rather be in a room with her or her mom than alone. The sole time he enjoyed being alone was when he was working on his car, but even then, he'd have the radio on blast to hear voices.

"Dad?" calls Ellie.

"Hi, Ellie," he says in a sweet tone.

That's nice. The anger must've melted a bit. She can deal with that. Then, she spies why.

"Not the baby pictures," groans Ellie.

Chuckling, John Nash sits back with a photo album, patting a spot next to him.

"All that red hair," comments John as Ellie joins him.

Ellie grimaces at the ruffled, pink dress and white stockings on her baby body, her red hair in tiny ponytails.

"So last night...," begins John.

Uh-oh, thinks Ellie. Here it comes.

"Last night, I realized you were really grown up," sighs John. "Ellie, it's really difficult to punish you two months before school. We can't exactly ground you at university, can we?"

Ellie shrugs her slim shoulders. Hmm, this is weird. Part of her would rather him yell than have him do this sensitive, fatherly guilt trip.

"All I ask is that you be responsible," insists John. "We will always be worried about you. Understand?"

She nods, quickly, and hugs him from the side.

"And please make another Home Depot date," suggests John. "Your mother loves..."

"To decorate," fills in Ellie, scratching her head. "I know, I know."

"Alright then," says John. "Also..."

"I won't pull a stunt like that again," promises Ellie.

Nothing is said for a few moments as John turns the pages, evaluating Ellie throughout the ages. Pre-school Ellie held her first completed book, _Horton Hears a Who_; she rode the playground's swings, her hair long and bouncy as she swung; she let a parrot rest on her fingers at a petting zoo. John goes to the end of a book, where a laminated picture showed her, Degrassi Community School diploma in hand, her parents on each side.

"Sean's graduating next year?" says John.

"Yes," answers Ellie. "First in his family...actually."

"No kidding. That's a big achievement," commends John.

"Um...also, commendable?" says Ellie. "He's the top mechanic at Hill's."

"I've seen that shop," says John. "Across from the printer's, right?"

"Right!" replies Ellie.

John closes the album, takes a deep breath as he sets it on the coffee table.

"He's worked on every kind of car there is," begins Ellie.

She's not exactly sure this will fly, but it's worth a shot. The idea that she had at the movie theater seemed way too doable for him to pass on, so he couldn't. Well, hopefully.

"Including...Cadillacs," finishes Ellie, staring at her nails.

John laughs. "Ellie..."

"You said you weren't too good with cars when you were in high school," interrupts Ellie, staring at him. "Sean can suggest some tips."

"I like to think I've gotten better since then," defends John genially.

Ellie purses her lips, selects another alternative that would play on his fatherly ways.

"This could be an opportunity to check out my future mechanic," says Ellie. "And by that, I mean, who will service my car, the car you guys so kindly offered to buy."

"And not as in 'my future mechanic', that is my future husband?" kids John.

"Dad!" cries Ellie.

"Fine, fine," agrees John, smiling. "You can only twist my arm so much."

She hugs him fully, and before she can throw her bag into her bedroom, they're in their garage. Based on Sean's summer schedule, he'd be working tonight. Ashley's car had to be done by then, so he wasn't at the Kerwin-Isaacs'. Plus, if he isn't there, they could ask Mr. Hill. Ellie got along pretty well with him especially after she told him her grade point average. Adults were always impressed by good grade point averages, for whatever reason. However, he seemed more enamored with Sean's talents under the hood.

Driving to Hill's, Ellie lists Sean's many success stories. He rescued two Ford Mustangs for two other classic car lovers. The summer they were living together, he stayed late to help a kid with his go-kart for a race, and the kid returned to show Sean his first place trophy. Then, Sean wrote and implemented the checklist system, with a little nudge from Ellie. She's sure there's more that Sean hasn't told her. For every description, her father appeared impressed. His Cadillac would be looked over by the best of the best.

They park outside the garage. Another mechanic, Patrick, recognizes her and waves. Ellie returns it, glances around. No Sean or Jay. That's strange.

"Ellie!" greets Mr. Hill, leaving his office.

"Hi, Mr. Hill," says Ellie. "This is my dad, Colonel Nash."

"Oh, a military man," says Mr. Hill, shaking his hand. "What an honor."

"I hear this is the best place to find a mechanic," says John.

"Well, Jay's my go-to guy," thinks Mr. Hill. "He's out picking up some goods. Patrick here..."

"We...um, have very specific tastes," interjects Ellie as she takes her father's arm.

"Okay?" says Mr. Hill, staring at her blankly.

"This Cadillac would truly benefit from the work of Sean Cameron," says Ellie with a grin. "He's not working today?"

"We'll go with what she said," adds John, smiling.

Mr. Hill narrows his eyes in confusion, Ellie noticing it. Did Sean have another task, too?

"Sean's no longer with us," informs Mr. Hill. "He didn't tell you?"

Ellie loses grip of her father's arm, searches instantly throughout the garage. There was Patrick and two other younger guys. Sean's old station has no trace of his bookbag, his lucky bandanna, or his uniform. Dale's uniform hangs on a hook.

"What...what do you mean?" stammers Ellie.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but he was let go...quite a few weeks ago," shares Mr. Hill.

John casts a wayward glance at Ellie. Ellie swallows, tears burning the back of her eyes. A few weeks ago? He hasn't told her for weeks! Who does that? Who honestly does that? Definitely not Sean. He's never lied to her.

"Offered him his job back, but no doing," laments Mr. Hill. "He ran off. Did he tell you he was interested or..."

"No, he's not interested," answers Ellie, bluntly, as tears fall. "He's too busy lying."

Her father reaches for her, can't console her as Ellie walks quickly from their view. She gets as far as the printer, leans against a brick wall. The wall is hard against her body. She lets her feet sink under her, her black fishnets touching the paved sidewalk. If only she were five again, in those clean, white stockings. If only she were five and not in love.

VI.

"_Change around the words that you say, to suit me fine_," sings Dale along with the boombox.

His feet are crossed, sitting on top of the table. From the glass doors of the office building, Sean can tell he's holding something, but isn't able to identify it. The office is otherwise empty, store hours nearing closing time. A copier spews paper onto a tray. The door leading to Ty and the other beds is shut.

The plan he chose was to tell Dale that Jay had a family commitment. Jay, since he was so informed, most likely knew how strict Mr. Hogart was and would give him a pass since he wouldn't want to deal with a parent. He didn't harrass Ellie in front of her parents, anyway. Sean pushes through the door, Dale immediately smiling.

_Predictable behavior  
I crave ya  
I'm driving y'all  
My own is living save yeah,  
Sometimes I hate ya  
But I'm whipped  
Being gone head down to the crypt  
Restricted like a conscript  
You loved to bully  
I placed the blame with you  
Fully..._

Dale lowers the volume on the boombox, assesses Sean. He's holding something Sean is very familiar with, the handgun gleaming in Dale's smooth hands.

"Hello, Sean," sing-songs Dale.

Sean rolls his eyes.

"I would say welcome...but you've already been here, haven't you?" says Dale. "Sneaking upstairs, bothering kids. Curiosity killed the cat."

"Or the rat," throws back Sean.

"You're real brave when I've got a gun in my hand," observes Dale.

Dale opens a desk drawer, fetches a white, rectangular box. He slides it open. A couple bullets trickle to the desktop. After kissing them, he puts them inside.

"And now it's loaded," remarks Dale.

"What kind of high-end place involves you carrying that?" asks Sean.

"You'll see," says Dale, standing.

He goes to the copier, reads the paper. To avoid any mentions of Jay, Sean decides to try and change the subject.

"Been teaching Ty since he was nine?" says Sean.

Dale raises his head and glares at him.

"Maybe," he replies, coolly.

He sits at the desk again, lays the gun flat on the table.

"Where's his family?" questions Sean.

"You ask a lot of dumb questions," blasts Dale, cheeks suddenly getting red. "His family's here. Current one, that is."

"Please," mumbles Sean, sarcastically.

"Sean, there are two types of kids in this world," says Dale, gazing at him. "There are kids who have bad families, and there are kids that deserve bad families. Guess which one you are."

Sean clicks his tongue.

"You got bitterness in every bone of your lughead body," laughs Dale. "So obvious."

"Obvious how?" exclaims Sean.

Dale didn't have any idea what feelings he's having. If he did, he would be able to tell that Jay's not coming, that Sean was plotting a way to leave right then.

"Kids with bad families need someone to be there for them," continues Dale. "They were dealt a bad hand. I steer kids that need me, Sean. It may not be the way people like, but I do. Ty and Becca...they can still be somebody. Becca's gifted in music, Ty in math. You? You were born into a bad family because you've got no future. You'll always be under someone because you've got no confidence."

"Do you hear yourself when you talk?" shouts Sean. "You're pathetic!

"You wish I was pathetic," says Dale. "Like your friend, Jay. A real burn-out. I'm doing both of you a favor. And the only one hearing is you. You hear me when you're working, when you're at home, when you're on the streets."

Dale lifts the gun, advances slowly to Sean.

"I'm there because I have everything you want," assures Dale. "I have the shop you want, the cash you want, the respect you want. And I'm doing it all illegally. You want to leave, but secretly you want this. You want it so bad you love and hate me. That's why you stay. You're entranced."

_I'm addicted  
I have a little problem  
I have a demon for a wife  
He delights in your pretty face and he hates my life  
Takes notes on how to provoke past grief  
Makes my teeth decay with the last of my self belief  
Change around the words that you say,  
to suit me fine.  
Make them mine...  
_

Sean shakes his head fervently. No, Dale's wrong, as wrong as wrong can get. He wants certain similar things, but not like this. He'd rather receive it through hard work, without losing the people he loves. But isn't he doing what Dale is doing? How did that happen? Why'd he let it happen? Sean shakes his head a final time.

"Your silence is your answer," says Dale, smirking. "On to brighter topics, should I be expecting Jay?"

Sean stays silent. All of his excuses have vanished after that horrible speech by Dale.

"Tsk, tsk, Sean," reprimands Dale. "Guess we'll have to pay him a visit. Where's the pothead?"

"Shut up," mumbles Sean.

"I'll shut _you_ up," says Dale, flashing the gun. "This is a three-man job. It's all for you. We're getting that cute little Ashley girl a spankin' new spindle."

Wait. This is what they're going to shop for? Where would they go for that? Dale's providing no more hints.

"Where is Jay?" asks Dale.

"Community center," mutters Sean.

"What?" says Dale. "Louder. I'm not deaf in one ear like that Tyler kid, but I can't hear it through your marble mouth."

Great. He's insulting two people in one sentence now. Man, he'd rather be in a room with Tyler than this idiot.

"Community center...at eight o' clock," supplies Sean.

"Time to visit Jay," says Dale. "Oh, where's the flashlight?"

Rather than pass it to him, which he's able to do, Sean throws it hard on the desk. The batteries tumble out of the bag.

"You better watch your back, Cameron," says Dale, hurriedly retrieving the flashlight. "I mean it."

"Why?" demands Sean.

"My patience, like your salary, is gonna grow thin," says Dale, aiming the gun into empty air to Sean's side. "Let's go."


	52. Extreme Ways

**LII. Extreme Ways**

_Extreme ways are back again  
Extreme places I didn't know  
I broke everything new again  
Everything that I'd owned  
I threw it out the windows, came along  
Extreme ways I know move apart  
The colors of my sea  
Perfect color me_

_Extreme ways that that help me  
Help me out at night  
Extreme places I had gone  
But never seen any light  
Dirty basements, dirty noise  
Dirty places coming through  
Extreme worlds alone  
Did you ever like it planned_

_I would stand in line for this  
There's always room in life for this_

_Oh baby, oh baby  
Then it fell apart, fell apart  
Oh baby, oh baby  
Then it fell apart, it fell apart  
Oh baby, oh baby  
Then it fell apart, it fell apart  
Oh baby, oh baby  
Like it always does, always does_

_Extreme songs that told me  
They helped me down every night  
I didn't have much to say  
I didn't get above the light  
I closed my eyes and closed myself  
And closed my world and never opened  
Up to anything  
That could get me along_

_I had to close down everything  
I had to close down my mind  
Too many things to cover me  
Too much can make me blind  
I've seen so much in so many places  
So many heartaches, so many faces  
So many dirty things  
You couldn't believe_

_I would stand in line for this  
It's always good in life for this_

_Oh baby, oh baby  
Then it fell apart, fell apart  
Oh baby, oh baby  
Then it fell apart, it fell apart  
Oh baby, oh baby  
Then it fell apart, it fell apart  
Oh baby, oh baby  
Like it always does, always does_

**Extreme Ways is the property of Moby and appears in the film _The Bourne Identity_.**

"I'm draping it as we speak," informs Toby, winding the pink feathery object around his monitor.

"You are not!" cries Manny, laughing a little. "My boa?"

"No, _my_ boa," says Toby, grinning.

Manny did call him back, thankfully in higher spirits. His initial goal was to do as he said he would, to read Justin's e-mails and contact Clara, but he got side-tracked by his L.A. lady. That's what Danny chose to refer to her as after Toby nixed Mannylicious. Toby approved it, mainly so he could get home early in case Manny rung him. She's at Lia's, which turned out not to be that helpful since Emma, Lia, and Hannah were gone. At least he's here with her now...in a way.

"Maybe I should come home early," sighs Manny.

"Is that what you really want?" says Toby.

Honestly, he'd like that, too, although he doesn't want it if she's coming to Toronto unhappy, defeated.

"Have you spoken with Colleen yet?" asks Toby.

"Kinda mad she gave me and Lia the wrong date," replies Manny. "If I'm upset, Lia's going to be furious. She was more excited about this...well, by a hair."

"Maybe they can have you audition on a different day," proposes Toby.

"It doesn't work like that, Tobes," says Manny. "I mean, in special cases, maybe..."

"You are a special case," interjects Toby.

"That's a sweet boyfriend opinion, not a business one, baby," says Manny, diplomatically. "And that one is done."

This isn't fair. Manny studied the script every second she could for a film she desired, and he'd gotten an internship offer he didn't necessarily crave. What's more Doug said he had the rest of the month to get back to him.

"You spent the whole day of auditions with me," says Toby, gloomily.

"What?" cries Manny. "Toby, nobody knew! It was a misunderstanding, probably _my_ misunderstanding. I wouldn't trade a second we had together."

Toby smiles brightens as he flips his computer on, and the beeps sound.

"Especially certain seconds," says Manny, shyly.

"Yeah," says Toby, pulling out the chair to his desk. "And what we were doing those certain seconds?"

"Don't make me say it," whispers Manny. "Alright. Some outstanding _s-e_-"

Toby goes to close his bedroom door, chuckling as he walks.

"_C-S_. Glorious secs," provides Manny.

"Love the pun," teases Toby.

"Witty and pretty," says Manny. "You got the best of both worlds."

Toby nods to himself, stops shutting the door as his father appears in the small space of the ajar door. He turns, pretending not to see him. He just got Manny in a good mood and this is the longest they've talked since he's left.

"Toby!" calls Jeff.

"I'm on the phone!" replies Toby.

Jeff parts the door further anyway, folds his arms.

"It's Manny," explains Toby.

"Yeah, I could tell," says Jeff. "We really need to talk so..."

He releases a deep sigh, but his dad is giving him the most unwavering stare. Jeff had already told him that he and Kate were jetting off somewhere tomorrow. It seems that even though they missed him, they missed alone time more. He guesses he's getting a responsibility lecture, an ill-timed responsibility lecture.

"Manny, can I call you later?" he says.

"I'll be here," answers Manny. "And if that's your dad, tell him I said hi. Talk with you later."

"Alright," says Toby. "Bye."

He didn't even get to say "I love you", he thinks, sadly staring at his cell.

"Manny says hi," says Toby, shrugging.

"I'm glad she's doing well," says Jeff. "Actually, this has to do with her, I'm fairly sure."

Uh-oh. His mother called and told him all about what went down in California. She would've mentioned the stolen Mercedes, the huge blow-ups they'd had, and who knows what else. Here he thought his mother would've understood why he did those things. Toby immediately starts to conjure a sincere apology.

"I was searching for the battery recharger I lent you, and came across...very unexpected items," says Jeff, clearing his throat.

"What?" says Toby.

Jeff removes something from his back pocket, and tosses the nearly full package of condoms on his bed. Great. It's going to be a different kind of responsibility lecture. He didn't even ask for the battery recharger. J.T. told him to pack it in case they needed it. Well, as it turns out, he needed the condoms more. Who'd have thunk?

"Uh...um...I...hmm," stammers Toby, cheeks growing hot. "They...so we...me and..."

"Manny?" interrupts Jeff, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, Manny!" cries Toby. "I mean, sorry."

"Toby...," starts Jeff in his disappointed tone.

Ugh, he hates his father's disappointed tone. They'd discussed what sex was basically, and Jeff had to know he was interested in...in this. He did catch him looking at porn once.

Jeff eases onto Toby's bed. "Sit down."

He'd rather not, does so anyway.

"So it was in California?" nudges Jeff.

"Yeah," answers Toby, quietly.

"Your mother...," begins Jeff.

"No, Dad," interrupts Toby. "We...we were discussing this for awhile actually. When we were here. I got these here and I'm in love with her and she was there so..."

"Alright," breathes Jeff as Toby's voice fades.

"I never said that...that I'd wait until...," reminds Toby.

"I know, I know," insists Jeff. "But it's more complicated when you're in high school. And I did honestly believe that you'd wait until you were a little older, found the right person."

"Manny is the right person!" says Toby. "It can't get any more right."

"That's how you feel now," says Jeff, calmly. "What about next year, or when you're in university? A lot can change, Toby."

Is his father truly saying this? If his mother can see it, why can't his own father, the parent who's been around consistently?

"Nothing's changing," replies Toby. "Before, I couldn't see a future with her. Now, I can. I'm...like, always, thinking about it in the back of my mind. So is Manny."

Jeff picks up the box of condoms, stares at his son.

"I adore Manny, Toby," says Jeff. "Not as much as you, obviously. I do, though. She's warm and supportive. She gets you to open up. She loves you unconditionally. I really like that she's no longer just a friend...to any of us."

Toby smiles, decides that's not the best time to add anything.

"But the two of you are young," continues Jeff. "Still very young. Getting serious...you have to be careful."

"We were safe," says Toby, nodding to the box.

"I mean, with your emotions," corrects Jeff. "You can never tell what might happen day to day. Manny may be the one. I'd like that. But you can never be too sure, about anything."

"Manny is it," says Toby. "She's _it_, Dad."

"Toby...," starts Jeff.

"It took you awhile to find Kate," interrupts Toby, purposefully. "That's fine. For others, it's sooner, and perfect. With Manny...it's like a sudden blessing. She's my blessing."

Toby blushes and for the first instance since he's been in this room, Jeff puts an arm around him and smiles a bit.

"Then she's a blessing to us," says Jeff.

"Good," says Toby.

"You wear one every time," instructs Jeff, lowering his voice. "As goes without saying, you make sure she's comfortable and safe as well. It won't be happening in this house..."

"Dad," whines Toby.

"Listen to me, Tobes," says Jeff. "It has to be somewhere else. I don't want Kate to...yeah, it's best she didn't know. Your mother, either. But they should be nice places. Classy. My first time...well, it was awful. College dorm party..."

Toby lets his head fall as his father rambles on and on. He's not going to get to those e-mails tonight, and Manny would be in bed by the time his father finished, in bed without him. He's guessing that's the way his dad would prefer it.

II.

She talked to Toby in her pajamas. With nobody home, she figured she might as well find comfort somehow. Doing her usual "happy-go-lucky" Manny act, she managed to fool Toby. He was right about leaving the theater, though. Being there just reemphasized what a waste parts of this trip were, and how she hasn't made any progress professionally.

Finding it odd that Lia hasn't returned to sulk at home too, Manny grabs a pink pillow, hugs it to her chest. She peeps inside her friend's room. Nope. She isn't aware of Lia's plans for the day either. Manny glances into Lia's bedroom mirror, spies a piece of pillow fuzz near her ear.

"Ewww," says Manny, yanking at it.

The pink ball of cotton falls from her hair to the top of Lia's vanity. A few sheets of paper sit next to the photograph of Ursula, the one she and Lia were discussing the day she went to Filipinotown. That's right. Lia kept her _Hearts for Sale_ info near the picture, maybe as inspiration. Manny groans, searches for the improper date among the words.

"Audition Location: Majestic Theater," reads Manny. "Auditon date: July...July...yesterday!"

Manny's mouth hurriedly opens as she drops the pillow. The audition was yesterday? Why did Lia say today? Colleen told...no, Lia told her the new day. Or was it a new day, or a different day coming from a dishonest pair of lips?

"Ugh!" screams Manny.

How could she be so foolish? Colleen told her the audition was the day after the ball, and Lia said that Colleen said it was a day later. She got so into the idea of being with Toby for one last day, and Lia knew she would bite. Never mind her foolishness! How could Lia be so heartless?

"You're in my room because?" asks a voice behind her.

Manny whirls to face the world's biggest backstabber with red hair. She hates that she can barely do it. Tears were already forming at the edges of her eyes, her throat becoming tight.

"Lia," says Manny, shaking her head.

Gaining clarity quickly, Lia's sight shifts and she's furiously playing with the bottom of her shirt. She begins to cry as well.

"Manny, I _had_ to have this role," chokes out Lia.

"After everything...after everything with Pinecrest...what I had to go through," stammers Manny, her voice breaking. "This week has been so hard."

"My life has been hard!" cries Lia.

Not. Manny can't fanthom what hardships Lia would have to face as the daughter of two famous parents or as a well-reviewed actress.

"What?" breathes Manny.

"You were the biggest competition," sighs Lia, her eyes as red as her hair. "You owed me. I helped you talk to Toby."

"That stupid game of Truth or Dare!" cries Manny. "You know, with the truth that almost ruined us? The kiss with Kendra? That wasn't good enough for you?"

"The game I barely remember?" says Lia. "Yeah, that made us _so_ even, Manny. A night of me drunkenly laughing at you versus you tracking down your soulmate at a bus station!"

"Nice to finally see your two faces!" exclaims Manny.

Manny attempts to exit the room, stopped by Lia tugging at her arm. Her touch is pretty soft, despite the situation.

"My mother was in the original," whispers Lia. "She was the _original _Claudia."

While she removes her arm from Lia's grasp, she doesn't leave. Ursula Andrews was in the first _Hearts for Sale_? Why didn't Lia tell her?

"Why didn't you say anything?" asks Manny.

"Colleen would've had you audition, no matter what," says Lia, wiping her cheeks. "I've been studying her so much."

Manny's frown deepens, and her lips stay still.

"So much," repeats Lia, her shoulders shaking as she sobs harder.

"Lia..."

"This is the only way I can make her proud," interrupts Lia. "To carry on her legacy. It'd get my father's attention. Manny, it just all adds up. Please..please don't tell Colleen."

She's asking for a lot, and a betrayal is a betrayal, from any angle. Manny wouldn't do that to her, or Blake, or another actor. That's destroying someone's dream.

"I can't promise that," whispers Manny.

"Manny...all you'd have to do is say that you went, and it didn't go so well," encourages Lia.

"Then I'd be continuing these lies!" says Manny. "These lies that I've been trying to get away from. This whole trip has been so difficult for me and..."

"And?"

Manny turns from her. "You wouldn't understand...at all."

Lia moves to a spot in front of Manny, clearly trying to gain the sympathy she wants. She's fallen for her waterworks before. Wasn't Lia crying the day Manny could've glanced at the real sheet, with the real audition date? Only then she was telling her about her experience with the Pinecrest photographer at the Hamptons. What a sap I was, thinks Manny. Not today.

"I went to Filipinotown, and I was so ashamed," shares Manny. "Ashamed because I was deceived. I broke down...totally. I haven't even told Toby that, because of the shame."

"Why were you ashamed?" says Lia.

"This industry," answers Manny. "They see me and think of this token character because my skin isn't as pale as theirs..."

"Don't make this a race thing!" cries Lia. "I'm Jewish. That's no walk in the park either, Manny. I don't exactly look like Malibu Barbie."

"Yeah, but I bet they never asked you to play a maid!" returns Manny.

Lia closes her eyes and swallows a lump in her throat. Finally, here's a time where Lia not saying anything isn't hurting her. Manny angrily grabs her pillow and heads for her room. Her room for one more night, if she has anything to say about it.

"What do you want me to do?" calls Lia after her.

"Enjoy making your first film!" yells Manny, slamming the door.

She hates yelling, yelling and crying, crying against the door. Her back is soft against it.

III.

The bulletin board announces everything. There's a synchronized swimming class that meets on Saturdays, with an opening for an alternate. A yellow piece of paper calls for seamstresses for the spring production of _Pippin_. Grammar workshops were being offered for the fall. All Sean can concentrate on, has to concentrate on, is where Dale's hand is and where the gun is, as he reads.

"Which room?" whispers Dale.

Ever since they left the office building, the delivery of Dale's lines were in whispers and mutterings. Sean doesn't know if he's doing that to be sinister or secretive. Perhaps it's a little of both. When they were in Dale's car, they stuck mainly to side roads and Dale made Sean drive because he knew the directions. While driving, Sean continually pictured Dale watching Ellie. She was drinking coffee, chatting with Marco or Alex or anyone and he was outside plotting, ratty ponytail shining under the streetlights close to the Dot. When did it come to this?

"He didn't tell me a room," answers Sean, honestly.

"There's only two with lights on," observes Dale, motioning for Sean to go down the hallway with him.

Sean hopes that Jay's unattainable. It's highly possible that he was doing something that he couldn't get out of. He mentioned it had to do with his job.

The first classroom holds a group of young women sitting in a circle. They mention teething troubles and breastfeeding. It was a new mom's support group, they soon realized, after the leader goes into a whole talk on first child jitters.

At the end of the hall, a room is lit, the door left halfway open. Sean walks incredibly slow, Dale having to nudge him forward. They hear a rumble of laughter, then quiet. Sean breathes deeply and looks inside.

There were several rows of desks, a chalkboard at the front, with a rosy-cheeked man, in a brown suit, his puffy white hair glinting under the florescent lights, writing his name with chalk. There were various subjects listed to the right: cosmetology; real estate; electrician; mechanics; childcare. Next to each subject are specific dates and times, with the name and phone number of a coordinator.

Dale peers behind Sean, who manages to block him successfully. He's blocking him because Jay is in clear sight, in the back row, jotting the information down in his composition book. That's why they were in his cart. Jay's in his street clothes, jeans and a grey T-shirt.

"Most of these courses are taught at the community college, except for the cosmetology courses," informs the teacher. "Those courses are divided up between the college and the newly built House of Beauty on Pike Street."

Jay's signing up for courses? It has to be mechanics. Sean smiles weakly. His best friend's taking this huge step after a lot of disappointments-- the expulsion, getting fired from his first job, being berated by Dale. No one had to tell him to do this, and it'd be something he'd earn on his own. Everybody, including his father, including Dale, would have to respect him for that. Sean definitely does, facing Dale.

"He's busy," says Sean.

Dale roughly pushes Sean, his shoulder stinging, and looks inside.

"Do we have to bring those freaky mannequin head things?" asks a pretty blonde in a tight mini-skirt.

"No, Melanie," answers the teacher as a few girls giggle.

"Mine's gonna have a mullet," kids Melanie. "And...please, it's Mel."

"Do your clients get lollipops when they're done?" speaks up Jay, smiling at Mel.

"Depends on if I feel charitable," supplies Mel.

Jay winks at her. "I could put you in the giving mood."

The whole class laughs, Mel turning a furious shade of red.

"That's enough, Jason," interrupts the teacher, going to the board again. "For the mechanics classes, we focus primarily on the content of the ASE, the Automotive Service Excellence test, which certifies you as an auto repair professional..."

Mel didn't seem to mind Jay's flirting, tossing him quick smiles as she writes in her notebook. Jay's more focused on the teacher, however, writing diligently.

"That idiot's wasting my time going to some low-grade class?" mutters Dale. "Man, he's already set."

Yeah, set to be your slave, thinks Sean, then quickly adding, like me.

"He'd have a license," says Sean. "That's not a low-grade thing."

"Whatever," waves off Dale. "This isn't a class. It's some type of info session. So he can leave."

Sean rolls his eyes. "Why can't we wait...or better yet, do this by ourselves?"

"Jay's part of the family," says Dale. "Tell him...what's that chick's name? Yeah, tell him Alex is really sick and he has to go to the hospital."

"What!" cries Sean. "Is that what you do to..."

Of course it's what he does. Dale doesn't have to answer him. He found their weaknesses, played with them until they came running back to him to do his bidding.

"Go," orders Dale, stroking the handle of his gun, situated near his belt.

Though the lies he's told Ellie and countless others bothered him immensely, this lie would be the most horrible lie in this whole situation. Alex is the person closest to Jay, moreso than even him, and lying about her health would unnerve Jay like nothing else. Sean eyes the gun, tucked into Dale's pants, but able to be withdrawn at any moment. He walks to the rear of the classroom.

"Ah, a new student!" greets the teacher.

"Um no, sir," says Sean. "I'm here...for Jay Hogart. Jason."

Jay stares at him pensively, scratches his head in confusion. Sean bends next to his ear.

"It's Alex," whispers Sean, then coughing. "She's sick...she's at the hospital."

"I..I have to go," says Jay, fingers shaking as he closes the composition book.

Jay's cheeks go pale, his lips fumbling for words. He grabs his bookbag and pulls Sean with him in a hurry. His composition book remains as he goes past Sean into the hall.

"Did Chad do something to her?" demands Jay. "What is it, man?!"

Dale's stony face suggests nothing. Jay grimaces at Dale.

"Why are you two here?" asks Jay.

"Um...," starts Sean, guiltily.

"Never mind," interjects Jay. "What hospital is it? We should be..."

"You should be thankful for that free weed I gave you," says Dale, standing next to Jay. "I knew you would avoid me unless I sent Sean after you."

Jay gives Sean a disappointed stare, backpack falling to his side.

"Alex is okay?" says Jay.

"Yes," answers Dale. "I do believe Ashley isn't, though. She has no spindle for her car. Awww."

Sean and Jay remain silent. It would be best to let Dale speak, Sean wagering that Jay felt similarly. Let his toxic lips keep flapping so they'll run out of words.

"Where we're going, I talk and you two don't," whispers Dale, glancing between them. "No questions. No hassle. No second guessing. Clear?"

"I got a class, man," sighs Jay.

"To have a class, you'd have to be enrolled," says Dale. "Are you?"

"Not...not yet," replies Jay.

Dale smiles fully and taps his gun. Jay's expression changes from mildly bothered to antsy. Sean's gaze stays on the ground as the three of them walk to the exit.

IV.

Hannah has taken to skipping instead of walking. Her blonde ponytails are currently pressed down by a crown wreath of pink roses, an extra prop handed to her by the director, a Kel Andrews fanatic apparently. For all the fame her father has, Emma hasn't seen any of his films. Then again, she wasn't a movie maniac like Manny, or even Toby, who became one because of Manny. The crown wreath's twin would be seen in the film on the little sister of Ashton and because of her princess-loving ways, and Spinner's persuasive tongue, Hannah received the other.

"We were the best marchers," proclaims Hannah.

"'Sho nuff," remarks Spinner.

Hannah scrunches her nose at the slang, then giggles.

"You're funny," proclaims Hannah.

"Don't encourage him," says Emma, smirking at Spinner.

Once their scene wrapped, Emma delighting in the fact that they have "a scene", they stopped at a street corner so Spinner could reach Kendra. For whatever reason, Kendra didn't answer. That shook Spinner up a bit so Emma volunteered to lead the way. Boomer's competition had started an hour ago and she hopes Spinner won't miss it altogether. Hannah's skipping is gradually getting slower, too, so Emma's certain the girl's getting tired.

No longer bus novices, the three of them walk to the lighted Andrews' mansion from the bus stop. Though Spinner has missed some of the surfing competition, he didn't appear angry, which puts at her ease. Hannah has been at ease all day. There is something about Spinner that just does that. She can't put her finger on it, but is glad she can't.

Spinner is at Emma's side as they approach the door, Hannah pushing the doorbell continually.

"That eager to get away from me?" cries Spinner in mock astonishment.

Hannah laughs. "I want to show Lia my crown."

"Understood," says Spinner, exchanging a grin with Emma.

"You're going to be with us tomorrow?" asks Hannah, hopefully. "Like if Emma doesn't mind?"

Emma looks skyward, blushing. "I wouldn't mind."

"Well, if Emma doesn't mind...then yeah," answers Spinner.

A frowning Lia opens the door for her sister, who drags her to the living room.

"That's the cutest kid I've ever met," says Spinner. "Oh, besides Jack."

"Jack only likes to be called cute when it gets him off the hook, or if the person has a cookie," counters Emma. "Other than that, all boy."

They chuckle, Emma closing the door a smidge. Spinner steps with her onto the stoop. Hints of blonde flecks are in his hair, whether California-caused or not. She likes seeing them, or rather, she likes that she's close enough where she can see them.

"She's so sad," admits Emma, softly. "By herself with her wands and storybooks. At least I have Manny."

"And that's a friendship for the books," comments Spinner, nodding.

"Yeah, what haven't we been through?" laughs Emma. "You and Jimmy too. Wow."

"Hannah has you, too. But...dude, why is she alone? She's sweet and smart and..."

"Her mom died giving birth to her," explains Emma. "She thinks it's her fault, that she's cursed. I don't see why. Some of us...well, some of us have brought bad things on ourselves. Not her, though."

Emma lowers herself to the stoop, the stone smooth against her legs. Spinner sits, too.

"I keep remembering when my life turned around," says Emma, staring straight. "Jack was born. Snake went into remission. Everything was working. Then, I got involved with Rick."

Spinner strokes his knee for a short moment, then stares at her.

"Spin, I made his life really miserable at Degrassi," says Emma.

Her statement is true, as much as she would enjoy denying it. She tripped him at the Dot in order to impress people she barely knew. She lead the protest to remind him of what he did to Terri. She told him, after sticking up for him, that Degrassi wasn't interested in having him. Then, perhaps the worst thing was turning him down when he tried to kiss her.

"Maybe I deserved that gun pointed at me," breathes Emma.

"Not like I did," says Spinner. "Em, you...were with him on the Academic team. You tried to include him. That's...that's something. I...I did something to set him off."

Emma rests her hand on Spinner's shoulder.

"Something that made him get a gun," says Spinner, quietly.

"Your life is good, Spin," comforts Emma. "You deserve it. Mine...meanwhile, mine's falling apart."

Spinner scoots closer to her. The movement must've made her tears more visible, because before she's feeling them, they're falling. They're falling fast.

"It's falling apart," repeats Emma as she sobs.

"What...like what seems like it falls apart, really won't sometimes," offers Spinner. "Wait until you know. I don't think it will."

"No easy roads," says Emma, sniffling as a smile emerges on her face.

He takes her hand and traces her knuckles.

"Roads have bumps," shrugs Spinner. "And dude, we're..."

"And we are bumpin'," finishes Emma, chuckling along with Spinner.

"Totally nineties saying, baby," applauds Spinner. "I love it."

"You taught me," reminds Emma, high-fiving him.

They rise. Spinner immediately hugs her, Emma letting him. She hugged Toby after the dire events of that day, the day none of them will forget. Yet, today, this is warmer. She can feel a similar heartbeat through their shirts and the sun hasn't disappeared behind the clouds. It's too bright to disregard it.

"Ten tomorrow?" says Emma, pulling away.

"See ya later, alligator," promises Spinner.

"After awhile, crocodile," returns Emma.

"Oh snap!" cries Spinner. "The sayings don't stop, man."

Emma giggles as she shuts the door, relieved that her eyes are no longer wet. She freshens her face in the bathroom briefly, then guesses that Manny has come back by now. Strangely, her bedroom door is closed. Emma knocks.

"Man--"

Before Emma can say her best friend's full name, Manny's in her arms, crying way more intensely than she was minutes ago. Emma leads Manny into her room and helps her sit on the bed.

"What's going on?" asks Emma.

"I...I can't stay here," breathes Manny. "Em, I gotta go home."

Go home? What would cause her to make that request? Was the audition that bad?

"You'll do better with the next...," begins Emma.

"There was no next!" cries Manny. "There won't be a next! Everything turns out for the worse!"

There should be something to console her. Why can't she come up with anything? Emma stares at her, flabbergasted. She just comforted Spinner, although he did most of the comforting.

"I'm losing myself here," breathes Manny.

"Manny, I'm...I'm lost," admits Emma.

"No, _I am_," insists Manny. "That's why I need to get out of this house, this country. Anywhere else."

Emma swallows a lump in her throat. She had to be with Hannah through the end of the month, for as long as Manny was supposed to stay. Kel has already paid her half the money. Didn't Manny have auditions through July, too?

"Your auditions," reminds Emma.

"They're pointless!" says Manny. "Utterly pointless. The only thing that I can rely on is...is me and Toby."

Toby? Hold on. Okay, she's perfectly aware that Manny's emotional right now, but Toby isn't here. She's here. They're both here. Emma walks to Manny's closet, pretends to examine her nails.

"Emma," says Manny, going to her. "I don't have enough to go home. I'm stuck here."

Manny's voice is getting softer, which is harder to take. She does sound desperate. She is desperate.

"Manny...," says Emma.

"He knows what I'm going through," says Manny. "He always does. I can't tell you...not yet. Not until I figure it out. But I need a clear mind. I need to go home."

"But...but you're coming back?" asks Emma, staring at her.

"Yes," replies Manny, earnestly.

Emma breathes deeply. "I can loan you the money."

"Thank you, Em!" says Manny, throwing herself into Emma's arms.

She would like to say "sure, anytime", and mean it. Then, the guilty thoughts invading her mind might be silenced. The guilty thoughts include wanting to have Manny discuss this with her and not him, keeping her in this house so their bond would grow instead of theirs. Instead, she says the most honest thing she can as Manny's sobbing subsides.

"Well, figure it out soon, okay?"

V.

Four tires cease to move in the stillness. A blaring truck blasts from a distant highway. Torn newspaper pages skitter in the light breezes. The faint, familiar sign is the first sign. The door is down. They go to the side, where the shadows are deepest. Cool air flows through the car.

Dale tosses a roach out the window. He smoked during the drive. Jay wouldn't take the joint he offered, and Sean kept his eyes on the road. The road is what he can rely on, since he's taken it. He took this road to work so many times. That's when the Ducati was a remote dream. That's when the money came in steadily and didn't seem as important. That's when everyone got their equal due. They'd say, _oh, Sean, can you do that_, or _would you mind taking a look at_, or _is this on its last leg_? He told them the truth in this place.

"Good old Dad's," mutters Dale, smirking.

Three car doors click as they get out and walk slowly to the side entrance of Hill's. The high-end shopping, realizes Sean. Mr. Hill acquired the best parts in Toronto.

"Stealing from your old man?" whispers Sean, intensely.

"Yeah, one part makes me the devil," throws back Dale. "Shut up."

Dale tries the door, puts on a glove, curses under his breath as he starts to enter the code on a hidden keypad. Sean has no knowledge of the code. He's not surprised his father trusted Dale with it, however.

"Code's my birthday," explains Dale as the door creaks open.

The hour is nearing ten. Dale wanted to be there at nine, to watch two workers, Patrick and Garrett, close up shop. Sean thought Dale got some sick delight in viewing them do all the necessary tasks, locking up Hill's in vain. He chuckled when Patrick stumbled to his bicycle. They could tell he was tired, but Dale laughed anyway.

"Is there a reason why Sean and I _had_ to come?" questions Jay.

"Yes, community center genius," snorts Dale, ushering them inside. "Go to storage."

Jay and Sean, being employed and formerly employed, respectively, go to where they should stand. Dale whistles on his way there. He puts an arm around Sean, an arm around Jay.

"My hands ain't getting dirty," says Dale, grinning. "Yours are."

"What?" whispers Jay.

"Inventory boy, get the sheet next to the parts and tell me where the Acura spindle is," instructs Dale. "Sean, you pick it up."

Sean can feel spit collecting in his mouth, would love to hurl it at Dale since he's so close. Just like at work everyday, Dale would do anything and use anyone to do his dirty deeds.

Jay shrugs him off and heads for the list.

"Careful!" whispers Dale, urgently. "There's an alarm on the floor next to the fence. The red button."

Sean recalls seeing that on the occasion, didn't think he'd ever have to worry about it. Jay nods, goes to the fence. He inches it slightly, slides in and finds the clipboard. Dale sits on the table, takes out his gun as Jay reads. He twirls it. He actually twirls it.

Sean shakes his head, glances behind him. Dale had closed the door to obscure any activities they were doing. He also spies a Nissan, Mr. Sumter's if he remembers correctly. Sumter came in for paint jobs. The Culvers' station wagon is to the right. Their youngest son was always so impressed that Sean was in high school and able to work on cars. Sean allows the spit to seep down his throat. He's more disgusted with himself than anybody else.

"Got two," informs Jay. "Sean."

During the drive, the two of them didn't talk. To his relief, Jay got the reason behind the Alex lie, or so Sean believes. In any case, he tosses Sean a sympathetic glance. Jay lied to get Sean into this arrangement, and they'd been lying for weeks. Maybe the lying is getting more natural.

"Hogart, watch the door," commands Dale, standing next to Sean.

Jay goes to stand watch, Dale peering over Sean as he takes hold of a shiny, new Acura spindle.

"Good?" says Dale.

"The best," replies Sean through gritted teeth.

"Hmm, thanks, Dad," sighs Dale, happily. "Go to the car through the chained door. Use this key."

The chained door was for the benefit of the men who moved the parts Mr. Hill ordered. It was primarily used on the weekends. It also coincidentally lead to an alley, where they could reach Dale's parked car.

Sean tucks the spindle under his arm, starts to undo the lock. The chain loosens slightly. He hears hurried steps behind him.

"Guys, I thought I heard...," says Jay, racing to them.

His warning is interrupted by another warning. A shrill beeping sound continues, pierces through the garage, through the storage closet. The lock clinks to the side. Sean pockets the key in the blaze of ear-deafening noise.

"You hear the alarm, idiot!" shouts Dale. "Your foot touched the button!"

"Dude, I...," begins Jay, searching around. "Let's...let's get out of here!"

"Get it open, Cameron!" yells Dale. "Now!"

Sean tries as hard as he can to wrest the door open. No luck. Dale looks from Sean to Jay, eyes flashing angrily. Sean can't face him.

What if they do caught? No, can't think like that. Can't.

"Ugh!" screams Sean, pushing harder.

"They're...they're coming!" stammers Dale. "They're coming!"

"Who?" shouts Jay.

"The cops!" says Dale. "You did it...you did it on purpose!"

"I didn't!" cries Jay.

"Shut up!" yells Sean. "It's almost...guys, just..."

Yes, the door is beginning to part. Two more seconds. That's all it will take. Two more seconds.

Two more seconds and there's a shot. Chills run to every part of Sean's body. He feels numb. His eyes water. There's no movement, only noise, the ugliest noise imaginable. Sean turns, eyes wide.

"No!" moans Jay.

Red blood seeps through a tiny hole, across the storage closet floor, to the grey of his shirt. He blinks maddeningly, shuts his eyes. Jay curls his hand. Dale pulls back his hand with the gun, narrowing them at him.

"Sean...uhhh," breathes Jay.

Sean runs to him, bends to check the depth of Jay's wound. He couldn't walk on that. Blood touches the leg of Sean's jeans, his fingers. The sticky liquid drips to his wrist.

"Don't move," cautions Sean.

"Get up, trailer trash!" yells a voice behind him. "Get the spindle and get up!"

"What's wrong with you?" shouts Sean, his lips trembling as he stares at Dale.

"I said...get up!" shouts Dale. "I'm not getting caught!"

"I'm staying!" yells Sean, rising to his feet and pushing him. "You son of..."

"I will kill you dead!" promises Dale, pointing the gun in his face.

He yanks Sean before he can think any more, say any more. Then, he thrusts the spindle in Sean's chest. The weight almost feels like it's crushing his ribcage.

"No," exclaims Sean.

"Somebody will take him to the hospital, alright?" shouts Dale.

When would this terrible noise end? Someone is coming. They know it. He knows it.

"Sean...Sean, go," says Jay, then coughing violently.

"Jay...," begins Sean.

Then, he's thrust, hurtling to the cold road. His back hit the chains, and the hardness of the door burned his sides and legs. It's like a thousand hands threw him and he landed on cement. Dale had used all his energy to throw Sean outside. Sean fumbles for the spindle, doubles over. He attempts to go through the door, stumbles as Patrick did earlier. The manhandling has made him weak. He hates that he's weak.

"Come on," whispers Dale, dragging him by the collar.

Dale is quick to shut the door on the scene, on Jay. Sean wordlessly stares at his blood-soaked fingers, the red stains like dried ink. He clutches his stomach. He vomits or spits. It's either or both. He's not sure.

"He would've brought us both down," says Dale in a rush. "Weakest link. This way, they'll pin it on him. He better not talk. He better _not_."

He's led to the car, waiting for them. It was supposed to hold three of them, wasn't it? Dale eases Sean into the backseat, the spindle tumbling from his grasp. Sean breathes against the seat, hot from the summer night. He can barely breathe.

Dale quickly gets in, starts the car, and they fly.


	53. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

**LIII. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)**

_Sweet dreams are made of this.  
Who am I to disagree?  
Travel the world and the seven seas.  
Everybody's looking for something._

Some of them want to use you.  
Some of them want to get used by you.  
Some of them want to abuse you.  
Some of them want to be abused.

I wanna use you and abuse you.  
I wanna know what's inside you.

Hold your head up, movin' on.  
Keep your head up, movin' on.  
(Repeat Three Times)  
Movin' on!

I'm gonna use you and abuse you.  
I'm gonna know what's inside.  
Gonna use you and abuse you.  
I'm gonna know what's inside you.  


**Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) is the property of Annie Lennox and appears in the film _Life as a House_**.

**When I Grow Up is the property of the Pussycat Dolls.**

"Who knew I'd be using my passport so soon, right?" kids Manny, as lightly as she can.

This situation is anything but light, decides Emma. It is two in the morning, the earliest and fastest flight Manny could get. They slipped out when Lia was sleeping, neither one of them tired. For Manny, hearing the time of the flight gave her a second wind. For her, her mind wouldn't let her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" sighs Emma. "Sometimes you don't consider certain things and if your parents found out..."

"Look," interrupts Manny. "J.J. is picking me up. Toby's dad and Kate are vacationing somewhere tropical. And your generosity has made this more than possible."

Manny smiles sweetly at Emma, and Emma finds herself smiling as well.

"Besides, Spinner will be keeping you company," reassures Manny.

"It won't be long before he's off to Toronto, too," remembers Emma aloud.

"Then, we can start the school year with our boyfriends," affirms Manny, nodding confidently.

"Nothing's official," says Emma, hesitantly.

"_Well, then get official_," sing-songs Manny, then pulling Emma's ponytail which she hastily fixed before they got to the airport.

Yeah, let Spinner see her at two a.m. and see if he's willing to go official then. No matter. Manny's officially boarding that plane, and Emma's not certain that she's coming back. California has been such a disappointment to her. Emma's only gotten bits of the story, but it's enough to understand that Manny's on the brink of breaking down.

Dreary passengers cross the sepia-colored carpet, except for an animated five-year old jogging with her Bratz suitcase in front of her mother. Spike said Emma was animated at that age. Jack's animated and he's got awhile to go before he hits five. He was also taking advantage of being the baby for as long as he could, and Emma wonders if it's wearing her mother out. She wishes Spike would call to complain, say she needs her. Is she needed at all? Not by Manny, apparently.

"Manny, if you ever feel...like too overwhelmed with this, you can call me," says Emma.

Manny squeezes Emma's shoulder. "You'll be the first person."

If Toby's not available, adds Emma in her brain. Occasionally, she'd love for Manny to find the strength in herself, depend on herself and not on a boy. That's what she did. When you're strong mentally, and don't focus on the negatives, you can get through anything.

"This letter is from Kendra," says Emma, giving her the envelope Spinner gave to her.

Emma's more than curious what the letter says, found it so mysterious that Kendra would contact Manny at all.

"No anthrax in it, I hope," says Manny, staring at Emma.

"If there was, security would catch it," notes Emma.

They laugh, Manny tucking the letter into her carry-on bag.

"What should I tell Lia?" questions Emma.

"Tell her whatever you want," says Manny, rolling her eyes.

Okay. There used to be a day when Manny and Lia were tight, and she was the outsider. She's picking up that today Lia is the outsider. That might be the sole thing she and Lia have in common. They felt a distance between themselves and Manny.

It wasn't an outright diss. Manny wouldn't do anything like that. Yet, with everything Manny's been through, it was customary for her to let Emma be there for her first. All these things are shifting. Spike confessed a secret to Emma two days after she and Snake returned from their honeymoon. Lucy and Liz, her two closest girlfriends, phoned Spike to hear the glorious details of the trip. Spike didn't call them back until that weekend. She said she didn't want the honeymoon to end. That's how she sort of felt, like Manny didn't want the honeymoon stage with Toby to end. Reality would catch up sooner or later with them, Emma's sure, like it did with her mom and Snake. Manny's problems would follow her.

"J.J.'s in town?" asks Emma, trying to rid herself of these troublesome thoughts.

"Yeah, for some reason," says Manny, breezily.

"So your whole family will be in one place and you won't visit them?" says Emma.

"Em, come on," says Manny. "I'm perfectly fine with them believing I'm in L.A. Nobody's getting hurt."

Emma would beg to differ. Manny could look to her left and realize that isn't the truth.

"Speaking of parental visits, have you thought about visiting Snake?" asks Manny.

"He sent me a postcard," shares Emma.

"Oh," says Manny. "Well, maybe you should read it."

Emma yawns to keep from speaking.

"Read it, Em," instructs Manny, gently. "Trust me. Not talking to your father for months is the pits."

Manny's face falls, leading Emma to play with the strap of her knapsack. The postcard is in there, waiting. Snake's waiting to hear from her. She accused him of making no effort at Toby's party. Why isn't it easier for her to forget him, being thousands of miles away? Perhaps it's the same thing keeping her mother awake at night.

Emma nods. Manny holds the bag as Emma unzips it and removes the University of Toronto postcard. She takes a deep breath, reads:

"_Dear Emma,_

_I hope the summer is treating you well. The front should give you a hint as to where my new job is located. Yep, you, Manny, and the gang aren't the only ones who have to listen to my voice as you stare at computer monitors. It's an introductory new media class. My students won't stop checking their email at the beginning of our classes, but other than that, they're good kids. They're not as colorful as you guys, though. I miss the days of Liberty finding punctuation mistakes on websites and J.T.'s impersonations of the NAK news team. Oh, and of course, your keen insight on the plight of the squeegee kids._

_Tell your mother I said hello. Jack has been to my house a number of times, but I don't want to bother her so our talks are brief. I'd love to talk with you. You have my cell number. I have no commitments in the evenings so if you're willing, give me a ring._

_Have fun in the Golden State! Love, Snake_

Emma lowers the postcard, grinning at Manny.

"I can't believe he remembered the squeegee kids thing," says Manny, laughing. "I barely remember that."

"Yeah, he tacked my article to the refrigerator in the staff lounge," admits Emma, shyly.

"Awww," says Manny, pushing Emma playfully.

Alright, that was a great Snake-like thing to do, and yes, she knows his number by heart. It wouldn't kill her to call him and thank him for this trip now that it's coming to an end.

"Awww, you better get on your plane," says Emma, standing. "Call me when you land."

"Promise," says Manny. "Don't do anything drastic while I'm gone...like eat a steak."

"Do you know how many toxins are in..." begins Emma.

"Running from the anti-meat brigade," pronounces Manny, giving her a quick hug before she scampers to the security line.

"Take care!" yells Manny.

"You, too!" replies Emma.

Why does she think they'll both need to do just that?

II.

The rust of an axle shimmers when the door opens. Everything else is thrown out of proportion. Tires are smaller. Square tables look like ovals. The window furthest to the right resembles a diamond.

He focuses on the rust, mud-brown, decaying, old. It was on a part he tossed to the side, sure it couldn't be saved. The rust would eat away the metal, the steel until you could barely recognize what you were holding. Eventually, the part would be corroded, and fail.

Sean lets the spindle fall from his fingers, collapses in a chair. Has he failed Jay? Is his body failing him? His lungs weren't acting right. He can feel his bruised ribs, the sting in his eyes. He coughs until he hears another set of footsteps.

Dale wipes his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Sean is starting to register his movements, his expressions. His gaze goes to Dale's waist, becomes wet again when he views the gun. He pulled the trigger in a sliver of a second. Was he foolish to think Dale wouldn't use it? Dale didn't shoot him when he had the chance, or were there too many witnesses that day?

This is all his fault, isn't it? He told Dale where Jay was, and lied to Jay for him, and couldn't unlock the door and...so many mistakes. Sean lets a tear slide down his cheek. He can't even see where it lands.

Raising his fingers, he can make it out, the dried blood of his best friend. It's reddish-orange and sickening. There's more on his knees, more on his shirt. You would think he'd carried Jay with him. Why didn't he? Why?

"Why?" breathes Sean, his mouth against the surface of a table.

"Pot...pot made me paranoid," says Dale, turning his back on him. "I...panicked."

Sean raises his head slightly, wincing as his chest bones throb.

"Bull!" condemns Sean.

Dale calmly goes to the back of the shack and removes a small box. He tucks the glove that did the handiwork for the night in there.

"Jay's got a reputation...I don't," says Dale.

This causes Sean to laugh, almost cruelly. Dale obviously acted in haste and hasn't thought things through.

"Nobody's going to believe Jay shot himself in the leg," says Sean. "Or that he knew the code to the side door."

"Your boy's shifty, Sean," sighs Dale. "We all know that. Most of all, me. That's why all I need is an alibi."

An alibi? What alibi? Perhaps Dale _is_ pretty paranoid. Sean's mind is too blurry to make sense of it.

"Our mutual friend Patrick is going to come in very handy," continues Dale. "Because not only is he aware of the code, but he told me that Jay would be doing inventory with him first thing in the morning. So Jay very well could've heard this code, or that's what I'll tell them. A bit of cash in my dad's office is gone, as is his most trusted worker's, that'd be me, key to storage. A certain spindle will have vanished when the police arrive. Makes it seem as if Jay got there and was a tad too greedy."

Sean raises his head, shakes it in disbelief.

"But not as greedy as his invisible partner, who Jay won't name out of fear of losing the other leg," finishes Dale. "The partner will have made off with the spindle and the money after shooting him."

"And who's this partner?" says Sean.

"You," answers Dale with a wide grin. "Cameron, your prints are on it. That's why I wear gloves and why I chose you, the Kerwins' trusted mechanic. Brilliant, right?"

Sean stands quickly, head pounding like a jackhammer. He doesn't care. Tossing the chair to the side, Sean glares at Dale, who chuckles.

"That's why I went to college and you won't," says Dale. "Forensics, son. Forensics."

Yeah, there's about to be another case that would require forensics. Sean grits his teeth and advances to Dale, who looks just as ready. He's too dizzy to see straight, but his vision is no longer as blurry and he can tell Dale's not as confident as he put on. If Jay named Dale, he'd be done. They'd both be done.

At least they would be in a better position than Jay. Sean closes his eyes. Lying there helpless...he'd never seen Jay that helpless. He imagines him alone and terrified for his life, of the law. He won't deal with it alone.

"Where are you going?" shouts Dale as Sean starts for the door.

"I'm going back!" yells Sean. "I never should've..."

Know what? He doesn't deserve a complete response. Sean wobbles to the door.

"A man of my word, Sean," says Dale, Sean hearing that horrible click.

This isn't like last time. He wishes it were, because this time he knows Dale will do it. Sean knows he's no different than Jay.

"Man, you already shot someone!" exclaims Sean. "What has Jay done to you, huh? What will killing me solve?"

"There'll be one less mouth to speak," answers Dale.

"Sean?" says a gentle voice in the distance. "Dale?"

He immediately backs up, briefly glances at Ty behind him. Ty is wearing blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. He's also wearing a fearful expression, gripping the knob of the door. Sean's expression softens. He's not sure if he wants Ty to view this or not. It was still pretty early so he understand why Ty's the only other person there. Sean wishes he wasn't. Maybe he should, though...maybe he should finally see what a monster Dale really is so he can split.

"Take a good look, Ty," says Sean, nodding to Dale.

Dale stares hesitantly at Ty, then grasps the gun firmer as he glares at Sean.

"This is who watches over you," continues Sean, smirking. "He uses people, shoots people..."

"Shut up!" yells Dale, practically a scream.

"Your amazing teacher can't bare the thought of anyone else succeeding without him!" exclaims Sean. "He treats us like slaves, and when we wanna leave, he goes off like a maniac!"

Ty's lips tremble as he stares at the strange scene. This may be hard for him to hear, but someone has to tell him.

"I swear to God, I'll kill you," says Dale, his voice breaking.

"Just wait 'til you're old enough, Ty," says Sean, staring down the barrel of Dale's gun. "He'll do it to you, too!"

"No, I wouldn't!" shouts Dale.

The sudden appearance of tears forming at Dale's eyes sends Sean's heart into palpitations. Sweat beads on his neck and arms become cool instead of hot. The shack is still.

"Dale only cares about himself," says Sean, quietly. "He shot Jay. Left him to die. He doesn't care about you, Ty."

Sean's back is turned to Ty, but he can hear the slight crying, crying coming from Dale and Ty. He couldn't possibly read their responses because if he turned to Ty, Dale could fire, and if he turned to Dale, the gun would be there.

"Don't make me pull this trigger," breathes Dale, a visible lump in his throat.

"Then let me do what I need to do," says Sean.

"Don't make me pull it," begs Dale, tears running fast against his face.

He's so sick of these empty threats. At least if Dale really pulled it, he'd be free from guilt, from the returning sight of Jay on the floor.

"Pull it," says Sean, his eyes shaking. "Let Ty see what a psycho you really are."

A sharp rap slaps Sean in the mouth, and he can hear his teeth rattle in his head. His body falls to the floor. He groans, hand trembling as he touches the side of his mouth. No bullet, but a lot of blood. Part of him is glad he's touching his own blood and he's in pain. Let him get what's coming to him. Let him be punished...for anything. He stares up at Dale. Hitting Sean in the face with his gun didn't seem to satisfy him, maybe because Ty had raced from the room.

Sean grips the edge of the table, steadying himself. He runs a list of area hospitals, where Jay may've been taken, in his head before Dale speaks once more.

"Ty...Ty is like my blood," whispers Dale, fiercely through his tears. "I love that kid. If you go near him, or you go near the cops, I'll shoot you and watch you bleed to death."

Sean touches the top of his mouth and winces. There's too much pain to reply.

"And Cameron, take your spindle," instructs Dale. "Lord knows, I don't want it."

III.

"_If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain_...," sings J.J., pausing at a stop light.

"Normal big brothers would offer their little sisters towels when they're drenched," insists Manny.

She's wet all over. Since she was in such a hurry to get to her hometown, she forgot to check the forecast. It would rain for the entire day. This failed to change her mood, however. She's home. Toronto's familiar streets and neighborhoods make her smile. Surprising Toby will make her smile more.

When J.J. arrived, he immediately asked why she came home so early. She crafted a little white lie. J.J. knew Emma's birthday, but not Liberty's. She pretended that she was flying in to surprise Liberty for her special day. Thus, she could act like she was staying at Liberty's and their parents wouldn't have to be mentioned, or so she hopes.

"I thought we'd swing by and say hi to Mom and Dad," says J.J. "They have towels."

"No!" cries Manny. "I mean, they're not home! Dad's at work and Mom's shopping so...no point really."

"Okay," sighs J.J. "Just thought they'd like to see you."

"August is a-coming," assures Manny. "Won't be too long before our reunion."

"Won't be too long before your birthday either," says J.J. "What'd you want?"

"J.J., you're acting weird," says Manny.

It's true. Her brother never asked what she wanted, and usually got her a gift certificate to a clothing store or fifty bucks. He isn't Mr. Plan Ahead either.

"What if I told you that I'll be buying a special gift for a special girl, soon?" hints J.J.

"Huh?" says Manny. "Like lingerie? I don't want to hear that!"

"No, Ms. Thong-tos," teases J.J. "What comes in a little box?"

A little box, thinks Manny. A little box!

"Uh-uh!" cries Manny, happily. "Eeee! It's Rosa?!"

Manny met Rosa at her cousin's graduation ceremony. Rosa went to the same high school when she was a teenager, and was coaching the girls' basketball team there. J.J. and Rosa dated their first two years of university, then took a break, managing to be friends. They couldn't stay friends, however. She liked Rosa because she kept J.J. on his toes and helped him to have some semblance of manners. Rosa was pretty, and well-liked by their parents, although Joseph didn't like that J.J. kept her a secret for so long. Manny could empathize with J.J. after the whole Craig thing, though J.J. and Rosa weren't in some dramatic triangle. Their only fighting dealt with who supported the better sports teams.

"Rosa Santos," says J.J., grinning at the windshield. "Manny, save me so I can be a bachelor for the rest of my life."

"Nope, nope, nope," says Manny, clapping her hands. "I am so supporting the ring on the finger. Besides, you're getting old."

"Shut up!" laughs J.J. "Nah, Mom wants me to settle down too."

"Please, you're the good kid," waves off Manny, feeling a twinge of envy.

"You and I are both good kids," insists J.J. "Rosa is a great choice. I love her and she's smart and beautiful and happens to be Catholic."

Manny lifts the flap of her seatbelt momentarily. She can tell J.J. is peeping at her as he drives.

"She's more _your_ type of Catholic, Manny," says J.J., smiling warmly at her.

"Oh," says Manny, laughing nervously, though she isn't nervous regarding that.

"What's the matter?" questions J.J.

"Well, what if...what if Rosa wasn't Catholic?" says Manny.

J.J. releases a deep sigh. He probably saw right through that very odd question.

"Papa does want you to marry a Catholic, Manuellita," says J.J., making a right. "Is that want you want to hear?"

No, it's what she's expecting to hear. Her father hasn't changed that much. But she figured that since Toby has made such a good impression, that he'd be more open to who Manny would like in her life. Maria would go along with whatever made her happy, especially if he was happy for her too. Still, there's a long way towards marriage.

"Was Dad a Catholic when he met Mom?" asks Manny.

"I don't think so," replies J.J. "Their wedding was very traditional, though. You saw the pictures. That's why I'm in Toronto. To tell them I'm ready. Rosa's coming down with me tomorrow."

She did and couldn't believe how young her parents looked in them. Her father's barong hung loosely around his thin frame, and the train of her mother's dress stretched far along the aisle. Her mother blushed like a typical bride, except she had dimples that were deeper than Manny's. Her father's eyes were warm and wet.

"I...I feel that way about Toby," admits Manny, bunching her wet hair and putting it over her shoulder. "Not marriage, but...I'd like him to have a symbol of how I expect it to be...long-term. Like you and Rosa."

"You guys haven't even graduated yet!" protests J.J.

"Almost," defends Manny. "Come on. Do you...do you have anything in mind? Since you're Mr. Romance now?"

"Can't we talk about the movie stars you saw instead?" pleads J.J. "How many?"

"None!" answers Manny, quickly. "I'll help you shop for a ring when I come home. And trust me, you require a woman's eyes for that kind of gift."

J.J. grumbles, then halts his windshield wipers. Manny leans forward, expectantly.

"It's not expensive," starts Joseph. "It does mean a lot, though, and it's something Mom and Dad did. Dad explained what it means to me."

"Where can we go to find it?" says Manny.

"Lean back. You're dripping on my dashboard," scolds J.J., swerving in another direction.

Manny doesn't hurl any insult at him, confident that he's taking her where they have to go to retrieve this mystery item.

"Did you know that Joseph is a Hebrew name?" speaks up Manny.

"Kinda," says J.J., smiling. "But you should tell Dad that. Wouldn't hurt."

IV.

All he can do is walk, on the same sidewalk where they paced. AC/DC, the Cure, Judas Priest. They most likely walked to get some inspiration, paced to get some clarity. Clarity is what Craig craves most right now. He bets none of those guys' or girls' boyfriends or girlfriends cut their hair in a single day.

Or maybe they did. Maybe Ashley is on to something. He experimented, not with his style, but with his music. He'd gone from punk to light rock to funk to whatever's coming next. Some of his actions were spontaneous, namely ditching the demo to chase Ashley. Also, he sort of likes that Ashley's always been playing around with new things. A few years ago, that's the Ashley he was eager to meet.

Craig leans against the Hammersmith Apollo, under the awning with white columns. It reminds him of Rome, one of a few European countries he never visited with his father. He said they'd go during his last year of high school. They never got the chance because his first year of high school ended the way it did. His first year at Degrassi began pretty nicely, however.

_"Ashley Kerwin," reads Craig, slipping the thin yellow slip into his folder._

_He made his way into the caf, surrounded by hungry students and frustrated faculty. They were serving chicken fingers, apparently Degrassi's best delicacy. Spinner squeezed in between J.T. and Toby to get to the barbecue sauce, rapping J.T.'s head with his green lunch tray. Jimmy, a guy he got along with pretty well, sat at a center table. He twirled a basketball on his finger. Paige sat next to him, evaluating designer winter coats with Terri and Hazel._

_Their clique was cool and all, but it seemed that he usually ran out of things to talk about with them near the end of lunch. Ellie had a different lunch period, though they weren't close anyways. He at least had more interesting conversations with her regarding photography. Marco had taken to sitting with the girls who were still mesmerized by his eighties' dance hoofing a week later. What was he doing that night? Oh yeah, sneaking in Emma and Manny, and channeling Sid Vicious._

_A familiar girl in overalls, her glasses firmly seated on her nose, passed him. He recognized her as one of Manny's friends._

_"Hi...um, Libby?" said Craig._

_"Liberty," she said. "What can I do for you? I'm on my way to the publications office."_

_"Oh, cool!" said Craig. "You do yearbook? I've been meaning to stop by..."_

_"Have a portfolio on my desk if you want to be considered as a photographer," interrupted Liberty. "Black and white, showcasing your best work. Monday's the last day. No exceptions, even for grade nines."_

_Liberty gives him an appraising stare and starts towards the caf's exit. Man, that wasn't his question._

_"Wait!" he calls after her. "Ashley Kerwin?"_

_She didn't hear him, though someone else did._

_"Um, I'm Ashley," speaks up a voice._

_Craig scans the various tables. His gaze rested on a girl with reddish-brown hair and arresting blue eyes. He nearly drops his folder as his feet move forward of their own volition. Nope, he tells himself. Be cool. You've already built a semi-decent reputation at this place. No need to shuck it two months into the year._

_This wasn't technically their first meeting, but this was their first time alone together. She was looking a bit different. A long, black velvet dress housed her tall frame, black boots on her feet. Her hair was short._

_Ashley showed an interest in Sean, so he stepped aside and kept tabs on who Manny was into, but he was kind of more intrigued by Ashley. To gauge Sean's feelings, he started hinting that Sean should make his move...like now. That ended in a mess. Sean grew weary of Ashley caring about Paige and her crew and Ashley wound up alone._

_If anyone knew what it was like to be alone, he did. To ease the loneliness, he began to construct a project, a project that wasn't for his father's eyes. He constructed the perfect family. It was a family he couldn't hold onto because of guilt. He started piecing people together in a collage-- Joey, Julia, Angie, himself. Albert never joined the party. A fraction of his heart told him that wasn't right; the remainder of his heart remembered the bruises he'd been receiving lately. Things got so bad on his parents' old wedding anniversary. Anniversaries are sour memories when there's nothing to celebrate and no one to celebrate with, and Craig took the brunt of that sentiment. When he could hardly zip up his jeans because of his bruised fingers...that's when he sought out Angie. Being alone makes you reach out further to any signal, for any sign, for any hope of not being lonely. That's why he smiled when he met Ashley._

_"Mind if I sit?" asked Craig._

_"You...you don't have a lunch," noted Ashley._

_"Heard there were bugs in the food last year," said Craig. "Made a vow never to eat the caf food again."_

_That was a lie. He'd eaten a burrito yesterday, courtesy of Sheila, the caf's resident cook and gossip provider. Still, the lie made Ashley laugh._

_"Oh, I know all about that," shared Ashley. "More than I'd like to know, honestly."_

_"Do tell," encouraged Craig._

_"Well, the bugs were in my food," revealed Ashley. "Courtesy of a certain person in the lunch line."_

_Craig glances at the line, immediately spying Spinner trying to shove a small bowl of gelatin into J.T.'s face._

_"Smells like puke!" cries J.T. in alarm._

_"Like they say," says Spinner, chuckling. "Better in than out, man."_

_"So why are you searching for me?" says Ashley, making Craig turn back to her._

_The action basically numbed him. She basically had to have the best pair of eyes he's ever looked into, and being an aspiring photographer, he had seen quite a few lovely sets of "peepers", what Julia used to call them._

_"Uh...new student evaluation," replied Craig, shaking himself. "You're collecting them?"_

_"Signed up to do it before my eventual summer," sighed Ashley, taking his sheet._

_"These were interesting question...," said Craig._

_They definitely were not interesting, but he didn't want to offend her with his honesty. He could count on one hand how many interesting questions there were, and that would be a three-fingered hand._

_"Ew. I hated doing that in seventh," admitted Ashley. "Word of advice. They read these surveys and pat themselves on the back, anyway."_

_"Like a survey can measure an experience," said Craig, rolling his eyes. "They want to know what classes were my favorite during the semester..."_

_"Art? You have your camera out a lot," said Ashley, then blushing._

_Hey, she'd been noticing him too? Cool. Craig looked behind him, then at her again._

_"Nah. I'm not into drawing forms or fruit or feet," said Craig._

_Ashley chuckled. "Science with Hatzilakos? Lots of guys like those classes, if you catch my drift."_

_"Science is my worst subject, I gotta say," shared Craig._

_"Photographs and not photosynthesis," asserted Ashley. "No, science bores me. English is my fave...with Kwan."_

_"Spin warned me about her," said Craig. "Should I transfer from Beals into Kwan's?"_

_"Yeah!" encouraged Ashley. "She lets us act the plays we read. And do journals...that's the best!"_

_Craig listened to her give him all the fine attributes of Kwan's class. What she was unaware of is that he was going to be in there no matter what. Beals' class was just to get transfers ready for the rigors of Kwan's class, and he'd done well in there. He simply wanted Ashley to keep on talking, laughing._

"_You sit alone everyday?" asked Craig when Ashley finished._

_Ashley closed her mouth and stared at her lap. No, he thought. I blew it. He got too personal way too soon._

_"Ellie has a different lunch period so...," started Ashley. "I'm getting used to eating alone."_

_"Lunch isn't an alone thing," said Craig, softly._

_"Being Ashley this year? That's an alone thing," said Ashley, shrugging. "Thanks for the survey."_

_Craig nodded and smiled when he stood. Ashley released a deep breath after putting the survey in her notebook. He started to go, glanced over his shoulder to view Ashley pushing aside her tray and staring forlornly into a compact mirror. She had on a lot of black eyeliner. He wasn't sure if she was fixing her make-up or wiping away tears. When she sniffled, that confirmed it's the latter._

_"Um," said Craig, planting himself in the same seat across from her. "I think I missed a couple questions."_

_Ashley blinked at him. "Alright?"_

_She retrieved his survey and Craig shaded it from her view._

_"Woo, these are hard," said Craig, beaming. "These might last all lunch period."_

_Ashley bit her lip to keep from grinning, and surrendered her pen with a smile._

He sat with her the rest of the semester, and the next semester when he was in science with Hatzilakos, and English with Kwan. Ashley's hair got shorter and her clothes darker. Nothing changed for him. He fell for her during lunch and it continued until the luau dance. Then, the next year and the next.

It continues now, realizes Craig, leaving the support of the Hammersmith. There are no more questions for him to fill out. He loves this girl who might look different everyday.

Craig pauses and walks to where he's intended to walk since the tour bus reached here. He's stopped by a security officer.

"No doing, bloke," he scolds. "BBC blocked civilians from coming in until the appointed time."

"I'm with the BBC tour," explains Craig.

"Fancy you Mark Kennick?" laughs the officer. "Go on. Find something to do 'til showtime."

"My girlfriend's performing!" exclaims Craig. "And I need to talk to her."

"Well, that's a shame, innit?" brushes off the officer.

Craig shoves his hands in his jeans, wishing he'd at least dismissed him with a North American expression. The British version of "get lost" sounds a little colder.

He could do with somewhere colder, and somewhere not too busy. He ducks into a store two buildings away from the Hammersmith, not bothering to peruse the windows. Maybe he can call Ash from his cell. She was practicing her duet with Mark. He'd love to interrupt that. Yes, that's a mean thought, but the guy was so overpraised that he doesn't feel bad at that mental knock. It'd only be for five minutes anyway.

Before he can dial, he's being lead...to a chair. What is this an execution?

"Hey!" protests Craig.

Craig's backed into a chair, a white towel wrapped around his neck. He stares at the stranger responsible for these actions. She's an attractive girl of maybe twenty-one, busty, a pair of scissors next to her name on a tag near her breast. Zoya.

"Free cut?" says Zoya, cheerfully.

"Um, I came into...," begins Craig.

"Get a cut," says Zoya with a heavy accent Craig identifies as Russian. "You want a cut?"

"I like my curls," says Craig, touching his hair protectively.

He's able to take in the full store in the silence. They're in a barber/beauty shop, a unisex salon. A man is getting his hair done in long braids, while another woman patters by with a stylist, holding a jar of grease. The vibe is extremely cheerful and there's a banner announcing "_We'll fix your follicles for free_. Only for today!"

"Girls go short for the summer," says Zoya. "Why not boys?"

"Uh..."

"Those curls make your head hot?" says Zoya, loudly. "Huh?"

"I've got time to kill," confesses Craig. "A trim maybe, then..."

"No, we'll do more," insists Zoya. "We're a new business so you tell your friends where you got this good cut. So we'll do more."

"More what?" says Craig, glancing around in a panic.

"Change is good!" cries Zoya. "It's good!"

Hmmm. Well, if Ashley can do it, then...

"Change is good," agrees Craig, settling into the chair.

V.

Pat, pat, pat. Manny receives three more pats as Ms. Owen crosses her to get to the counter. She feels like a puppy, an overloved puppy. J.J. wolfs down a couple Fig Newtons kept up front. Ms. Owen goes to another counter, pats J.J.'s stomach. Hey, complains Manny inwardly. Why didn't he get them on the head?

"Joseph and Maria, Joseph and Maria," says Ms. Owen, giddily. "Oh, I remember that wedding well."

Ms. Owen is a longtime friend of their mother's. She had just moved to Toronto from Manila seven years ago after falling in love with a Canadian named Richard Owen. She "met" Manny when Manny was still in her mother's womb. Her parents were so sure they'd be having another boy, but Ms. Owen said no, no, it'll be a girl. Ms. Owen was right.

She ran an odds and ends shop from a building next to her son's home. The store is modest, cheery, and Filipino, like the owner. It was tough for her to walk from spot to spot, though she managed. Manny believes she as venerable as Bubbe Isaacs. The traditional items were definitely made by strong, culturally astute people.

Manny moved to the side and found a gold and red parol hanging on a white wall. The star lantern was papery against the skin of her elbow, still wet from the rain. Several baro't sayas in deep rich colors are on hangers on a rack. Books on Jose Rizal and Manuel Roxas were in a bookcase with other writings on fashion, festival, and foods. It was a room full of history. Manny's presence makes her squirm.

"They're around here somewhere," says Ms. Owen, beginning to slide a stepladder to a closet.

"I'll help," offers J.J.

While they maneuver, Manny selects a book on fashion. She has no plans to read it, but the cover looks appealing. A woman is dressed in a pearl-white, wedding gown with a huge veil flowing past the first couple pews of a church. She wonders what her mom will say when she gets married. That she's a woman too?

Last summer, she had a different image of being a woman. With the Kevin Smith wrapped and ready for distribution, she spent those scorching days and cool nights dreaming of continuing her acting career.

By some luck, or blessing as Toby would call it, Kevin Smith chose her to play Kelly. Kelly was sexy, a bit sassy, yet a bit of a dreamer too. The part fit her to a tee. Letting the character go was difficult, however. It became so ingrained in her mind. The dialogue stuck. The scene ran in her brain ad nauseum. She couldn't let the memory die. Her acting might as well have been dead at home since her father or mother never asked to hear about it. J.J., of course, was not in the house, on his own at that point.

_That prompted her to play it where she could. So she ducked into Pretty Pretty, grabbed a blonde wig, and was someone else for as long as she desired. Manny turned to her right, evaluated herself in the mirror, blew a kiss to her reflection._

_Boys call you sexy (What's up, sexy)  
And you don't care what they say  
See, every time you turn around  
They screamin' your name_

_Manny lowered a crop top an inch, winces when it can't cover her bellybutton. Did she gain weight this summer or what? She did notice her bikini was a teensy bit tighter. Emma had shrunk a size. Tall, beautiful, blonde Emma. Manny removes the wig, musses her hair a tad, then puts the wig on again. Her dark eyes glittered under the blonde bangs._

_"I'd wait forever my love," says Manny, pretending to Jason Mewes, curling her lip._

_She changes her demeanor to flirt with him as Kelly._

_"I'm a freshman," says Manny to an invisible Mewes._

_"Freshman?" cries Manny in an exaggerated voices as Mewes. "Yo, is there any seniors up in this piece?"_

_Manny laughs to herself, then lets her eyes find the floor. She was thinking about researching other avenues if Bernice Fine didn't want to represent her. She can't act in front of a mirror forever, especially when she doesn't like what she sees._

_Why did Kevin choose her anyway? Paige was blonde, pretty, and popular. She could've played Kelly. Then again, Kevin said Paige's line read wasn't that good. Emma...she had massive stage fright as soon as Kevin provided her with script. Maybe it's her talent, and that's...well, that's inside. She doesn't need to put a blonde wig on that._

_Now I've got a confession  
When I was young I wanted attention  
And I promised myself that I'd do anything  
Anything at all for them to notice me_

_But I ain't complaining  
We all wanna be famous  
So go ahead and say what you wanna say  
You know what it's like to be nameless  
Want them to know what your name is  
'Cause see when I was younger I would say_

_Manny used to pretend to be the protagonist in all the movies she watched as a little girl, whether the person was male or female. She made her voice deeper when it was a guy, her gestures more feminine if she were a girl. It was innate to her. Her audience consisted mostly of Emma and J.T., or J.J. if he was bored enough._

_When I grow up  
I wanna be famous  
I wanna be a star  
I wanna be in movies_

_When I grow up  
I wanna see the world  
Drive nice cars  
I wanna have boobies_

_When I grow up  
Be on TV  
People know me  
Be on magazines_

_When I grow up  
Fresh and clean  
Number one chick when I step out on the scene_

_Her watch beeped. Joseph wanted her home by a decent hour, especially after the shooting, never mind that the shooting was almost a year ago. There'd be a time when she'll set her own rules, make her own way. It wouldn't be today, though._

_But be careful what you wish for cause  
you just might get it  
you just might get it  
you just might get it  
_

_"Are you buying anything, miss?" said a cashier, coming to Manny with a hopeful look._

_"No...browsing," admits Manny._

_"Can I wrap that up for you?" questioned the cashier, motioning to the wig._

_"No thank you," replies Manny. "I don't need to be blonde."_

That's what she told herself...then. Will this be what she tells her parents, Toby? Every chance she gets, she manages to lose. Her looks put her into a box she wanted so desperately to get out of, and she's yet to escape that box. She's not sure her heart can take any more, even if Emma did believe she had the biggest heart.

"In a heart-shaped bag," announces Ms. Owen, proudly. "I'd say it suits the contents."

Manny returns to the present, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. J.J. presents her with a gold, heart-shaped bag the size of a cupcake. She stares at them in confusion.

"How much is it?" asks Manny.

"Oh, I'll go easy on you, sweetie," says Ms. Owen. "Though, some things you can't put a price on."

VI.

"Elton, Ozzy, Prince," lists Mark. "Basically all of the one name moniker clan."

Ashley gently touches the white wood, the smooth paneling, and the black vinyl of the seat. The organ shines under the blaring stage lights. It makes her keyboard look as small as a pebble. To play this thing is incredibly tempting.

Who better to give into temptation than Mark Kennick, moving Ashley to the side to run his fingers across a few keys.

"You play piano?" asks Ashley.

"First instrument," informs Mark. "Guitar fit me more, though."

"I tried to play Craig's guitar once, and broke a string," shares Ashley.

"So your mortal enemy is the guitar, is it?" teases Mark. "Let's hope my guitar likes your voice."

"Odd that are voices are the only ones in the auditorium," notes Ashley. "Where is everybody?"

"Told 'em we required privacy," replies Mark. "I know you like to work in private."

That's true. Still, it's a bit odd that they were granted such a huge request. Perhaps Mark is used to this treatment. He doesn't appear the least fazed by sharing this tidbit.

"Look, if you're bugged, Aja's backstage," says Mark.

"No...no, I'm not bugged," says Ashley, half-heartedly.

Does she have much choice in caring or not? They have to nail this duet in private, and then in public. Another round of boos would make her get on board a flight to Toronto, and she'd have to face her mom with her tail between her legs. Yes, she failed, though it wasn't because of Craig.

They'd kept their distance since yesterday, when she saw Craig's reaction to her haircut. Mark's was the total opposite. He loved that "he could see her face when they were making music together". That description was sweet, a bit too sweet. Ashley's fears did go away, however, when Mark started flirting with a member of the Hammersmith's sound crew. He was a flirt and she was nothing special. Craig's reaction, however? He thought he'd be happy with it. She can understand the particular tastes he has with the songbook; they weren't her style. But looks were looks, and he wasn't into her for her looks.

To Craig, she's always been someone special, and vice versa. For him to dislike her choices put them back at square one, when he was judging what she did with the drinking. He couldn't deal with her decisions so he made it known.

"Craig left the bus early this morning," says Ashley.

"Trouble in teen paradise?" quips Mark, removing his fingers and staring at Ashley intently.

"Eh, he wasn't a fan of the haircut," replies Ashley.

"I don't know," says Mark, grinning. "To me, it shows you have balls. I mean...sorry!"

Ashley laughs loudly, covers her mouth. Despite her laughter, that is the reaction she was hoping for. She wouldn't be dull alongside Mark, or anyone else.

"It's arrived!" cries Aja, bounding onto the stage.

Aja had a purple mesh top, with a white T-shirt underneath, and a tight black mini. What's more noticeable is what she's carrying. It's a large, rectangular box, so large that it makes her weave to and fro. Mark climbs onto the stage and helps.

"Call in a favor and you're granted first-class treatment," says Mark.

He indicates that Ashley should take the box. She sets it on the stage since it's so heavy and opens the lid. A gleaming, leather red dress, complete with zippers on the sides, stares back at her. Ashley raises her eyebrows.

"Hot, right?" says Mark, grinning. "The stylist from our photoshoot knew your size."

"This is for me?" cries Ashley.

"The lighting design for Hammersmith? It'll make you shine all the brighter with that number on your bod," replies Mark.

"Cost a bundle, too," adds Aja, wiping her brow.

"I...I can't wear that," stammers Ashley. "It's...not...well, it's not what I would wear."

Ashley shakes her head at Mark. A few seconds roll by, Ashley hating to hear Aja's boots depart. This leaves her alone with Mark. He sighs and gestures for the both of them to sit on the organ seat.

"You know Kate Bush?" asks Mark.

"Do I?" cries Ashley. "I love her. My fave British female artist practically."

"Do you know what she wore?" continues Mark. "Classy, form-fitting clothes. Womanly. She wasn't ashamed of her body..."

"I'm not ashamed of my body!" interjects Ashley.

"No, wasn't saying that," assures Mark. "Kate had this sexy, smart, elegant way about her. London loved her. I think you have those same qualities."

Ashley leans forward to hear Mark more clearly.

"She captivated audiences because she was very aware this is a show, entertainment for people," says Mark. "You could be the modern version of her. All you need to do is take some steps."

"Kate Bush never wore red leather, not to my knowledge," says Ashley.

Mark scoots closer to her. "This would be good for you. I believe in you."

He's a little too close for comfort, attempting to get her to stare back into his eyes. She can feel his breath on her cheek. Ashley instantly shoots upwards.

Thankfully, the awkward silence is broken by the doors of the auditorium parting. Julian, the tour director, and a gaggle of girls come through, walking down the aisles towards him. The girls were carrying Mark and Ashley's promotional poster, the one that caused a rift between her and Craig. That's the last image she wants to view right now.

"Mark, do you have time for some autographs?" asks Julian.

"Certainly," assures Mark.

"My dad owns this theater," shares the smallest girl. "He and I can't wait to see you perform, Mark!"

"And I can't wait to perform...for you," provides Mark.

The girls screech for a second, then present him with the poster. He signs the smallest girl's first.

"Ashley, would you like to sign?" asks Mark. "She's doing a song with me, ladies. Makes me sound better."

With cautious glances, the girls surrender their posters to Ashley, almost as a courtesy. Rather than be skeptical, she takes them and signs them with the pen Mark hands her.

"What song?" asks the smallest girl.

Ashley was a bit iffy on the song selection. Craig was right when they were on the bus. None of these were lyrical gems in her opinion. Chances are they'd get people to sing along at least, and that isn't as offensive as the jeers thrown at her by the audience.

"You'll see," answers Mark, slyly.

Yawning loudly, the sound echoing, Aja returns to the stage to fetch the red leather dress, places it against her own form.

"Cool dress!" pipes the oldest.

"I think so, too," says Mark, tossing a glance Ashley's way.

Ashley's cheeks become flustered, the floor hard against her feet.

"Thanks, Mark," says Julian, shaking his hand. "And girls, Ashley is our newest find. A true rock princess. We're airing a BBC broadcast with her soon. "

Ashley smiles, her teeth hurting behind her lips. She almost gnashes them. A rock princess? Why don't they let her decide what she wants to be? Because, to her disappointment, the audience has already decided for her. She's either a groupie, a hot chick, or a bore. There's no in between. Ashley stares briefly at the red outfit and sighs. She'll finally be in a broadcast, and well, that's good enough news to keep her fleeing from this spot.

"Let's run through the song a couple more times," suggests Mark, hopping onto the stage.

He shoves Aja playfully before putting on his guitar. Ashley waves bye to the girls, then starts to her keyboard. This would be the tenth run-through. Mark certainly likes to fill the hour.

Then, the door's parted once more. Ashley wishes they would stop. She'd hate to lose her conversation with all these competing thoughts running around. Her fingers freeze above the key and she smiles. That's not just any fan. It's her biggest fan.

"Ashley!" whispers Mark, urgently as Ashley leaves the stage.

"Awww," coos Aja, smiling.

Ashley goes past the girls, also heavily pleased with the sight of the late newcomer.

"Craig," says Ashley, grinning from ear to ear.

"Slipped the security guard ten pounds," calls Craig to her.

Every last curl is gone. His tresses are no longer thick. Smooth, dark hair, straight as a line, covers his crown.

"Going short for the summer," explains Craig, nervously. "Maybe we can guess whose will grow faster."

The girls giggle and smile at each other behind Ashley's back. Her hands touch Craig's back as she hugs him.

"My head's cold," confesses Craig, letting his forehead find hers. "Is yours?"

"Hmmm," says Ashley. "Haven't noticed."


	54. That's How You Know

**LIV. That's How You Know**

(A Capella, Giselle)  
_How does she know you love her?  
How does she know she's yours?  
_(Marlon Saunders - Calypso Singer)  
_How does she know that you love her?  
_(Giselle)  
_How do you show her you love her?  
_(Together)  
_How does she know that you really  
really  
Truly love her?  
How does she know that you love her?  
How do you show her you love her?  
How does she know that you really really truly love her?  
_(Giselle)  
_It's not enough to take the one you love for granted  
You must remind her or she'll be inclined to say  
"How do I know he loves me?  
How do I know he's mine?"_

_Well does he leave a little note to tell you you are on his mind?  
Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey?  
He'll find a new way to show you a little bit every day  
That's how you know  
That's how you know he's your love_

(Calypso Singer)  
_You got to show her you need her  
Don't treat her like a mind reader  
Each little something to lead her to believe you love her_

(Giselle)  
_Everybody wants to live happily ever after  
Everybody wants to know their true love is true  
How do you know he loves you?  
How do you know he's yours?_

_Well does he take you out dancing just so he can hold you close?  
Dedicate a song with words meant just for you?  
He'll find his own way to tell you with the little things he'll do  
That's how you know  
That's how you know he's your love  
He's your love_

_That's how you he loves you  
That's how you know it's true_

_Because he'll wear your favorite color just so he can match your eyes  
Plan a private picnic by the fire's glow  
His heart will be yours forever  
Something everyday will show  
That's how you know (x5)  
That's how you know he's your love  
That's how you know  
That's how you know he's your love_

(Calypso Singer)  
_That's how she know that you love her  
That's how you show her you love her (That's how you know)_

(Everyone)  
_You've got to show her you need her  
Don't treat her like a mind reader  
How do you know that you love her (That's how you know)  
That's how you know that you love her (He's your love)  
It's not enough to take the one you love for granted_

**Please read AND review!**

**That's How You Know and Ever After are the property of Menken and Schwartz and appear in the film _Enchanted_**.

**Note: Okay, here is where the timeline gets sorta funky. The Spin/Emma scenes are the same day as Manny arriving in Toronto to see Toby. All other storylines, namely Ashley's duet with Mark, and Sean locating Jay, will be suspended in time. Just think of Ashley and Sean's storylines as frozen. I think it'll make sense. If not, yeah...**

It's nearly four in the morning and her eyes droop. She can barely move her hand to find the key, situate it into the lock. The cabbie kept asking her questions about the Andrews, maybe to keep her awake, maybe out of sheer curiosity. Emma couldn't answer any of them, which disappointed him. So what? She's been disappointed for hours now.

Emma pushes the door opens, immediately views a pair of purple satin pajama pants. Lia. Hannah's tear-stained cheek is against Lia's legs. Lia is sitting on the steps, Hannah's blonde head shooting up.

"Hey, guys...," starts Emma.

Hannah is climbing the steps in a hurry before the sentence is through. Lia glares at Emma.

"She was worried," informs Lia.

"What'd I do?" says Emma.

"Oh, I don't know," says Lia, sarcastically. "She had a nightmare, went to find you, and you weren't there."

A nightmare? But she and Hannah had such a great day yesterday with Spinner. It was probably the happiest she's seen Hannah.

"Nelson, what exactly are we paying you for?" says Lia.

"Not sure. What exactly did you do to Manny?" throws back Emma.

"You've got a big mouth," says Lia, shaking her head. "Dad said the same thing. Criticizing our family? I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but..."

"I'm the only person who regularly talks to your sister!" exclaims Emma.

"Lying," says Lia, softly.

"It's the truth," insists Emma. "I asked you to talk to her, and you haven't. Your sister's really hurting, and I'd bet a million bucks it's more than you are."

Lia crosses her arms and her lips grow tight.

"Do your job, Nelson," says Lia, pointedly. "Stop playing psychiatrist because you're not good at it."

Though her shoulders are hunched, Lia seems to walk with her head erect. Perhaps she shouldn't have said all that. She just went by Hannah's feelings and she'd only seen a glimpse of how Ursula's passing had crushed Lia. Emma sighs and ascends the staircase slowly.

Approaching Hannah's room, the word "nightmare" consistently flows through her thoughts. Lately, she hasn't slept enough to have nightmares. She tried to think back on her nightmares as a seven-year old, and is unable to remember anything. All her dreams connected to her family were celebratory or warm or flowery until she became a tween. Being in a room with Jordan, the guy who was dishonest with her in their Internet interactions, inspired uglier dreams. Sometimes she sought her family members or Manny, woke them up to relive these dangerous dreams. For the past few weeks her sleep was limited. Her current, internal clock is so used to this deprived schedule. With Hannah, however, she got to keep busy and not pay attention to the time. She stood when the first flashes of sunlight draped across Edwina's room, entered Hannah's castle, and got ready for the day. The same schedule should be done today, Emma knocking on the door of Hannah's room.

"Come in," says a sob.

Normally, Hannah was chipper, answered with a bright attitude. Emma goes inside.

Hannah is laying face down on her bed, ears touching her pillow. She parts the canopy curtains.

"What's wrong, Hannah?" asks Emma, sitting with her.

The young girl manages to raise her head.

"I had a bad dream," replies Hannah.

"About what?" says Emma.

"I was alone," says Hannah, wiping her tears. "My mother was in it and told me I'd always be alone. Then I shouted that no, I have friends. I have you. I went to your room to find you and you weren't..."

Emma could feel her heart sink like a weight in her chest. Before she didn't mind that Hannah was so clingy, but now it's causing her to doubt Hannah would have anyone if she left. What is going to happen when Hannah's a teenager, or heading to college? Hannah wouldn't need her, Edwina, or another caretaker. Young adulthood meant you had to be on your own. She would definitely have to break out of her shell by then.

"We're going to take a field trip tomorrow," says Emma, lifting Hannah's blanket.

Hannah scoots to the side, finds herself under the sheets in no time. Emma isn't sure how Hannah will take the trip, how the trip will fare, yet she's sure she has to try. Spinner would be there, too, so Hannah would have two sources of support.

"Will I like it?" says Hannah.

"I hope so," answers Emma.

"Do you ever get lonely, Emma?" asks Hannah, touching her arm gently.

"Yes," admits Emma. "I think we all do."

II.

They couldn't ever convince her to go to a nursing home. She said they were _meshugganeh_ for even suggesting it. Bubbe Isaacs is a stalwart. She didn't use her cane when Toby, without his father, came to visit. Her euchre skills were unmatched, and no one was able to cream her in badminton back in her girlhood days. Despite her arthritis, the grey hair, and the conservative clothes, she seems ageless to Toby.

Her house has a sort of zest to it as well, notes Toby as he pulls into her driveway. Sure, there were tulips and dandelions in the front yard, but no other lawn had statues of gnomes on mushrooms, with handmade yarmulkes on their plastic heads. There is a gnome for every grandchild. Amber and Jennifer had matching gnomes since they were twins. They never complained and found it sweet. So did Toby, especially since his gnome was closest to the house with its shiny blue yarmulke. Toby knew it was closest to the house because he was the oldest, but he liked to pretend that it was because he was Bubbe's favorite. Blue is his favorite color, after all, and hers too.

Toby walks to the door, rings the doorbell. He'd promised his dad he'd come early to visit her and it sure is early. Bubbe woke up around seven in the morning, and he's here at nine-thirty. Right after this, he'd go read Justin's e-mails. Clara may be upset that it took him this long, but at least he's doing it. His father kept him busy with constant reminders about the virtues of abstinence, and then stories about teenagers in his high school that were single moms or young dads. Toby doesn't believe the order of the subjects is coincidental. He does firmly believe that Jeff would like it if he and Manny would control their hormones, and Toby listened politely. That said, Manny wasn't here, and when she is here, he's pretty sure he would crumble under her affections.

The door parts and Toby provides Bubbe with a sweet smile. Other than Manny, she's the sole female who brought forth that reaction. Maybe in time his mom would too.

"My Tobias!" greets Bubbe, enveloping him in a firm hug.

"Hi, Bubbe," says Toby in her hold.

She releases him, and Toby shuts the door behind him. This is the one place where every visit is a happy visit. He feels at ease here, unlike at the Santoses', and occasionally at his own home. Bubbe always made him comfortable.

"How is everyone?" asks Bubbe, limping slowly to her plastic-covered couch.

Toby plops onto the couch. On the opposite table sat the usual Strauss chocolates. Bubbe liked that the company had Jewish origins.

"Good," answers Toby. "And I went to see Mom...in California? She's doing really great."

"Oh, Anne Marie," says Bubbe, appreciatively.

The divorce didn't sour Bubbe on his mother. She still sent Anne Marie a Hanukkah card every year and spoke nicely of her to others.

"How was your birthday?" inquires Bubbe.

"The best one ever," says Toby, smoothly because he's totally not lying.

There were some rough patches, certainly, but it all panned out in the end. It's hard to fathom that two months ago, he'd told Rabbi Miller that he wasn't happy having everything, that he doubted everything. Well, everything (with family, with his career, with Manny) is amazing today.

"So I guess you won't need a present," teases Bubbe.

"I'd be a yutz if I said no," replies Toby, grinning.

"Aha!" cries Bubbe, moving to a wooden drawer to the right.

As Bubbe sifts through the drawer to the right, Toby stands to look at the photographs on the mantelpiece. There were a few of Jeff, his uncle Paul, his aunt Helen, and Miriam, her youngest daughter and the sole sibling living in Israel. When Jeff was Toby's age, he was tall and gawky. His glasses were huge and most of his teenage years were spent at synagogue functions or in private music classes. His long limbs did help him make a couple of his high school sports teams, however. In the center picture, Jeff is holding his violin, Helen is holding an apple and a book, Paul is holding a briefcase, and Miriam is holding a sabbath candle. They were representing who they'd like to be when they grew up: his father a musician, Helen a teacher, Paul a businessman, and Miriam a religious studies professor. Jeff tried to talk Toby and Ashley into doing a similar portrait, but Toby wasn't sure he wanted to hold a computer in his hands, even a laptop, and Ashley was going through the Craig-Manny drama so she didn't feel like doing anything.

"Here," announces Anne Marie, holding a tiny, square box. "Found it."

Toby's never received a birthday gift that small before. It's a gold box with Hebrew lettering on the top.

"Rivka," reads Toby.

Or Rebecca, thinks Toby. That's his grandmother's real name.

"It means to bind," says Bubbe, though Toby was aware of that. "And what's in here binds two people together."

"Bubbe, I already have so much from you," demurs Toby. "I don't need anymore. Well, except your good euchre tricks."

Bubbe laughs, then smiles serenely.

"This isn't to bind us, Toby," shares Bubbe.

She lifts the lid and Toby views a beautiful silver ring, with a large black garnet at the top. It's set against cotton lining in the box. The ring looks both old and new.

Bubbe hands it to him.

"This is to bind you and Manny," continues Bubbe. "She told me her birthday is coming up so I set it aside for her after Confirmation. It's simple, but meaningful."

"Why?" asks Toby.

"It belonged to Jacob," sighs Bubbe.

"No...nah, I can't take it," insists Toby, trying to put it back into her hands. "Dad deserves it..."

"Jeff has his father's music stand. He'll understand," says Bubbe, pushing it away from her.

"Where'd Grandpa get it? Do you know?" says Toby.

Bubbe stares in different directions, her eyes teary. Man. He didn't want to make his grandmother cry. He shouldn't have opened his big mouth.

"Sit," says Bubbe, gesturing to the couch.

Toby does so quickly, anxious not to offend her anymore.

"Your grandfather loved me very much," begins Bubbe. "But there was a day, of course, when we separated. When he went to Krakow, and I went to Dachau. Well, we both know I was the lucky one."

Toby lowers his head and nods solemnly.

"We'd heard the horrors of Krakow from Jews who'd been there and I was inconsolable that Jacob was going. A lot of them ended up being moved to Auschwitz eventually. On one of the walks they let us go on, I looked down and saw this glint of silver. It was like a diamond on the ground, or I thought it was."

Bubbe stares fondly at the wandering Jew plants near her kitchen. They were always tended to the best. Toby holds her hand because it's the first action to comfort her that enters his mind.

"I'd discovered this marvelous ring, right there on the dying grass," says Bubbe. "We didn't know if it belonged to someone who died or fled or was liberated. Jacob told me that it was the ring of a woman who'd been saved from death. That might've been a lie. I like to think it wasn't. He said it was a symbol of freedom and that our family would reunite one day so I should keep it..for luck."

His grandmother's voice begins to falter as Toby stares at the ring. His uncle Paul and Jeff were his grandfather's biological children. Jeff was born six days after the surrender. They tracked down the music stand in his grandfather's ravaged apartment in Germany. The thiefs apparently saw no use for it. Helen and Miriam were adopted years later, but considered themselves Jacob's because he always said he'd wanted two daughters. Toby never met him either. Bubbe moved to her mother's native Toronto with Jeff and Paul, yet always looked back.

"I waited years to see if that was true, if we were going to be lucky," admits Bubbe. "I loved him dearly. Likewise, if you love...if you love Manny dearly, you should give this to her."

"Bubbe, are you sure this is for her?" says Toby.

"Are you?" says Bubbe, smiling as the tears stop.

He thought about it. Manny does love jewelry, and he does love her.

"Yes," provides Toby, earnestly.

"Then, it's hers," asserts Bubbe. "I especially had to give this to you after Confirmation."

What he wouldn't give to block out that day, or the moments where he was being harrassed. Still, Manny wouldn't have heard his speech if that day hadn't happened.

"Toby, there's always going to be hate in the world," says Bubbe, touching his knee. "But there's always going to be love, too, and we're blessed to have it. There will always be Jacobs and Mannys who love us through the hate. I'm proud and thankful for that."

The first gesture that enters his mind, right then? Toby hugs her, maybe a little too hard, because Bubbe is laughing heartily in his arms.

III.

"Make a left," instructs Emma.

Spinner raises his eyebrows, manuevers the car with a sharp left. Neither Hannah or Spinner know where they're going. In a way, Emma is in the same boat. She's informed on where to steer them, however.

This has to work. She didn't want Hannah to be depressed for the rest of her childhood. No kid, especially Hannah, should have to go through it, dealing with these dark moods by herself. If Emma extends a gentle hand, she can guide Hannah in a better direction.

"Smoggy today," comments Spinner.

"Welcome to L.A.," says Emma, smiling at him.

Like she had guessed, Spinner went along with her plans. The non-dramatic nature of their...well, whatever they were, is every kind of appealing.

"So, Hannah, what do you think?" asks Spinner, glancing at her for a brief second.

"I'd like the trees to have clean air," answers Hannah. "They can't walk away from it."

Spinner and Emma laugh. They're going down a road Emma's unfamiliar with so she pays closer attention. Boomer's car passes the La Brea Tarpits, and Emma's sure they're on the right track.

"Turn right at the second light," says Emma.

Complying, Spinner drives along the street, a few fast food restaurants whizzing by. Then, there's a rectangular, brick building in the distance.

"Here," says Emma, pointing.

"A school?" blurts out Spinner.

Hannah stares wearily at Emma and lets her head meet the carseat. Her blonde hair is down today, flowing to the floor.

"Cavalier Elementary," reads Emma, the grey sign shining in the sun.

It took her some time to recall the name of the school the little boy mentioned at the Tar Pits. She figured a familiar face would help Hannah get over her nerves long enough to be around him and other kids. If Marty Fischer wasn't there today, then that would make things difficult. Spinner parks.

"This is the school that boy was from," remembers Hannah.

"Mmmm hmm," says Emma. "I called them first thing this morning, and they have a class today."

She doesn't tell Hannah that she had to fib to get clearance. The secretary asked who the child was, and Emma told her, which caused the secretary to squeal. The thing was that she had to be accompanied by an adult and Emma wasn't. That's where Emma lied. She said Spinner was Hannah's cousin, a college sophomore at Berkeley. The secretary said she'd be glad to have them. Emma has yet to tell Spinner that he and Hannah were going to be related for the day.

Emma tugs on Spinner's arm, inching him closer to her. He seemed to enjoy it as much as she did.

"You and Hannah are cousins, for the record," whispers Emma. "And I'm your girlfriend."

"Part of a secret plan?" gasps Spinner, playfully. "Dude, I feel like I'm Inspector Gadget."

"Thanks, Spin," says Emma, smiling. "You're still Canadian."

"Better be," says Spinner.

Spinner and Emma exit the car, stare at a fearful Hannah whose eyes face the back of the seat.

"Hannah, I promise we'll have fun," says Emma, touching her leg. "Spinner and I will be with you every minute."

"So?" groans Hannah.

"You said you'd like to play with other kids, right?" continues Emma. "They'll be nice to you."

"And if they're not, I'll give them wet willies," adds Spinner.

That causes Hannah to giggle, prop herself up by her elbow.

"What's a wet willie?" asks Hannah.

"Follow me, madam," says Spinner. "And I will show you things you've never seen before."

Hannah undoes her seatbelt and glances at Emma, who provides her with a reassuring nod.

"Mwahahaha!" laughs Spinner, pretending to bite Hannah's neck.

Hannah grins and squirms.

"I actually like fangs," she says.

"She does," says Emma as they approach the front of the school.

Cavalier is a little larger than Degrassi, though their appearances were very different. Instead of Spirit Squad try-out posters or a quad, Cavalier had cartoon character posters and a media center with low shelves. Emma glances into the media center and spies three computers. Snake would've been in shock to see such a small amount of technological advances.

The three of them are greeted by a woman with stringy, grey hair and blue spectacles.

"Gavin Andrews, I presume," greets the secretary, cheerfully.

"Mason," corrects Spinner. "Had it legally changed. The press...they were always after me."

The secretary has a horse laugh when she opens her mouth. Yeah, thinks Emma, watching Hannah's eyes grow wider.

"Can I see your ID?" asks the secretary.

Please work, please work, please work, thinks Emma. Spinner is eighteen. He gives her his license.

"Thank you," she said, returning it.

"Picture sucks," demurs Spinner. "I bet you haven't taken any bad pictures."

"Oh, we all have. Even non-famous families. You know, I have a friend that has an aunt that's met Kevin Bacon," informs the secretary with pride. "Or she thinks it was him. Anyway, we're so glad you're considering Cavalier for little Hannah."

Hannah hides behind Emma's waist when her name is said.

"We hear it's the best public school," says Spinner, grinning at Emma. "Oh, this is my girlfriend, Emma."

"Nice to meet you," says Emma.

"Your voice sounds familiar?" says the secretary, raising her glasses and staring at her.

"No, it doesn't," waves off Spinner, guiding the secretary to walk with him. "Um...so what class are we observing today?"

"Kindergarten," replies the secretary. "Our summer programs are incredibly fun and creative. Mrs. Haskell has done wonders for the school. Enrollment has risen steadily since her employment."

They're lead to a room with an open door. Hannah peeks from behind Emma and takes in the class. Mrs. Haskell, the teacher Emma recognized from the Tar Pits, stands in front of the students. The students are sitting Indian-style on a colorful carpet. She's reading them a story.

"The young lady felt a strange sensation under the twenty mattresses," reads Ms. Haskell.. "Can anyone guess what it was?"

Several boys and girls shook their heads. A red-haired boy raises his hand.

"Yes, Marty?" says Ms. Haskell.

"A cockroach?" says Marty.

"Ewwww," cries the whole class.

"See, Marty, that's what happens when you don't listen," scolds Ms. Haskell. "Anybody else?"

"A pea," whispers Hannah.

"Wait...I heard somebody say it," says Ms. Haskell, checking among her students. "Say it louder so all of us can hear."

Emma bends to Hannah, and nudges her forward so that she's standing in the doorway. Hannah darts her gaze from Marty to Mrs. Haskell.

"Pea!" yells Hannah.

The whole class bursts into laughter, turning to Hannah framed in the doorway. Emma's well aware they'd interpreted it as "pee" and not the vegetable.

"You're right...um...um," stammers Mrs. Haskell. "I don't believe we've met before."

"Her name is Hannah," introduces Spinner.

"If it's alright, they'd like to observe your class," says the secretary. "Principal Duncan is in a business meeting, but I'm sure she'd give _Hannah Andrews_ the okay. This is her cousin Spinner and their friend Emma."

The secretary put extra emphasis on Hannah's name. Emma wanted to kick her. Hannah felt singled out already.

"Sure," says Mrs. Haskell. "It's Story Hour and all are invited."

Spinner puts two arms around Hannah, and walks with Emma to the back of the carpet. Two girls scoot over to let Hannah have enough room. Emma found that sweet and hopeful.

"Now," continues Mrs. Haskell. "She couldn't get a wink of sleep. The girl was so restless that she finally went to the throne room and said, oh, prince, I cannot sleep because my bed is so uncomfortable. The prince and his parents were thrilled because you see, only a real princess is so delicate that she can feel a pea under twenty mattresses. The prince and the young lady were married and lived happily ever after."

"Yay!" applaud the students, Spinner and Emma joining in.

"What I'd like to do now is for us to tell our own story, using something called improv," says Mrs. Haskell. "Does anyone know what that is?"

"I do!" announces Spinner, raising his hand.

"Yes...um, what is it? Spike?" says Mrs. Haskell.

"Uh, no. Spinner."

A few boys and girls chuckle.

"It's a nickname, man," defends Spinner. "Oh, improv's like...where you go on the fly. You make a story with your imagination."

"Excellent, Spinner," praises Mrs. Haskell.

"Sweet," whispers Spinner, patting himself on the back.

"In fact, you can be our first volunteer," says Mrs. Haskell, brightly. "Come on. Up here with me."

"Um...okay, dude. I mean, yeah," says Spinner.

The children clap, apparently pleased that they don't have to volunteer themselves. Emma glances at Hannah. She's playing with the material of the carpet, but is smiling.

"Now...we need a girl," says Mrs. Haskell. "How about you, Emma?"

"Me?" cries Emma. "I...well..."

"Do it!" encourages Marty. "Do it!"

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" chants the class.

"The public has spoken," says Ms. Haskell. "And I happen to have a hat your size."

This requires her wearing a hat. Oh, boy, she's not sure about this. Emma reluctantly stands with Hannah staring at her. Hannah's smile leads her on and makes her take the tall, pink princess hat. Manny should so be doing this and not her. She hasn't acted in about a year, not since playing Mina in _Dracula_.

"The rules are that we support whatever story Spinner and Emma come up with it," says Mrs. Haskell. "Improv is fun and unpredictable...and in this case, _very clean_."

Her last remark is obviously a warning. Spinner and Emma indicate that wouldn't be a problem by nodding. Mrs. Haskell presents Spinner with a Peter Pan-like hat. He slowly puts it on his head, resulting in a wave of laughter. Emma bites her lip to keep from chuckling herself. It has a pink feather pointing to the ceiling and everything. Maybe feeling bad about the hat, Mrs. Haskell gives him a dull, plastic grey sword. Spinner smiles at it.

"And...action," says Mrs. Haskell as Emma dons her hat.

Spinner and Emma stare at each other in confusion. He finally clears his throat and bends on one knee.

"M' lady," says Spinner in a fake British accent. "I've traveled over hill, stream, the San Fernando Highway. Uh...all...all for you. For I hear that you will marry the guy that...the guy that captures the evil...badger."

The kids giggle. Badger? Then, Emma spies a badger on a book in the class bookcase. Emma stares frightfully at the kids.

"The wicked badger! Yes!" cries Emma. "For his fur is poison. Fur is bad, very bad."

Might as well work in an environmental angle for the next generation. Hannah's smile grows with this comment. As they tell their story, Mrs. Haskell is distributing other princess hats to the girls, smaller in size. Emma figures she's wearing Mrs. Haskell's. The boys get paper, gold crowns.

"Then, that settles it!" announces Spinner, hopping to his feet. "I will fight the evil badger with my trusty sword...uh, Kwan, the Killer!"

"Ooooh," breathes Marty and two other boys.

Kwan, the killer sword? Well, Kwan isn't his easiest teacher at Degrassi.

"And I...and I will await your return!" promises Emma.

"Thank you, Princess Emma," says Spinner. "Oh,if only...if only I had a trinket from the luckiest girl in the land. An...an earring, perhaps?"

Spinner looks purposefully at Hannah.

"Oh? Mine?" says Hannah. "I..."

"You don't want the badger to poison Emma, do you?" cries Spinner.

This is a great way to include her and Emma gaze shyly finds the floor.

"No!" exclaims Hannah, immediately unclipping her gold stud earring.

"Let's hear it for Hannah!" encourages Spinner.

"Woo!" shouts Marty, the whole class mimicking his approval.

"Now, I must face the badger or perish," says Spinner, flexing his arms. "Rowr!"

"Rowr!" echo the boys in the class.

For a minute or so, Spinner pretends to put up a good fight with an invisible villain. Hannah's earring is tucked safely into the pocket of his jean shorts. Emma covers her eyes until Spinner releases a pleased sigh.

"And the kingdom is safe!" proclaims Spinner. "Huzzah!"

"Huzzah!" yells the class.

"So, dude, we need some tunes!" says Spinner, walking to a stereo and pushing play.

Hopefully, a Barney song doesn't come out. Emma grimaces. This gesture is probably performed because Spinner's fresh out of ideas. Ms. Haskell seems okay with the distraction.

_Storybook endings  
Fairy tales coming true  
Deep down inside  
We want to believe they still do  
In our secretest heart  
It's our favorite part of the story  
Let's just admit  
We all want to make it to_

Spinner bows to Emma and extends his hand. Emma does a light curtsy as the girls "awww." Hannah smiles at a girl with multiple braids, who returns it.

"Where'd you come up with all of that?" whispers Emma to Spinner.

"Before she got into sports, Kendra liked fairy tales," answers Spinner. "And she still has a soft spot for Mulan."

Emma laughs as Spinner turns her.

_Ever ever after  
If we just don't get it our own way  
Ever ever after  
It may only be a wish away_

"I wanna dance!" cries Marty.

Strangely, though, Marty's idea of dancing isn't the waltz or anything close to the waltz. He jumps up and down to the rhythm. Pretty soon, they're all jumping, except for Hannah, Spinner, and Emma.

_Start a new fashion  
Wear your heart on your sleeve  
Sometimes you reach what's realest  
By making believe  
Unafraid, unashamed  
There is joy to be claimed in this world_

"Let's hear it for Spinner and Emma!" shouts Ms. Haskell over the music. "They did a wonderful job."

"Uh-uh," says the girl next to Hannah. "It's not over 'til they kiss. That's how all stories end."

Mrs. Haskell nervously stares at the two improv actors, but she's nowhere as nervous as either of them. Spinner tips his hat further down his face as Emma blushes.

"Yeah," agrees Hannah, the first word she's said since entering.

_You even might wind up  
Being glad to be you  
Ever ever after  
Though the world will tell you  
It's not smart  
Ever ever after  
The world can be yours  
If you let your heart  
Believe in ever after_

_No wonder your heart  
Feels it's flying  
Your head feels it's spinning  
Each happy ending's  
A brand new beginning  
Let yourself be enchanted  
You just might break through_

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" yell Hannah and the other girl, Marty scrunching his nose in disgust.

"Don't!" warns Marty. "Then you'll have to marry her."

"Girls are trouble," adds another boy.

Hmmm, they can either listen to the girls or the boys. This is one time when she's inclined to go with the boys, and that's only because she usually didn't kiss anyone in class.

Emma's protests are silenced by Spinner planting his lips on hers. The music grows in volume, in urgency. Her head is dizzy under the princess hat. Her mind wanders for all the right reasons.

_Ever ever ever after_

_(I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss)_

_For ever ever after_

"Yes!" exclaims Hannah, high-fiving the other girl.

"Gross," groans Marty, forgetting Spinner and hopping up and down again.

In fact, they all forget Spinner and Emma as the stereo is turned off and Mrs. Haskell gets them to do a group dance. Hannah's princess hat bobs on her head as she jumps. Then, Hannah is chatting animatedly with the girl with braids, telling her why she got the lucky trinkets, her earrings. Emma doesn't forget Spinner, though.

"I'm liking the end of this story," confesses Emma.

IV.

"Thank you, God!" cries Danny. "My prayers have been answered."

Manny parks her rolling suitcase onto the Van Zandt stoop, J.J.'s car behind her. The rain is drizzling, but the radio said it would pick up again later.

"Had no idea God delivered to doorsteps," says Danny, smiling.

"Where's Liberty?" says Manny, then sneezing lightly.

"Dude, I didn't want you to be all sick and stuff," complains Danny.

"Move it, Daniel," instructs Liberty, ushering Danny inside the house.

Manny offers Liberty a small wave when she appears in the doorway.

"What? Manny?" says Liberty. "You're supposed to be in..."

"California," fills in Manny, shrugging.

"California's loss is our gain," says Danny.

J.J. honks his horn, sticks his head out of the window.

"Happy birthday, Liberty!" yells J.J. "You take good care of her, alright? I only got one sister!"

"Yeah, not a great thing to have" says Danny under his breath.

Liberty elbows him as J.J. speeds away. Manny smiles and comes into the Van Zandt's foyer. Everything gleamed. Ms. Van Zandt kept the house immaculate.

"I gotta make a call," announces Danny, staring at Manny a final time.

"Okay, so when did my birthday change, exactly?" prompts Liberty.

"Uh, today?" shares Manny. "How's it feel to be one year older?"

"How's it feel to be ogled by Danny?" returns Liberty, smirking.

They peep into the next room, Danny grinning into the phone receiver.

"She's in a wet T-shirt, man!" says Danny. "Derek, you...uh-oh."

Danny hangs up the phone and races upstairs.

"Ugh," groans Manny. "Anyways, sorry for the lame lying. It's what I thought of short notice. And I do appreciate it."

"Don't you have auditions?" says Liberty.

"I'm taking a mental break from acting," replies Manny. "Besides, that's not what's really important. What's more important is your family and your friends...and your boyfriend."

"Oh," says Liberty, nodding knowingly.

"I miss the boy like crazy," sighs Manny. "The good kind of crazy. Don't get a straight jacket or anything."

Liberty laughs. "Fine. So you're heading over there?"

"If I can get a lift?" says Manny, hopefully.

"You might have to wait," says Liberty. "My dad's at work, and my mom's in a committee meeting. Maybe Danny could call Derek or..."

"Um, no," interjects Manny. "Waiting an hour won't kill me."

She does hate that she has to wait, though. Manny's afraid to touch anything with her wet hands or brush up against anything. She decides to stand in the living room with Liberty leaning against a chair.

"J.T. couldn't stop talking about you all trip," says Manny.

That was kind of true. She and J.T. weren't hanging out as much as her and Toby, but she'd heard him utter her name quite a few times.

"Really?" says Liberty, grinning. "It's strange that one of his exes is telling me that, isn't it?"

The two girls laugh, Manny suddenly recalling that she has a letter from her boyfriend's ex in her luggage. She holds up her finger to silence Liberty, fetches it.

"From Kendra," informs Manny.

"Uh-oh," says Liberty. "Should I be in the room for this?"

"No...stay," replies Manny.

She opens the envelope, removes the paper inside. Her eyes scan the words.

_Dear Manny,_

_The better woman won. I'm not saying that I think you're better than me. What I'm saying is that you're probably better for Toby, and that I now think your relationship has a better shot than what I believed. You do seem to make him happy. He never talked you down or made a move on me or did anything to show he wasn't a good boyfriend. When Toby loves, it's thorough and whole, and I think you know that too._

_I'm sorry for the names I called you. Put me in competition mode and I get sort of ugly. That is really true when the prize is...well, priceless. Please take care of him, Manny. You're fortunate to have him, and I'm convinced he thinks he's fortunate to have you. Good luck with your acting, and tell Tobes I'm positive he'll do well in the world of animation._

_Sincerely, Kendra_

"Good news?" says Liberty.

"Good news," affirms Manny. "How long is your mother going to be gone?"

"Forty-five minutes," says Liberty. "Want a soda?"

"Sure," says Manny.

Manny rereads the letter, touching her heart through her soggy shirt. Kendra was courageous to send her these words. They must've been hard to write, hard and heartfelt.

She grabs her rolling suitcases, her shoes making a squeaky sound. Danny starts to go down the steps towards her.

"Awww, where are you going?" inquires Danny.

"Tell your sister I walked," whispers Manny.

V.

"Any other teenage boy would have a guys' night while their folks are away," laments J.T.

Toby methodically washes a dish, his cellphone to his ear. J.T. phoned him the moment he got home from Bubbe's.

"A party with no Manny would be no fun," says Toby.

"Ah, that's the beauty of it," sighs J.T., appreciatively. "It'd be a total guy fest. We could do whatever we wanted, no girlfriends to tell us not to burp, scratch, or chew with our mouths open."

"No, J.T.," says Toby. "This is my first weekend home alone, and I'm not going to ruin my dad's trust in me."

Ordinarily, he'd consider it more, but after breaking a few rules at his mom's, he doesn't want to chance it. J.T. must've figured as much because he stops pressing the issue. It made sense. Their last guys' night turned into a massive party, and a night Ashley and Toby haven't forgotten.

"Well, another chance for us to hang or kick it or whatever you call it...the Sci/Com/Tech convention!" says J.T.

"When?" cries Toby, nearly dropping the phone.

"Hello? Tomorrow!" exclaims J.T. "We so have to go. Candy, computer games, collector editions of comic books, sci-fi paradise...need I go on?"

"Um, who are you talking to?" says Toby. "Yes!"

"I'll get the tickets first thing in the morning," promises J.T. "Boys rule and girls drool."

"Uh, Manny doesn't drool...," starts Toby.

"With that, I'm getting off," groans J.T., clearly not wanting to hear any of Manny's habits.

Some of them were so cute, though. Eh, he better stop before he sickens himself. Those e-mails were waiting. He's still trying to wrap it around his head that Clara is with Justin. Justin probably does love her. There is certainly a number of things to love about Clara. She was dedicated, hard-working, pretty, and computer savvy. After all, Toby was attracted to her last semester. But what in the world did she love about him?

"Don't judge," he mumbles as he goes to his room.

The house is so quiet. He almost expects to hear music streaming from Ashley's room. No, she's in London. He almost expects to hear his dad and Kate discuss bills or relatives through the thin walls that connected his bedroom to theirs. No, they're in the British Virgin Islands. He's all alone.

Toby's computer sputters to life after he turns it on. He's only been on it lately to IM Manny. Other chores, such as e-mailing Darcy a response, float to his brain. He'd love to do that before replying to Justin, to delay replying even further. No, he should've done this yesterday.

He pulls up his e-mail inbox, reads the address. eaglerabbiofdoom..Toby has no idea what that means. It's probably some nickname. Toby clicks the earliest message.

"Hi. You got a Disney gig? How? Where are you now? I'm okay. E-mail me. Justin."

That's simple enough. Toby raises his glasses, rubs his eyes and yawns. He dials Clara's number. No answer. The beep sounds after her voice mail.

"Hey, Clara. Justin is fine," says Toby. "He hasn't told me where he is. Although, it must be a decent enough place if there's Internet access. Call me. Bye."

He reaches for his Student Council handbook so the minutes will go by faster. The handbook is pretty long and dry. Liberty had talked about revising it, and Toby might take that into consideration during his term. He'd e-mail Darcy, then read the next message from Justin.

"Darcy, I'm back in town," types Toby. "We can go over fundraiser issues on Monday. Have any proposals written down by then, alright? Thanks, Toby."

Sending the message, he hears a set of rings. Is it coming from his computer? No, it's the door, realizes Toby. He didn't order a pizza or anything. Toby looks out at the rain-covered street. No car. He exits the room and goes to the front door.

He opens the door, rain pattering on the pavement. Her suitcase is more black because of the downpour, darker than her hair. The porch light, which he accidentally left on, highlights her smile.

"I'm soaked," says Manny. "Let me in?"

"Manny...," begins Toby, feeling a tightness in his chest.

His heart is practically doing somersaults, joyful somersaults.

"I couldn't wait fourteen days," breathes Manny.

"Neither could I," says Toby.

He pulls her to him gently, and lets the rain drip from her lips to his, his dry hand folding over hers, looped on top of the suitcase handle.

VI.

Spinner and Emma are in the principal's office. He'd been in Raditch's office continuously when Degrassi was only a junior high, and of course, he was in there when Ms. Hatzilakos told him he was expelled. Spinner would be willing to guess that Emma had been in there, too, because of her protests.

The lights are low in the office. The dimness makes it seem like dusk. Principal Duncan's office had fading light bulbs, and she told the janitor that he could get around to it on Monday since she expected no important visitors. There's an orange tint to everything, and his skin is lucid. Emma, filling out forms, is more pink in this light. Her long, blonde hair sways to the side as she stares at Principal Duncan's desk for a second. He likes how it sways in the hint of sunlight.

It's so hard for him to believe that he's here with her. They barely crossed paths until last year. In fact, their single meeting at length was due to his participation in her science fair project. He'd said yes without reservations. Emma mentioned food, and he didn't hear the negatives until the next day.

_"Dude, can I eat a raisin?" complained Spinner. "Those are like candy-ish."_

_Emma sighed heavily, jotted notes on a clipboard. Okay, so maybe free food is free food, and yes, Emma did remind him that there are people his age in the world that didn't get any. That wouldn't stop his stomach from growling. He felt bad, but hungry._

_"Spin, this is for the good of science," said Emma. "Experts think that psychology and nutrition are related. The values of a healthy breakfast are crucial."_

_"Crucial?" cried Spinner. "Man, my hunger is crucial. I want chips."_

_"If you eat Doritos, you'll taint my findings," said Emma in a panic. "Please don't."_

_Spinner thought it over for a few seconds. _

_"J.T. is going to last longer than you," remarked Emma with a sly smile._

_"What?" cried Spinner. "I can outlast J.T. in anything."_

_He didn't want to show he was weak, especially in front of a girl. Emma nodded triumphantly. Make that two girls. Toby and Manny pass them in the hall, Manny carrying a large, grey, square box._

_"Can I put your robot head on?" asked Manny._

_"Yeah," said Toby._

_Manny put on the grey box, red shiny eyes gleaming. She wavered from side to side._

_"I feel like Rosie from the Jetsons," remarked Manny, turning to Emma._

_"That'd make Toby Elroy," teased Emma. "The computer genius."_

_"Whatever," said Toby, with annoyance._

_"I don't watch that stuff," admitted Spinner. "Don't you guys watch South Park?"_

_"No," said Emma and Toby at the same time._

_"Manny?" asked Spinner._

_"I can't hear anything," cried Manny. _

_Toby raised his eyebrows before taking the robot head off Manny. She squinched her eyes to adjust to the hallway lights._

_"Feel strange," said Manny. "I think I need some chocolate."_

_"Manny!" cried Emma. "A healthy breakfast! Have our talks meant nothing? My subjects aren't eating that junk."_

_Too bad Manny was already fishing around in her pockets._

_"Sixty-five cents!" said Manny. "Come on, Toby."_

_"I'm getting potato chips," said Toby, going after her._

_"Man!" cried Spinner. "I bet he gets the barbeque kind."_

_"Spin, if it helps, I think you're cool for doing this," said Emma._

_Cool? Him? That was a remark Jimmy often received, and Spinner thought he was cool by association. But no, he rarely was called cool. Even Terri, the sweetest girl in the class, hadn't said it. Suddenly, he felt bad for teasing her about her shirt at last year's formal._

_"Hmmm, I guess it's cool to see what a healthy breakfast does," said Spinner, grudgingly. "I can have bananas, right?"_

_"Yeah," said Emma._

_"What about...banana pudding?" asked Spinner._

_Emma held her clipboard to her chest. "Spinner, don't push it."_

What he'd like to push in the president's office? He'd love to talk to her about their kiss. It was a kiss in front of kids so that was strange. He essentially did it to complete the improv story, had other reasons attached to that reason. To his relief, Emma let the kiss happen. Why won't she let other things happen?

"Done," said Emma. "I wrote that Hannah is a well-adjusted child who's a little shy."

The piece of paper is an information sheet regarding Hannah's physical and mental needs. Kel would have to fill out a more professional form if Hannah was accepted. Hannah is still in Mrs. Haskell's class, though Principal Duncan was observing her in there.

"Sounds right to me," offers Spinner.

"Too bad I'm not sure Kel will go along with this," admits Emma.

"Mr. Andrews should do what's best for his daughter," says Spinner. "My parents' motto."

"For Jack, Snake's was..._don't let him put his finger...in anything_," says Emma.

Spinner chuckles. "I was the same way."

"Spin, do you think we should be the same way?" questions Emma, turning so that her cheeks now appear orange and glowing.

He has no reply for her, since he was hoping that she'd answer first.

"We've known each other for years," continues Emma. "Our first kiss was at the start of the year. I'd like to start our final year...with you."

He beams and shifts his chair in her direction.

"I'd really like you to be my boyfriend, Spinner," says Emma, his knees knocking against her knees.

"You can't change your mind," jokes Spinner.

"I won't," guarantees Emma.

"Knew eating all those bananas would pay off," says Spinner.

Emma smiles more as Spinner kisses her. He's hoping Principal Duncan doesn't return so they won't get in trouble. Then again, the risk is half the fun.

VII.

Two mini marshmallows plop into the brown liquid in a pink mug. The mug is Kate's. Toby lowers the hot chocolate onto the tray, then checks the microwave. The bowl of chicken soup is done. He puts it next to the hot chocolate, and goes into the living room.

Manny is hugging her knee to her chest as he approaches. She changed her clothes in the downstairs bathroom, but her hair is still mildly wet.

"You're spoiling me," says Manny as Toby joins her on the sofa.

"Ponchos are easy to pack," says Toby, setting the tray on the table. "They're light and do the job."

"Okay, Mr. Isaacs," sighs Manny, then lowering her knee. "Instructions will be heeded."

Manny reaches for the hot chocolate, blows on it. Toby's gaze is fixed on her.

"Stop," pleads Manny, face growing flustered.

"I can't believe you're here," says Toby. "Okay, fine."

Toby picks up the _TV Guide_, starts perusing it.

"You're not going to look at me anymore tonight?" asks Manny, a twinge of disappointment in her voice.

"Said to stop," replies Toby, grinning.

"You can't have this then," says Manny, grabbing the remote control.

"Might as well turn the TV on," says Toby.

Brow furrowed, Manny hits the power button, the DVD sign criss-crossing the screen. Toby chuckles, then digs out the DVD remote control from a pile of magazines. He'd set this up when she was in the washroom.

"Oooh, tricky," condemns Manny.

"Tricky? No," says Toby. "A surprise? Yes."

Manny's entire expression brightens as Toby presses play. Movie previews start to run. He ordered the movie off of Amazon as soon as he saw that it was available. It came to his house while they were in California.

"This isn't a bootleg copy of my film, is it?" says Manny, wearily.

Toby laughs. "We both know that I respect copyright laws."

"I don't know what you've been up to the past couple days," says Manny, setting her mug on a coaster.

"Robbing banks, hacking, that sort of stuff."

"See?" says Manny. "A total outlaw."

They both laugh as the previews end. A familiar theme starts to play throughout the room. Manny gasps.

"_The Simpsooooooooons_," sings along Manny.

"Yep,' says Toby.

"This is our movie," says Manny, laying her head on his shoulder. "Our..."

"First date," fills in Toby.

"The wonders of Spiderpig!" proclaims Manny, pointing at the screen and then Toby. "And the wonders of Toby."

He'd take that as a compliment. Manny kisses his cheek. While he relishes every moment she's here, he's really starting to question why. She could call him or IM him at any hour of the day and she knows that. Maybe he should ask tomorrow, when she's dry and rested.

"We should watch your movie when it comes out on DVD," says Toby.

"My only movie," murmurs Manny.

"What?" says Toby as a naked Bart zooms across the streets on his skateboard.

"You don't remember the Bart part?" says Manny, looking up at him.

"No, you said this would be your only movie," explains Toby.

"Oh, there I go, thinking aloud again," says Manny, more to herself than to him.

He's perfectly clear that her auditions didn't go well. That doesn't mean he wants her to quit, though. Manny isn't a quitter. She's a fighter.

"Ummm..maybe acting isn't for me," says Manny.

Toby pauses the film.

"Yes, it is," insists Toby. "You and acting are like...peanut butter and jelly."

"Kosher peanut butter," kids Manny.

Manny gazes into his eyes. He hopes she finds some comfort there. She sighs, apparently giving up with the jokes.

"Toby, it puts me in situations I don't like, makes me into someone I don't like," shares Manny. "It takes me away from you."

The last declaration is true. He's not fond of it, but acting gives her so much joy. He gets joy from it, too, because she's where she wants to be, doing what she loves to do.

"You'll always stay you, okay?" says Toby. "That's why I love you, among other things. And I'm not going anywhere."

Toby's relieved to see Manny's eyelashes flutter and a smile cross her face.

"When's your next audition?" asks Toby.

"Colleen's supposed to call me," says Manny, hesitantly. "There probably won't be any. I left her a message that I'm here for a couple days. Dad and Mom don't know I'm at your house."

"You...you mean _here_?" stammers Toby.

"If that's okay," says Manny. "I can take the couch? Slept on it the last time and it was nice."

Oh boy, if Jeff discovered that Manny had slept over, he'd really hear it. But they wouldn't be back for a week. And she has nowhere to go. And she travelled all this way. And he doesn't need another reason to say yes to her.

"Are you tired yet?" asks Toby.

"Not of you," says Manny, raising her head. "Thanks. Is Ralph Wiggum still your favorite?"

"Yeah," admits Toby, leading Manny's head to his shoulder again.

VII.

"Perfect," says Krusty the Clown. "Cut. Print. Kill the pig."

"What?" cries Homer. "You can't kill him if he's wearing people clothes!"

Toby's stretched across the sofa and can barely hear the dialogue. Manny's mouth moves against his, Toby's head digging into the soft armrest. His fingers slide across her back, rests on her thighs. Manny moans.

"You don't want to watch?" says Toby as his lips leave hers.

"Like we haven't seen it before," replies Manny, silencing him.

Toby arches his leg, his shoe hitting the other armrest. Mid-movie, they couldn't stop staring at one another. On their first date, he was too nervous to stare directly at her. Manny kept her head close to him and laughed at the jokes and paid attention, and wasn't doing what she's doing right now.

"Manny," breathes Toby, pushing her shoulders down gently.

Unfortunately, this makeout session also reminded him of the night Manny came to him during the evening of Hanukkah dinner. That was another time where Jeff commented on the potential for intimacy. They were friends back then, but now...Manny's laying across his body like a blanket.

"Your heart's really going," comments Manny, giggling as she kisses his nose.

Yeah, that's not all that's going. Toby closes his eyes and allows Manny access to his mouth. Her fingers trail down his stomach, unzip his fly.

"Mmmm," sighs Manny, starting to undo his belt buckle.

"Do you...do you want my bed?" stammers Toby.

"Yes," whispers Manny. "Do you sleep on the left or the right?"

"No," says Toby, stopping her hands. "I mean, do you want to sleep in my bed tonight, and I'll take the couch?"

"What?" says Manny in disbelief.

He can't believe he just said this. Toby rises slowly, Manny's legs dropping to the floor.

"Manny, we can't...not here," apologizes Toby, stroking her cheek.

"Tobes, I'm not tired," guarantees Manny. "I'm dry...and very attracted..."

Before Toby can say anything else, Manny's lead his face to hers, and their lips are smacking. The belt's on the floor in a few more moments.

"Promised my dad," breathes Toby, breaking free from her. "No girls while he was away."

"He...he like knows?" cries Manny.

She slides away from him in a hurry. Manny covers her mouth.

"Manny, he adores you," assures Toby. "Told me himself."

Manny releases a sigh of relief, nods at Toby.

"I just killed the mood, didn't I?" says Toby.

"Uh...no, I'm still pretty turned on," admits Manny, eyes finding the belt cast on the floor.

Toby's jaw falls as Manny grins. He stands with his pants falling to his ankles. Manny smiles as she views his boxers.

"I better go upstairs," says Toby, yanking his pants up.

"XYZ, Tobes," says Manny.

"Right," whispers Toby, zipping his fly.

Manny stands and strokes his arm.

"For future reference, if you don't want to, we won't," says Manny. "Though this playing hard to get thing? It's hot."

Toby laughs nervously. "Sorry. Well...good night, Manny."

He leans into her, but she sits and stares at the movie screen.

"Good night, Toby," she says, laying down and grinning at the movie.

Ugh. What's that saying? Two can play at that game. He looks at her as he climbs the stairs and goes to his bedroom. He wishes his dad hadn't found anything.

He wishes Justin hadn't said anything. The computer monitor has remained on for almost the entire day. His inbox has received two e-mails from Darcy. No, he better read Justin's e-mail before Clara calls. In the first ten minutes of the movie, his cell went off and he missed it. It was Clara and she said she'd call tomorrow, too, since she was working a shift at the store.

Toby clicks on Justin's second message after shutting the door. If he didn't shut it, he'd be with Manny in a heartbeat. Stupid rules.

This message is longer, and definitely has a different tone-- a hostile one. The script is bold and hurts his eyes.

"**Goy lover,**

**Your mom's name was in the Confirmation program and I researched her. You undeserving freak! How are the rest of us supposed to do? Nepotism rears its ugly head. She's on the film preservation committee with Disney goyim. You and your mom are liberal jerks! Just because some of us choose to associate with the right people doesn't mean we shouldn't get the same opportunities. You better put in a good word for me, or you'll be sorry. That isn't a threat either, dork. It's a promise. Funny how money changes a situation. Watch your back, idiot**."

He immediately shuts it off. He couldn't...couldn't have just read that. But he did. He did. Justin is a jerk, through and through. Watch his back? For what? More startling is the realization that he has no idea where Justin is, and neither does Clara and probably Justin's grandfather.

Toby puts his hands against his desk, bracing himself.


	55. Colorblind

**LV. Colorblind**

_I am colorblind  
Coffee black and egg white  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready  
I am taffy stuck and tongue tied  
Stutter shook and uptight  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready  
I am fine  
I am covered in skin  
No one gets to come in  
Pull me out from inside  
I am folded and unfolded and unfolding  
I am colorblind  
Coffee black and egg white  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready  
I am fine_

**Colorblind is the property of the Counting Crows and appears in the film _Cruel Intentions_.  
A New Day Has Come is the property of Celine Dion.**

**  
**Up go his eyes before the sun starts to peer through his window. The computer monitor is dark and sleeping. He barely got any sleep last night. His hands kept fidgeting. It was like his hands were anxious to turn it back on so he could reread it, dismiss it as some joke. That had to be an empty threat...just has to be.

Justin was upset. Anger passes. He could've just been having a bad day. Toby remembered seeing that this message was sent the night of the ball, the night he shared with Manny. He's thankful he didn't read it beforehand because that definitely would've killed the romance.

How could anyone send a message like that, especially with the elders and his grandfather threatening to send Justin away? Although, Justin's in a place where they can't get to him. Maybe he shouldn't have sent him that e-mail, told him about the Disney internship. Or maybe it will all blow over. He's not sure what to believe or to do next.

His decision making is interrupted by a light rapping on his bedroom door. Oh man. He hopes his father didn't return out of the blue. He'd be in a separate kind of trouble then. Toby sits up and grabs his glasses from the nightstand.

"Uh...come...come in," stammers Toby as he puts them on, his back against the pillow.

The door parts, Manny's smiling face appearing. Wearing a T-shirt and blue pajama pants, her hair in a high ponytail, she wavers a bit. She's cradling something in her hands. Toby starts to stand to help her.

"No...stay," insists Manny.

Toby grins and watches her set a tray across his lap. It's the same tray he used last night, but there's a cup of orange juice, two pieces of toast, and a bowl with slices of grapefruit. There's also a larger, overturned bowl and a tied up newspaper. The newspaper has something circled in red marker.

He unfurls the newspaper and laughs. She'd circled an advertisment for the second annual Miss Degrassi Pageant. That's right. Soon, her reign would be ending.

"It's sad," says Toby.

"As long as they let me keep the tiara, they can have the title," brushes off Manny, sitting on his bed. "Besides, you were the best thing from it all."

Toby clears his throat, trying not to turn red.

"So why am I getting this royal treatment?" asks Toby.

"I don't know," says Manny. "You were sweet and did it for me last night."

"You just wanted an excuse to come into my room," guesses Toby, chuckling.

"Well...yeah!" admits Manny.

"Sorry to disappoint you," sighs Toby. "It's not exactly exciting."

Manny stands and walks slowly to his computer desk. He hates looking that way again, the reminder of Justin too harsh in his mind. How many people had told him to break off all contact? Matthew, J.T., Manny...his father and Rabbi Miller would detest it.

"Awww, I'm next to your computer," says Manny, taking a framed photo from his desk.

Yes. After California, he put a picture of them at the variety show near his printer. Spike had taken it post-performance, dropped it off at J.T.'s, who gave it to Toby. Though it was after Chante had humiliated Manny, she did look happy and proud as he put his arm around her. He made a decision to stare at it while IMing her. That decision was easy.

"I missed you," confesses Toby.

"I'm here now," says Manny, setting the picture back down. "For as long as you want."

"Then you're going to be here awhile," sighs Toby.

Manny beams. "But seriously, I gotta leave tomorrow night."

And...reality seeps back in, Toby nodding. He'll enjoy it while it lasts. Toby touches the overturned bowl.

"What's this?" questions Toby.

"Everything's kosher, Tobes," assures Manny. "Finding the U on all the food packages took awhile, but I got the hang of it."

"You're not going to tell me?" says Toby, raising his eyebrows.

"Lift it and see," encourages Manny.

Toby lifts the bowl and views a gold, heart-shaped bag. The bag isn't that heavy, and whatever is inside tinkles. Toby shrugs at Manny and shakes it.

"Okay, Rudolph," teases Manny. "Open it."

He unties the string and opens the bag, views ten or so gold coins with different symbols carved on each one. They are beautiful coins, though they're confusing coins. Toby stares at her quizzically. This didn't look like Canadian or American money. Manny joins him, sits across from him on the other side of the tray.

"Pretty, right?" says Manny.

"Yeah," says Toby.

"These are the arrhae," explains Manny, sifting through the bag. "My dad gave them to my mom during their wedding. Filipino grooms give them to their brides to show that they're going to take care of them. And Toby...you've always taken care of me."

Manny glances at him with a smile, Toby returning it. He can't fully agree with that statement since there were times he tried to be there for her and wasn't able to stop things from happening, like Justin and his verbal attack on her.

"These are like rings, only not," continues Manny. "They're like a permanent promise. To have all these different qualities in a partnership. That's why there are these different symbols. See?"

She holds up a coin with a pale and dark heart, with _Love_ above them, and another with a dove flying under the word _Peace_.

"You want to give one to me?" asks Toby, as she presents him with the _Love_ coin. 'Manny, that really means a lot..."

"I want to give them all to you, Toby," interrupts Manny, lowering her eyes.

He feels his face growing pale.

"All of them?" repeats Toby. "Like all of them?"

Manny chuckles. "Yes."

"Wow," says Toby.

"I went through all thirteen...and it became so clear that we..that we pretty much have every single thing going for us," says Manny. "_Commitment_ was my favorite, but I didn't want it to get lonely."

Toby laughs, then shakes his head. Perhaps he should fish out Bubbe's ring and do a trade right now. He's so touched that she's giving him something so meaningful, especially after all he's put her through this past month.

"You'll take them?" says Manny, hopefully.

"I will definitely take this," replies Toby, kissing her lightly on the lips. "Does this mean...we're linked for a long time?"

"For a lifetime," answers Manny, face growing flustered. "The deal is you have to give them back when the time is right. It's an exchange. When we love each other the strongest."

"Oh," says Toby, his speech fading.

"You said you weren't going anywhere," reminds Manny. "So you...you can't disappear."

He isn't certain how to follow that, doesn't since Manny kisses him, their mouths moving. The bag tinkles as their bodies shift. He can feel the echo of their kiss at the top of his heart. Toby attempts to pull her closer to him, nearly toppling the orange juice.

"Okay," says Manny, separating from him. "The rule."

The rule? Oh yeah, the rule. Manny grins at him and leaves him, closing the door behind her, because of the rule.

Toby releases a frustrated sigh and rises. He stares at the variety show picture, then turns on his computer. He's wishing the e-mail is a dream and that the moments with Manny are the only genuine moments he's had since his father left.

He pulls up his e-mail, checks, buries his head in his hands. The message from him is there. eaglerabbiofdoom saw it fit to send another as well. Toby clicks and frowns.

**Last chance. Justin.**

There were days he hasn't answered, hasn't replied. Today wouldn't be that day. No, Justin is going to leave me alone like I should've left him alone, thinks Toby. He'd just have to tell Clara the truth.

"**Don't ever contact me again**," types Toby.

He sends it without a second thought.

II.

"_Joey never met a bike that he didn't want to ride_," sings Manny. "_And I never met a Toby that I didn't like.._."

"Are you just going to sing that verse?" says Toby, handing her a dish rag.

"_And I never met a Toby that I didn't like_," repeats Manny, turning the volume up on the radio.

"We're not watching _Juno_ ever again," teases Toby.

"The soundtrack is classic," says Manny. "You just don't like my singing."

"I love your singing," insists Toby. "Sing better than half the Degrassi chorus."

Manny turns the faucet off, hands Toby a plate to dry. He'd gotten through half the dishes before she arrived, and Manny offered to do the other half. He, of course, did the nice thing and said he'd dry them.

"That's why you don't hear about them," mumbles Manny.

"Hmmm," mutters Toby.

"Sorry. That was a mean thing to say, Degrassi President Isaacs," sighs Manny, winking at him.

"I believe in free speech," concedes Toby.

"The Computer Club is super fly, though," says Manny.

"Word," adds Toby.

Manny laughs and tosses a sponge at him, which he catches. She shuts the radio off and leans against a counter.

"So what are you doing today?" says Manny.

What is he doing today? He's sure that whatever it is, he'd like to include her. Oh yeah.

"This thing with J.T.," answers Toby.

"Yeah?" says Manny.

"It's called SciComTech," explains Toby. "It's a huge convention."

Otherwise known as, an outing Manny wouldn't want to go on. He doesn't want her to sit around the house all day, though.

"That sounds like an evil machine," laughs Manny. "Like it mows down houses or something."

"No, it doeesn't," says Toby, grinning.

"SciComTech," says Manny in a low, rumbling voice. "SciComTech."

Toby wraps his arms around her waist, Manny squealing as she resists. He laughs.

"SciComTech!" squeals Manny before he kisses her.

Their lips stay still as the doorbell rings. Toby glances at the microwave clock. J.T. said he'd be there promptly at ten. He kind of wishes he were late. Toby lets Manny go, puts the sponge in its proper place.

"Shoot," groans Manny. "Here I was hoping you'd have enough time to come up with a song about me, return the favor."

"_Manny Manny Manny, fo fanny_...," starts Toby.

Smiling, Manny pushes him towards the front door. Toby opens the door and sees J.T. with a bigger smile. Then, it disappears.

"Tobes, you aren't wearing your suit!" cries J.T.

This is their fourth time going to SciComTech. They felt weird going the second year because more and more attendees had chosen to wear costumes. Some of them were incredibly elaborate, involving hours and hours of hard work. That's when J.T. came up with the bright idea to wear simple black suits. It was inspired by _Men In Black_, when J.T. was particularly appreciative of Will Smith's comedic timing. Still, they didn't want matching alter egos, so J.T. said Toby could be Clark Kent since he already had the glasses.

"Um...," says Toby, closing the door a little.

He stares at Manny, who looks on shyly from the kitchen.

"Eh, you've got a few minutes to change," says J.T., trying to edge past Toby. "I can sit and watch the Project Greenlight marathon."

"Oh, I love that show!" cries Manny.

Toby turns hurriedly to J.T.

"Oops," he hears Manny say behind him.

"What the...," begins J.T., staring at Manny.

Red-faced, Toby leads J.T. to the front stoop, closing the door. J.T.'s jaw drops and Toby motions for them to sit. J.T. does, apparently not willing to do anything else.

"Where'd she come from?" says J.T. "I mean, I know where she came from, but...what's she doing in your house?"

"She stayed the night," says Toby, not meeting J.T.'s gaze. "Flew in from Cali yesterday."

"Let me get this straight," says J.T. "You won't have a guys' night, but you're game to have Manny stay overnight? I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but three guesses on which would upset Jeff more."

"Right...right," says Toby, nodding. "Last night was innocent, anyway."

"It's not like I expected anything else," says J.T., tapping his foot against the pavement. "Saw the blanket on the couch. Honestly, if it were me, I would've."

Heh, if he only knew what...no, he shouldn't tell. Should he? J.T. straightens his jacket and stares at Toby. Toby bites his lip.

"I would've too," admits Toby. "In fact...we could've because...it...um, wouldn't be the first time."

J.T.'s mouth releases something between a gasp and a yell. Whatever it is, it's a sound his best friend hasn't made before. Toby scoots an inch away from him.

"Huh?" cries J.T. "What...who..when...what?"

"I told you the who already," says Toby, looking at him curiously. "We were together in California, the night of the ball."

"That was days ago, Toby, and you didn't tell me!" whispers J.T., fiercely. "That's like dangling birdfeed in front of a hungry chicken!"

"What?" whispers Toby.

"Never mind," says J.T., grinning slowly. "How...how was it?"

Toby stares at his knees, then shakes his head with a smile.

"Perfect," provides Toby.

As he anticipated, J.T. wasn't content with just that.

"I need a little more than that, Tobes," encourages J.T. "This is your very male best friend. Let's get to the sexy."

"The sexy?" says Toby.

"Did she throw you on the bed?" questions J.T. , smirking.

"No!" whispers Toby.

"Hey, she's jumped you before," reminds J.T. "Okay, tell me one thing that happened during, and I mean _during_, and I'll leave you alone, at least for today."

Toby twists his lips. He remembers the night, every part, tries to select the most important detail.

"She stared into my eyes like near the end," sighs Toby. "They...they like glow."

J.T. grimaces. "Man, that is _not_ sexy."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, J.T.," says Toby.

"Is she...is she a moaner?" whispers J.T., elbowing Toby.

"Well...yeah," answers Toby.

"I knew it!" mutters J.T., with a delighted grin.

Of course, she moaned. Doesn't everybody?

"We can chat more in the car," says J.T. "Say bye to her and come on."

"Um, about that...," starts Toby.

"No, Tobes!" complains J.T. "You cannot bail on me. They've got some amazing artists there this year. Next summer, we'll be too busy getting ready for university to do something fun."

J.T. is making him feel more and more guilty. He did tell J.T. that they were going to hang before they came home to Toronto. Toby opens the door and views Manny putting on some lip gloss. He can't do it. He can't, not after she gave him the arrhae this morning.

"She can come along," suggests Toby, hopefully.

J.T. groans. "Why? If you'd told me sooner, I'd have brought Liberty."

"Bring her," says Toby.

"She's got debate stuff," says J.T. "Toby, this is our thing. Manny isn't into it."

"That's cause Manny's never been," insists Toby.

"Never been?" says Manny, the guys glancing at her.

"To SciComTech," explains Toby. "Wanna go?"

Manny stares at the floor. J.T. mouths "no" to Toby. Toby's hoping for a yes.

"Alright," says Manny.

Toby smiles broadly and goes to put on his suit. He does so quickly, mainly because Manny would eventually pick up that J.T. didn't want her tagging along. With a final tug at his tie, Toby returns to find J.T. listing the many "weirdos" at the convention. This only seemed to be enticing Manny more, much to J.T.'s disappointment.

"Ready?" says Toby.

Manny had changed too, faster than him. She wore a red halter dress with a white, short-sleeved sweater, and red, flat shoes. Viewing him and J.T. in their suits, she probably thought she had to dress "appropriately". Manny would look a little bit out of place, but beautiful as always.

They leave the house, Toby locking the door. He and J.T. climb into the front seat of the car, Manny in the rear. J.T. sighs and allows his CD player to go full blast. He apologizes, then turns it down.

"That's _Return of the Jedi_, right?" says Manny.

J.T. appears slightly surprised that she knows the soundtrack, shrugs. Toby nods with satisfaction.

"Did anyone else think the Ewoks were really cute?" speaks up Manny.

Toby smiles back at her, then views J.T. glaring at him. He puts on his seatbelt as they hear the Millenium Falcon soar fast into another galaxy.

III.

"I am Frodo Baggins," says a red-haired man, pulling his cloak tighter. "And this is Samwise Gamgee."

"Um, I just asked where the washroom was," says a small boy in a _Digimon_ T-shirt. "That's all I need. Promise."

"There is no promise you can make that I can trust," replies the man.

His friend adjusts his wax hobbit ears, then points to the washroom. The boy thanks him and leaves.

"You're only supposed to say things from the movies, man!" condemns fake Frodo.

"I didn't say it...I pointed," argues fake Sam.

They hustle away, Manny scratching her head. She returns to Toby and J.T., perusing the convention pamphlet with serious faces.

A few years ago, she'd come to this very same convention center. Ms. Hatzilakos treated the girls to a professional gymnastics meet. She, Emma, and Kendra viewed girls flipping across mats, balance beams, and in the air. Manny had a lot on her mind that year. Barely anybody was willing to sit next to her after they found out what she'd done to Craig and Ashley. Manny stared at her legs whenever there was a break in the meet. She and Emma were just starting to repair their friendship so their communication was limited. Today is different and she's glad. Her problems were in California, not in Toronto with Toby.

Yet, this is a strange other world she's not at all accustomed to. The center is divided into sections. The first section has rows and rows of artists in cubicles, their comic books on display. Most of the younger boys were getting their autographs. Manny guesses this is their version of meeting Hollywood actors. A pair of apple-cheeked twins were showing one artist their collection of action figures. The second section was for the Tobys of the herd. There were computers on desks, and the latest inventions that were assembled to benefit the technologically savvy. Some inventions were so oddly shaped Manny had no clue what they started off as, and what they were composed of, and she soon gave up. The third section was a bit more familiar. There were movie cut-outs of famous sci-fi and fantasy characters from _Star Wars_ (Chewbacca, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker); _Star Trek_ (Picard, Kirk, Spock); the trio from _Harry Potter_; Gandalf and Gollum from _Lord of the  
Rings_. When all else fails, she at least knows what Quidditch was...pretty much.

"We should hit the comics first," advises J.T.

Manny wanders to a nearby table, trying not to look too lost. There were comics priced for ten cents at this table.

"The Prism Room closes in forty minutes!" argues Toby.

"That's a techy thing," sighs J.T. "Trust me. You aren't missing anything, Tobes."

She allows them to discuss their destinations further, combs through the comics.

"Hi," chirps a little girl with long dark hair, coming up from behind her.

"Hi," greets Manny.

The little girl glances at a _Casper_ comic, then skips away. Hey, she's a hundred percent sure she's read one of those back in the day. Manny goes to the next table, picks up a Rubik's cube resting in the corner. Manny tries to shift the pieces, groans when her efforts prove fruitless.

"Know who's really good with those?" says Toby, standing at her side.

Manny grins as Toby takes the cube, methodically turns the pieces until the colors match on each side. It had to be done in around sixty seconds.

"How'd you...," begins Manny.

"I spent a lot of Saturday nights alone," admits Toby, handing her the completed cube.

"You're not spending this Saturday night alone," promises Manny, returning the cube to the table.

A guy in jeans and a SciComTech T-shirt sits at the table of old comics and smiles at them. It's becoming more and more obvious that I'm not dressed right, moans Manny inwardly. Toby's suit is a costume, J.T. told her. Her clothes are not.

"Reduced prices," says the man, nodding to the comics.

"Mmm, not today," says Toby.

"Come on," encourages the man. "Look, buy one, get one free. But the free one you've gotta earn."

"That sounds reasonable," says Toby.

"Okay, for this _Veronica in Paris_, you have to tell me where the _Archie_ characters live," proposes the man, staring directly at Toby.

"I don't read _Archie_," says Toby.

"Riverdale?" guesses Manny.

"The beautiful young lady wins!" congratulates the man, handing her the comic.

"Heh, I never would've got that," praises Toby.

"I wanted to be Veronica Lodge," says Manny, beaming. "Hello, totally fashionable and she gets to travel every week!"

The man laughs. "Which one you want to buy?"

She allows the man and Toby to do business, walks to J.T. flipping through a graphic novel with Spider-man on the cover. Manny makes herself known by coughing lightly. J.T. digs his head deeper into the book.

"Tobey Macguire did really well with that role, don't you think?" says Manny. "He and Kirsten Dunst had insane chemistry."

"Tobys being distracted by actresses," mutters J.T., tossing her a dismissive look. "Must be a constant theme. Gets really tiring."

Manny hangs her head as J.T. passes her. Luckily, Toby seems more apt to talk to her. J.T. has removed himself from their sight. She's half tempted to ask Toby for his house key and take a cab home.

"Want to see the Prism Room with me?" asks Toby, presenting her with two more _Veronica_ comics.

It's said so sweetly she can't say no. Manny tucks the two comic books under her arm and takes his hand. Despite J.T. being salty, she likes being here with Toby. Toby locates the room after consulting the pamphlet. They enter and Manny feels her breath get caught in her throat.

The room is absolutely wonderful. There were triangular, crystal prisms everywhere, Manny and Toby's reflections shining back at them. They were like colorful, small fun house mirrors. The largest is in the center of the room, as tall as her and Toby. Rainbow soaked light covered their bodies. It's as if they were two raindrops being flooded with color from the sky. Manny sighs happily.

"They're spectrums," says Toby, pointing to the rainbow rays on Manny's face. "Optics. One of the more amazing sciences."

"I like it," breathes Manny.

"I like you," says Toby, innocently.

"So colorful," says Manny, blushing and going past him.

"Movie cameras use some of the same principles," shares Toby. "Optics help the colors connect."

Another spectrum sweeps across Manny's body as she stalls at some smaller prisms. She stands in front of Toby, plays briefly with a piece of her dark hair.

"In Manila, if you go the edge of the mountains, you'll see the biggest rainbows," says Manny. "These bursts of color. Mom took me with my cousins. They're as pretty as the prisms. And when you close your eyes, you can still see them. I think that's how I know I come from there."

"Maybe I can see it one day," says Toby, softly.

"Maybe you will," says Manny, putting her hands on each of Toby's shoulders.

The memory is lovely. She didn't wear shoes because it was so hot, but her mother wouldn't let her take off her socks. The view was spectacular. The sky was arrayed in color, pinks, golds, and purples, like the sun was showing off what it could do. Manny sat on the rock and swore she'd never forget it. There were other things she'd like to forget.

"Have you or your mother heard of Filipinotown?" asks Manny.

"No," answers Toby. "It's in L.A.?"

"Near L.A.," says Manny. "I hadn't heard of it either, until I went."

"Is it as amazing as Manila?" asks Toby.

"I wanted it to be," confesses Manny. "But...no. Very modern. The people were amazing. I...I didn't feel amazing in comparison."

"Why not?" prompts Toby.

"Was sad," replies Manny. "That I auditioned for that maid role, that I made that shifty deal. Really, I got roped in to thinking it would do some good for me. I don't know where my head was at so I went there."

That's as honest as she can make it. She wants Toby to understand, not be disappointed that she'd had those thoughts.

"I was weak," says Manny.

"You didn't let them define you," says Toby. "You refused before it got too bad. That sounds pretty strong to me."

Manny glances at her feet, up at him. He couldn't possibly believe that. She isn't strong in the least.

"Then why'd I go looking for myself?" questions Manny.

"Because you don't see yourself yet," says Toby, placing his hands on her cheeks. "How amazing you are. One day you will, and it'll be worth it. Cause...cause you're so worth knowing, Manny."

She lets a tear fall across her cheek, wetting Toby's thumb. She almost feels sorry for it. The spectrums shift and she can see them in his glasses, and when she closes her eyes to kiss him, she's sure they're still there.

IV.

"I got you some pocky," speaks up Toby, staring at J.T.'s back.

"Japanese treats won't save you this time, my friend," sighs J.T.

Toby glances at Manny, chewing thoughtfully on a chocolate stick of pocky. Manny found it tasty, and so did J.T. He's coming up empty on how to relieve J.T. of his sour mood. He wordlessly follows J.T. to a desk with several laptops.

"What can I do?" asks Toby.

J.T. takes a couple sheets of paper and puts them against Toby's chest.

"Do something for yourself," advises J.T. "That's why you _had_ to come."

Toby offers J.T. a confused stare, reads the papers. It was an application to the University of Canada West, Academy of Film and Animation Arts. Toby's familiar with the school. Many Kytel interns were considering UCW as their top college choice. J.T. nods confidently.

"They have good film production classes too," says J.T., getting his own application. "Someone who worked on the kids' show with me went. We could be roomies and hang out all the time. Manny and Liberty could take the bus from T.O. It's not that far."

The thing is that he's done some researching, and has already started his applications. None of them, however, happen to be in Canada. He was going to apply to some schools near home, just hasn't gotten around to it. Once Manny suggested he join her in Los Angeles, he started going to their websites and was impressed with their credentials, concentrated on getting into those.

"Um...I was gonna apply to Stanford and Berkeley. UCLA would be the ideal place, the closest to Manny," says Toby.

"Stanford!" cries J.T. "What if you don't get in?"

"I'm...I have as much of a chance as anybody else," stammers Toby, frowning.

"Yeah," says J.T., apologetically. "Well...I can't get in."

Toby stares at the UCW literature. This would be a good place for both of them, and it was very kind of J.T. to steer him to this table. He'd obviously been thinking in advance, something J.T. didn't always do.

"Toby, can I ask one thing?" says J.T.

"Sure," says Toby.

"If Manny didn't put that idea into your head, would you be going to Cali?" questions J.T. "Because you've always been set on being in T.O."

No, he admits to himself. He didn't want to confess that to J.T., though.

"You wouldn't," says J.T.

Toby sighs loudly. "So?"

"So, this isn't fair," says J.T. "I knew you before Manny."

"Yeah, a year earlier!" returns Toby. "That's _such_ a difference."

That proclamation is greeted with a pause, and Toby doesn't blame him.

"I can't believe you said that," says J.T., finally.

He can't believe it either. There is a difference. J.T. is his best friend and Manny's his girlfriend. They were two very distinct relationships. But he's so sick of being put in the middle. How can be there for both of them? Toby lets the quieter part of his personality win and doesn't tell J.T. any of this. All he can say is something short and sweet.

"J.T., you're like my brother," says Toby.

"Speaking as your 'brother'," says J.T., slamming his own application on the table. "I'm gone. You and Manny can meet me at the car."

Toby watches the paper flutter instead of J.T. walking into the throng of happy-go-lucky convention fans. He didn't mean to make J.T. so upset. He has no idea if his dad would warm to him going to school, either. What if he took it as a betrayal, too? He'd be in a whole other country. Toby massages his forehead for a few seconds, locates Manny.

"I'm moving to Tokyo for these," jokes Manny, eating the last bit of pocky.

"They can ship them anywhere," informs Toby.

The two of them walk along the sci-fi section, passing taller Yodas, their masks shielding real faces, and shorter Klingons. A large TV displays an episode of _Charmed_ behind a woman wearing a _Buffy Is My Homegirl_ T-shirt.

"Your honest opinion of all this?" prompts Toby.

Manny pretends to think deeply, tapping her chin with her finger.

"Once I heard about the indestructible cheerleader on _Heroes_...it was love," says Manny, linking her arm through Toby's.

Toby grins. "Her name's Claire."

"I know," says Manny. "Someone told me."

They exchange a smile, cut through the crowd and view an erected stage. Toby didn't remember this exhibition, supposes it must be new. He reads the pamphlet and figures out what is going on.

"Are they acting?" asks Manny as a dozen costumed characters appear on the stage.

"They're doing a cosplay," explains Toby. "Costume play. They're really big in anime circles."

"You ever seen one with...," begins Manny and then her voice drops.

"With Kendra?" finishes Toby. "No, actually. We missed the one when I was in grade eight. Kendra had to be home at a certain time. Then, she had to train during the next summer."

This information seems to please Manny since she grips his arm more securely. He believes she might enjoy this. The two cosplays he saw with J.T. were incredibly funny and even critical J.T. got caught up in the story. Last summer they did Inuyasha and that basically made the convention for Toby.

"I can't believe I missed dance camp for this!" bellows a high-pitched voice.

The two of them turn to see a petite, blonde with two high ponytails, cascading down the back of a long, flowy white gown. She held a wand with a silver orb at the top.

"You promised to learn the lines, babe," says a man in a black suit, black cape, and a white mask situated on his nose.

"Well, maybe if you weren't drooling over Abby, I wouldn't have to watch you instead!" yells the girl.

"Jerry Springer drama," mutters Manny, glancing at Toby.

"Please. Your heart was never in this," says the masked man.

"No, my heart was with you," sobs the girl. "Here, take this freakin' costume and..."

Toby's mouth parts as the girl strips off her dress right there and throws it at him, skulks away in her slip and passes several confused audience members.

"Deja vu," says Manny.

He isn't sure what she means, nor does he get why the masked man is eyeing Manny. Toby narrows his eyes at him. It's not like he stared at other people's girlfriends...well, not in that way.

"You're Miss Degrassi," identifies the masked man.

"For a few more months," admits Manny.

"And you...you act, right?" says the masked man, hopefully.

Manny looks between him and Toby.

"Uh, yeah," answers Manny.

The words Manny said in the Prism Room reenter his mind and Toby nudges her forward. This could boost her self-esteem for sure, being a Moon princess in a cosplay. He's fairly certain the dress would fit her since Manny's petite as well.

"The script is short and you only have a few lines," says the masked man with excitement. "Sailor Moon...you a fan?"

That was the anime that he shared with Manny and her community center class. He didn't know if that made Manny a fan, but it made her a fan of him.

"I'm...I'm not a blonde," says Manny, timidly.

"Creative liberty," says the masked man. "Usagi...or Serena, is so cute I doubt people will care."

"I don't," adds Toby.

"See?" says the masked man. "Come on. Help a fellow actor out. I'll pay you with a week's worth of pocky."

The offer makes Manny laugh and she gingerly takes the costume. Toby kisses her on the forehead and lets her onstage boyfriend lead her behind the stage. In a million years, he never would've thought Manny would be at an anime convention with him, let alone taking part in the festivities. Then again, with them, is anything predictable?

Toby walks to the sides to get a better chance of scoring a front row spot. He feels like a groundling, a term Manny told him about where play fans had to stand on the ground as Shakespearean actors did their craft. There's a spot between an Aquaman look alike and an Aragorn imitator. Toby grins at both of them, and they grin in turn. Ten minutes pass, Toby waiting patiently.

Suddenly, lights coat the black floor of the stage and a familiar theme plays through the auditorium. Toby smiles.

"_Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight, never running from a real fight, she is the one named Sailor Moon...she will never turn her back on a friend, she is always there to defend, she's the one on whom we can depend_..."

The rest of the theme song plays as the audience claps along. Toby's glad. The more support Manny receives, the more she'll feel comfortable. That's been his belief since the pageant.

"_She is the one...Sailor Moon_!"

At an end, the music stops, and Mamoru, or Darien in the English dub, enters to hearty applause. He looks suitably forlorn, being alone on the stage. The black suit makes him appear taller than when he stood with Toby and Manny.

"I've just endured the most horrible of battles!" cries Darien. "I can't take all these girls fighting over me."

The audience laughs. Toby wonders if someone like Craig felt the same. A guy with glasses in spectularly tight, grey shorts and a white dress shirt walks onto the stage.

"Know what you mean," says the actor.

"Melvin?" cries Darien.

In the series, Melvin is the geek who hoped to earn the affections of Serena, eventually ends up with her best friend instead. A bouncy song follows Darien's exclamation.

"_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, too sexy it hurts. On the catwalk, on the catwalk. I shake my little tush on the catwalk_."

Smiling, Melvin struts across the stage, chest pointed out. His catwalk is met by whistles of appreciation from the audience. And yes, thinks Toby as he laughs, he shakes his tush as the song draws to a close.

"Darien, pimpin' ain't easy, okay?" says Melvin.

"Fine, fine," says Darien. "Hmm, I guess I should choose. Where are the girls?"

Four girls bound onto the stage as if they were on a cheerleading squad, their wigs bouncing up and down. The girls were dressed in sailor-designed, school girl outfits. Kendra wore one of those to a smaller convention they attended. The girls squeal and go to Darien.

"Darien, you so fine! You so fine you blow my mind!" cheer the girls, dancing in perfect synchronization. "Hey Darien! Hey hey, hey Darien!"

"Cheerleaders," says Darien, lifting his mask to wink at the front row.

Laughter follows the line and Melvin crosses his arms.

"Just you wait," guarantees Melvin. "One day, they'll be after me. Because...geeks rule!"

The audience roars their agreement. Toby claps politely. He wonders when Manny's going to show.

"Wait," says Darien. "I thought there were five chicks...I mean, five Sailor Scouts."

"You must've watched the English version," says Sailor Mercury, which causes the crowd to laugh.

"I bet he's referring to...you know who," guesses Sailor Jupiter. "That ditz who's supposed to save the world and some junk."

"That girl talks to cats," says Sailor Mars, dismissively.

"You all talk to cats," brings up Darien as several people chuckle.

"I text my cat," says Sailor Venus, holding up her T-Mobile.

This provides the noisest laugh yet. Darien stumbles to the front of the stage and holds his hand to the ceiling.

"Save me from this senshi madness," moans Darien. "And from bad English dubbing!"

"Woo!" cries a group of girls behind Toby.

Then, the best actress, or well, his best actress, makes her grand entrance. Manny's hair has been tied in two dark ponytails, the white, flowy dress framing her like a dream. Murmurs of compliments fill his ears. Manny holds a cute, stuffed black hat in her arms.

"Would've been here sooner," says Manny, confidently. "But Luna and I got lost on our way to PetSmart."

This warrants huge laughter from the audience, Toby's laugh louder than he intended.

"Meatball head," condemns Darien with a smile.

"Waa!" cries Manny, making her eyes large. "Why is everyone always picking on me?"

"Because you deserve it!" says Sailor Mars.

"Sailor Cat Strike!" yells Manny, tossing the stuffed animal at Mars. "Oops, my bad, Luna."

The crowd breaks into hysterics, Toby beaming. Melvin kicks the cat to the side discreetly.

"I have an announcement to make!" proclaims Darien. "I've selected my bride and it will be...whoever says the most romantic thing to me."

"Hmmm," says Sailor Jupiter. "_I like big butts and I cannot lie. I see lightning when I stare in your eyes_..."

"Uh, no," interrupts Darien, then staring at Sailor Mars.

"Come on, baby. Light my fire," says Mars, then lifting her skirt a bit to show some leg.

Boys in the crowd bark, Toby raising his eyes.

"Nope," says Damien.

"My IQ's 300?" says Sailor Mercury, shrugging.

"_I'm your Venus, I'm your fire, your desire_!" sings Sailor Venus.

They all stare at Manny, who scratches her head and stares at the audience. She meets Toby's eyes, smiles briefly, then gives him her answer.

"I won't only rock your world!" says Manny with immense confidence. "I'll rock your entire Moon Universe."

Everyone cheers. Toby chuckles and nods repeatedly. The rest of the Scouts look despondent, clearly aware they've been outdone.

"I choose...you, Sailor Moon!" says Darien, proudly.

"Well...I don't choose you," says Manny.

"Say what now?" cries Darien.

"Hello, female empowerment?" says Manny.

Girls squeal at the statement, and the boys look a bit nervous.

"There's somebody else," says Manny. "He's all that and a mix CD of J-pop."

"Oh, so he's a musician, eh?" says Darien.

He stresses the "eh", apparently a Canadian joke, and he gets away with it as they laugh wholeheartedly.

"Nah," says Manny, walking past him. "He's a smart guy."

Melvin whips out a wand, similar to the wand the actress originally playing with Serena, held.

"Never leave home without it," says Melvin. "It's magic, man."

"He stole it!" cries Darien. "That's your wand!"

"And my man," says Manny, taking hold of Melvin's arm.

"Somebody got pwned!" cries Melvin.

Melvin and Manny stroll past the other actors, go down the side steps, and stream through the crowd as a couple. The convention fans pat Melvin on the back and applaud the ending. Guys stare longingly at Manny, none so longingly at Toby. But Manny does whirl around, waves at Toby before she disappears around the corner. Toby smiles at his shoes.

V.

Steam flows into Manny's nostrils and she sneezes. The water in the pot is simmering. Something crackles. The pasta, she recognizes, checking the contents. She can't screw up pasta. Only cooking novices or losers screw up pasta. Sighing with relief, she repositions the lid and stares at Toby in the living room.

The last time she was in the living room for a meal was for Hanukkah dinner. Sure, she'd been invited to dinner at this house other times, but those meals were always served in the kitchen and they weren't alone. She may be paranoid because she did feel like Ashley ate a little quicker so she could leave during those meals. Hmmm, well, Ashley isn't here tonight. She's in Britain, and Toby's folks are hearing British accents too on the islands.

"Where do the spoons go? Beside the forks, right?" yells Toby.

"Why are you asking me?" teases Manny.

"You're the sophisticated Moon Princess," counters Toby.

"When all else fails, put it on your nose," shouts Manny.

It's good to hear him laugh. When they reached the parking lot, they were both surprised to see J.T. fuming in the front seat. His attitude hadn't improved. Manny immediately left the car when they got to Toby's so they could talk. She said she'd go to the grocery store in a non-revealing fashion. The operation failed. Whatever Toby had to say, J.T. didn't want to hear it.

That's why this dinner has to be a success. She enjoyed a good microwave dinner every now and then, but thought it best since she was a guest to cook them a decent meal. Emma's the better cook, but Manny's willing to bet Emma wouldn't cook for any man. Except maybe Snake. The Kerwin-Isaacs house had plenty of male cooking going on, though. Jeff could whip up a good meal, and apparently hasn't passed it down to Toby. That's alright. She liked everything else Jeff and Anne Marie passed down to her boyfriend.

Manny unties the apron, stands in the doorway of the living room.

"Kiss the chef," says Manny, winding the apron strings in her fingers.

"The apron says _Got Grub_?" says Toby. "I was there when Dad bought it."

"You're supposed to pretend," says Manny.

"Alright," says Toby, coming over to kiss Manny on the lips.

"Three more minutes," announces Manny, then walking back to the kitchen.

As soon as she turns the stove off, her cell rings. Ugh, the ID says Dale. She didn't want a reminder that she should be in L.A., whether it was related to Pinecrest, Lia, or Colleen, who'd been pretty kind to her all along. Kind to her. Manny sighs, tosses the oven mitt that she was putting on, and answers.

"Hey," says Manny, nervously.

"Manny, I must've heard your message wrong," exclaims Colleen. "You're...you're not in Toronto, are you?"

"Yeah...I'm, um, looking at yaks and evergreen trees as we speak," jokes Manny.

"I've got things lined up for you!" cries Colleen. "Did you at least go to the _Hearts for Sale_ audition?"

Manny makes some popping noise with her lips, then grabs a piece of aluminum foil to crackle.

"Colleen, the reception's really terrible...I can't...I can't hear you!" says Manny.

She hates doing this, but part of her, yes a tiny part of her, doesn't want to get Lia in trouble or to revisit the mess revolving around those auditions. Realizing she must've won, Manny hears Colleen sigh heavily.

"Who's paying for your flight home?" says Colleen, loudly.

"Emma," admits Manny.

"I'll reimburse her," says Colleen. "No more runaway flights home! I have to talk to you about the lawsuit on Monday too, okay?"

The lawsuit? She lets the piece of foil fall to the floor. Stupid Pinecrest.

"Okay," says Manny, softly.

"Hmm, the reception sounds perfect now," observes Colleen. "I expect a call in the near future, Ms. Santos."

With that, Manny listens to the dial tone, swallows a lump in her throat, and sets her cell on the counter. While scooping out pasta, and other bits of hot food onto two plates, she can feel her face getting flushed and it's not due to the steam. Her expression brightens considerably when she returns to the living room. Toby stands when she comes in. He was still wearing his suit, and she hadn't taken off her red dress.

The table is set, the utensils in their proper positions. Toby had also rustled up a vase with roses. Months ago, a menorah was smack in the middle right where the roses were tonight.

"You may be seated," says Manny.

Toby sits, Manny setting a plate in front of him.

"Pasta, rice with mixed vegetables, and dinner rolls," says Manny, proudly.

"I need to pull out your chair," sighs Toby, doing so before she can protest.

"Why?" says Manny, sitting.

"Well, I didn't kiss you earlier," replies Toby. "This looks amazing, Manny."

"Do you want to pray?" asks Manny.

"You can," says Toby.

"I can't say...can't say God, right?" says Manny.

"Go ahead," encourages Toby. "It's okay to say in a prayer."

"Dear...Heavenly Father," says Manny, hesitantly. "Thank you for letting us be together and for watching over me so I didn't burn the house down. Amen."

Toby laughs. "Amen."

They eat for a bit and Manny's also thankful for the silence. Colleen said that this lawsuit could get really sticky and she's not anticipating that aspect of it. On the other hand, if they go to trial, Pinecrest would be in for it. I mean, there has to be a reason Martika didn't come to the ball, thinks Manny. Toby should know, too.

"That nasty studio?" says Manny. "My agent filed a lawsuit. I...I might have to testify."

"Really?" says Toby, setting his roll on the plate again.

"Find out the details on Monday," says Manny, nodding.

"I wish I could be there," says Toby.

Manny sighs. "Yeah. Me too."

"I don't like seeing you frown," notes Toby.

"Tobes, we all have to do it some time," says Manny, maneuvering a pea with her fork.

Toby pushes out his chair, massages Manny's shoulders briefly as she stares at her plate. She'd never been involved with a trial before. It could get...scary. Her head is forced to look up as she hears traces of music coming from a different room.

_I was waiting for so long  
For a miracle to come  
Everyone told me to be strong  
Hold on and don't shed a tear  
So through darkness and good times  
I knew I'd make it through  
And the world thought I had it all  
But I was waiting for you_

Manny grins at her untouched roll, stands as Toby comes back into the room. He twirls her a couple times and they start to move to the gentle song playing in their ears. The flames from flickering candles sway against their dancing bodies.

_Hush now  
I see a light in the sky  
Oh it's almost blinding me  
I can't believe I've been touched by an angel  
With love_

"Is this why you want to quit acting?" questions Toby. "Because of the lawsuit?"

"Everything involved in the lawsuit," admits Manny. "What I told you last night, too."

_Where it was dark now there is light  
Where there was pain, now there's joy  
Where there was weakness, I found my strength  
All in the eyes of a boy_

"The only reason you should quit is if you don't love it anymore," says Toby, earnestly. "That's the only reason you should quit any career."

"These opportunities keep slipping away," says Manny.

"Manny, you've always been one to make it happen," assures Toby. "The right role will come along. And if I'm lucky, I'll be celebrating with you as I'm in the audience."

_Let the rain come down  
And wash away my tears  
Let it fill my soul  
And drown my fears  
Let it shatter the walls  
For a new sun  
A new day has come  
A new day has come_

Manny rests her head against his firm shoulder and blinks at the candle. The wax drips, but the candle shines all the brighter.

VI.

He'd like to have that same hope he gave Manny. J.T. isn't ringing him. He left a message while Manny was cooking, a completely heartfelt message. No matter where he went, he didn't want to lose his best friend in the process. That just isn't acceptable to him. Toby pushes away his plate and folds his hands.

"So I take it you don't want dessert?" says Manny, reentering the living room.

"Was it made by you?" says Toby.

"More like melted and assorted," confesses Manny.

She displays a plate with a small bowl of liquid chocolate, with square pieces of pineapple and mango in a circle around it.

"I could eat more," gives in Toby.

"Good," says Manny.

The lit candles were almost completely gone. They danced for ten minutes and then talked for a little longer. Then, Manny disappeared to get dessert.

"It's getting late," says Toby.

"Perfect timing then," whispers Manny, dipping a piece of mango into the chocolate.

"What?" says Toby.

"Let's just say it's part of a sinister plan to makes your father's rules a bit blurry," says Manny, holding the mango to his lips.

He allows his mouth to open, chewing delicately as Manny stares at him. With her looking like that, he just may allow other things to transpire.

"You're tired of the couch?" whispers Toby.

"Mmm, I want to explore other types of furniture," sighs Manny, putting a piece of pineapple in her mouth. "Preferably upstairs."

She swallows, and Toby, blushing furiously, can barely look at her when she feeds him another chocolate-covered bit of mango. Manny tastes his lips. They stopped upstairs earlier. He doesn't want to stop anymore.

Leaning in to kiss her more, Manny backs away. Huh? He thought she was feeling the same, especially after her last comment.

"Come up in five minutes," whispers Manny.

She leaves him to stare at her empty chair. Okay, maybe he should think about this. Does he want to think about this? No. Toby takes off his glasses, his knees bouncing. What did she have to do in five minutes? Toby blows out the candles, strolls to the foyer, puts a hand against the banister.

He's got some, right? Yes, in his drawer. He put them there after his father found them. Well, his father isn't here, and Manny is, and he could deal with the consequences. Toby pockets his glasses, goes upstairs, sees that his bedroom door is parted.

Standing in the doorway, he views Manny in a T-shirt. Only a T-shirt. It's his Inuyasha T-shirt. Her hair is down.

"Feel like breaking a rule?" says Manny, resting a hand on his bed's headboard.

She has no idea what she's doing to him, or she knows and is totally using it against him. Toby instantly shuts the door. Manny giggles, goes to him.

"You love me?" breathes Manny, raising his shirt above his head.

"Yes," whispers Toby.

"You'll take care of me?" sighs Manny.

"I swear...," says Toby.

Her head meets the bed before he can finish as they fall onto it. He's sliding his hands against her legs, Manny's hands removing his belt, his undershirt. The words he would've said are gone as he reaches for the drawer. Manny takes the condom, opens it as Toby manuevers the T-shirt to her delicate waist. Manny lets out a low moan.

Toby lets his pants slide down the length of the bed, then helps Manny guide his boxers off. He raises the blanket so they can get underneath. Toby inches the shirt up, his fingers grazing Manny's ribs, the underside of her back. He collects her in his arms after the shirt's on the floor. Manny kisses him, hands going through his hair.

"Beautiful," murmurs Toby as Manny shifts slightly.

She rests her head firmly against the pillow. Toby feels for her panties in the darkness under the blanket, tugs until they're in his hands. They're off as Manny smiles at him. He situates the condom, begins to kiss Manny's neck. Toby groans as Manny parts her thighs. The gesture made him look up, which she apparently wants.

With each movement, Manny's eyes are locked with his. Her hips relax. Her breathing increases and she rests her hands on his shoulders. Her lids become more heavy, but her eyes remain open. She moans as their bodies slide against the mattress. Her sweaty skin glows, her gaze glows.

"Ah," sighs Manny, arching her back.

Toby caresses the crown of her head, sighs against her face. She always feels so soft.

"I love you," breathes Toby, shaking against her.

Manny finally closes her eyes and smiles.

Toby rolls to the other side of the bed, Manny laying against his chest. He groans into her thick hair.

"You were definitely made to make love, Toby," whispers Manny, snuggling closer.

Toby chuckles lightly. "Yeah...to you."

"Can I tell you a secret?" says Manny.

"Yeah."

"Had no idea if that fondue plan would work."

Toby laughs as Manny kisses his chest. Yeah, she won. She usually wins.

"I have to tell you something, too," says Toby.

The truth is he's been considering giving her the ring during the whole day. It's tucked away in his computer desk. There just never seemed to be the right moment.

"What?" says Manny, rising, the blanket covering her chest.

"We won't have to worry anymore," says Toby, rising too.

He moves some hair from her face. "I know it."

He'd take care of her. That's what his grandfather hoped for his grandmother long ago, and it's so relevant today. He swore to himself that he'd protect Manny, and he means it.

"I'm confused...a little," confesses Manny.

"Tell you more tomorrow," says Toby, guiding her to lay down with him.

Manny grins. "Okay? Tomorrow."

"Yeah," says Toby. "Tomorrow."

VIII.

When he woke up next to her, thunder was rumbling. Raindrops drove steadily down his window pane and he could hear a car skidding through a puddle from outside. The bad weather had returned. At least they had good conditions yesterday. He put his forehead next to hers and went back to sleep.

An hour later, there was nothing next to him except a tossed pillow. That's when he got up, groaning the entire time. He stretched, showered, and is now whistling as he retrieves the ring. He stares at it, passes it between his hands. For all the jewelry he's given her, this has to be the best. When they were snuggling, he heard her charm bracelet slide on her wrist. He loves that sound. Well, this wouldn't make any noise, but it would symbolize how he felt.

Before he fell completely asleep, he promised Manny he'd mail his mother a list of the schools he was considering. He thinks Manny is more sure that he's someone they would want. Himself? He's a little more cautious and mentally added UCW and U of T at the bottom of his list.

He shuts on the computer and sits at the desk. Laying the ring box near his mouse, he goes to the Degrassi website and enters his inbox.

Three new e-mails? Please let them be from Clara or Darcy or anyone else, except...Justin. None of them had subjects. Why didn't he get a clue that Toby hates him? Alright, he'll reply, if only to tell him to get lost and stay lost.

He pockets the ring, clicks the first message. It's a link. A link? Toby pulls up the linked page.

"**Our Mission Statement**:

To protect the purity of our blood, by not mixing with mongrel races, particularly if they do not follow the same faith. This strengthens our bond as the master race. We are the Chosen People. Take the Zionist movement one step further and join our cause. Do not give into the ways of the world, but fly right.

_Fly right, fly right, all we're asking is that you fly right,  
The day will come when we will fight, when pure will be in perfect sight,  
Don't blend with black, Asian, not even the lily white,  
For we are separately made and holy in the Scripture's eyes.  
Fly right, fly right, get ready for the ultimate fight."_

Toby's fingers quiver as he reads each word. The Star of David is situated above the whole horrible message. It's the ugliest thing he's read, probably the ugliest thing he'll ever read. He closes the box, but something propels him to check the others. Won't reply, Toby tells himself. Will read and delete and tell Clara to get away from her hateful boyfriend.

The second message makes him want to throw up. Technically, it's not a message. There's a picture with Rabbi Miller, him and Hitler smiling in front of his synagogue. A large, bold font has the words over the two of them: **Race-Traitors**. That's not the worst part. Justin or some idiot had made it so Hitler had Manny's hair and body, making it seem as if he's holding hands with Hitler. Manny's head, removed from the body, has been cut away and is pasted in the corner of the picture, a swastika over her smiling mouth. Toby's chest burns, his heart throbbing. He stands, the chair falling hard to the floor. Toby rubs his eyes under his glasses. Tears were starting to form.

He clicks out hurriedly, then reads the third. The third is the most mysterious and sweat coats every part of Toby's body.

"**You hurt yourself and our brother...we're going to make it right. We're coming for her**."

Toby pulls the plug from the wall, the computer going dead. He stuffs a fist into his mouth so no one could hear him sob or curse or moan. Don't let this be happening. God, don't let this be happening.

What should he do? Who's coming and when and how many? Toby dries his eyes, repositions his glasses, and goes downstairs. He locates his cell in his suit jacket and hits speed dial.

"Is that you, Toby?" calls Manny from the kitchen. "Morning!"

Clad in denim shorts and a lavender camisole top, Manny appears with a cup of coffee.

"The bed? So much better than the couch," says Manny, shyly.

"I...I gotta make a call," stammers Toby.

Manny's brow creases as Toby steps outside, closing the door behind him. He'd be awake at this hour. Toby knows it.

"J.T.," says Toby as soon as he picks up. "I need a favor."

IX.

Manny hums as she reties her shoelaces. It's a distraction. While laying next to him, while in the shower, while making coffee, the events of last night replay in her mind. Mmmm, maybe she should've cooked for him the night before too. Manny's cheeks become pink as Toby reenters the house.

"I'm ready for what you had to say to me," says Manny, sitting on the couch she's glad she didn't have to sleep on.

"I..I need you to pack," says Toby, not looking at her.

She offers him a confused smile. "My plane doesn't leave until tonight."

Toby turns away from her, starts searching for his wallet in his jacket.

"Fine," says Manny, standing awkwardly.

Then, she realizes what's going on. Manny beams and starts to collect her belongings.

"This is part of a surprise, right?" guesses Manny. "You want to tell me somewhere else."

Toby stuffs his wallet in his pants. He tosses the jacket into the closet and closes it.

"Yeah," says Toby.

That was a sad "yeah" if she's ever heard one. Manny halts her packing and stands next to him.

"What's wrong?" asks Manny.

"Manny...Manny, just pack," says Toby, sadly.

Her forehead creases and she can no longer interrogate him as a horn honks from behind the door. It's a cab. Where are they going? More surprising is the appearance of J.T.'s car. Toby opens the door and they watch J.T. race through the rain.

"I'll be following you," says J.T.

This is an elaborate surprise if J.T.'s involved. Wait. The last time J.T. was involved it lead to Toby's first "I love you" to her at the restaurant where they had their first date. She'd go along with it.

"Hail, rain, or snow, can't stop Toby," says Manny, with a huge grin. "I'll go finish packing."

It doesn't take long as she has more motivation to stuff her things into her suitcase. Manny peers into all the rooms, making sure she hasn't forgotten anything. She almost forgot her comics since they were new. Emma was more of a Betty fan since they were blondes who believed in the common good, but Manny was sure she'd appreciate her Veronica books. They used to pore over them when they were little.

The rain is pouring as Toby helps Manny slip on a poncho J.T. had brought. Toby dons his jacket.

"Light and easy to pack," says Manny, repeating Toby's poncho praises.

She flips back her hair, slides on the hood, and she and Toby head to the cab after he locks the door. The cabbie starts the engine and they're off. Their bodies bump against each other while the car moves through the hard downpour.

"Can I have a hint?" says Manny, patting Toby's knee.

Toby places his head in his hands for a few seconds, then lets his head fall against the window. He stares at the rain.

"Toby, you're not talking," says Manny, wearily.

Manny stares ahead at the wet windshield. She fumbles for Toby's hand, and after awhile, he lets her take it.

X.

She removes her poncho as the airport doors clatter open. He didn't have enough money after purchasing what he had to purchase. J.T. paid the cabbie his fare. None of this is fair. As the rain rolled on the windshield, down their bodies, he thought how fitting it was, like the sky was crying for them. Toby gazed at the window for some sign, a sign this is the right thing to do.

The cabbie presents Manny with her suitcase and speeds away. He's lucky he can leave.

They pass various terminals, J.T. in tow. Manny fiddles with her bracelet excitedly. She must think "this surprisee" didn't make any sense. It didn't make sense to him...at first. Then, the other choices cancelled themselves out and this is what he's left with and it makes his head and heart ache.

"I'll take her luggage to baggage claim," says J.T., taking Manny's suitcase.

Manny blinks after J.T. maddeningly, and Toby grabs her hand. It wasn't as sweet as when they were headed to the Prism Room or even in the cab minutes ago. It's fleeting and depressing. Toby reads the marker. Terminal Two.

"What's this?" says Manny, staring at him in confusion.

"I called Lia," shares Toby.

She gave him the number weeks ago, in case she'd somehow lost her cell. He never thought he'd be using it for this.

"Lia did something bad to me, Toby," sighs Manny. "We're not speaking."

Whatever it is, he's certain it's not as bad as what could possibly happen. Toby shrugs.

"Her friend has a private jet," explains Toby. "Her dad's friend in Toronto. He said he'd be willing to fly you to California."

"Toby, I...I have a ticket already," says Manny. "Emma paid for it."

"I'll pay her back," assures Toby.

"Colleen is paying her back!" cries Manny. "Wha...why? You want to get rid of me?"

He doesn't want to give her any information, for her to worry. When they were in bed together, he said she didn't have to worry. How could he have known he'd be wrong a mere hours later? She has to get on this plane, get on even if she hates him.

"You have to leave," says Toby, his eyes burning with tears.

"No, I don't," says Manny. "I...I don't understand..."

What can he say to get her to move, get her out of here?

"I want to break up with you," says Toby, staring at the ground.

He hears it, her gasping for breath, the first sob.

"No," whispers Manny, her shoulders shaking. "No, you don't. You're lying."

"I do," lies Toby, finding every ounce of courage to stare at her. "We're too...we're too different."

The last word barely comes out of his mouth. Toby feels a large mass growing in his throat. His words are starting to break.

"That's never been a problem!" cries Manny.

"It's always been a problem," argues Toby. "Everyone else sees it. Why...why can't you?"

"Toby," chokes out Manny, then covering her face.

It's like he can feel every tear behind her fingers, every knife he's sticking in her heart and in his. He'd rather this relationship be killed than have any harm come to her.

Manny lowers her hands.

"You said you loved me I don't know how many times," sighs Manny, her eyes wet and red. "I trusted you. I let you come into my heart...and my home! What I gave you yesterday. And...everything. It's everything, sweetie."

She whispered the last bit and Toby knows every word is true. Manny bent over backwards for him and she loved and trusted him. He starts to cry too, gently puts his hands on her waist.

"You made love to me last night!" whispers Manny, urgently. "What did that mean? Nothing?"

"No," admits Toby. "It meant...look, it doesn't change what I said."

Manny offers him a hurt stare as Toby locates the ticket, puts it in her palm. Her lips shake as she takes it. She gazes in his eyes for clarity. He won't let her have it, making himself frozen, with an uncaring frown etched across his face.

"I hate that I fell in love with you," sobs Manny.

Toby's not so sure his heart's working after those words. He stares at the flourescent lights above and lets the tears flow.

"Don't call me," continues Manny. "Or write to me. Just...pretend that you don't know me."

"Manny," breathes Toby, eyes trying to read her face.

He can't and that breaks him most of all. Any trace of warmth is missing.

"I'm doing this for you," says Toby and that's easy to say because it isn't a lie.

It's clear Manny doesn't believe him as she pushes him roughly to the side and starts to the flight attendant. She presents her ticket and stalls before the dark doorway that would take her to California and away from him. Her face is soaked with tears.

"If this is what you really had to tell me?" sobs Manny. "Brutal. I wasn't ready for it."

Toby blinks and she's no longer there. She's gone without a trace of a smile, a last hopeful word. The other passengers become flecks in his blurry eyesight, the seats brown fuzzy dots, the walk strange as he wavers to and fro. He leans against the wall, puts his hands against his sides. A bump meets his right hand. He pulls out his grandmother's ring. It's sharp and he's able to focus on it, the silver shining.

"Did she get on okay?" questions a distant voice.

J.T. stands next to him.

"Thanks," mutters Toby.

"Yeah," says J.T. "Is that her ring?"

Toby's chest starts to heave. His breathing is irregular and fast and he doesn't care because he doesn't feel like breathing.

"Yes," chokes out Toby.

J.T. holds him, and he hugs him back. The speaker announces that the private party at Terminal Two has left, Manny's departure. Toby cries more intensely, the rest of the words dead to his ears. He heard what he needed to hear, the knowledge cold and soothing.

**Please read the author's note on my profile. Thanks.**


	56. Identify

**LVI. Identify**

_Your eyes, they send me to eternity  
Your heart may cast me down to hell  
I'm gone  
But lately it's your love,  
It's condemnation enough_

_Identify  
Please identify  
If it's me you want,  
standing by your side  
Identify  
these tears of mine,  
Am I lonely? or am I just alive?_

_And let time to say  
Who and why we stand  
Its test of love,  
your hands were speaking "no"  
I felt the movement go  
the ice was breaking,  
so I wonder why that I'd  
identify with you my life  
To leave me empty and see if I survive_

_For every questioned hour,  
For every second devoured  
You let me wonder you  
into a myth  
that I  
missed_

_Identify  
Please indetify  
if it's me you want,  
standing by your side  
Identify  
These tears of mine  
Am I lonely or am I just alive?  
Am I lonely or am I just alive?_

**Identify is the property of Natalie Imbruglia and appears in the film _Stigmata_.**

**Author's Note: I've largely decided to continue this because one, I don't like leaving things undone, and two, because of ish78's encouragement both on and off FF. Thanks so much for the push! :hug: I made sure there was enough Sean and Toby for ya.**

** Alright, so we're back to the night of Sean, Jay, and Dale robbing Hill's. Sean has just left to go and find Jay. Ellie found out the truth about Sean being fired earlier that day. Remember, Sean lied to Alex about "his new job". What else? Oh, all the T/M parts are on the same day Manny heads back to L.A. Just think of the storylines as operating on separate days. This will be the case for the next couple chapters. Thanks!**

Sean blinks above the steering wheel again and again. He sees red dots, white lines, blue letters until his focus returns. The wheel is rough against his bruised fingers. He must've used all his vision up while driving because it's hard to retrieve as his car sits idle in the parking lot. Then, through some grace, Lincoln Hospital becomes clear as day.

There was an ambulance parked at the emergency exit. The doors were shut and the vehicle is dark. Maybe it's the vehicle that moved Jay. When he left Dale, he stumbled to his car, the crevices of his mouth wet from blood, his legs weak from exhaustion. He stuck his head out of the window to keep from blacking out. The spindle that they took rattles in his trunk. Thinking returning to Hill's was his best bet, he drove purposely to the scene of the crime. He slowly pulled up to the end of the street and saw two police cars, medical personnel running between the ambulance and the shop to fetch a gurney. Mr. Hill was shaking his head as he talked with a policeman near the side door. A petrified Patrick stood next to him. Someone shouted "let's get him to Lincoln" and that's when he turned a corner and waited for about ten minutes.

Those ten minutes were agony. He had no idea what they were doing to Jay-- sticking things in his arm, or reassuring him, or operating on him. And Jay had to be asking why, why he let it get this far, because for sure, Sean's asking himself that same question. Then again, perhaps Jay is unconscious and his thoughts aren't full of those dark questions.

Sean steps onto the black pavement of the lot, locks his car. After the ten minutes, he stayed in the lot for about twenty. He can see his reflection in the side mirror. There were bruises, welts across his entire face. He looked like he'd seen too many fights. The bigger fight is Dale's warnings against his conscience, has been for weeks. Sean supports himself on the hood of the car momentarily, pushes himself to a stable walking position.

The automatic doors swing open for him. He's kind of glad he doesn't have to pull or push them. Lincoln Hospital is pretty bare at this time of night. Nurses walk by him with cups of water. A toddler sleeps on his nervous mother's lap. The TV near the top of the waiting room area blasts a late night talk show. Warm laughter blasts from the screen. Sean locates the main desk, sees a pretty twentysomething nurse reading a clipboard.

"Hi," says Sean to her.

The aching pressure of his mouth returns and Sean grimaces. Sean makes an apologetic smile, his teeth stinging.

"Oh my," comments the nurse. "What...what happened?"

"I'm...I'm fine," waves off Sean.

A trickle of blood passes his bottom lip and he wipes it with his sleeve. The nurse pouts in sympathy.

"Has...has Jay Hogart been...?" starts Sean.

The request is interrupted by Sean continually coughing. His chest is so sore he can barely stand.

"Let me get the doctor," offers the nurse.

"No...no doctor!" protests Sean, then resolving to stand more firmly. "Jay Hogart? Where is he?"

"He's still in surgery, sweetie," replies the nurse. "I'm not authorized to say anything else...unless you're a family member. We contacted his parents about fifteen minutes ago?"

Sean hadn't thought about what this situation would do to Jay's family. His father would be incredibly upset, and his stepmother wasn't a terribly friendly person the one time Sean met her. You'd think either one of them would be there by now, especially since his stepmother didn't work and was always at home.

"Did...did you call Alex Nunez?" asks Sean.

"No...I...," starts the nurse.

"She's...she's basically the closest thing Jay has to a family member who'd bother coming," says Sean. "Can you call her if I give you the number?"

"I will if you let the doctor check you out," says the nurse. "You'd have to fill out some paperwork..."

That was a deal he could make. The pain is getting more and more intense. He'd just stay mum on what happened to him.

"Okay," says Sean.

Providing her with the number, Sean collapses in a waiting room chair with the paperwork afterwards. The soles of his feet burn. He leans forward to stop his head from spinning. Sean's hoping the doctor can see him before Alex does. Alex or anyone would be able to pick up on his guilty expression from miles away.

Man, what if it had been him? The nurse could be calling his parents or Tracker or most likely Mr. Ehl, who said it'd be alright for Sean to list him as a contact on some official paperwork. They'd tell him how foolish he'd been, trade stares of disappointment. The stare that would hurt him the most would be from Ellie. It would be worse than any pain he's experiencing right now. With trembling fingers, he starts the paperwork, finishes in around twenty minutes.

Sean spies two police officers, a man and a woman, walking to the waiting room. Dale told him not to talk to the cops. Sean hangs his head. What if the nurse knew something was up and told them to question Sean? What if Jay said something before they rushed him to the emergency room? Sean passes them, pretends to stare at the hospital bulletin board full of blood drive information.

"We're going to come tomorrow, miss," says the policeman to the nurse.

"Makes no sense, Jerry," sighs the policewoman in a voice above a whisper. "The kid wasn't armed. Spindle wasn't on his person. I mean, he worked there!"

"Dee, he saw something he wanted and went for it," says her partner. "He obviously knew the place from working in there. What else is there to understand?"

"He must've had an accomplice," says Dee. "When they were patching him up and we were riding here, he seemed like a gentle guy deep down."

"Kid was charming, I'll give him that," says Jerry. "But nobody said criminals don't have charm. Meanwhile, they're up to no good and spend the rest of their lives making you and me work harder. "

"Not this kid. Not this kid," repeats Dee, meditatively.

"Well, I agree on the accomplice issue. In fact, this reminds me of that car ring they busted a few years ago?"

"I was thinking the same thing," admits Dee. "They're getting more sly. Not going after the whole car, just car parts."

"Looks like an investigation," sighs Jerry.

He pats Dee on the back and they leave the hospital, Sean stroking his chin. Jay hasn't talked yet, but Sean's palms are totally clammy. He's relieved that Dale would finally get what's coming to him, but of course, so would he. Sean sits once more, an hour slowly ticking by.

Doors from the right burst open, more light flooding Sean. Two male nurses were wheeling a gurney. Tall body, brown hair, greasy hands, pale face, assesses Sean. Jay is stretched across blue sheets, a white blanket covering most of his body, except for his head. There was a large bulk under the blanket making his right leg appear bigger. His eyes are closed.

"Where we taking him?" asks one male nurse.

"Room C7," replies the other. "Let's get him settled before the morphine wears off."

Sean gulps and puts the room number into his memory. He walks to the gurney.

"How...how is he?" says Sean.

"He made it through," comforts the first male nurse.

"Brother?" guesses the second male nurse.

"Pretty much," replies Sean.

"He's a fighter," says the first nurse. "Made it through the worst. But we gotta move him, son."

Sean nods and allows them to pass, his gaze locked on Jay's stoic, silent expression. He seems smaller as they wheel him away. He seems alone. He seems like the only person in the world.

II.

Ellie taps the seat in front of her with a straw. Mumbles of pre-movie excitement fill her ears. She glances at her ticket. The late night showing of the new Tim Burton film should enthrall her. The plot was about two twisted lovers, an undertaker and an embalmer, finding love in gothic London. She might've gone with Ashley and Marco next month, exchanging whispered critiques as the film rolled on. Instead, she asked Alex. Alex didn't mind. Ellie supposes it's because Alex wouldn't be spending a lot of time in the theater once her lacrosse job began.

Which is more than she can say for Sean. He lost his job. Why didn't he tell her that he was fired? She wouldn't have cared. Being free from Hill's meant he'd be free from Dale and the trip didn't have to happen in November. It isn't like she's an impatient person. Didn't he know that?

She so should've read the signs. Sean was barely in communication with her. She found the past due bill when she was over at his apartment. His cable TV disappeared. But reading signs isn't the same as honesty. With honestly, there's certainty and there's more trust. Ellie sinks into her seat.

Being in her house was unbearable. Her dad kept looking at her as if Ellie had any clue what was going on with Sean. Her mom appeared confused, but stayed silent. Ellie just had to leave. She told Alex what was going on and Alex said nothing, which was pretty unusual for her. Eh, maybe she was surprised too.

"Hot and scorching buttered corn coming through!" announces Alex from down the row of seats.

Alex approaches her with a hot tub of popcorn.

"Scorching is right, babe!" calls a boy in a Metallica T-shirt, his friends hooting their agreement.

"Didn't I see you going with your little sister to see the _Bratz _movie last week?" says Alex.

"My mom made me take her!" defends the boy.

The vocal boy's friends bust out laughing, Alex smiling in triumph at Ellie.

"Putting boys in their place is fun," says Alex.

Ellie takes the napkin Alex hands her without a word.

"Ready to see people get romantic in rooms with the undead?" asks Alex.

Ellie stabs the back of her chair with her straw.

"Yoo hoo?" says Alex. "Newsflash. You invited me. You're not going to talk?"

"Sean didn't," sighs Ellie.

"Ellie, give the boy a break," says Alex.

"I've given him enough breaks!" whispers Ellie, urgently, as the room darkens. "He's been lying for weeks."

"Well, maybe he has a good reason to lie...," says Alex, staring at her popcorn.

What? Does Alex know something?

"Spill, Nunez," says Ellie, folding her arms.

"Oh cool," says Alex, nervously, staring at a preview on the screen. "Someone's trying to kill Harry Potter...again."

Alright. The day Alex is interested in Harry Potter is the day where Tim Burton does a Sesame Street movie.

"Alex," says Ellie, sharply eyeing her.

Sighing, Alex glances at Ellie and shrugs.

"A guy you're dating...may've gotten another job."

Ellie scrunches her forehead.

"A better job," adds Alex with a smile, then throwing a kernel into her mouth.

Another job? Hmmm. Maybe that explains why Sean got a motorcycle out of nowhere. It certainly explains why he hasn't gone back to Hill's. Here she is raking him over the coals in her mind. Ellie rubs the back of her neck.

"Really? I feel like a fool," admits Ellie.

"I pity the fool...," starts Alex.

They both laugh, a boy in front of Ellie shhhing them. The movie is beginning.

"But...I've still got this weird vibe," says Ellie.

"Must be those pesky journalistic instincts," says Alex. "Well, shush them. This time they're wrong."

"How about the two of you shush?" complains the boy in front of them.

"Like you haven't seen this a billion times," returns Alex.

"Well...well, yeah," replies the boy.

Alex's cell goes off, the boy's stare narrowing into a glare. Ellie smiles at him with amusemenet.

"Movie's that way," says Alex, pointing to the screen.

The boy, aware this battle is going nowhere, becomes an avid viewer again as Alex checks the number.

"Who is this?" says Alex, then answering. "Hello?"

Ellie watches as Alex's face drastically changes. She rises, the tub of popcorn spilling to the floor. Alex immediately goes down the row in a hurry. People mutter their complaints as her legs go over theirs. Ellie apologizes as she makes a similar exit. What has Alex so rattled?

"Well, is he...is he...," she hears Alex mutter once they're in the lobby.

Alex bites her lip. Ellie taps her on the shoulder, but Alex brushes away her hand. Then there's a low sob. Alex hangs up and starts for the door.

"Lincoln," breathes Alex. "I gotta go to Lincoln!"

"Lincoln Hospital," says Ellie. "Why?"

"Jay...," and that's all Alex says.

Alex couldn't drive, not like this.

"We'll take a cab," says Ellie.

Alex nods somberly and they quickly exit the theater, passing the mall's stores full of people enjoying their careless summers.

III.

"Wee!" yells a girl going down the slide.

Her thick blonde pigtails bounce up and down the front of her raincoat as her feet hit the ground. Sighing, her mother scolds her for ignoring her warnings not to go down on the wet, metal surface. The girl lets out a cry before her mother picks her up and carries her away.

Everything is wet. Drops of rain hang from the monkey bars. There's a miniscule pool on the lowered half of a seesaw. The jungle gym gleams from a mid-morning shower. Tears glide down the lenses of Toby's glasses. It was grey and humid and practically empty on the playground.

Toby lets the swing go back and forth a little just to hear some noise. The swing elicits a pitiful creak and the chain rattles. His eyes locate a tire swing in the far distance. He remembers how many swoops you could get out of that thing, the joyful cries it produced from Emma...and from Manny.

"_What do they put in these things to make them taste so good?" asked Manny, squeezing her icee with a smile._

_"Artificial junk," condemned Emma, biting into hers anyway. "Everyone, don't forget to recycle your wrappers."_

_"Wow," whispered Toby, appreciatively._

_She was so concerned with the Earth. How could you not find that attractive?_

_"It's just flavored ice, Captain Planet," said J.T. "No one died to make these."_

_Emma's mouth was too full to make any other comments, but she pushed J.T. ahead of her. He went pretty far too seeing as she was taller. Manny giggled. That's something he noticed and liked even back then. Manny always liked to smile._

_"So what do you know about this Simpson guy?" questioned Manny, staring at Emma._

_"Oooh," teased J.T., then singing in a girlish voice. "Manny has a crush on Simpson. Manny has a crush on Simpson_..."

_"Shut up!" interrupted Manny._

_"Or what?" returned J.T._

_"I'll tell Toby here all about your stuffed Alf doll," said Manny._

_Toby laughed, J.T. turning red._

_"That's a collector's item!" defended J.T. "He had his own show and it was funny. At least I didn't sleep with a Papa Smurf 'til I was nine!"_

_"Papa Smurf rocks," says Manny, getting into the tire swing with Emma._

_"Papa Smurf sucks," says J.T._

_He barely heard this conversation as he was staring at Emma swinging from side to side, her blonde hair glinting in the sun. Okay, no, no. They just met. He shouldn't be looking at her like that, but man, was she pretty._

_"So Toby, tell us about yourself," encouraged Manny, breaking him from crush mode._

_"Instead of salivating over Emma," whispered J.T. to him._

_Toby elbowed him, and was glad neither of the girls could hear._

_"There's not a lot to tell," said Toby._

_"Come on," nudged Emma. "Anything. We're nosy."_

_"Especially me," said Manny, with a warm grin._

_Well, since Emma asked, he bit._

_"Um, my parents are divorced," offered Toby. "My dad moved us here so we could live with his girlfriend and her daughter."_

_"So you've got like a stepsister?" said Manny._

_"Yeah," said Toby. "She's kind of annoying."_

_He and J.T. started to climb the jungle gym, the top situated above the tire swing Emma and Manny are situated on. Emma smacked her lips together and Manny laid lazily against her half._

_"I've got a brother," shared Manny. "He's annoying too."_

_"I have two best friends that are girls," added J.T. "That's annoying, too."_

_"Shut up!" yelled Manny and Emma at the same time._

_Toby stayed quiet, produced a small grin as he bit into his icee. He and J.T. bonded pretty quickly at North Week Summer Camp. It was mainly because Toby was up for whatever J.T. wanted to do. They pranked the counsellors with plastic rats and threw water balloons at the bully who got on Toby for running slow in the relay races. These girls seemed as nice as J.T. He didn't like that they talked about guys so much, but they were girls._

_As the two girls swung, J.T. made a "pssst" sound, revealed two water guns that he'd tucked into his pockets. Toby chuckled and nodded. He'd probably go for Manny since he didn't want Emma to be mad at him. Then again, it might get Emma's attention._

_"Toby should sit with us since he doesn't know anyone from our elementary school," said Manny, nodding with confidence._

_"Yeah," encouraged Emma._

_That would be nice. Chances were that they did know half the kids that would be in Simpson's class and in all the other classes. He wouldn't know the other kids._

_"Thanks," said Toby._

_"Try not to barf at Manny's unicorn stickers," warned J.T., laughing._

_"That was so grade five. I'm twelve now!" cried Manny. _

_"Barely," said J.T., accidentally dropping his wrapper._

_"You did not!" complains Emma. "Pick it up."_

_"Em, it...it was an accident," said J.T._

_"Pick it up!" repeated Emma._

_J.T. beamed and whispered to Toby, "Watch this."_

_He got down from the jungle gym and did pick up the wrapper. Then, to Emma's horror, threw it in the trash can and not into the recycling receptacle. Emma gasped._

_"Do you know how many birds choke on plastic items every year?" cried Emma. "All it takes is them swooping down and swallowing..."_

_Toby decided to tune her lecture out. J.T. seemed to be getting more amusement from getting a rise out of Emma than anyone else. Manny also appeared pretty bored. He made his way to the tire swing, pushed her a little as Emma and J.T.'s voices got softer and softer._

_"Do you have a bunch of friends back home that you miss?" said Manny._

_He hated to tell her the truth._

_"No," said Toby. "I'm pretty quiet."_

_"So am I," said Manny. "Until I like something. Then I talk all the time."_

_Toby laughed. "What do you like?"_

_"Dancing and gymnastics and movies and...yeah, it's a big list," answered Manny. "What do you like?"_

_"Computers," he replies with no hesitance._

_"And Emma," said Manny, glancing at him with a smile._

_"No...no, I don't," stammered Toby._

_"That's fine. Deny it," said Manny, with a wink. "But I bet you'll learn to like me too."_

_"Okay," said Toby, shyly, pushing her a final time. "We'll see."_

Somehow, before J.T. and Emma returned, and before they assaulted Emma and Manny with water guns, after ribbing Emma about her "boyfriend" Jordan, he kind of knew Manny was right. He did like her.

Today, he's pushed her away, though, not a few feet like on the tire swing, but a few thousand miles to Los Angeles. Toby held onto his Star of David necklace as the rain began to stop. He put it on that morning, before reading the e-mails and before they went to the airport. He loved that she had one, too. It's the only part of Manny he can hold.

She must really hate him. They spent all those beautiful moments together. He reassured her countless times, then pulled the blanket right from under her, from them. He told her lie after lie to make her leave and maybe it's best if she does forget him.

When they got to his house, Toby leaned against his car. It was formerly Bubbe's car. Bubbe's ring, which should've been Manny, brushed against the car's side door through his pants. He would've taken his car, but he was in no state to drive. J.T. asked him where do you want to go and he said, simply, to the playground. His friend probably found that a strange request. Toby didn't care. This is where he gave Manny her first real present as not a friend, but a boyfriend. He gave her the movie camera necklace after they had fun drawing with the community center kids. Manny looked so touched that he came. In return, he felt so touched that Manny paid for Kytel. Neither of them saw all this coming. They were simple, sweet days that have trickled away and he feels as if he can barely hold onto them in his heart.

"Toby?" says a voice in the distance.

Moments later, J.T.'s sneakers appear under Toby's lowered head.

"Hey," says Toby, sniffling.

"Man, I haven't been to this place in ages," says J.T., glancing around him. "Since..."

"Since before grade seven," fills in Toby.

"Yeah," muses J.T. "I don't even remember my voice being that high. Do you?"

This may've been an attempt to lighten his mood, but Toby's mood is far from light. J.T. exhales loudly and winds an arm around the arm of the swingset.

"Thanks," says Toby.

"For what?" says J.T.

"For...coming after the stuff I said at the convention..."

"Toby, that doesn't matter anymore," assures J.T.

What does matter anymore? Some of the things he thought didn't matter, like helping Kendra or communicating with Justin, cost him. Now, there's barely anything left that matters. He couldn't take the internship because of the negativity connected to it. His father would hate him for talking to Justin. Clara probably wouldn't believe him. Manny hates him. She...

"She...she hates me," chokes out Toby, his tears running furiously.

"No...no," insists J.T., crouching next to him. "She doesn't. She won't. She..."

"I've hurt her so many times, J.T.," continues Toby. "With Clara. With Kendra. I waited to tell her that I loved her. Now...I can't tell her at all."

"Things will work...," begins J.T.

"No, they won't," interrupts Toby. "She told me that she hates that she fell in love with me. Not to talk to her..."

"Manny was upset," says J.T.

Toby shakes his head continuously. J.T. wasn't there. He didn't witness the look in her eyes, the mix of anger and betrayal. He didn't witness Manny disappearing in a flash to get away from him.

"She told me she fell for me because I had a big heart?" says Toby. "I wish I never used it."

"Tobes...you...you don't mean that," says J.T., his brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah," sobs Toby. "I do."

J.T. rubs his eyes momentarily. The lack of talking forces Toby to raise his head up and meet J.T.'s gaze.

"You can't let him win," says J.T. with full confidence.

"Justin?" says Toby. "He's already won."

"You didn't send Manny off for nothing, alright?" exclaims J.T. "Nobody has any clue where he is, right? Or who these guys are? Or what they're capable of? You sent Manny somewhere safe. I would've done the same for Liberty."

Despite his inability to picture anyone else in his situation, Toby is a bit comforted by those words. But the lack of information is killing him. What should they do?

"Justin's unaware of where Manny is?" says J.T.

"I think," answers Toby, wiping his cheeks. "I mean, he knew about the camp. He's really skilled on the computers, though. He could hack his way into my e-mail, find where I live, where Manny lives if he looks in the right places. When Manny comes home to T.O., where I can't protect her, I..."

J.T.'s confident expression seems to soften with that knowledge. He releases a deep breath.

"Like going into the Degrassi school records?" says J.T.

"Uh-huh," says Toby, then clearing his throat. "And they like update those every summer."

"When?" says J.T., raising his eyebrows.

"Late August for old students," replies Toby, remembering the Student Council handbook. "Early September for new ones."

"That's...that's good then!" says J.T. "Manny's address would be listed as being at Emma's."

Emma's? J.T.'s completely right. Toby rises from the swing, J.T. grinning at him.

"We could move her to the Santoses," realizes Toby.

They could. It would take a lot of work, but Manny did have most of her things packed up and ready.

"Yeah," says J.T. "And...we should probably call your dad. Or like the police?"

Now, that one was a bad idea. Toby would have to tell him everything and he's not sure what Justin's reaction would be. They might have to wait on that, or not. Toby passes J.T., stares at the jungle gym.

"I don't know what to do," admits Toby.

He's hoping that J.T. will have a clearer mind so he turns to him.

"Me either," admits J.T.

Toby rests his hand on the cold, wet bar of the jungle gym, stares at the two lonely swings creaking in the wind, the chains seeming to shiver.

IV.

"You're going to need stitches, son," comments the doctor, tenderly turning Sean's head. "What happened again?"

Sean plays with the sleeve of his jacket. Throughout the examination, he's kept his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He wouldn't talk to the doctor, or to the nurse writing down some information. No, he just wanted to get patched up and leave after checking on Jay. The doctor keeps staring at him, though. An excuse would make the exit easier.

"Walked...into a wall," offers Sean.

"Any bruises anywhere else?" says the doctor.

"Uh..."

Yes, he says in his head. His chest, thighs, back, and legs hurt from the events of tonight.

The doctor stares at him quizzically, goes to a corner with the nurse. They whisper. Sean's able to hear only two words: "parent" and "abuse". Yeah, he figures the wall excuse was pretty sketchy. He can reassure him that these wounds aren't from a parent. When he saw Craig's bruises several years ago, they were terrifying, large and purple and unfortunately, a repetitive thing in his childhood. Dale is far from his parent and he's glad for that. He didn't ever have to see him anymore. The memory of Dale calling him "my boy" and then himself "Daddy Dearest" rings in his ears, however. He wanted to forget it. He can't forget that Ty is there, around that sick monster. Sean snaps out of it as he feels a tender hand on his knee. The nurse stares at him with concerned, blue eyes.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else you want to tell us?" asks the nurse.

There's nothing else to tell, unless it meant he'd be getting arrested or shot.

"I...I'm fine," replies Sean, hopping off the examination table.

"At least let us do the stitches," says the doctor, nodding to the table. "Your wounds are pretty deep..."

"No," dismisses Sean.

He walks briskly from their sight, down the long hall of the hospital. They were asking too many questions. He'd have to find Jay later. These rapid thoughts cease as he makes out two familiar people at the end of the hall. Alex is wiping her nose, dismally peering into the tiny window of the hospital room. Ellie, hair away from her face, strokes Alex's heaving shoulders.

There's space in between them, space he'd like to erase. But how to explain himself when he got there to where they stood? Not wanting to talk has kind of become habitual. The hall is so quiet you could hear a thermometor drop.

"God, Jay," breathes Alex, her olive-skinned fingers covering her face.

She turns to let Ellie embrace her. He'd like to embrace her, too...can't. He can't.

Sean goes in the opposite direction, his stomach churning madly. He passes the nurse he saw initially when he came in. She still looks like she cares the second time. He thinks he doesn't deserve it. The night is going by, disappearing. He closes his eyes and breathes in the fading darkness.

V.

"Going in would help," suggests J.T.

Toby's gaze scans the red brick wall, the white domes on the roof, the clean, arched windows. The synagogue is new and looked it. Peace seemed to emanate from its careful construction and demure demeanor. There is no harm. Is there harm on the horizon? He hates that that's even a possibility.

Why would anyone want to bother him? He's non-threatening, got along with most people, and didn't want to change anything. The very idea that someone is that interested, that interested in causing him to "watch his back" is stupefying. Even more unfathomable is the idea that they'd want to hurt Manny. She was so sweet and thoughtful.

"I'll wait here for you," says J.T.

Toby nods weakly, then climbs the few steps to the entrance. Rabbi Miller usually came in Sundays to plan the service a week in advance. While Confirmation classes were still going, he'd ask his students what topics "the youth" would be interested in and they gave him some leads. Sometimes they heard the topics on Saturdays and identify who suggested what, and then the next week, Rabbi Miller would deliver some key insights for couples or singles or the older members of the congregation. He loved including everyone, hearing everyone.

So Toby hopes he doesn't mind listening to him today. He walks to the wooden door and knocks.

"Yes, come in!" greets Rabbi Miller.

"Rabbi Miller?" says Toby, loudly. "It's me. Toby Isaacs?"

"Come in, Toby!" says Rabbi Miller, more warmly.

Toby parts the door and waves, then closes the door. Rabbi Miller gestures for him to take a seat. Toby sits.

"You weren't at service yesterday," scolds Rabbi Miller, playfully. "Hmmm."

"Sorry," says Toby.

"Ah, you were probably exhausted from your trip," says Rabbi Miller with a smile. "I've never been to the West. No, no. I have family in New York. Quite...an interesting place."

That elicits the first wide grin on Toby's face and it clearly pleases Rabbi Miller.

"That's where the young people like to go, right?" says Rabbi Miller. "I'm not so old."

"Some young people," agrees Toby.

"How is your mother? Your father?"

"Good," supplies Toby.

"J.T.? Manny?" goes on Rabbi Miller.

Toby's smile fades in a matter of seconds and he lowers his eyes. Rabbi Miller sits up in his chair.

"What's the trouble, Toby?" encourages Rabbi Miller.

He came here to divulge everything, get it off his chest. Besides his dad and Clara's uncle, Rabbi Miller is the nearest thing to an understanding adult that would completely see where he was coming from. It's not like Rabbi Miller would be shocked by Justin's actions. He met with the elders about what happened at the Confirmation after party. They banned him. They might be able to do something...now.

Toby opens his mouth, closes it. Wouldn't he have to own up to a lot? He went to Justin's house while he was supposed to be at the library. When various people told him to break off contact with him, he contacted Justin, largely because of Clara. Then, he'd have to confess to Clara that he told her troubled boyfriend to take a hike. Ugh. He didn't even treat Rick that way in his last days. Toby shakes his head.

"I've heard some pretty weighty topics in this office, Toby," continues Rabbi Miller. "You and I have talked about the events of last year, your faith, your fears. No pressure, though. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing."

He wishes people would stop saying that. No pressure. It's like when there are days that have no pressure, he can enjoy it only before other horrible things spring out of nowhere.

Toby tries to remember the notes of the e-mail Justin sent. He hates to do it, but he's certainly curious.

"The Zionist movement," says Toby, then nothing else.

"Oh, yes," says Rabbi Miller, happily. "Particularly exhilirating after the Holocaust. We've discussed it in class."

"There isn't...isn't anything racist about it?" stammers Toby.

"No. It's pride about our culture," replies Rabbi Miller. "The movement's been supported by Christians, Muslims, countless others. Nothing's separate, or black and white."

"That's how it should be?"

"Most definitely."

Then why isn't it? For Justin? For this group? Why aren't they getting it and why won't they leave him and Manny alone? Toby stares into Rabbi Miller's eyes. The disturbing image of himself, Rabbi Miller, and Hitler with Manny's body resurfaces and he feels nauseous. Toby stands with a firm push on the seat's armrest to get him up.

"Toby?" says Rabbi Miller, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Don't tell anyone I asked," sighs Toby, unable to greet his gaze any longer.

Toby bursts through the doors of the synagogue, J.T. trailing him as he heads to the car.

"What'd he say?" asks J.T.

"Nothing," answers Toby. "I told him nothing."

"Toby..."

"Let's go, J.T. Please."

J.T. clicks his tongue, yet obliges. The ten minute drive is silent, a sour taste in his mouth remaining. That's what these truths are-- sour and unsaid. Toby leaves the car after J.T. parks at the curb. Without him questioning it, J.T. has elected not to leave and go with Toby to the front door. He's getting the feeling J.T. is in it for the long run, which is comforting.

"Calling your dad?" says J.T.

"I don't know," says Toby.

"Maybe Simpson? Or that Christian guy?" continues J.T.

"I don't know, J.T.!" exclaims Toby. "Just..."

They've reached the door, Toby's shoe catching on to something solid. It's a bundle. J.T. and Toby exchange fervent glances, J.T. finally touching it.

"Oooh," he moans, immediately pulling away his hand.

Toby kicks the white cloth with his shoe. Out tumbles shards of silver. Together they made a sign-- the Star of David. The cloth reads: "_Traitor. We're watching you_."

"Toby, if you don't call your dad, I will," says J.T.

Justin found his street, his house. There's nothing he can do, but talk. He kicks the shards into the grass, near some red roses Kate planted. Tney sink into the dirt, shaded by the petals.

"J.T.," says Toby. "Let's call."

VI.

Emily Nunez came for Alex at around two. Alex refused to leave. Ellie didn't want to either, but Emily insisted she go home or at least call her parents. Who knows where Chad was, and he actually liked Jay. Ellie did call her father, had to since that night she spent with Sean caused her parents to grow distrustful of her.

She hated that she was distrustful of Sean. Only...some of the pieces were missing. Why the concern about Dale if he's not working with Dale anymore? Did Jay have anything to do with it? The biggest bit of evidence is unfortunately lying in a hospital bed after having been shot by somebody who hasn't been caught. That is, unless Sean hasn't heard about Jay being shot at his former job. Why is she here then?

Ellie hugs Alex from the side. A box of tissues is housed between Alex's legs. She couldn't help but think that hours earlier, there had been a tub of popcorn there.

"My cell's on," informs Ellie.

"Okay," mutters Alex.

Alex barely spoke since they arrived, but Ellie can't blame her.

"I'll be here first thing in the morning," she tells Emily.

"Thank you," says Emily.

Going to a corner, she wonders where Mr. Hogart and his wife is, if they got any news on their son. She has never met them. Sean has, but they were just as mysterious to him. Ellie shakes her head and dials Sean. No answer.

"Ugh," mutters Ellie, pushing through the hospital's doors.

Luckily, the cabs were running like clockwork. Lincoln was next to an airport and tourist season was at its height during the summer. She flags one down and it sputters to Sean's apartment building. Ellie's relieved to spy Ray as soon as she enters. He's putting notices into each of the tenant mailboxes.

"Hi Ray!" calls Ellie. "Seen Sean?"

"You kids stay up late," jokes Ray. "Been up late doing the bills. I thought I saw his car when I went to get some air."

"Thanks," says Ellie.

Okay, now that she's here, she's not certain how to deliver the news. No one wants to tell their boyfriend that their best friend has been shot. Thank goodness Jay pulled through or else...she didn't want to dwell on what could've been. Ellie sighs.

"Sean!" shouts Ellie, banging on the door.

There's movement and she can hear feet scrambling to get to the door. She's kind of glad that she doesn't have to locate her key. That way, they can hop in his car if Sean wanted to take a trip to the hospital immediately.

"El?" says a faint voice from the other end.

"It's important," says Ellie.

The locks unlatch, Ellie flipping her hair back. That was a fortunate thing, she supposes, as she can see Sean's wounds all the clearer. Ellie's mouth parts as she takes in the blood and welts covering Sean's own. His blue eyes blink as he winces.

"Ellie," he breathes before tumbling into her arms.

Her heart beats slowly as her hands can barely hold him. Good thing that's all she wants to do.

"Sean!" cries Ellie.

Sean holds her back, taking in slow, rushed breaths. A couple drops of blood fall onto the shoulder of her shirt. Ellie holds the back of his head.

"Ray!" shouts Ellie.

Ray stumbles up the first floor.

"Oh...oh!" groans Ray, taking Sean from her.

His eyes close. Why are his eyes closing? Don't close them, she begs inwardly.

"We'll take him to the hospital in my car," sighs Ray, guiding Sean down the steps.

Sean stumbles on the last step, Ellie crouching down with him.

"I can get him to the car," says Ellie. "Just...please, please get it!"

Ray nods, races to the street. Ellie rubs Sean's forehead and gently helps him rise to his feet. His head finds her shoulder. Her cell rings. She fumbles for it, sighs as she spies her dad's number.

"Dad!" exclaims Ellie through her tears. "It's Sean!"

"Ellie? Okay, okay, calm down," says John. "What's wrong?"

Sean groans, claws absent-mindedly for any support. Ellie bends under his weight. He becomes almost invisible in her wet vision.

"Dad, I need you," cries Ellie. "Sean...he's in pain. He's in so much pain."


	57. What A Feeling

**LXII. What A Feeling**

_First when there's nothing  
but a slow glowing dream  
that your fear seems to hide  
deep inside your mind.  
All alone I have cried  
silent tears full of pride  
in a world made of steel,  
made of stone._

_Well, I hear the music,  
close my eyes, feel the rhythm,  
wrap around, take a hold  
of my heart._

_What a feeling.  
Bein's believin'.  
I can have it all, now I'm dancing for my life._

_Take your passion  
and make it happen.  
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life._

_Now I hear the music,  
close my eyes, I am rhythm.  
In a flash it takes hold  
of my heart._

_What a feeling.  
Bein's believin'.  
I can have it all, now I'm dancing for my life._

_Take your passion  
and make it happen.  
Pictures come alive, now I'm dancing through my life._

_What a feeling.  
What a feeling I am music now  
Bein's believin'. I am rhythm now  
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life.  
What a feeling. You can really have it all.  
What a feeling. Pictures come alive when I call  
I can have it all (I can really have it all)  
Have it all (pictures come alive when I call)  
Call call call call what a feeling  
I can have it all (bein's believin')  
Bein's believin'(take your passion)  
Make it happen  
make it happen (what a feeling)  
what a feeling (bein's believin') _

**What A Feeling is the property of Irene Cara for the film _Flashdance_.  
I Love Me Some Him is the property of Toni Braxton.**

**I Hate Myself for Loving You is the property of Joan Jett.**

**Author's Note: The Emma scene takes place the same day as when they took Hannah to the elementary school. The CrAsh scenes take place the night of Ashley and Mark's duet. Thanks.**

They're holding hands. They're actually holding hands as a boyfriend and a girlfriend. She hasn't planned any of this, which is, of course, the funny part. It just felt right to ask Spinner the question, arguably the question he's been waiting for.

She hopes being official won't change anything. With Chris, they got distant pretty quickly once they started attaching labels to what they were, and with Sean, things became more complicated. She liikes to think she's matured since then. To her credit, she basically did get over the fact that he and Manny were intimate. The two of them never acted weird about it so why should she? Also, she apologized to Spinner when she had that outburst at the Tar Pits. The old Emma, too full of pride, hated to apologize. So she's willing to bet this try of a relationship will be good for her, for both of them.

Emma and Spinner stand near the door leading to Ms. Haskell's room. The secretary was going to bring Hannah to them after Emma completed the paperwork.

"Too bad we had to give the sword back," kids Spinner.

"Why? You want to jab somebody?" laughs Emma.

Spinner shrugs, smiles. "Or kiss somebody."

Before their lips can touch, there's the sound of a cleared throat. They grin guiltily at the secretary who lead them to Mrs. Haskell's room. She has a stern look on her face rather than the pleased expression she's had on all day.

"Where's Hannah?" questions Emma.

"I thought it best we chat for a bit," says the secretary.

She leads Spinner and Emma to a corner just outside the classroom. Emma isn't sure what this means. Did they find out that Kel had had no idea that Emma brought Hannah here? Was their lie about Spinner being Hannah's relative going to backfire? Emma wrung her hands together.

"Hannah's...well, Hannah's very clingy," begins the secretary.

"Clingy?" cries Emma.

"She's only talked to one child since you two left the classroom," shares the secretary. "Shuns the others who try to talk to her."

"So?" says Spinner. "This is...like her first day. Not even her first day really."

"Yeah," agrees Emma.

"Maybe I should be more explicit," says the secretary. "Usually, when there's behavior out of the norm, it's recommended that the child be evaluated. Hannah's exhibiting some traits of social anxiety, maybe depression..."

"What?" interrupts Emma.

"Peer rejection, extreme self-consciousness...maybe I'm reading her wrong. Does she have friends at home? Does she go to many social gatherings? I imagine being an Andrews daughter would necessitate that."

Emma shifts her gaze. Yes, Hannah is a loner, but maybe if they left her alone, she could make friends and not have to put up with these intrusive people.

"She's home-schooled...it's not her fault!" shouts Emma.

"Emma!" whispers Spinner, urgently.

So what if she's yelling at this secretary? All she cares about is having an Andrews child at this school, not Hannah's education. She can see right through her.

"I wasn't saying it's her fault," insists the secretary. "Look, it's not my place to say. And Hannah wouldn't be the first. We've had children struggling with anxiety, depression, ADHD..."

Emma glances at Spinner, who nods in recognition.

"Whatever Hannah needs or doesn't need, we do want what is best for her," finishes the secretary. "I'll go get her."

She disappears as quickly as she came. It's a relief for both of them seeing as though Emma had basically snapped her head off. The conversation just made her react that way. Perhaps it's the memory of hearing her own mother and grandmother discussing Emma's emotional state the day she went to Craig's party. Shouldn't the person who is having the emotions have some say in how to handle the emotions? If she didn't want to see or talk to Snake, that should be fine. If she wanted to be mad at Manny for bailing on her to be with Toby, that should be understandable. If she wanted to be alone, they should let her. She's allowed to feel...anything, right?

"They ran some tests before I was diagnosed," offers Spinner. "Then, an interview with a doctor. I was always distracted in school. My mom said I had a busy body. I told my teacher that, and that's when I realized a _busybody_ isn't the same thing."

"At home, I'm busy, and never tired," says Emma. "Then, sometimes I want to be alone. I mean...it's got my grandmother worried, but..it's nothing. With Hannah, it's nothing. It's who we are, you know?"

Spinner is probably humoring her as it takes a long time for him to provide her with a comforting smile. Hannah would open up in no time and Emma would deal with her issues at home when she needed to, not in California where Hannah comes first.

"I drew a castle!" exclaims Hannah as she appears, bounding away from the secretary to hug Emma's waist.

"You did!" cries Emma in mock astonishment.

"With a drawbridge," says Hannah, proudly.

"I do hope you'll return, Hannah," says the secretary gently, obviously still wary after her conversation with Emma.

"We'll see," returns Emma, simply.

"I promised Nikeyah that I would show her how to draw a dragon," says Hannah with wide eyes.

Nikeyah must be the child Hannah latched onto after they left, reasons Emma.

"Oh, you wouldn't be in Nikeyah's class, I'm pretty sure," says the secretary. "You'd be in first or second grade."

"But...Nikeyah's nice," stammers Hannah. "I...I thought...I'd be with people I knew. That's what Emma said."

"I meant Marty, and he was in the class today," explains Emma.

"Not coming then," says Hannah, crossing her arms.

"You liked Mrs. Haskell's class, didn't you?" says Emma, bending down to be level with Hannah.

"I don't wanna come if Nikeyah isn't there," replies Hannah.

"Celebrity kids," murmurs the secretary, although plenty loud for Emma to hear.

"In no way is she spoiled!" blasts Emma. "Look, lady, it's pretty clear you want her to come because her dad's influential. Let's not beat around the bush!"

"Uh...," says Spinner, yet choosing not to interfere.

"That accusation is...," starts the secretary.

"A good one," finishes Emma. "We're leaving. Let's go, Hannah."

Hannah quietly follows Emma to Boomer's car, Spinner not far behind. Emma sighs heavily as she puts on her seatbelt. She may've cost Hannah her enrollment at a school she liked. They wouldn't admit her now after she went after one of their employees. The goal was to put Hannah in a place where she'd be with other people and the end result is Hannah heading home to a place with an absent set of parents.

"That woman was mean," says Hannah, the insult sounding a bit sweet since it came from her mouth. "Did you like the school, Spinner?"

"Yeah, it was cool," says Spinner, glancing at her from his side mirror. "I would go."

Hannah folds her drawing as the car moves out into the street. Emma looks at her, happy to view Hannah staring at the back of her seat with a thoughtful expression. She's obviously reconsidering. If only she had things to reconsider to make her happier, moans Emma inwardly. That's when the image of a key comes to mind. Emma truly hasn't reconsidered Snake's offer to take the key and visit him at his new place. She's certainly thought about it, but not with the depth it deserves. Too many dark thoughts would surface, involving Spike's loneliness or the frantic nature of their home or Snake's infidelity, and the key wouldn't seem worth a thought. He's been doing a lot for her and her mother lately. Maybe it is worth another thought.

"I really hope I didn't ruin Hannah's chances," whispers Emma to Spinner.

"At the end of the day, you're the one who's actually doing something for her," consoles Spinner. "I think she knows it, too."

Emma grins, lets her hair whip in the wind, under the sun's warm rays. A paper appears over her shoulder. It's Hannah's castle, a blonde princess resembling Emma standing next to it, with a pink hat and a smile. Hannah had even colored Emma's wide smile white.

II.

"Try holding your breath," suggests Craig, massaging Ashley's shoulders.

She's tried that, gulped water, breathed in and out. No trick is working. The hiccups are here to stay. They're mocking her like the people in the audience, crammed to the brim in the auditorium, might mock her.

They were in a nice set-up backstage. There were make-up mirrors for the musicians, a large space for their instruments to sit, and little stalls for changing clothes. Most of the roadies were taking a break after lugging in the equipment. Craig, the extra roadie, was spending his break with her.

The hiccups have arrived because of an intense increase in nerves. She and Mark got through the rehearsal okay. Minus the discussion over the red dress, there wasn't any awkwardness either. Mark was more into the music than in directing her career, or maybe that's part of his directing her? He did, after all, select the songbook. Whatever. All their eyes would be on her and they'd have no idea what lengths she went to to make a good impression on them. There's the haircut, the song choice, and the time-eating practices. If they didn't like it, what would they like?

Ashley hiccups. "I...can't...sing...like...this."

"Do you want me to scare you?" says Craig.

"I'm...scared...enough," says Ashley, holding her throat.

"Ugh, what did I use to do to Angie?" thinks Craig aloud, then snapping his fingers. "I made her laugh!"

"Too...frightened...to laugh," says Ashley.

Hmm, well, she said two words without hiccuping. That's promising.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Marco kissed me?" says Craig.

"What?" shrieks Ashley, making everyone stare.

Ashley raises her eyebrows, waits a full thirty seconds. The hiccups have retreated and she's laughing soundly. Craig chuckles.

"It was when we were dating," goes on Craig. "To make Dylan jealous."

"Guess it worked," teases Ashley. "But...keyboard players are better than accordion players."

"Definitely," assures Craig, kissing the top of her head.

"Thanks," says Ashley. "Guess it's time for me to get changed."

"Basic black," says Craig.

"That's how I work it," sighs Ashley.

The choice of basic black is somewhat of a personal choice. She doesn't want anything to overshadow the music, especially music that she's not one hundred percent behind. Their song was one of a few decent ones in the book. The sleeveless, black sweater and long skirt is chic, comfortable, and not that boring. It looked good with her new hair.

Ashley slips off the stool of the make-up mirror and heads to a changing stall. The bouncy rhythms from Dashiel's guitar run across her ears as she starts to unbutton her jeans. She can hear something else beyond the thin curtains of the stall.

"_The Tart_ is here," whispers a voice Ashley thinks is Sarah Lincoln's. "How buzz-killin'."

"What you gobbin' about now?" says Aja.

"They're good at skewering musicians," sighs Sarah. "Miss a step and they're rapt to slaughter you in their review. They covered my friend's concert in the West End. She quit after they lampooned the poor girl."

"How old was she then?" asks Aja.

"Around that girl Ashley's age," supplies Sarah. "Oh, you need a heart of steel for the way they blabber on so. Singing with Mark should help Ashley, though."

"She's singing a solo, too," informs Aja.

"Poor thing," comments Sarah. "Well, hopefully she has something to spice up her set. We all know the press hasn't been too kind to her."

That's the last of the words, and all Ashley needed to hear. She stoops to the floor, hugging her knees. She only hoped the audience would like her, and now this? One of the meanest critics is in the house? Ashley breathes deeply and exits the stall.

Her body meets another, her duet partner blinking in surprise at her.

"I'm bailing," says Ashley, crossing her arms.

"What for?" asks Mark.

"_The Tart_ or whatever can call someone else boring or amateur or pathetic or..." begins Ashley.

"Who's filling your head with this nonsense?" interrupts Mark. "Ashley, if you go along with what we rehearsed, there shouldn't be a problem. They've given me favorable reviews and they will this time, especially when I play with you. _The Tart_ will eat you up. Get it? _The Tart_ will eat...oh."

Ashley shakes her head, grinning despite the lameness of the joke.

"And if you're interested, the red dress is hanging next to my leather jacket," says Mark. "It'll make you look amazing."

Right, thinks Ashley. The dress that held no appeal for her. It certainly held the appeal of those Mark fans earlier. Ashley stares into the stall, her black sweater and skirt folded neatly on a chair. They looked far from spicy.

"Leather meets leather," says Ashley, shrugging.

"That's what I was thinking," says Mark, raising his hand for a high five. "We're a team. Kennick and Kerwin."

"Points for alliteration," mutters Ashley, high-fiving him.

"Brilliant!" praises Mark. "We're on in seven."

Ashley nods and hurries to the clothing racks, sifting through some simple dresses and outfits the other musicians had selected. Maybe when she's established it won't matter what she wears, but today, she doesn't want to take a chance.

"I thought you had your clothes," says Craig, touching her waist gently.

"Um...something came for me," says Ashley, hesitantly. "First-class treatment, right? Figure I'll wear something different and see the crowd's reaction."

"Can I get a sneak peek?" questions Craig, turning her around.

"No," answers Ashley, pushing him away by pressing a hanger to his chest.

"Mysterious," says Craig with a smile. "Okay."

Well, no matter what _The Tart_ said, in the end, she's always got one positive review she can count on, and he had no trouble voicing it. Ashley hugs Craig.

"Whoa," says Craig, happily. "What's that for?"

"For an anticipated standing ovation...from you?" encourages Ashley. "You will, won't you? I could use the support."

Craig looks her in the eye. "My only question is...which side do you want me on?"

Ashley strokes his cheeks as the stage lights glow beyond Craig's back.

III.

Emma places the cursor on the right, scrolls down the page. The cursor moves at her leisure. She goes by a picture of a professor lecturing to students on a green lawn, a female holding up two test tubes, and a young couple breezily walking in a courtyard. Whenever she went to this website, it was with the intention of eventually applying there. The University of Toronto is the nearest to home and the tuition isn't horrifying or anything.

Never once did she think that Snake would be there before her. If Snake were coming at all, she thought it would be because of one of those embarrassing parent's weekends, when the students are reminded that they actually are barely adults and the parents drop off care packages to remind you of their importance. Instead, she's debating whether to visit _him_ at the university.

"Emma, can you show me the dancing picture?" calls Hannah from Edwina's bathroom.

"Tomorrow," replies Emma.

Hannah exits the bathroom with the crown she got from the classroom still perched atop her head. Emma had had no success in getting her to remove it. The girl was intent on wearing it to bed.

"Are you going to marry Spinner?" asks Hannah, leaning on the arm of Emma's chair.

"What?" cries Emma, turning a bright shade of red.

"You guys had a true love's kiss," says Hannah. "And he can beatbox. His friend Jimmy taught him how. Not everyone can do that."

"I want to graduate college before that's even an option," says Emma, earnestly.

"Is that where you're going?" says Hannah, pointing to the screen.

"Maybe," admits Emma.

"What's the difference between a college and a university?" questions Hannah.

"There's not much difference really," replies Emma.

That was a pretty decent question. But this interview would have to be short-lived because Hannah needed to go to bed. Emma taps her watch and Hannah gives in to the signal without resistance.

They were both tired. Spinner dropped them off and made his way to Boomer's competition. He still hasn't received word from Kendra, and promised to phone Emma if he needed her. The way they said good-bye was different, unlike the comparison of a college and university. They parted with a full-length kiss, Emma resting her hands on Spinner's chest, Spinner's hand holding her neck. Emma's elbow nearly hit the door when it was over because she was so into it. Luckily, Hannah raced to her bedroom so they could enjoy it for as long as they desired. Hannah wished to locate Manny and tell her about Emma's acting, because Emma forgot to tell her that Manny had fled the coop. She hopes Manny is enjoying herself with Toby because honestly, she needed it.

About to click out of the website, Emma spies a banner promoting the university's psychology program. The school is tops in child psychology, especially. It makes her recall the testy discussion between her and the know-it-all secretary. The secretary wasn't a psychologist so who is she to evaluate anyone? Emma clicks on the link and brings up a page on anxiety. The symptoms are in bold.

"Irritability, insomnia or restless sleep, depression, headaches, heart palpitations, shortness of breath, avoiding social situations...," reads Emma, shaking her head. "Hannah has like one of these."

In fact, Hannah slept with ease. Emma would like that luxury. As for shortness of breath, heart palpitations, and irritability? They were totally absent. Emma's experienced some of those things, though she has it all under control. She's craved control ever since she was little.

Emma exits the page and prints Hannah's request-- an old-time picture of Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse, two of the greatest dancers to have ever lived, doing their iconic routine in _Singin' in the Rain_. Emma's last promise to her before she went home to Toronto was that they'd watch the musical together. Colin came by earlier and said he'd lend them the DVD.

That was the movie that made Emma seriously consider dance classes. Cyd seemed to stretch her arms forever, and their legs would bend in the most gorgeous angles, to music that matched their athletic bodies. Grandma Nelson was more excited than Spike, who was a bigger fan of Emma's interest in the environment. In any case, Grandma Nelson offered to pick up the tab for introductory ballet classes for Emma, and since it was a lady-like activity, Joseph wanted Manny to try it out as well. Their reactions were definitely...opposite.

_"These slippers hurt my feet," moaned Manny, waddling into the dance studio._

_"You got them laced up wrong," chastised Emma._

_"I picked them because they were pink!" said Manny, proudly. _

_Emma rolled her eyes and put her back against the mirror. Grandma Nelson had told her that the teacher was impressed with Emma's progress during the past two weeks. At five, Emma was already "showing remarkable discipline and commendable control". She didn't know what either meant, but it made her grandmother smile. With the right amount of time and dedication, Ms. Prue said that Emma could advance to the intermediate class when she was eight, and they would have something in common-- being the youngest pupil in a non-beginner class. Ms. Prue liked to go on and on about her days in several prestigious dance companies while Emma listened and Manny made faces in the mirror._

_Manny swirled her tongue in her mouth and giggled at the mirror._

_"Stop," whispered Emma._

_"I'm making this face at J.T. the next time I see him," said Manny, crossing her eyes and baring her teeth._

_Emma smiled, then frowned._

_"You have to concentrate and be good," warned Emma. "Your dad wants you to dance."_

_"I don't like it like you," admitted Manny. "Ballet is boring. I want to do cartwheels. Why can't we do cartwheels?"_

"_At least try."_

_"I already tried. When the dancing gets funner, I'll do it."_

_"Funner?"_

_Manny nodded. "Funner. Besides, I've been doing good in school so Daddy's been in a better mood."_

_"Miss Prue will make you sit on the floor and watch again," sighed Emma._

_"That's okay to me," said Manny._

_"Manuella Santos!" chastised Miss Prue. "I have no tolerance for talking in the middle of a lesson. Sit. You won't dance today."_

_Manny slid down the mirror._

_"And don't scuff up my mirror!" cried Miss Prue. _

_"Sorry."_

_"The way you carry on sometimes makes me think you have no appreciation for anything artistic."_

_"Okay," said Manny, obviously not fully understanding the statement._

_"Well, I never!" said Miss Prue._

_"You never what?" asked Manny._

_"Just...sit...down," said Miss Prue, through gritted teeth. "Ooof!"_

_Ooof? Well, that was a word Emma hadn't_ _heard before. The rest of the girls stared at Manny, some clearly longing to join her on the floor. Miss Prue always made her opinions known, loudly known, causing most of them to fear her critiques._

_"Girls, prepare!" said Miss Prue._

_This meant to jog to your spot near the bar, and to warm-up. If Manny got an earful, it was usually before they warmed up. Emma had to hand it to Manny. She had good timing. _

_"Plies and reveles, please!" commanded Ms. Prue._

_Emma stared at herself and the other girls in the mirrors as they bent their knees and raised them. Bend and raise, bend and raise. Emma elongated her shoulders and her torso. Her arms were curved. Her muscles were strong. Miss Prue walked by her and grinned. The grin made her feel like a five-year old phenom._

_"Girls, pay attention to Emma!" instructed Ms. Prue, halting Emma from doing another plie. "Her shoulders are forward."_

_Then, Ms. Prue made her go down a bit._

_"The thighs should be horizontal...yes, like a diamond," said Ms. Prue, watching Emma do it herself. "This is the beginning of what could be a professional dancer, little ladies."_

_That was a bad thing to say as it earned Emma stony looks of hatred from her peers. Except, of course, from Manny who had pulled her Elmo doll from her bag and was feeding him a bottle._

_The warm-up commenced with Emma going on about her business. Miss Prue lead them in a leaping exercise which proved to be a lot of fun. Emma wasn't the best leaper so the girls didn't mind her anymore. Manny kept alternating dressing Elmo in pink doll clothes and feeding him. _

_Then, the girls performed a group number that Ms. Prue was having them do for a recital. Manny had already thought of some alibis to explain to her parents why she wasn't in the recital, including the death of her imaginary friend. Meanwhile, Emma cherished every second they got on the floor. She twirled, bent, stretched every limb that cooperated. Her legs were light, her head was airy, and her body wasn't a stranger to her heart. The last bit was the most rewarding. Her body fed off her joyful feelings._

_This came to an end, much to Emma's disappointment. Class was over in thirty more minutes and they all moved to collect their belongings._

_"Do you know what professional means?" whispered Emma to Manny._

_"I think it's where you go to ask for forgiveness," said Manny. "What did you do?"_

_"Nothing!" insisted Emma. "Except for dance."_

_"Oh," said Manny, burping Elmo._

_The furry, red Muppet giggled in Manny's hair instead, which made the girls laugh._

_"Manuella, are you going to be a good girl the next time I see you?" asked Miss Prue, putting an arm around Emma._

_"When will that be?" said Manny._

"_Next Saturday, dear," replied Miss Prue._

_"Oh no," groaned Manny._

_"Unbelievable," murmured Miss Prue, leading Emma in another direction. "Emma, I'd really like to discuss your dancing career with your mother."_

"_Career?" said Emma._

_"You can't let this talent go to waste," said Miss Prue. "We'd have to wait until you're a tad older, but I can make sure you have the basics down pat. Control...discipline...they're natural to you."_

_"Thank you," said Emma._

_She had no idea what she was thankful for. It sounded like a compliment, though._

_"When you're technically proficient, your emotional range will start to blossom," said Miss Prue. "It's so important not to bury those. Ms. Santos is good at showing her emotions, for example. Sometimes a little too much."_

_Manny squealed upon seeing Joseph coming to pick them up, Elmo bopping around in her pink backpack._

_"You have both emotion and discipline," continued Miss Prue. "Let the emotions out, and discipline yourself as they move them through your body. As long as you utilize both, you will do well."_

_Emma shrugged. "I'm not sure what you mean."_

_"One day, you will," reassured Miss Prue._

Wow, that was years ago, recalls Emma. Did she truly have a hold on her emotions and was she that disciplined? No. There were times when she acted up as much as Manny, who quit two days later after that practice. However, with dancing, she knew how to merge the two, at an early age. Then, she got into so many causes that her devotion fell short. When she said she wasn't interested anymore to Miss Prue, it was the sole occasion where the woman appeared teary-eyed. It was mainly due to Spike growing tired of having her mother pay for things Emma didn't need. She checked with Emma first, and Emma confessed that yes, she'd rather fight for animal rights than dress in a tutu and point her toes. Still...not doing a talent makes you miss it more sometimes.

Emma clicks out of the psychology information, the school, everything.

Is that quality lost? Some of the emotions she's experiencing nowadays have no place. She's not sure where to put them or if she should feel them or for how long. Part of her wants to take ownership of them and part of her can't fathom doing exactly that. Sometimes, she'd like to talk to someone. The person wouldn't be her mother, or her grandmother, or Snake, or even Manny. It would be to herself, desperate to find the girl who could plie, revele, and relax once the moment passed. That girl knew herself incredibly well.

The studio has disappeared. It was torn down when Emma entered grade nine and she didn't return to see the empty space. So she can't see where she danced, or where she would've gone, because the telling mirrors have long gone away. If she looked at them today, who knows? She's not sure she'll like what she sees.

IV.

A steady whooshing sound drowns out any other noise. It's so calm and quiet that her mind becomes empty. Manny likes it that way. She didn't have to know that a jet could fly faster than a plane; she felt it. In truth, she doesn't care how long it will take. The pilot's information was clear as a bell (nice weather, comfortable temperature), but to her, it sounded gurgled and ugly.

The passenger area is small, private, sort of ritzy. Kendall, the stewardess, politely told her there were drinks and snacks for her in the refrigerator, and to ring her if and when she needed anything. Then, she disappeared with her cellphone to talk to her boyfriend. Or Manny guessed that she was talking to her boyfriend.

Manny fiddles with her seatbelt, decides to undo it. The sign was on and she has the urge to move. She stands and starts digging through her bag. She was debating in her mind whether to call someone. It dawns on her that even if she locates her cell, she won't have a boyfriend to talk to anymore. Manny halts her search.

Her eyes begin to tear and she sniffles. She thought she was done crying. They're nearly to California so she should at least be angry by now. She is a little, but she's more confused. Her heart aches at the sudden remembrance of Toby saying they were too different. He mentioned that he thought they were complicated before, so if he had any doubts, why didn't he dump her before she fell more in love with him? What is different, anyway? They went to the same school, had the same friends, and she believed they were both equal in their love for one another. No, instead, he sends her off after lying to her, sleeping with her, and dismissing her.

Manny sinks back into her seat, lets her head meet the cushion of the opposite seat. She grabs weakly at the vinyl cushion and closes her eyes. Why were they always going through something? She loved when it was easy and fun and new. Those memories? She wouldn't trade them for the world. When they first started dating, despite all their commitments, they made time to be together. Toby's schedule was more packed then hers, but they were both busy with various things. Manny was set on making it work, sometimes surprising him when she could.

_The elevator clanged open, her sash fluttering a bit afterwards. Manny breezed through the hall. She stopped at one door when she heard the familiar clacking of keys and the beeping from monitors. Heading in, she peers over a row of cubicles, nearly empty, except for a few. She figured they were getting lunch or making plans to get lunch elsewhere._

_There was no sign of him until she spotted a group of younger workers heading to the door she was in front of, all of them exuberantly discussing their morning tasks. Manny searched for him among them and nods resolutely. She didn't think he'd be in the pack._

_Two of the boys paused when they saw Manny, gawkily fooling with their ties._

_"Toby Isaacs, please?" said Manny, making sure her voice carried. "Best Kytel intern ever recruited?"_

_"Uh...Toby?" said one of the boys. "He's..."_

_A distant head sprang up from a cubicle, conducting his own search. Toby peered from behind the corner and grinned at her._

_"Working hard," finished Manny._

_"We...maybe we could be of some service?" said the same boy._

_"Trust me," said Manny. "I want the best."_

_The boy frowned, motioned for the other boy to follow him to the elevator. Manny smirked and made her way over._

_"Good morning, Mr. Isaacs," greeted Manny, peeping into the cubicle. "I hope you're not busy."_

_"Not at all," went on along Toby._

_"My name is Manuella Santos. I don't believe we've met before."_

_"Are you a new client?" asked Toby._

_"Yes, yes," supplied Manny. "My lack of computer knowledge is incredibly bad. My boyfriend has to help me with almost everything."_

_"Lucky guy," commented Toby._

_"Need I remind you that it's Spring Break, Mr. Isaacs?" said Manny, setting a carton of food in a plastic bag on a desk facing Toby._

_"Yeah," said Toby, dropping his eyes. "It's just...Calvin and Kym asked me to take a look at..."_

_"Take a look at your lunch," interjected Manny._

_Toby sighed, then smiled. "Thank you."_

_"Most guys are having whipped cream parties or doing body shots during break instead of analyzing binary code," pointed out Manny._

_"Since when have we been most people?" returned Toby, nodding to her sash._

_"Ugh," groaned Manny. "They make me wear it."_

_She glanced dismally at the Miss Degrassi sash, glittering letters shining under the office's florescent lights._

_"Mmm, I thought you wore it because if you didn't, you'd forget that you won," teased Toby._

_Manny put her hands on her hips, approached Toby's desk and drooped herself in his lap. Toby stared at the monitor instead of her._

_"Listen, you...," kidded Manny before Toby buried his face in her shoulder._

_"You know I'm playing," said Toby._

_He looked up at her and Manny shrugged._

_"Well, play with me instead of your computer," said Manny._

_With her on his lap, it was only a matter of time. Toby became distracted in a heartbeat. It was what she was counting on. She had barely seen him during break because of pesky pageant-related events and a couple homework assignments from mean teachers who didn't understand the definition of Spring Break. Nevertheless, she wanted to be with him on the big day, his first official day as a Kytel intern._

_"You didn't go with the others," said Manny, kissing the top of his head._

_"Then I would've missed you," noted Toby._

_She suspected he'd sequester himself at first. It took awhile for Toby to put himself out there. Still, she thought maybe he'd feel less alone with people who valued CD-roms over football games or pep rallies. Given the treatment of the Spirit Squad towards her post-Peter e-mail, she'd rather hang with the digital posse too._

_"Tobes, eating lunch with others is highly beneficial," said Manny. "You get to hear all the office gossip, rest your eyes after all the computer gazing, tell your co-workers what a great girlfriend you have..."_

_"Good points," admitted Toby. "Alright. Monday?"_

_"Monday," agreed Manny, confidently. "But you're mine now."_

_Manny removed the styrofoam containers and plastic silverware from the bag. To boost Toby's spirits, she got some food from the same restaurant where they had their first date. Two of the waitresses remembered her and Toby dancing on that very night Manny assured them that they'd return one day, hadn't told Toby yet. Then, she stopped at Degrassi to hand in a paper, and Snake offered her two brownies. The teachers were having a party in the lounge and they had more than enough. What sense did that make? The students had to work while the teachers partied? She should expose their sugar-loving selves. Manny giggled to herself._

_"What?" asked Toby._

"_Nothing," waved off Manny. "Before we chow down, go to my Myspace page real quick."_

_Toby gave her a puzzled grin, typed in her page by memory. Manny stood behind him and beamed with excitement._

_The contents of the page were as usual (photos of her and Emma, photos of her other friends, her likes, her goals), until you got to the first comment. Snake, his icon showing him with a sombrero on at a party, left a comment asking if "this was okay?", a white box underneath the words._

_"Why is Simpson leaving you comments?" asked Toby, frowning._

_Manny scrunched up her face, then smiled. "You're jealous."_

_"No...no," commented Toby, clearly fibbing. "It's just...weird."_

_"Toby, he's like my second dad," said Manny. "Click the box."_

_He did, immediately smiling as different pictures of them flash across the monitor. It was their own personal scrapbook Manny begged Snake to do for her. It included photos of: them sitting in the Zen garden of Degrassi, Manny's arm looped through his; her, Jeff, and Toby toasting at Jeff's first attempt at a Passover seder; Manny and Toby sticking out their green tongues from sweets J.T.'s grandmother gave them on St. Patrick's Day; Manny with the rest of the Computer Club after the inaugural meeting for the year. She pain-stakingly went through her digital camera and selected the best ones. Toby grinned at her shyly as the music swelled from the speakers near the monitor._

_All those days and lonely nights  
Have all gone away  
I never thought the day would come  
When we'd more than friends  
You made me smile when I was down  
You turn my world around  
The way you give me love feel so right_

_"I have no idea what this song is," laughed Toby._

_"You never know what song it is!" cried Manny, playfully pushing his head. "It's vintage Toni Braxton."_

_Toby stared blankly, apologetically at her. After two months of dating, they had yet to find a song that was a mutual favorite. The problem with Craig was that he didn't like her music. The problem with Toby was that he didn't listen to her music. She had basically decided to give up on that aspect in her relationships. Well, at least Toby humored her._

_Just like a dream come true  
I wished for you  
I have never been so happy 'bout love so new  
You opened my heart to a brand new start  
My love's there wherever you are  
I won't let no one take you away_

_"Well, it's pretty," offered Toby. "And I love the visuals."_

"_And the message is right up our alley," said Manny. "It perfectly describes us."_

_You took the ease off my mind  
And put it behind  
You were there for all my needs  
So baby - stay_

_I love me some him  
I'll never love this way again  
I love me some you  
Another man will never do_

_To her, it really was a natural fit. She'd fallen for Craig, and other guys, sometimes too fast, sometimes too blind. However, with him, with Toby, she'd always had her eyes and heart open. It was like it was formed from scratch, growing into friendship and then a little more each day until finally she grew to love every part of him. She'd have to forget so much if it ended. So many days and months, several years. No, she thought, staring hard at the scrapbook. She'd always have these memories and new ones would come, bright in color and in attitude._

_"I'm still processing that there is an us," said Toby, softly. "Manny, I'm so glad you waited for me."_

_"You should've known I was going to," whispered Manny, tilting his head up._

_"Well," said Toby. "Deep down...I did."_

_Manny put her two arms around Toby's head and stared into his eyes._

_"Honestly?' said Manny._

_"Like...I...really think...this is...is going to work," stammered Toby, about to say more before Manny's mouth touches his and the chair is squeaking under their weight._

_"How was that, Mr. Isaacs?" asked Manny._

"_You're hired," sighed Toby._

_They smiled and continued to kiss as the food got cold. Who would have that months later their relationship would be what was cold? Toby made it seem like they were going somewhere, that their future would be as happy as their electronic scrapbook. No, he bailed with a cruel good-bye and sent her away so he didn't have to face her._

Manny's chest shudders as she feels the plane descend. Sunny California was calling her home and that's what she didn't want to face.

The rest of the flight goes by routinely. She went through all the motions: readying her belongings, fastening her seatbelt, thanking Kendall and the pilot, Ollie, a friend of Kel's. Ollie asked how Lia was doing and Manny had the sudden urge to vomit while acting like everything was okay between them. They must've heard her crying because they asked several times if she was alright before she left the jet. She said she was practicing for a part. Right, the part of a scorned lover and bitter friend. They probably didn't believe her and she definitely didn't care.

Stepping into the airport itself, Manny's sight went directly to Lia. She was in a pair of skinny jeans and a demure red silk top. Lia bounces on one foot, then the other.

"Ollie gets everyone here fast," says Lia with a hint of a smile.

"Sure does," says Manny, passing Lia.

Manny's bag accidentally bumps Lia. She didn't mean for it to happen, but doesn't mind that it did.

"Yell at me," says Lia, trailing her. "Punch me. Kick me."

"Whatever," groans Manny.

"Look, I'm doing this because I care about you," insists Lia. "Toby too. He cares about you."

Manny whirled around, feet digging into the carpet.

"If he cares about me, then why am I here and not there?" demands Manny.

Lia glances around, running her hands through her hair. Just as she suspected, Lia has no clue either.

"I'm in the dark too," answers Lia. "But...whatever it is? Toby sounded terrified."

Her face falls and she can feel it, Manny putting her hands on her cheeks. Terrified? The way they left Toby's house was so frantic and silent as the scene replays in her mind. The words Toby offered were so bare and strange. Manny releases a deep breath and walks hurriedly away from Lia.

"Where are you going?" yells Lia to her backside. "Manny!"

She locates a shaded alcove where she can be alone. Manny flips open her cell, willing to call him. She has to hear his voice, even if it may sting her heart a little. Toby's voicemail goes on, the message like a distant neighbor talking. Manny frowns, stares at the phone, as her heart beats faster and the sunlight peeks in, moves to find her feet.

V.

"_I am the walrus. Goo goo g'joob_," sings Mark, rubbing the bottom of his guitar.

Ashley stares pathetically at him and then at Musk righting a cymbal. As soon as the stage lights went purple, she and Mark would enter and face the hundreds filling the Hammersmith. Thus far, Sarah Lincoln had the best set and she received a standing ovation that went on for two full minutes. Ashley counted.

"Singing Beatles songs gets me in the mood," reveals Mark.

She nods, barely able to hear him as the audience roars in anticipation. Sarah has informed them that Mark Kennick is next, with a special guest. Ashley did a clothing check as the volume rises Her body felt like it was in a flashy, red Ziplock bag. The curves of her breasts were clearly outlined by the leather. Her legs appeared longer because of the short length of the dress. Her butt feels bigger, too. Bigger and perkier. Mark complimented her by saying she looked "smashing". She would've said "smushed", thinks Ashley, taking a microphone from a roadie.

"Here it goes," whispers Mark, squeezing Ashley's elbow and then walking out on stage.

The crowd's volume rises several decibels, the girls' shrieking more evident than their male counterparts.

"My fellow Britons!" shouts Mark. "Please welcome my brilliant new duet partner, Ashley Kerwin!"

Ashley shakes every limb of her body, every muscle, and walks onto the stage. The lights illuminate her in purple and blue, the material of her dress shining like plastic. When she steps into the light, she's met by courteous applause, nowhere near the level of Mark's. She slowly walks to Mark, pulse racing, sweat trickling down her arms.

"It's a performance," whispers Mark. "Let's treat it that way. We'll nail it."

She slowly nods and Mark launches into a powerful, rock riff that gets people to throw their fists into the air and stomp the floor. Instinctively, she searches for Craig, can't find him due to the large mass of people moving in synch to the music. Then her eyes find Mark, smiling at her with supreme confidence.

Ashley raises her microphone, and sings:

_Midnight gettin' uptight  
Where are you?  
You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two  
I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you_

She grins as people sway to the tune, raising their cellphones and cameras to the stage. They scream their excitement, Ashley's own excitement rising with each word flowing out of her throat.

_Hey Jack  
It's a fact they're talkin' in town  
I turn my back and you're messin' around  
I'm not really jealous don't like lookin' like a clown_

"_I think of you ev'ry night and day_," joins in Mark, playing his guitar fast and furious. "_You took my heart then you took my pride away...away...away_!"

Ashley claps her hands and sings loudly, putting edge into her voice, practically a growl.

"_I hate myself for lovin' you_!" sings Ashley. "_Can't break free from the the things that you do. I wanna walk but I run back to you, and that's why  
I hate myself for loving you_!"

"Whooo!" yell a few boys down in front. "Yeah!"

Unforunately, none of the guys are Craig, but at least she knows he's enjoying it...somewhere. Ashley launches into the next verse, advancing to the side stairs of the stage. More enthusiastic cries reach her, louder as she draws nearer. She can't help but feed off it. Going down two steps, she starts into the chorus again, Mark's guitar supporting her, the harmony sounding the best it's ever sounded.

"_I_...," sings Ashley, then putting her microphone in the direction of the audience.

"_Hate myself for loving you_!" finishes the crowd.

"_Can't break free from the the things that you do_," sings Ashley. "_I wanna walk but I run back to you, that's why_..."

She heads to Mark, and holds the microphone to his mouth.

"_I hate myself for loving you_," they sing together.

"Ow!" cries Ashley, stomping to the front. "Come on!"

"Yeah!" cheers a group of girls, pumping their fists towards Ashley.

"_I think of you ev'ry night and day_," wails Ashley. "_You took my heart then you took my pride away...awayayayayay ay_!"

"Ahhh!" yells the crowd.

"_Oh yeah, I hate myself...for loving you_!" finishes Ashley, pretending the bang the cymbals along with Musk as the song ends.

Ashley can feel her ears vibrate at the thunderous applause that follows the cymbal's crash. Ashley claps along, trading wide smiles with Mark. They got through it and the audience loved it. Mark gives her a light pat on the back, ushers her forward to take a bow. Ashley does, a small one, but she does.

When she lifts her head, the only face she can see is the face she wanted to see all along, but didn't. Craig's hands are at his side, and there's no standing ovation. His body has sunk into the chair, firmly. As every other person in the Hammersmith rises to cheer her on, Craig stares at her, long and hard.

"Kerwin!" encourages Mark, throwing up his arms. "Kerwin! Kerwin!"

"Kerwin!" chants the crowd. "Kerwin! Kerwin!"

Ashley fails to take it in completely, not until the curtain falls, obscuring Craig from her view. Three roadies quickly go on about setting up for her solo. The chanting continues, vocal and powerful until it finally fades to a desperate whisper.

VI.

"Have you seen Craig?" asks Ashley, making her way through the wave of congratulations.

"No, but good show!" praises Sarah Lincoln. "I knew you would kill it!"

"Pearl sounded much better tonight," says Bianca Terry, who'd been on the tour two times with her ska band. "Wicked lyrics."

"Thanks," says Ashley, modestly.

Ashley hugs herself. The room is warmer and she isn't. After her duet with Mark, and the second performance of "Pearl", she retreated into the wings and sat on a crate. The audience adored both songs, must've thought she was something special for earning the right to play alongside Mark. The same young girls who only wanted Mark's autograph earlier, now were in a small conference with Julian, asking him if they knew where they could download Ashley's music.

"Why aren't you enjoying this?" questions Mark, sneaking up on her again.

"Don't do that!" exclaims Ashley. "You could let a person know you're near them."

"My apologies," says Mark. "What's wrong?"

"Craig," confesses Ashley. "I don't know if he exactly dug this performance."

"Oh yeah," says Mark. "Where is...Craig?"

"Not sure," says Ashley. "Eh. Maybe he's still trying to wade through the Hammersmith crowd."

"Mmm hmm, it was packed for the show, and amped because of us!" exclaims Mark, turning for some agreement.

Four or five hoot their consensus, Ashley laughing. Mark is sort of right. They received the best response all night and wherever the reporter for the _Tart_ was, they hadn't thrown her off.

"Follow me," whispers Mark, leaning into her.

"Where?" whispers Ashley.

Mark points to a black door that lead them out of the Hammersmith. Ashley stares cautiously from the door to him. Mark smirks.

"Aja's right outside," assures Mark.

"Okay," says Ashley.

Still, she lets him walk in front of her in case something goes awry. Aja is outside, tottering with a wine bottle as she leans against the bus. Mark takes the wine from her and drinks.

"To the jolly old Hammersmith!" yells Mark, raising the bottle to the theater.

"Getting...hammered...near the Hammersmith!" shouts Aja, then giggling. "Don't be a hog. Share the wealth."

Aja wrests the wine from Mark, who wipes his lips. Instead of tilting it to her own lips, Aja pushes the bottle to Ashley's chest. Ashley sighs.

"No thanks," says Ashley.

"Every rock star indulges a little," says Mark. "Go on. We have more...to pour."

They both laugh as Ashley stares at the bottle. The wine swishes back and forth. She can smell it, feel it run under her fingers as she switches it to her other hand. It's not like she hasn't drank before, and while the hangovers were annoying, she survived. Besides, the show is over and they nailed the cover and they loved her music. Tonight, she'd indulge.

Ashley takes a sip, then keeps drinking, until she's giggling as the sour taste finds her taste buds. Aja swipes the bottle and jogs across the street. Mark and Ashley stare at each other, go after her.

Where they end up is completely strange. Ashley nearly stumbles over a large grey rock, reads the markers in the faint moonlight. She touches one headstone to gain her balance. Her gaze finds Mark staring at the black sky. He closes his eyes and grins.

"How many people you think snogged here?" yells Aja, tottering to them.

"What? As some nightly ritual?" jokes Ashley. "Who wants to kiss in a graveyard?"

"Well, when you're young, you don't think about that stuff," says Aja. "You think these places is kinda cool."

"Yeah," agrees Mark.

He relinquishes the bottle to Ashley, perches atop a gravestone marker. Ashley finds the act inappropriate but remains quiet. They already probably thought she wasn't cool so why dig herself into a deeper ditch? Eh, she would think that in a cemetary.

"Do you know anyone that you was close to that died?" asks Aja, staring at Ashley.

"No," answers Ashley. "Craig...he's lost both his parents."

"Wow," breathes Aja.

Mark strokes his chin, though he doesn't say anything. He seldom said much when it came to Craig.

Ashley wanders away from them. She's well aware she's lucky that most of her loved ones are alive, and that Craig's upbringing was certainly less than ideal. That may be why she would've loved if Craig was with them, celebrating the night. He got so many bad days growing up, that some good days now would increase the joyful spirit he's had despite those difficulties.

"Well, your music is definitely alive and kicking," says Mark.

"They really liked it, didn't they?" sighs Ashley.

She lifts the bottle and drinks a few heavy gulps. The hiccups she'd gotten rid of earlier return, albeit thanks to the wine. Ashley hums and stumbles over another, smaller stone. Or no, it's...

"Ah!" screams Aja, as a tiny burst of water wets her legs.

Mark guffaws, spreading his arms as dozens of bursts of waters punctuate the still air of the land of the dead. Ashley glances at her shoes, wet, grass-stained. Her foot had accidentally turned on the sprinklers.

"I am the walrus!!" shouts Mark, for all to hear. "Whoo!"

"Yes!" yells Aja. "And if that's true, I'll be...a mermaid!"

Aja turns to Ashley, trying to see her through the tall showers.

"How about you, Ashley?" yells Aja. "What are you?"

"Free!" returns Ashley, raising her arms as the sprinkler's contents rush across her face, her body.

The wine bottle wobbles across the grass when Ashley drops it. Water from the sprinklers tickle her skin, coat the bottom of her chin, hit the teeth that show in the smile she allows. Her arms stretch with wild abandon while the showers grow into a light rage, and rush on.


	58. A Dream Worth Keeping

**LVIII. A Dream Worth Keeping**

_Anytime you want to be right here  
Just imagine me and all this will appear  
You can keep this moment all your life  
Forever near  
A dream worth keeping_

_When you're feeling lost  
I'll be your star  
Just reach out and touch me  
No matter where you are  
In a world where precious things are disappearing overnight  
Just keep my star in sight_

_I believe we found a dream that's worth keeping  
For more than just a day  
And even though the winds of change may come sweeping  
It's still a dream worth keeping  
Don't let it fade away_

_Maybe you'll be in some distant land  
Feelin' all alone, but I'll be close at hand  
And everytime you see a rainbow paint the sky behind the rain  
You'll be here again_

_I believe we found a dream that's worth keeping  
For more than just a day  
And even though the winds of change may come sweeping  
It's still a dream worth keeping  
So don't let it fade away_

_Someday you might be thinking  
When life has passed you by  
Your spirits might be sinking  
With hope in short supply  
And that's the reason why  
That's the reason why  
Love has dreams worth keeping  
As long as it will stay  
Even when you see the darkness come creeping  
A dream worth keeping  
Can never fade away..._

**A Dream Worth Keeping is the property of Sheena Easton and appears in the film _FernGully_**.

"Dr. Cooper to the OR!" says a voice over the intercom. "Dr. Cooper to the OR!"

Dr. Cooper isn't the doctor looking after Sean, is it? No, thinks Ellie. It was a Dr. Southworth. He has shockingly white hair and a soft, reassuring way about him. That doesn't console Ellie because she's been parked right outside the room Dr. Southworth went in since Sean went in, slouching in a wheelchair.

She hasn't been this concerned since he came to her graduation dinner looking beaten and apologetic. Even then, he could stand and she could keep an eye on him. Not so tonight, she moans inwardly. Jay's in one hospital room, and Sean's in another. What bad luck is following them around?

Ellie chews on a nail, which she knows her mother hates. Both her parents came, her father to show support, and her mother...well, the verdict's still out on her reasons for stopping by. In any case, they left her alone for the time being.

Since Alex was going through her own torment, she didn't want to bother her with Sean's injuries. Dr. Southworth eliminated any serious damage at least. Ellie basically had to plea for any information and thankfully he disclosed that Sean required stitches for his mouth and jaw, pain medication and a rib belt for two bruised ribs, and at least three weeks of rest. Maybe he had pity on her for being so distraught. She and Ray had to carry him between themselves before the wheelchair arrived. The sight was worse in the car. Sean closed his eyes and moaned throughout the drive. You could see blood on the corner of his lips and traces of it on his neck and shirt. She felt more powerless than him and is still waiting for any power to make it through tonight.

"Ellie!" calls someone from down the hall.

She turns and is relieved to see Mr. Ehl rolling his wheelchair towards her. It is incredibly early in the morning, but he looked concerned rather than tired. She really had no choice but to call him. He was the person who appeared regularly on insurance paperwork as Sean's guardian. Ellie isn't sure how much Sean's new job will cover.

"How is he?" asks Mr. Ehl.

"I don't know," confesses Ellie, trying to stop the tears from flowing. "I went to his apartment and he was so bruised. I tried...I tried..."

Ellie wipes her cheeks as Mr. Ehl goes to her and pats her hand.

"He'll be okay," says Mr. Ehl. "Was he conscious?"

"When we put him in the wheelchair, he opened his eyes," answers Ellie.

Mr. Ehl takes a deep breath and removes his wallet.

"Let me take care of business," says Mr. Ehl.

"Thanks. He would definitely appreciate it," says Ellie.

She hasn't told him about Jay either, she remembers as she watches him talk with the receptionist on duty. There's so much to tell and Sean isn't budging in the lack of communication department. If he can't talk to her, maybe he'll talk to Mr. Ehl or someone else. If he doesn't talk soon, he might get shot or worse. Although, there isn't a lot worse than that. Ellie's heart speeds up rapidly and she strokes her neck.

"Ms. Nash?" says a voice as the door opens.

"Yes?" says Ellie, immediately shifting her position so she can face the doctor.

"Is his guardian here yet?" asks Dr. Southworth, loudly.

"Yes!" calls over Mr. Ehl, joining Ellie.

"We've run an MRI to see the extent of the damage," says Dr. Southworth. "You'll be pleased to hear that there isn't any long-lasting damage to the bones, muscles, tendons. He's required to wear the rib belt and has instructions for the stitches so those areas will heal properly. However, Mr. Cameron is intent on not revealing the source of these wounds."

"I'd be willing to bet neither one of us has any idea, either," says Mr. Ehl, glancing at Ellie.

She nods her agreement, embarrassed to do so. She fiercely wanted Sean to share his troubles.

"I hate to ask this," sighs Dr. Southworth. "Does Mr. Cameron come from a troubled home?"

"No more troubled than the rest of us," says Mr. Ehl, and Ellie likes the matter-of-fact nature of that reply.

"He lives alone," adds Ellie.

Dr. Southworth shrugs and writes a couple things down.

"I'd like him to stay overnight for observation," he says. "He'll be released tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you, doctor," says Mr. Ehl, shaking his hand.

As soon as Dr. Southworth rounds the corner, Ellie let her head hit the back of a wall. This horrible night is never going to end, is it? What if Sean is pummeled a third time? Is he stubbornly not going to tell the truth or finally do something for himself?

"Mr. Ehl, this isn't the first time Sean's been like this," informs Ellie. "Weeks ago, he was in the exact same situation. Only tonight, it's worse."

"Mr. Hill and I've discussed Sean in passing," shares Mr. Ehl. "He said Sean looked worrisome when he came in for his last check there."

"I think...think it has something to do with Dale," says Ellie.

She might as well throw his name out there. Dale's name certainly kept its presence in the mix, though Ellie's not clear as to why.

"Dale...what an angry kid," says Mr. Ehl.

"Angry?" encourages Ellie.

"When Mrs. Hill left their family, he became tough to handle," says Mr. Ehl. "Got in with some mixed-up kids. Did some hard drugs. Couldn't get this dream job as his professor's assistant. Think that's why his dad made sure he got a job at his shop. Keep an eye on them."

"Well, he graduated college," points out Ellie.

"Doesn't necessarily mean he didn't make some poor decisions on the way," says Mr. Ehl. "His dad had to deal with a lot. And Dale doesn't seem to care that he put his father through any of it. Was always closer to his mom."

"Do you know that he has a shop somewhere?"

"Heard nothing about that."

Too bad. She can't judge Dale on his past, but it might lead her to an awareness of what he's doing presently, whether it includes Sean or not. There is a twinge of sympathy because his mother left. Having one parent at home is something she had to grow accustomed to, and now she's lucky to have both.

"I'm going to call my wife and tell her how Sean's doing," says Mr. Ehl. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah," replies Ellie. "I'm here for the long haul."

Ellie sighs and touches the door of Sean's room as Mr. Ehl leaves. She hears the steady clack of heels and winces. Twice, her mother came to stare at her, never got too far, and then left. This is the farthest she's gotten.

"Ellie...," begins Amanda Nash with a heavy sigh.

"I don't want to hear it," says Ellie, softly.

"This is the _second_ time..."

"I know it's the second time. I'm very aware it's the second time," says Ellie, crossing her arms.

"I've tried to be understanding," says Amanda. "But this boy..."

"Sean," interjects Ellie.

"Sean," says Amanda tersely. "Is...well, this relationship is problematic. This is your first relationship. You love him. I get that. What I'm not getting is why you're subjecting yourself to all this pain?"

"If I'm not with him, there's going to be a lot more," insists Ellie.

"I seriously doubt that," sighs Amanda. "When you go off to university, you won't and you shouldn't be there to pick up the pieces."

"He was there to pick up the pieces for me," says Ellie, shaking her head. "I guess you forgot."

Amanda frowns and plays with her wristwatch, trying very hard not to look at her daughter.

"Ms. Sauve helped...," starts Amanda.

"And Sean," reminds Ellie.

"Ms. Sauve helped you in that department," continues Amanda. "She's a professional and not some wayward boy that left you with the rent. Ellie...if Sean needs anybody...it's his family. That's what it comes back to, and you can't argue with that."

"He's family to me," says Ellie, softly.

"Going on some road trip doesn't make him family," insists Amanda. "Neither does lying to you."

Her mother gives her an appraising look and walks down the hall. Ellie pulls at her ear. She stands on her tip-toes to get a better view. Sean is laying on his back, his sandy hair against a pillow. He appears more frail than her mother probably thinks. His shirt is off. The rib belt is rising as he breathes in his sleep. Part of her would like him to stay there...safe, tended to, watched. He would be monitored. He would be well-rested. He would be loved, more than he might've imagined.

II.

Nights in London are pretty beautiful. Craig supposes it's kind of like a quieter New York. The side streets are narrow, yellow streetlights illuminating the corners. Spires reach into the midnight blue sky, as if they might touch the stars. Bronze and silver statues still glow in the dark. It's like every other classic novel came to life, even with some modern additions.

Craig hasn't decided if Ashley's additions are as lovely, though. What was she wearing? They had talked about her clothing last year, when she was compulsively buying to soothe her internal gift. But at least Craig saw Ashley picking them out herself. Ashley wouldn't have picked that tight, red leather dress. He's not sure he should call it a dress since there was barely enough fabric to cover her thighs. She said someone sent it to her. Mark. Or he bought it for her.

He doesn't feel guilty at all for mentally attacking Mark, not after their duet. Seeing another guy sing so wonderfully with Ashley hurt. She was having fun, Mark was having fun, and the crowd's reponse made it evident they were having fun. He hated that he had to hear it, being in a group of Mark and Ashley adulation. Craig thought he could deal with it. After performing with her at Piccadilly, however, he was forced to make a comparison. Based off of tonight's concert, Craig had to say, Mark, one, Craig, zip.

Another thing he hated hearing were the comments people behind him were making, and their assessments were less commendable. In fact, they followed him out of the Hammersmith.

"Kerwin lass had a great set of knockers," says a guy with an eyebrow piercing, walking past Craig.

"Great set of gams, too," adds his friend, fiddling with his digital camera. "How'd you like to have those wrapped around ya?"

"Best to ask Mark," laughs the eyebrow ring guy. "He's probably bonking her brains out."

Craig's entire body becomes hot as he grabs the second guy's arm, the camera almost slipping from his grasp.

"What's your prob, you yob!" yells the man with the camera.

"You!" shouts Craig. "She's a musician, not a piece of meat!"

"Okay, okay," says the man with the camera, softly. "I'm too high to get into a row."

Based on his curled lips and darting, red eyes, Craig would have to agree. Still, it's the most horrible drunk talk he's ever heard. Thankfully, Ashley is nowhere around to hear it.

"Mental prat," murmurs the man with the camera, his friend throwing Craig a glare as they stumble off.

If Craig were talking that way about that guy's girlfriend, he'd be mental, too. He should leave it alone. No one was hurt. Ashley's oblivious. He should go congratulate her. For what, he'd have to pretend. He could congratulate her on Pearl. That was a highlight. He loved the song and despite Ashley's attire, she sounded confident and amazing. The best thing the Mark duet has provided was that confidence boost. He just wishes she was in her own clothes and able to play two original songs.

Where to look? The best place might be the bus. He'd overheard Bianca Terry saying that it was her birthday so maybe her tourmates were with her right now.

Boarding the black bus, Craig can't locate Ashley. Bianca's there, with a good collection of musicians eating chocolate cake and exchanging on the road stories. Aja and Mark were also missing.

"Craig!" calls Bianca. "Cake?"

"Later," replies Craig. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks!" yells Bianca. "Don't tell anyone I'm thirty."

Her tourmates laugh and return to eating.

Leaving, Craig feels the cool night air blow against his face. Several cars move across a busy street. From there, he spies two peach dots, one with a purple speck on top of their head. That had to be Aja. The traffic slows as a red light comes on. Craig jogs to an area, that becomes more identifiable as he grows closer. A graveyard? What were they doing in a graveyard?

Then, he hears a light spurting sound, views Mark relieving himself on a grave marker. It's pretty disgusting. Mark laughs, shakes off, and zips his pants.

"Hey mate," greets Mark, then rubbing his nose.

"Hi," says Craig, wearily. "Seen Ash?"

"Ashley, Ashley," says Mark with a loud laugh. "The pretty, young thing. You are a lucky little orphan to have her, I tell you that."

Craig lowers his gaze to the ground, his cheeks burning. Lucky little orphan? How'd he know about his parents? Craig moves past Mark to watch Aja wiping her forehead with her wet shirt. She looked out of it, too, but maybe he can get an answer from her.

"Aja, where's Ashley?" questions Aja.

"I don't know," says Aja teasingly, then giggling.

"Whatever," sighs Craig.

Graveyards bring about horrible memories for him. His two parents were gone, and the smell of flowers, the engraved names, and small tributes weren't exactly comforting. While he did cherish going to his mother's final resting place, it is not the same walking through a sea of dead strangers. It felt borderline intrusive.

He finds another person heading toward the street who is not a stranger. Barely seeing the purple flecks in her hair as she wanders away, Craig runs to her. His legs are faster as Ashley steps off the sidewalk, traffic fully going down the street. A car beeps at her as Ashley waves her hands above her head. Craig grabs her just in time as the car swerves to the left.

"Ashley!" cries Craig, staring at her hard.

"How come the cab didn't stop?" says Ashley, staring at the car that missed her.

"That wasn't a cab!" says Craig. "You almost killed your...ugh! Come on."

She has difficulty "coming on" as her walk weaves in two different directions. Ashley spins a couple times and shrugs with a smile. Craig stares at her puzzled and then hears a loud hiccup coming from her lips. It isn't the same type of hiccups she had earlier.

"Ashley," sighs Craig, running a hand through his short hair.

"_London Ashley's falling down_," sings Ashley as she continues down the sidewalk. "_Falling down, falling down. London Ashley's falling down! My fair Kerwin_!"

Tottering on her heels, Ashley falls on the pavement, and giggles when her butt hits the pavement. Craig helps her up.

"How much have you had?" asks Craig.

"Let's see," says Ashley, trying to count off on her fingers and failing to keep them numbered. "A half a bottle of wine. Sips of gin that we scored from a Mark fan. Then, another half a bottle of wine that Aja stored in her bag. That big...old bag. Oooh!"

Ashley whirls around, apparently searching for what street she should walk towards. Craig steadies her, taking each of her shoulders. Ashley barely had any alcohol before the tour. Now, whether she's excited or depressed, her first instinct is to find some? It's strange.

"Why are you drinking?" says Craig. "Are you upset?"

"We were celebrating!" insists Ashley. "They chanted my name, Craig. My name! It was like...euphemism."

"Euphoria?" says Craig.

"That's it!" says Ashley, snapping her fingers. "Euphoria! My dream came true!"

"Your dream involves you running head-first into traffic!" cries Craig.

"Well, not that part," says Ashley, chuckling.

"Let's get you to the bus," encourages Craig.

"They were like '_Kerwin! Kerwin_!'" says Ashley, softly with glee. "I was finally somebody. They were standing and clapping. Well...not you. Not you, Craig!"

Ashley pushes him away and groggily rests on a tree. She was right. The standing ovation he promised her didn't come to fruition, but he can't applaud Ashley playing at something instead of playing something. There's a big difference.

"That wasn't you on stage, Ash," says Craig, calmly.

"Of course it was me!" laughs Ashley. "I was there."

"It wasn't your style or your song or your...," he starts to list.

"Why does everything have to be so freakin' perfect to you, huh?" blasts Ashley, pushing herself off the tree and weaving again.

"It's not about being perfect, Ash," says Craig. "It's about being pure. True to yourself. Mark isn't letting that happen. He got you that dress, didn't he?"

Ashley doesn't answer as she moves to an erected stone cross in the graveyard. Mark and Aja were nowhere to be seen, most likely ditching them while he went after Ashley. Her hands touch the cross and she stumbles to lean against a marker. She coughs once, twice, three times until it becomes frequent. Craig kneels at her feet.

"You've got me scared," admits Craig. "Tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine!" snaps Ashley.

"You don't look it," argues Craig.

"Kids...no, excuse me, adults my age drink all the time!" defends Ashley. "It's legal. It loosens me up. In my case, it's free!"

Ashley bursts into laughter, then shouts "Free!" as she waves her arms. Craig rubs his forehead. There's no point in getting into it while she's drunk. Talking to a sober Ashley would be beneficial for both of them. He nods at her, then situates her waist over his shoulders until she's on and rises.

"Whoa!" exclaims Ashley, her head hanging upside down. "I can see your bum!"

"Better than your lunch," sighs Craig.

"What did I have for lunch?" says Ashley. "Oh, I was too nervous to eat really. Mark had a salad."

Mark. Ugh, he could live without hearing that name for the rest of the night.

"Honestly, Ash, I don't care," says Craig, going towards the bus.

"Know what?" giggles Ashley. "Neither do I!"

III.

"How long have they been in there?" questions J.T., handing Toby a third cup of water.

Toby stares at the tiny cup, the others beside it by the watercooler. Bubbles from the bottom spring to the top. The water gurgles, then settles.

"A very long time," provides Toby.

He's heard traces of his father and the police sergeant for the past ninety minutes. You'd figure he'd be called in at some point. He was at the center of everything. That surely had to be on Jeff's mind.

When Toby phoned him, J.T. by his side, Jeff was furious, although not at him. He and Kate managed to switch flights with an elderly couple on their annual retirement vacation. Kate's persuasive agent skills came in handy. Jeff called Ms. Cooney to see if Toby could sleep over their house last night. She was more than happy to be of help. They were back in Toronto earlier that morning, and came to the station as soon as it opened.

Toby believes he filled in most of the blanks. Yes, he confessed that he and Justin had been in contact. He did try to make Clara look less involved than she was, mainly because her heart was in the right place. Jeff appeared the most shocked that Manny was over their house, but not because he set that rule. He just couldn't believe that she'd been in and out so quickly with his son spending half of his savings to secure her safety. Toby could understand that. It was a big gesture and Jeff had thought that they were too young to be very serious. He had to do it, though. Manny may not be a part of his life anymore, but at least she'd have a life. Hopefully, the sergeant will say it was the right thing to do.

The door whines as it opens.

"Mr. Isaacs," says the sergeant, parting the door for Jeff.

"Thanks, Sergeant Blanchett," says Jeff. "Toby?"

Toby stands and faces them. Sergeant Blanchett is a fit, grey-haired men with broad shoulders. He likes to do that cop stare, where they scan the individual like they're in a line-up.

"Hi," greets Toby.

"We've been talking a lot," says Jeff.

Yeah, he knows, Toby's tempted to say. What about?

"We have a special division for this sort of thing," says Sergeant Blanchett. "They deal with hate crime legislation on a daily basis. You're to be commended for reporting it. Not many do."

"Why not?" asks Toby.

"Intimidation, shame," answers Sergeant Blanchett. "These victims are also younger people. So it could very well be confusion too. They don't know what to do."

Toby had some of those same feelings. If they hadn't found the bundle on his porch, he may not have ended up at the station at all. Then, Justin and his friends would simply keep watching him or Manny, if they found her.

"I didn't think they'd have special divisions for this type of thing," admits J.T.

"Oh, ignorance is still very much alive, son," says Sergeant Blanchett. "And, unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be dying down anytime soon."

"Well..what's the next stop?" asks Toby, sadly. "Manny's in L.A., but she's coming back to Toronto in a couple weeks. They...they can't find her. That's...that's like the most important thing."

"Mr. Isaacs explained the situation to me," shares Sergeant Blanchett. "It's good that she's safe. When Ms. Santos is in Toronto, I think it's best that we move her into her family home. Do you know of this young man's capabilities?"

"No. It's mainly me guessing," admits Toby.

"He is managing to get into some records, however?"

"He could," says Toby. "When we were in computer camp, he could...basically get into anything."

"With her parents, we'd be able to keep an eye on her better," says Sergeant Blanchett. "We don't want any more victimization for either of you. I can set you up with two unit officers, one stationed at your home, Mr. Isaacs, and the other at the Santoses..."

Why couldn't the two officers defend Manny? That's who they're going after.

"I don't need protection," insists Toby.

"Toby!" cries Jeff as J.T. shakes his head.

"I don't!" repeats Toby. "They want to bother her, not me. It's in the email they sent me. I can show it to you!"

"Then explain what they left on the porch!" exclaims Jeff.

"They're only bothering me to get to her," says Toby. "It's us they have a problem with. He's going to leave me alone as long as we're apart. She's not Jewish so..."

"Do you know what the Sergeant told me? Hmmm?" remarks Jeff. "Jews are the second most targeted group..."

"In reported hate crimes," interrupts Sergeant Blanchard. "That's a recent statistic, Toby, and it's not a statistic you want to play around with."

That's easy for them to say. This isn't some statistic. It's his life, and the more protection Manny receives, the better he'll feel. He glances at J.T. for solace.

"I'm with them, Tobes," sighs J.T.

"Okay," mutters Toby, defeated.

His father wouldn't budge unless Justin was apprehended. That much is obvious. He's almost hoping Manny won't come home so she won't have to deal with this like he is. She's going to hate being followed by a cop. Manny loved going where she pleased. Toby shoves his hands in his jeans.

"I'll contact Officer Wheaton this evening," says Sergeant Blanchett. "I'm also going to advise that you don't use your e-mail until this matter is cleared up. Heaven knows what they're tracking. Is Miss Santos in constant contact with you?"

"Not...not any...not anymore," stammers Toby.

J.T. puts an arm around him.

"That's probably best," sighs Sergeant Blanchett. "Makes her less accessible. We'll contact her parents tomorrow. Let them get one more night of peaceful sleep."

"We really appreciate it, Sergeant," says Jeff, exchanging a handshake with him.

"I'll take a look at those links you provided me with this afternoon," assures Sergeant Blanchett. "It should get us going. Sooner or later, these groups always slip up."

The sergeant disappears into another office, closing the door behind him. Toby's pretty glad not to have to see him anymore. He'd love to go home, fall into bed, and pretend this is a nightmare. This was worse than the nightmare he'd had about Rick shooting Manny. With that dream, he could touch Manny a final time, smile at her a final time. In either one, though, he was to blame for the threat of danger to her.

"Everything's going to be okay, Toby," says Jeff, patting his shoulder after J.T. removes his arm.

"I'm sorry I made this mess," says Toby, his eyes watering.

"It's in the right hands now," consoles Jeff.

The doors of the station swing open before Jeff can say anything else. A young lieutenant is ushering Clara, her hair in an unruly braid, past the desks. A shaggy-haired Christian enters after them. They were heading to a back room. Clara is hugging herself. Toby casts her a sympathetic look. J.T. coughs, accidentally getting her attention.

"I asked you for a favor!" exclaims Clara, glaring at Toby. "Some friend you are!"

"Clara!" scolds Christian, fiercely.

The lieutenant slams the door behind them. Toby swallows a lump in his throat. It looked like Sergeant Blanchett would be questioning her too. Toby walks ahead of his father and J.T. as they left. He gets into the car before the two of them. His cell buzzes.

"Manny," he whispers, the name black and urgent.

She is calling him and maybe she cares. He can't call her back. Hearing her voice would thrill him, and kill him. Toby closes his eyes. It would be the most delicate sound he could wish to hear, gentle and alive and momentary, like the last beats of a heart.

IV.

"So you guys want me to ring the doorbell, I'm assuming?" says Snake, hands gripping the steering wheel.

"Um, if you don't mind," replies Toby.

"Okay...okay," breathes Snake. "Just...give me a sec."

Snake stares into the windshield for a full minute, then looks at Toby in the passenger seat and J.T. and Jeff in the rear window. He unbuckles his seatbelt with a labored sigh, then exits the vehicle.

What a vehicle it is. Toby didn't expect to be in one until college, the white and orange UHaul half the size of his bedroom. Well, they did need a big one.

"Lucky Joey knew somebody who knew somebody," says Snake, nervously smiling. "I mean, this is short notice."

Toby raises his eyebrows and stares at the door.

"Right, the door," says Snake, letting his arms sway back and forth as he approaches it.

Toby doesn't think he's seen any man more anxious to ring the doorbell of his former home. Then again, he isn't Emma who has to adjust to the new arrangements of not having your father there. Man, he couldn't even fathom not liking Simpson for the Hatzilakos kiss. Maybe he's too much of a mentor. One thing's for certain. He could always count on him.

Spike answers the door after the third ring, Jack in her arms. Jack held his hands out to his father.

"What are you doing here?" questions Spike with a frown.

"Standing," kids Snake, darting his eyes. "Uh...Toby's gotta talk to you."

Great, thinks Toby, rolling his eyes. His Media Immersion teacher's too chicken to explain why there's a UHaul parked in his old driveway. J.T. rolls his eyes as Toby walks to the stoop.

"Hi, Ms. Nelson!" greets Toby.

"Oh, hello Toby," says Spike. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, actually, it's what you can do for us," replies Toby. "We're here to move Manny's things."

Toby got the idea after Manny's unanswered phone call. It made the whole situation more immediate in his eyes and Sergeant Blanchett did say that it'd be better if Manny was with her parents. Rather than having Manny transport her things some other day, he would take care of it for her. J.T. emailed Snake, the best way to get a hold of him, who lead them to Joey. He offered another willing body for the move.

"She's itching to leave, is she?" says Spike, playfully pouting. "Well, alright. About ninety-five percent of her things are in boxes."

"Thanks," says Toby, as they brush past her.

Jeff and J.T. were hot on their trail, greeting Spike who seemed more and more flummoxed. Toby is unsure whether to tell her or not. She would soon know, anyway.

"We'll get the U-Haul ready," says Jeff, disappearing with J.T.

"Manny has a few things in the bathroom," informs Spike.

"I'll...get those," says Snake, happily doing so because it meant they wouldn't be in the same room.

"Guess that leaves me with the basement," says Toby.

"Holler if you need anything," offers Spike.

"Thank you," says Toby.

He flicks on the light, the basement going from dark to bright. Emma's bed is neatly made. Posters of endangered animals and tropical flowers aligned her walls. School books were in her bookcases. There were photographs of her family, Manny, and herself on her vanity. A small, single picture of Spinner in his Dot uniform sat next to a blue Degrassi banner. Manny's side is incredibly vacant in comparison. Some boxes were stacked and marked "Manny's Lovely Linens", "Manny's Bathroom Stuff", and his favorite, "Manny's Bedroom Booty." They were written with a purple, scented marker. Toby could still smell traces of grape when he picks up one box.

Lowering it, he searches for any tape Manny might have been using. Two shelves held some belongings she didn't pack. Toby slides the box with his foot in the direction of the shelves. He cracks his knuckles and gets to work. In goes the moisturizer that she knew he liked. In go four Scrunchies that he had a bad habit of pulling off when they were making out. Maybe it wasn't a bad habit because Manny didn't mind. In goes a mood ring receipt, for the ring she obtained when they went to Darcy's Friendship Club fair earlier that year. Toby pauses at the last item on this particular shelf.

The pale blue program for _Hamlet_ is impossible to miss. Liberty, who never got over her fascination with sign glitter, elected to do special decorative programs for only the cast. She was bored...and pregnant. J.T. thought it was a cute thing to do, mainly because he would've gone with anything to get on Liberty's good side. While the play was going on, Toby didn't think about it that much back then. He had other worries.

_"Are you guys practicing your soliloquies?" exclaimed J.T., standing next to the two royals, Craig and Paige. "The soliloquy is the thing, people!"_

_"I thought the play was the thing," said Danny, shrugging._

_"Of course, of course," sighed J.T. "Where's your sister?"_

_"Puking," said Danny, matter-of-factly._

_"Huh?" said Craig._

_"Um...stage fright," covered J.T._

_"Liberty's not in the play," mused Craig, playing with his crown._

_"It's crooked," said Paige, trying to fix it._

_"Uh...yeah," said J.T., then pulling Danny aside._

_A light scuffling picked up speed as a fairly loud costume shifted backstage._

_"This is going to be the most amateur production ever!" cried Heather Sinclair. "Between Van Zandt's Bedazzler fascination causing my shoes to be full of tacky dollar-store glitter, Nunez's inept lighting cues, and Marco's Super Mario-reminiscent father leaving behind his funky cologne aroma, I can't focus."_

_"Shut up," said Alex, shining a spotlight on her._

_"Hon, why don't you let your understudy take over?" encouraged Paige, sharing a smile with Craig._

_"Darcy?" said Heather. "That batty idiot play Ophelia? Well, we all know she's cuckoo for cocoa puffs for dating the guy who got his best friend shot. Points for dropping Paige on her rotund rump, though!"_

_"How do you unlatch this thing?" said Alex, fooling with the spotlight. "I want it to drop on her."_

_"Guys, come on," groaned Tim. "This is for a good cause! Theater."_

_Everyone remained silent as a preoccupied Marco went by them with a skull in his hands._

_"Seriously, how do you make it drop?" spoke up Alex._

_Tim threw up his arms in defeat, and the rest of the cast situated themselves in their proper spots. J.T. flew about in a mad dash like a good stage manager, let out an annoyed sigh when he tried to move past them._

_"Toby, the gravedigger isn't supposed to be smiling a lot," moaned J.T. "Get in character."_

_"Mmmm," sighed Toby, grinning as Manny kissed him deeper._

_"Both of you," scolded J.T._

_Manny ran her hand across the back of Toby's neck and sighed._

_"I give up," said J.T., heading to Marco to correct the placement of his hat._

_Maybe they did make out when they should've been in character, or maybe making out is in character for them. Toby had basically decided that he and Manny were big on the PDA after a whole month of initial shyness. By spring, or perhaps even by Valentine's Day, the shyness melted away with the snow. Besides, Drama Club was one of the few activities that allowed them to spend time together. Simpson convinced him something artistic would look good on his resume, and Manny convinced him to try out for an actual role. Also, they couldn't get away with kissing at work out of respect for Christian, but they could get away with kissing here...with respect for Ms. Kwan, when she wasn't to be found. It was only for four weeks, as it was linked to Snake's schoolwide drama festival, so they had to take advantage of it._

_"When I have my own dressing room, we won't have to make out in the wings," said Manny, leading Toby to separate from her._

_"And I won't have more lines than you," kidded Toby._

_"Mean!" said Manny, pinching his nose. "My schedule was too packed to play anything else. But you're forgiven for trying out in the first place."_

_"Well, I'm thankful I'm not on until Act Five," said Toby. "So I can be here with you."_

_"You say that to all the male servants," joked Manny, fanning herself._

_"Only to ones named Reynaldo," assured Toby. "Kiss me?"_

_"I will, my lord," said Manny, putting a spin on her one line in the whole production._

_With her hair bound under a dark blue hat, her chest tucked under a white shirt and blue doublet, and her blue tights covering her legs, she was outwardly a servant. Toby definitely didn't feel like he was kissing a servant, though._

_"You'd make a way better Ophelia," said Toby._

_"She's not behind you, is she?" asked Manny, fervently searching for Heather._

_"I don't care if she hears me," said Toby, shrugging. "You're acting after that whole video thing at the beginning of the year. Sticking with your dream."_

_Manny turned red, played with her stocking a bit._

_"Toby," she said, shyly._

_"First stop, schoolwide drama festival," sighed Toby. "Next stop, Oscar winner."_

_"This is a one-line part!" cried Manny._

_"That no one will forget," added Toby. "Especially me."_

_"So out of all my parts, you're going to remember this one?"_

_"Yep," replied Toby. "The two of us in a play. About murder and revenge and ghosts and..."_

_He stopped and wrinkled his nose._

_"Doesn't sound very us, does it?" laughed Manny._

_"True," confessed Toby._

_"What if I told you that I have a lot of dreams...for us?" said Manny, scooting closer to her._

_"I'd say...keep going," answered Toby._

_"My dream is that we'll be dating past high school, past college, and past any moment that we can guess," shared Manny._

_That was the most beautiful timeline he'd ever heard, and he'd studied many of them when he was on the Academic Bowl team._

_"Keep going," whispered Toby, hanging his head._

_"My dream is that we'll come back to Degrassi and reminisce about how we met," continued Manny, grabbing for his hand._

_He enjoyed that one, too. Really enjoyed it._

_"Keep going," said Toby, touching her cheek._

"_My dream is when I finally make it, we'll talk after the show and you'll be in love with me as much as you are...I hope, right now," said Manny._

_"Yes," whispered Toby, gently leading Manny to kiss him once more._

_He heard props being moved around, stage directions flying over their heads, J.T. complaining about the lack of commitment, and yes, he heard Heather return. The kiss was the best sound in all the raucous._

_"Because I die in this play, you have to make me look extra good," said Heather. "Make-up, please."_

_"Heather, I don't have enough," throws back Darcy._

_"Don't take your understudy frustrations out on me," said Heather. "My death is going to be so heart-breaking. The quality is going to tank once that happens."_

_"Hi," said a small voice._

_"Who are you, munchkin?" demanded Heather. "J.T., stop letting these anonymous rugrats run around!"_

_"This is my sister, Clare," introduced Darcy._

_"This is for you," said Clare, handing Heather a rectangular pamphlet, then running._

_"What is this?" cried Heather._

_"A tract from our church," said Darcy. "I don't know. Someone might've told her you were the devil. Um...bye."_

_Darcy scurried in the other direction, Heather huffing._

_"What the?" cried Heather. "I don't need this! Somebody do my make-up! Ophelia can't die looking pasty!"_

_"I can't wait until you drown," said Alex, putting the spotlight on her again._

Toby smiles at the program. A bit of glitter sticks to his thumb. That's when their dreams were in tandem. He wanted the same things she wanted, for their relationship to survive time and distance and both of them growing up.

Someone told him that your first love is not like any love you will ever have. That's the case with his mom. She has yet to get over Jeff. He doesn't want to pack up their relationship, fold the program, throw it in a box that will be dark and full of heat.

"Toby!" calls J.T. from the top of the steps. "UHaul's waiting!"

"Coming!" shouts Toby.

He folds the program, situates it in a folder, so it won't wrinkle.

V.

"Packing!" squeals Jack as he puts a paper towel into a box.

Toby grins as he unwinds the plug of Manny's rose-colored lamp. So he wouldn't distract them from arranging Manny's room, Spike has given him the task of throwing away used paper towels, pretending that Jack was "packing" like the big boys.

He's very thankful for the "big boys". Jeff, Snake, J.T., and Joseph had lugged in the boxes and shifted the furniture, alongside him. Maria Santos and Spike directed where everything should go as they were the two people who'd spent the most time in her rooms with her and knew her habits. If Joseph had any suggestions, he kept them at bay, routinely wiping his forehead with a white towel. J.T. asked if he was surrendering and that elicited a well-needed laugh.

Manny's cat-shaped clock struck eight and they were done. This is Toby's first time viewing her room at the Santoses period. The whole set-up said Manny. Her bookcase held textbooks, fashion magazines, and playbills. Her favorite film posters were stickied to the walls. Joseph had bought her a pink beanbag chair, which she hasn't seen yet. Pictures of Emma, Darcy, Liberty, and J.T. dotted her nightstand. Maria whispered that Manny took all the photos of her and Toby with her to L.A. Maria disappeared to go fetch some snacks, and Joseph told him Manny had written that on one of her postcards. That made Toby smile and then bite his lip.

He hasn't told the Santoses. They simply thought it was a very kind thing for all of them to do, and Toby didn't contradict them. You can't exactly tell your parents that your relationship was putting their daughter in danger. He puts a smaller, empty box into a bigger, empty box.

"Packing," says Jack, plucking a piece of lint from the floor. "Yummy."

"No, Jack!" cries J.T., stopping him from putting it in his mouth. "Don't eat it."

"Here," says Jack, putting the lint in Toby's palm.

"Thanks," says Toby, too sad to reject it.

"Who's hungry?" calls Maria, reentering the room.

She holds a tray of oatmeal cookies, everyone eager to thank her and take one. J.T. tosses a roll of duct tape into a box as Jack takes two while Maria's head is turned.

"None for me," pouts J.T.

"I thought I got enough," sighs Maria. "Well, there's more in the kitchen."

"Toby, if you would join us," says Joseph, indicating that he should exit the room with him.

"Um, sure," says Toby.

Toby trades concerned glances with his father and J.T., then grabs his briefcase, which Jeff retrieved for him during the move. As he leaves, he notes that Snake and Spike are talking peacefully and animatedly over a Papa Smurf doll. Heh, thinks Toby. So Manny's childhood, nighttime companion does exist. Jack drools down his shirt and grabs the Smurf's butt.

Somewhere between their departure and his arrival, they had gone from the kitchen to the living room. Or maybe they never went to the kitchen. In any case, they were seated next to each other on the couch with huge smiles on their faces.

"Sit," encourages Joseph.

Toby takes a seat, resting his briefcase near his knees.

"We're so excited to have Manuella home," sighs Maria. "She sounds like she's having fun in California. Is she?"

There were fun moments in California, perfect moments.

"She'd probably tell you more than she has us," says Joseph, nodding with Maria.

He can't tell them certain things. Would her parents want to hear about the drunken night or the prejudices Manny had faced or...those are really her things to tell if she ever told.

"Manny won an award," shares Toby. "Best Actress. In the whole camp. Then the play reviews...Manny has a lot to be proud of."

"As do we," adds Joseph.

"Yeah," says Toby.

"We appreciate that you did this for her," says Joseph. "It saves her a lot of work. Now, she can focus on school and college entrance exams and applications and acting.."

"And dating Toby, of course," jokes Maria, elbowing her husband.

Toby puts his hands together and frowns. He may not be able to tell them the big things, but he can be honest about one thing.

"We should probably put Toby down for a wedding invitation," says Maria, grinning. "Our J.J.'s...getting married."

"Oh wow," says Toby, smiling sadly.

"Plus I'm sure we can make an exception for the bachelor party," says Joseph. "No strippers. But it'll be sports-themed. Which team do you like?"

"He doesn't follow sports," says Maria.

"Every seventeen-year old boy follows sports, Maria," insists Joseph.

"Manny mentioned wrestling once, but Toby's more into computers and literature...," starts Maria.

"They've got sports computer games!" cries Joseph.

"That is not the same thing," says Maria.

Toby coughs to make himself known.

"Sorry," says Joseph, shrugging.

"I...uh, I'm touched you want me at the wedding, but I won't be coming over as much anymore," says Toby.

His throat grows tight as he watches their faces fall. Maria's is particularly devestating as it reminds him of Manny's at the airport.

"Manny and I aren't together," says Toby.

"What?" whispers Joseph, urgently.

"It's best," adds Toby.

"For who?" says Maria in bewilderment.

"For her," says Toby, his voice wavering. "I loved coming to your home. Like it's been nice seeing two people who can stay together for so long. My parents...aren't. I was starting to think it didn't exist."

Maria links her arm through Joseph's, both of them staring fondly at him.

"The reason for this break-up?" says Joseph.

"I can't tell you that," replies Toby, a single tear going down his cheek. "All I can tell you is that you're getting a call tomorrow, and I really hate that you're getting it."

Joseph's brow creases as Maria's eyes fall to the floor. His hand shaking, he fetches what he'd put at the bottom of his briefcase. He was going to take it to Kytel, stare at it throughout the school year. It wouldn't be right to have it after he'd disappointed her family.

"Manny gave me this," explains Toby, handing Maria the bag. "I can't have it and she should give it to someone else."

Maria raises her gaze and opens the heart-shaped bag.

"Oh, Joseph," sighs Maria, sniffling.

Joseph holds the _arrhae_ too, and they tinkle as he revolves his wrist to turn the bag. Maria wipes her cheeks.

"This is pact between two people," says Joseph, staring straight into Toby's eyes, past his glasses.

"Two Catholic...," starts Toby.

"No, two people," interrupts Joseph, calmly. "It is not mine to receive, nor is it mine to accept."

"Or mine," says Maria with clear conviction.

Toby shakes his head, wondering if he offended them. Is there anything he can do right?

"Manny chose you," says Joseph. "We accept her choice. And we'll continue to accept her choice until something should change, her feelings for you."

"Put them back in your briefcase," whispers Maria. "Please. You'll have to give them to her, if you really want to."

"I don't want to," admits Toby.

Toby gently takes them and does what she asked. He assumed they would take them. Tomorrow might change their mind, or perhaps it won't. There's no way of knowing until the call comes.

Maria stands and hugs him. Toby blinks as his head touches her slim shoulder, and Joseph pounds him softly on the back.

"We're not letting you go without a fight," says Joseph.

"I'm always going to be Jewish," says Toby. "That's...clear, right?"

Joseph and Maria exchange a long look and laugh.

"I'm always going to want my daughter to be happy," assures Joseph. "I'm getting used to the kosher food anyway."

"Yeah," whispers Maria as Joseph bends to pick up Toby's briefcase. "I think he stole that oatmeal cookie."


	59. Real Life

**LIX. Real Life**

_I wish that life was like it is in the movies  
'Cause the hero always gets his way  
No matter how hard it gets on that dark lonely road  
At the end he's got a smile on his face  
But when they threw me out to the lions  
No one saved me as I fell from your grace  
And no one wrote me new lines for what I said wrong  
What I did wrong I could not erase_

_This is real life  
This is real love  
This is real pain that much I'm sure of  
These are real tears  
These are real fears inside that I can't hide_

_I wish that I could be your white knight in armor  
With an army just to bring you back home  
But I'll admit I'm scared of dialing your number  
Someone else is gonna answer the phone  
Why can't it be like it is on TV?  
When the orchestra plays and you come back to me_

_This is real life  
This is real love  
This is real pain that much I'm sure of  
These are real tears  
These are real fears inside I can't hide  
This real life  
This real love  
These are real wounds I'm bleeding from  
And I realize this real  
I always thought that our love was a storybook tale  
God knows that I never dreamed in the end it would fail_

_'Cause this is real life  
This is real love  
This is real pain that much I'm sure of  
These are real tears  
These are real fears inside, I can't hide  
This real life  
This is real love  
These are real wounds I'm bleeding from  
When I realize this real_

**Real Life is the property of Bon Jovi and appears in the film _EDTV_**.

**Author's Note: We're still doing the different days for different storylines. This first scene with Manny is when she comes back to Lia's on the day she left Toby. Soon, all of them will merge on one particular day, a special day. That's all I gotta say. :P**

She sits in the middle of the room, disgusted with it. When she first saw it, it seemed straight from a fantasy. The color was brilliant, exquisitely tailored to her, and the classic furniture and designer touches added to its appeal. The first person she called, upon sitting on the sheets, was him. He answered, tired as could be, yet just as anxious to hear her voice.

Why isn't Toby answering now? Does she even want the answer to that? Some of the things she said to him, when they were last together, were not from her heart at all. She was just so mad that he was leading her in a direction she didn't see coming. When he held her that night, she knew what it meant. When he said this was for her benefit, almost every fiber of her being believed him. But how can you believe something that's so shadowy, untangible? It was like putting a free hand in front of you, while holding the other behind your back, a mix of fear and faith. She's not sure which is going to win out.

Manny lays her cell phone against her lips, stares ahead of her. If they were so different, he should've spared her the trouble and gone with Kendra. He could've chosen Clara and they wouldn't be where they are today. Toby's actions said something completely different, and it wasn't that their differences would drive them apart. Manny sighs and dials him again.

"Pick up, Tobes," she whispers as the steady ringing sounds.

When the voicemail begins to talk, she lets the phone fall to the carpet. She strokes her forehead, looks at her reflection in a mirror that captures her tears falling from afar.

"Manny?" calls a voice from the other side. "You in there?"

It's not Lia, but she doesn't go to the door. She continues to meet her own gaze as Emma enters.

"Hey," says Emma, cautiously sitting on the bed.

"Did Lia tell you anything?" asks Manny, avoiding looking at her.

"That you were in your room," replies Emma. "When did you get in?"

"I haven't paid attention to the time," says Manny.

"You're...you're more sad than when you left," notes Emma, awkwardly putting her arm around her friend.

"I had a boyfriend before I left," says Manny, her lips starting to tremble.

Emma sighs and lets Manny rest her cheek against her shoulder. Her gaze shifts to the left.

"Why is your phone on the floor?" asks Emma, starting to retrieve it. "You've been..."

"Calling him," admits Manny. "Emma, I said a lot of stuff I shouldn't have said. Stuff that hurt him."

"Unless you're Heather Sinclair, I doubt that's likely," returns Emma. "What happened?"

"I...I don't know!" cries Manny. "Things were perfect one minute, and then...Toby shut down on me. From warm to cold in one weekend. Lia said he got scared."

"Scared?" says Emma, shrugging.

What could have scared him so bad that he wanted her to go away? Sure, Craig dodged her when they were together, and Sully kept his distance, but Toby got her a ticket to get her out of the country. That's pretty extreme. She must have done something...

"I think...I think I know," speaks up Manny.

"Yeah?" encourages Emma.

"The...the coins," shares Manny. "I gave him some traditional coins that are linked to weddings. Like...it might've been too much. Too serious. Toby didn't say 'I love you' to me for a while, and I made it complicated with this? It's no wonder."

"Well, I'm still wondering!" exclaims Emma. "Cause I'm not buying that. It makes no sense that you guys would go through all this, and he'd dump you over a sweet gift like that."

"Maybe I should stop guessing," sighs Manny.

"And get some sleep?" adds Emma, patting Manny's pillow.

Manny grins, finally gives Emma a gracious look.

"I can always count on you, Em," says Manny as she wipes her cheeks.

"Toby may have the coins, but I want the wedding bouquet," says Emma, undoing the blanket as Manny slips under.

She'd sleep with her shoes on. Basically, she just wants a blank sleep, long and stress-free. Manny raises the comforter to the top of her chest.

"Too bad you're a bad catcher," kids Manny, sniffling.

"I'll practice," assures Emma, before turning off the room's lights. "There's time."

II.

When he wakes up, he feels like he's in Dale's car again. His head is against something softer than a car seat, his sweat dampening the pillow set under his neck. There's the feeling of gentle restriction along his waist, though it's a rib belt and not a seatbelt. His mind is foggy and gradually grows clearer.

The first thing he views is a jar, sealed with green lumps that appear lumpier than they are from where he's laying.

"Got you some pickles, punk," says the jar supplier.

Sean smiles, not too big because of the stitches.

"Not funny," says Sean.

Tracker leafs through an issue of _Esquire_, then leans forward in his seat.

"You were always stealing them," reminds Tracker.

Oh yeah, recalls Sean. He needed something for dinner with Emma and her parents three years ago.

"Once," says Sean. "See your reading habits haven't changed."

"As long as Jennifer Aniston makes the Hot List, I'll keep reading," says Tracker. "How you feeling?"

"Who called you?" mutters Sean, wincing as he tries to get in a better position to talk with his brother.

Tracker really doesn't have to say anything. Mr. Ehl, and his nephew, who drove his uncle to Lincoln last night, came in earlier and told him that Ellie called. Marco and Alex popped their heads in at one point, and he assumed Ellie had filled them in to the best of her ability. It was nice to have visitors, but Tracker had definitely driven the furthest to get here. Ellie must've went out of her way, swung by his apartment, and located his new number. Sean hung his head instead of prodding any further.

"That's some girl you got there," compliments Tracker. "Then again, she put up with living with you. Girl must be a saint actually."

Sean smirks. "Shut it."

"So?" says Tracker.

"I'm good...sore a bit," says Sean. "Mom and Dad here?"

"Came straight from work, man," replies Tracker. "I've called them a couple times."

"Thanks," says Sean. "I...I don't want them to worry."

"Well...we are...worrying," confesses Tracker.

Sean awkwardly pulls on the blanket and tries to cover part of the scar at the edge of his mouth. It hurts to talk, and it'd hurt them more if they did hear him talk. His life was making a turning point before Dale came into the picture. He told Tracker and his parents about the job at Hill's, his new apartment, and how he thought he'd really be able to graduate this upcoming year. There was no reason to think he wouldn't hold onto those possibilities. That's greatly changed.

"What is it?" questions Tracker. "I mean, you won't even tell Ellie? I thought you guys were like this?"

He crosses two fingers and nods for Sean to confirm it.

"We are," insists Sean. "It's...it's tough. Put myself in a bad place."

"What kind of place we talking?" says Tracker. "Are you still struggling with stuff connected to the shooting or..."

"No," interjects Sean. "No, Mom and Dad seriously stepped up with that."

They really did. Sean had a hard time registering that one, these were his folks, and two, it wasn't his fault in the end. His parents were stone cold sober, listened when he needed someone to listen, endorsed his decision to return to Degrassi and keep on the track to graduation. Their encouragement continued once he left. When he got his marks, around the holidays, he called them. Tracker said his mother bragged about her "resourceful son" at the laundromat and his father rang Sean, stayed real quiet until he finally muttered that he was "making a man out of himself." What man would they find in this hospital? A man who lied, cheated, stole things from people he respected or cared about?

"Track, I really messed up, man," says Sean, softly. "El's involved. Jay's very involved."

"You gotta tell someone," says Tracker. "Ellie, or at least Mr. Ehl."

"I can't," insists Sean. "Not them or you."

Tracker wrings his hands, the chair groaning a bit.

"I'm going to disappoint them when it's in the open," continues Sean. "Man, when Mr. Ehl came in...I don't even know why I get people's hopes up. Cause they're going to crash anyways."

"Don't give me that," says Tracker, strongly.

"I...," starts Sean.

"We make mistakes," says Tracker. "So what? We ain't dead yet so you learn and move on from them. Cut off the people you need to cut off. Correct what needs correcting. I'm not saying stuff you haven't done before."

Yes, but it was easier then. He only had to separate himself from Jay after that party, or repair Simpson's car to make up for stealing his laptop, or convince Mrs. Nash that he could do better, which he's not sure she believes right at this moment. This is a serious mess. Then, Dale was looming over him like a dark cloud.

"It's not that simple," sighs Sean. "This stuff is tougher. I might lose...like, everything."

"Is everything worth having if you get your butt kicked?" returns Tracker. "Whatever it is, man, I know for a fact that the people who are worried about you right now, will go through with it with you later. Your pickle-loving bro included."

Sean gingerly touches his side. It is still sensitive and he can feel his stomach turn. The pain isn't fresh and it still aches. What he wouldn't do to make it go away. What will he do?

"You came right from work, huh?" says Sean.

Tracker holds up his hand, covered in black grease. Sean shakes his head.

"Some mechanic you are," says Sean.

He didn't mean it in a negative way, and thankfully, Tracker got it. He's the type of mechanic that was with him in the not so great times when he hadn't learned to control his temper or look for other alternatives. He was the type of mechanic that took him in, and was there, even before Mr. Ehl. He's the type of mechanic who knows what he's talking about, perhaps even now.

"Yep," says Tracker. "I'm eating those pickles, though."

III.

"He raises his prize in triumph!" yells Boomer, the shout echoing in the darkness.

Spinner surrenders the key as they exit Boomer's car. He was happy for his new friend. He'd be happier if he could've stayed a little longer down south, in a district closer to Emma. He wonders how often couples go official and then have to travel in different directions. It is getting a taste of what's to come and it's making him eager for more. On the other hand, he did want to check on Kendra.

"Wait 'til Kendra sees this baby," says Boomer, kissing the large trophy. "It's more huge than the others."

"Well, we both walked off with big prizes," hints Spinner.

"Come again, Mason?" says Boomer.

"Your man's a boyfriend now," announces Spinner, grinning. "Oh yeah."

"Ah! She hooked you, man?" kids Boomer. "Another one bites the dust."

"Um, who's the guy who wants to show the gold to my sister?" says Spinner.

Boomer clicks his tongue. "Okay. On that note..."

They both laugh, Boomer casting a glance at Spinner's grandmother's house. The lone light that's on is in Kendra's bedroom. That's usual. His grandmother liked to go to bed early, whether weekday or weekend. He called her on the way home, and told her they were en route.

"I don't want to wake your grandmother," says Boomer. "I'll talk to Kendra tomorrow. Bye bro."

"See ya, man," says Spinner, knocking knuckles with him.

Unlocking the front door, Spinner turns on the foyer light. He's expecting it to be quiet, and raises his eyebrows when he hears soft moaning. The moaning is light, but frequent. He follows the noise and arrives right outside Kendra's room. The door is parted and he peers in the slit. His mother is there, rubbing Kendra's forehead as his sister cries. He's shocked at both. His parents said they weren't able to make it until two days from now and why is Kendra so sad?

The test, guesses Spinner. Oh, no. He taps on the door.

"I don't want to see anybody," groans Kendra.

"It's just Spinner, dear," says Mrs. Mason. "Come in, sweetie."

Spinner takes a deep breath and sits at the edge of the bed. Up close, Kendra is very disheveled. He remembers the last time she was like this, before the bone scan, and apparently after the bone scan.

"What did the doctor say?" asks Spinner.

Kendra doesn't reply, instead crying louder and letting her head fall against her mother's breast.

"Not good," shares Mrs. Mason, sadly.

"I'm sorry, Kendra," says Spinner, patting her arm.

"A whole year without training," sighs Kendra, shaking her head. "I'll lose my scholarship at Gleeson."

"We don't know that," reassures Mrs. Mason.

"I bet I had weak bones to begin with," says Kendra. "You said my birth family had health issues, but..."

"There's no sense in blaming anyone," asserts Mrs. Mason.

"I'm not blaming them! It's...I...," whispers Kendra. "I'm the idiot."

"You're not," argues Spinner.

"I'm the best they had on the beam at the clinic!" cries Kendra. "That's what my coach said. Then, this happened. First, I'm benched, and because of some stupid fall, I'm done!"

"You'll get stronger this year and be better than you were," says Mrs. Mason.

"Totally," says Spinner.

"Can you guys just...leave me alone?" requests Kendra, turning away from them.

Their mother appears hurt, though she stands and after kissing Spinner on the head, does what Kendra asks. Spinner's not so inclined to move. What specifically did the test reveal? Is her career finished?

"Spinner," says Kendra, pointedly.

"It's only a year, right?" says Spinner.

"Gleeson was going to give me a scholarship this year, Spin," explains Kendra. "The clinic coach sent them a video of my routine, and that's why I practiced, even after I fell. Grandma knew about the scholarship, but I told Mom tonight. I shouldn't have pushed myself so much because...this happened."

"You couldn't predict something like that," says Spinner.

"And it's not like I could ever get an academic scholarship."

"Not your fault you got hurt."

"In this instance, it is," argues Kendra, weakly. "A whole year, gone. This was supposed to be _my_ year."

"Maybe you can make it your year another way," suggests Spinner.

"Yeah, right," moans Kendra, burying her face in her hands.

Spinner tries to hug her, but Kendra shirks away.

"Spin...don't, okay?" exclaims Kendra.

He told her when they were in L.A. that he'd look out for her. There doesn't seem to be a possibility of him fixing this. He can't magically heal her or trade places with her.

"For what it's worth, I've always thought you were like...the best on the beam, too," says Spinner.

Spinner doesn't receive the sweet smile he's come to expect from his sister after a heartfelt compliment. No. Kendra stares at the floor and not at him. He walks into the hall and closes her door. Spinner lets his hand stay on the cold metal of the doorknob. Her crying returns in a few seconds. Maybe he'd stay there until it subsided. Maybe he couldn't take it. It's the toughest thing to hear someone cry as their dreams faded, the toughest thing.

IV.

"I made you a cheer up lunch," announces Hannah. "Since you missed breakfast."

Manny glances down at her nightgown. She didn't feel fit enough to get dressed and she rescheduled the meeting with Colleen, who just seemed content that Manny was back in the States. Colleen also hinted that there were some auditions she'd be interested in, but Manny cut her off at that moment. She would've simply gotten excited about another movie or play that didn't work out for her. No, she'd stay home today and try to get a grasp on her reality, if that's even possible.

Hannah, the Andrews sister she didn't want to avoid at all costs, is making it a little easier to be in the house.

"Oooh, I get mustard?" says Manny, warmly.

"Lia won't let me use a knife," says Hannah, apologetically. "Or the microwave or the stove...or what's that thing called, Emma?"

"The trash compactor," provides Emma as she sets a glass in front of Manny.

"Well, I have to say this lunch is definitely cheering me up," says Manny, and that's at least thirty percent true.

Hannah beams and Manny's glad she's proud of herself. Humoring Hannah is simple, while it's everything else that leaves her flummoxed. The little girl disappears for a moment, leaving the older girls to talk.

"Did you try him today?" whispers Emma.

"A couple times," admits Manny.

Toby failed to answer, as usual. Is she setting herself up for more heartbreak? If they were ending, and she's praying they're not, she didn't want to leave it like this.

"I could call J.T.," offers Emma.

"No," says Manny. "This is between me and him. At least, I think it is."

"Have you talked to Anne Marie?" asks Emma. "She may have an idea on what's going on."

Manny's unable to answer, as Hannah reenters, Lia right after her.

"You have...company," says Lia, then clearing her throat.

Company? Manny wishes she wore her robe over her nightgown. She hugs herself protectively.

"It's Blake," says Lia, rolling her eyes.

"Don't say it like that, Lia," complains Blake, strolling into the room. "I almost think you don't want me around."

"Heh," says Lia, making a face.

Hannah giggles.

"Cool...grub," says Blake, staring at Manny's food.

The plate holds a cheese sandwich, potato chips, grapes (which she's sure is Emma's influence more than Hannah's), and a chocolate cupcake. As tempting as the food is, Manny isn't completely sure she is going to eat it.

"Cupcake!" cries Blake, reaching for it.

Hannah smacks his hand.

"Owww!" cries Blake.

"That's Manny's," says Hannah. "But we've got more."

"More?" says Lia, her eyes darting to the kitchen.

Emma wrinkles her brow as the two sisters scurry to the kitchen, and grins as she walks after them. Despite herself, Manny thinks it's cute, too.

"Brought you a present," says Blake, teasingly. "It's...in my backseat."

Manny smirks. "Do I want to see it?"

"Definitely," says Blake, sitting next to her. "So...get dressed. Come on."

"Give me a reason to get dressed," shrugs Manny.

"Our awards are ready," shares Blake. "Can take you to get yours."

"And the present's connected to this?" questions Manny.

"Kind of," replies Blake, smiling. "To the show, yeah. You gotta go. Since when did Manny Santos say no to a trip to the theater?"

The pluses are starting to pop into her brain. She wouldn't be under the same roof as Lia for the rest of the afternoon. She would be less liable to call Toby and hear his voicemail on the other end for the billionth time. She had to pick up her award eventually.

"Never," says Manny.

V.

"Sorry," greets Manny as she approaches Blake. "I've run out of never worn clothes."

Manny settled on a pair of jeans, and the pink top she wore when she went to Mood with Toby, Emma, Lia, and J.T. She shivered when she put it on, recalling how beautiful the night started off. She and Toby were so swept up in each other, embracing the night. Grabbing her purse, she shook herself to rid herself of the memory.

"That's refreshing to hear from a girl in L.A.," says Blake.

Blake's BMW is how she remembers it. The car has played quite a role in her trip here. This is where she received the information for that infamous Pinecrest audition, and it's also where they drove to stop Trash Talkin' Todd from posting the horrible attack against her and Toby. A lot has happened in this car. She's more eager to see the present, anyway. Though Blake has shown the nicer side of his personality in the past two weeks, trusting him is very new to her.

"Do you want to see my rear?" jokes Blake, gesturing to the car.

"Nasty," says Manny. "But yes."

Chuckling, Blake opens the car door and Manny views a present she doesn't necessarily love to see. The seat holds Toby's basket, the note and candy in tact, with the flowers removed.

"The flowers...died," explains Blake. "But I went back to the store and the tailor told me she saved it in case you ever came looking for it."

"Oh," says Manny, her eyes dropping.

"This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath...," begins Blake, fetching the note.

"Stop, please," interrupts Manny, staring him straight in the eye.

"Alright," says Blake.

"It's...things went south with Toby," explains Manny. "I appreciate you bringing it to me."

"Man, I had no idea," says Blake. "Sorry. If there's anything I can do..."

"Tired of feeling pitied," insists Manny.

"Um...then we'll drive," says Blake, closing the rear door and opening the front door for her.

"Thank you," says Manny, sliding in.

They do drive and Blake is strangely and nicely quiet. Top forty radio blasts from his car stereo and he doesn't look at Manny too often. He must've gotten the hint that she doesn't want to discuss the break-up. She probably can't answer his questions, anyway.

Blake parks in the lot, Manny facing the Majestic. The building appears large and somber, but the smaller basket is what's making her heart hurt. Rather than be in the same breathing space as the empty basket, she gets out of the car. Blake locks the BMW and walks with her to the door. They stop near the auditorium doors.

"Arissa said we could get them after one o' clock," says Blake. "I know Jade's working on some stuff upstairs. I'll go ask her where Arissa is."

Manny nods and presses her back against the door. Truthfully, being here after discovering Lia's betrayal is kind of haunting. She can imagine those eager young actresses streaming in with _Hearts for Sale_ scripts, nailing lines Manny could've nailed, conveying emotions Manny could've conveyed. The perfect role was ripped away before she got a chance.

Loud talking enters her ears and Manny stares at the door. The speech is familiar and so is the speaker. Manny presses through and finds Arissa, center stage, raising her hands as she recites a monologue:

"_Pray you, let's have no words of this;  
but when they ask you what it means, say you this--_

_To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,  
All in the morning betime,  
And I a maid at your window,  
To be your Valentine.  
Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,  
And dupp'd the chamber-door;  
Let in the maid, that out a maid  
Never departed more_."

Manny smiles. Her voice rich, Arissa projects with passion and she can see her eyes are full of fire from there. Her cloak envelops her fully and each breath is calculated so it won't ruin the flow of the piece. Everything Arissa taught them is coming to life. Manny never got that luxury, of critiquing herself from the audience, but she'd like to think she is as good as Arissa.

"End scene," says Arissa to herself.

Glancing from left to right, Manny shrugs and applauds, her clapping carrying through the theater. Arissa narrows her eyes at her and Manny lets the applause grow thinner and thinner before stopping.

"Manuella Santos," calls Arissa.

Oh, great. She's going to get in trouble, and she's not even in camp anymore. It would be Ms. Prue all over again.

"Hi Arissa," says Manny, tentatively.

"Come here," instructs Arissa, not a trace of sympathy in her tone.

Manny obliges, making sure she takes her time in getting there. If Blake shows, this will be less awkward...perhaps.

"What is the monologue I recited?" asks Arissa.

So this is a quiz? Thank goodness she's very familiar with the material.

"Ophelia...in _Hamlet_," says Manny. "We did the play at Degrassi. I was Reynaldo. Mmmm, as they say, there are no small roles, only small actors."

Manny smiles at the breezy joke while Arissa strokes her chin.

"What kind of actress is grateful for a one-line role?" questions Arissa. "Hmmm?"

"Uh...a nice one?" replies Manny.

"Who was involved in this production?" says Arissa.

"Fellow students," says Manny. "Oh, and my boyfriend was a gravedigger."

"You should've traded with him," decides Arissa, with complete sincerity.

Manny's mouth drops. That was the last thing she expected her to say. Though, she can't claim to really know Arissa that well, can she?

"He did a good job!" defends Manny.

Arissa laughs. "Manuella, Manuella."

What's so funny? Okay, she guesses it's kind of a joke. Manny smiles.

"What's your boyfriend's name?" says Arissa.

She should correct her and say he's her ex-boyfriend, but that word doesn't escape her mouth.

"Toby," says Manny, softly. "Toby Isaacs."

"He's Jewish?" wonders Arissa aloud.

Manny nods. Arissa is becoming slightly chummy, yet Manny goes along with it. This is the woman who awarded her Best Actress. Arissa leaves her to go to a white box on a theater chair.

"My father was a genuine mensch," says Arissa, Manny trailing her.

"I've heard that word, but...," starts Manny.

"Yiddish," interjects Arissa. "A decent, mature, good-hearted man."

"Well, Toby's almost a mensch, then," says Manny. "He's seventeen."

"Well, I'm sure he is," chuckles Arissa.

Arissa digs into the box, starts sifting through smaller, white boxes. Manny holds her tongue when Arissa locates Lia's award and sets it aside. It didn't occur to her to ask for Lia's.

"My mom...not so into the theater," shares Arissa. "She thought acting was a first-class trip to the poor house."

Manny isn't certain if she should reply until her conscience leads her, too.

"My dad didn't like acting at first, either," says Manny. "Today, he does. I'm amazed they let me come out to L.A."

"It's nice when people support your dreams," says Arissa, nodding. "Especially when they seem far-fetched."

"Lately, they have," sighs Manny. "To me, at least."

She's surprised she let that slip out. It's just...she'd think another actress would understand. At times, her dreams not only seemed far-fetched, but hopeless. What if other studios were like Pinecrest and judged her on sight? If Lia, her so-called friend, is quick to stab her in the back, who else would? Then, Toby was supposed to be along for the ride, and he isn't.

Arissa provides Manny with a long, hard stare. Manny freezes. Her eyes don't dare to blink. Arissa sighs and removes Manny's award from its box. _**Manuella Santos**_ is set against the small, gold plate under the star.

"I won this at my first summer at Majestic," says Arissa. "The awards weren't nearly as fancy in those days, but it did mean something. It meant someone believed in me. Despite all my flaws, the let-downs, and believe me, there were many...my talent remained steadfast."

This must be what Anne Marie meant when they were at Manny's ball, that Arissa had a personal connection to the camp long ago. She listens intently.

"That faith got me through a lot of rough patches, and I've always been thankful to this camp for that confidence," says Arissa.

"In...in the real world, things are different," sighs Manny. "Or should I say, not different enough? They don't want a non-blonde, Filipina girl to play the lead."

"Manuella, may I tell you something true, without you being offended?" asks Arissa.

Manny can't think to do anything, except nod.

"You are the first Filipina actress that has received the Best Actress honors at Majestic," shares Arissa.

Manny grins a little, then bites her lip. Her? She's the first? Having many firsts in California, this still ranks at the top of the list, right with...well, being with Toby on Starlight Ball Night.

"No," says Manny in disbelief. "Really? You're not kidding."

Arissa grins and laughs. "No. You are _the_ first and you won it because of pure talent. All the scouts agreed with me."

"That's...pretty awesome," says Manny after taking a long breath.

"And I predict a lot more firsts for you," compliments Arissa. "If you keep at it. So keep at it."

Manny gingerly takes the award, and reads her name, over and over until she's clear it's staying where it's meant to stay.

"I _will_ keep at it," affirms Manny.

VI.

"You're in better, spirits," comments Blake as they go down the sidewalk.

Manny can't argue with him. The trip to the theater was the boost she need, the best medicine for her blues. She's almost looking forward to meeting with Colleen. Discussing the lawsuit would be painful. However, hearing the list of suitable auditions would be music to her ears.

"I am," says Manny.

"Manny's got her mojo back," says Blake, snapping his fingers. "She still needs fuel, though."

Yes. She wolfed down Hannah's cheer up lunch to appease her, yet her stomach was grumbling on the return trip home. The radio off, Blake heard and insisted they stop at a restaurant. Manny was thinking something small, but Blake was Blake, and it had to be pricey.

"They serve small portions," assures Blake.

Manny stares at the restaurant wearily. It is an outside restaurant, and unfortunately she's getting a romantic vibe from it, two couples canoodling over their dishes and wine glasses. A single, glowing candle is on each table. Two teenagers were puckering up and Manny covers her mouth.

"It's on me," says Blake, holding up a hand for the maitre'd.

"Ah, Blake," greets the maitre'd, a handlebar, black moustache above his lips. "And a beautiful young lady. No single table for you, tonight, huh?"

Manny blushes furiously and glances at Blake. Blake clears his throat and refuses to stare at Manny.

"It's not a date," murmurs Blake.

"Of course not," says the maitre'd, winking at Manny. "This way, please."

She hurries to the table and pulls out her own chair, even though Blake tries to do it for her. Ugh. She should've told him to take her home.

"Can I get you some wine?" asks the maitre'd.

"I'm underage," says Manny, then shaking her head at Blake. "We both are."

"Um...yeah," says the smiling maitre'd, then backing away.

"So how's Camille, Blake?" says Manny, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Blake pats the tablecloth, Manny certain he can tell that she's fetching for some clue about what this means. She doesn't like pestering him like this. She's not in the mood for this, though. The boy can't be that oblivious. He saw her reaction to the basket.

"Good," replies Blake. "Rebecca Scott from Paramount scooped her up is all. They arranged a meeting with her or whatever."

Manny lowers her head. That was the meeting she could've had, if she didn't fly off the handle with Colleen and Lia the day of the _Tempest_ performance. No, she went to Disneyland instead, to be with Toby. She doesn't believe it, but she doesn't regret her decision. She releases a breath.

"Okay," she says, more to herself than Blake.

"Okay what?" says Blake in confusion.

"There will be a job somewhere else," answers Manny. "I hope."

"No, you should know," says Blake. "Manny, you can't be having doubts that you'll get work. You're an amazing actress."

"Blake, you, out of everyone else, are aware of the role they wanted me to play," reminds Manny.

"Forget Martika," says Blake, leaning forward. "She's not fit to be _your_ maid."

Manny smiles widely. "I'll toast to that."

"Let's toast," encourages Blake. "Um, sparkling water?"

"Fine," says Manny, rolling her eyes playfully.

The maitre'd hurries to them as soon as Blake signals. He pours them two glasses of sparkling water, then exits as quickly as he came. Blake and Manny clink glasses. The wind moves through Manny's hair. It feels nice to relax. Sighing, she opens the menu and starts to read. Blake's menu remains where it's been since they were seated.

"Manny," speaks up Blake.

"Mmm hmm," says Manny, her eyes scanning the entrees.

"Camille is sort of interested...like in me," says Blake.

Good for him. Maybe Camille can make him less lonely.

"Although, something...or someone is keeping me from...going there, you know?"

"Uh-huh," mutters Manny.

Manny closes her menu to read the wine list, and feels a foreign touch on her hand. Blake has put his hand against hers, and is leaning, leaning and lowering her menu, aiming his mouth towards her. Manny immediately pushes his face in the other direction. Blake falls back into his chair, rubbing his neck. It might be sore, but at least it wasn't a slap.

"I...you...sorry," says Manny, her cheeks growing warm.

"So, you wanna try again?" asks Blake, hopefully.

Manny stares at the tablecloth, sees a tear coat it. Another tear drops, too far away to douse the flickering candle.

"What?" says Blake, gently.

He puts a hand on her shoulder and amazingly, goes in for yet another kiss. Manny drops her head.

"You're not...," begins Manny.

"Hmmm?" says Blake.

"You're not Toby," chokes out Manny.

Blake sighs and stands resolutely. He rests his hand on the top of his chair.

That is the truth. Blake isn't Toby. No other boy is Toby, and she's not interested in finding a replacement for that role. Toby's role isn't on stage, yet it is special and one of a kind. Manny holds a hand over her rapidly beating heart. It's kicked into high gear.

"He's the hero that got your heart with a basket," says Blake. "And I'm the villain who can't get the girl."

He offers her a sympathetic smile and Manny offers him a soft laugh. Blake helps her rise to her feet.

"Being the rebound isn't my thing," says Blake. "You can't blame me for trying. Eh, I'll take you home."

Manny retrieves her purse, kisses him on the cheek and they walk to the car. On the way to Lia's, she suggests some places where he could take a date, preferably Camille if she's willing. When they reach the house, it's dark, though the porch light has remained on, so Manny won't stumble to the door. Blake watches her for a few more second and takes off. She carries his basket, her award inside, with her. It's almost like Toby is walking her to the door. Almost.


	60. The Call

**LX. The Call**

_It started out as a feeling  
Which then grew into a hope  
Which then turned into a quiet thought  
Which then turned into a quiet word_

_And then that word grew louder and louder  
Til it was a battle cry_

_I'll come back  
When you call me  
No need to say goodbye_

_Just because everything's changing  
Doesn't mean it's never  
Been this way before_

_All you can do is try to know  
Who your friends are  
As you head off to the war_

_Pick a star on the dark horizon  
And follow the light_

_You'll come back  
When it's over  
No need to say good bye_

_You'll come back  
When it's over  
No need to say good bye.._

_Now we're back to the beginning  
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet  
But just because they can't feel it too  
Doesn't mean that you have to forget_

_Let your memories grow stronger and stronger  
Til they're before your eyes_

_You'll come back  
When they call you  
No need to say good bye_

_You'll come back  
When they call you  
No need to say good bye..._

**The Call is the property of Regina Spektor and appears in the film _Prince Caspian_**.

He's counting down the hours. This hospital is one of his least favorite places, especially under these circumstances. His chest feels tight, his mouth cottony after taking the medications. Whenever he walks, it's almost like his legs fall asleep because his knees and feet sting. After two awkward attempts at getting up, he buzzed a nurse for help and wound up in a wheelchair. It's not exactly the help he wanted.

"Now you stay in here until your release time," instructs a pretty, black-haired nurse. "That's four-thirty on the dot. Dr. Southworth's orders."

"Okay," sighs Sean.

This would be his mode of transportation for doing what he's thought about doing all morning-- visiting Jay. A lot of hesitations made him stay inside his hospital bed. What if the police were still hanging around? Did Jay tell them anything? The most crucial question: Does Jay even want to see him? Sean can't change facts. He was the one who told Dale where Jay was, and told the lie that got Jay away from the safety of his class to the spot that got him shot. If he knew what would've happened, he'd have left Jay alone. Maybe he should leave him alone now.

The nurse pushes Sean to room C7, right in the middle of the long, quiet hallway. She asks if he needs anything else and he shakes his head. Sean fixes his wrinkled blue T-shirt and the left pants leg of his jeans. Changing took awhile, especially masking the rib belt. He wonders if Jay can change clothes, having no idea of his update since the two male nurses confirmed that he'd "made it."

Before he can open the door, he spies a familiar, lanky figure coming towards him. Sean rests his eyes on the approaching man's face. Like a magnifying glass, the features become clearer and clearer. Mr. Hogart, brown hair with flecks of grey, and somber blue eyes, resembled Jay, except for the nicely tailored suit and air of complete frustration. He mutters something, stares at his watch, until a younger, blonde woman in a tight, summer dress touches his arm.

"Ate away my entire morning," groans Mr. Hogart, glaring at the door. "Normal fathers go to work, are breadwinners for their kids. But not me. I get to spend the morning at the police station, trying to find a lawyer for my kid! Cindy, I can't..."

"Your boss will understand," says Cindy, gently.

"It's him I don't understand!" cries Mr. Hogart. "Shoulda made him go to school. No diploma...no goals. That Alex girl...she's got a diploma and she's headed off to college. But not my son. Lazy as the day is long."

"Well, that Alex girl isn't exactly a prize either," says Cindy, fiddling with her hair.

"Nah, she's got sense," says Mr. Hogart. "Jay does, too. Just doesn't use it. And this is...this is the toughest jam he's gotten himself into."

Sean coughs. "Excuse me. Mr. Hogart?"

Mr. Hogart and his wife were so involved in their conversation that Sean had somehow become invisible. He didn't mind not being noticed, but he didn't like what they had to say. Sean hopes Mr. Hogart will recognize him. He never met Cindy, possibly because they were married while he was in Wasaga after the shooting, but he doesn't think he's missing much with her bad attitude.

"Shane?" says Mr. Hogart, quizzically.

"Uh...Sean," he corrects. "I'm Jay's friend."

"A real friend would make sure he stayed out of mess like this," says Mr. Hogart, crossing his arms.

Well, he already felt guilty, and this isn't helping. Sean clears his throat.

"Have you spoken with the doctor?" asks Sean.

"There's some damage...traumatized tissue," reveals Mr. Hogart. "If the bullet hit a little more to the left, he could've kissed walking normally good-bye..."

Jay's father stops there, and Sean's grateful for the hint of sympathy that is slowly overcoming the anger. He's angry, too, he'd like to tell Mr. Hogart. Dale's out there, healthy, or high, or maybe both, while they're recovering.

"He'll need another surgery," provides Mr. Hogart. "They're even talking about some physical therapy."

"Wow," mutters Sean.

Cindy clicks her tongue. "He's putting his father in quite the predicament."

"Cindy, calm it," says Mr. Hogart.

"No, I won't calm it!" whispers Cindy, tensely. "His bad decision making has put you through enough, and tostill be dealing deal with this?Jay's eighteen, not a kid anymore, so..."

"That will be all, Cindy," interrupts Mr. Hogart. "Can you getus a couple of coffees?"

"Fine," sighs Cindy, brushing past the two of them.

Cindy leaving is a relief. Although, being left alone with Mr. Hogart is not so great either, not with his gaze burrowing into Sean's. Too bad he can't run, let alone walk.

"You worked at Hill's?" says Mr. Hogart. "Got him a job there?"

"Um, yeah," answers Sean.

"Then, I'm really sorry he betrayed your trust," sighs Mr. Hogart, letting his gaze drop. "Cause I don't know how many times he's done that to me."

Mr. Hogart unbuttons his jacket as he stares at the door. Sean wonders how many times he's been in there to see Jay, if he's been seen by him at all. It's tough. I mean, my own brother came from Wasaga to check on me, thinks Sean. Jay deserves a lot more.

Sean begins to open the door, hears Mr. Hogart harrumph. He turns back to look at Jay's father.

"I think you'd be surprised how much I do trust him," says Sean.

The frown on Mr. Hogart's face is replaced by pursed lips and darting glances. The eyes continue to dart as the door closes behind Sean. Unlike his father's eyes, Jay's seem stuck to the television screen above, his brown hair resting against two supportive pillows. He wears a blue hospital gown, one leg against the white sheets, and the wounded leg propped, foot pointing to the ceiling.

"Cindy still here?" speaks up Jay.

"Yeah," provides Sean.

"Why doesn't she go home and play her stupid lotto games?" groans Jay.

"At least she came," offers Sean.

"She can't bare to not be the center of my dad's attention," sighs Jay. "She didn't come for me, Cameron."

That may be so. Out in the hall, she was way more concerned with how Mr. Hogart was feeling and not her stepson's. This, apparently, must be a continuous conflict for them. In any case, it didn't benefit Jay so Sean picked his friend's side.

"Right," says Sean. "How's the pain?"

Jay mutes the TV and glances at Sean.

"Like I got shot," says Jay, then laughing.

"Not funny, man," whispers Sean. "This is serious. We...both know that. It's my fault you're like this."

"Come again, man?" says Jay with a puzzled expression.

"I told Dale where you were, and there were chances for me not to...," begins Sean.

"My guess is that he had a gun in his hand," interrupts Jay. "Am I right?"

Sean releases a deep breath. "Uh-huh."

"Sean, I'm not dumb," assures Jay. "Besides, who's the person that got you into the ring from the get-go? Got you initiated? I should've figured it was stupid then, but Dale made it seem so...easy."

Exactly, agrees Sean in his head. He promised to be at Dale's shop for a short time, and then he agreed to longer hours to perfect the parts, and now it's progressively gotten worse: stealing a part from Ashley's car, being a part of the botched robbery, and parting with Dale on a bad note that resulted in his face being smashed. Easy is far from where they are today.

"Won't be easy for long," sighs Sean. "Police are doing an investigation. Did they interview you?"

"Jerry and Dee," affirms Jay, nodding. "They're coming tomorrow, too. Before Dad's lawyer. They want me to name who was with me that night."

That makes sense. They were sure Jay was working with someone. Someone else had to pull the trigger.

"And?" prompts Sean.

"I'm no rat," replies Jay. "Told 'em I was searching for the inventory list after hours and another dude jumped me. Not sure Jerry bought that. Dee...maybe. Here's hoping they track down Dale's store and find the spindle."

"Jay...I, I have it," admits Sean.

"What are you doing, man?" whispers Jay, intensely. "Get rid of it. If they find it on you, you won't be in a wheelchair. You'll be in jail!"

"Get rid of it how?" whispers Sean. "Throw it in a river?"

"Yeah, or chuck it in a junkyard or something," advises Jay. "This isn't like the stuff we stole at Degrassi. Nobody randomly wants a spindle like they do a DVD player. It's gotta be more calculated."

Jay's two steps ahead of him. Isn't he nervous, at least a little bit? While his story is good for the moment, once the police did some digging, some true digging, they'd be toast. The two of them being injured on the same night would be no coincidence. That said, the silver lining is that Dale would go down, worse than them probably. But he's not the one who's incapable of walking and he did want to lift Jay's spirits.

"I'll get rid of it," promises Sean.

"Good," mutters Jay.

"Had no idea you were taking classes, man," says Sean, grinning. "That's...that's pretty cool."

Jay smirks, more from pride than from being easygoing.

"If I make it out of this," shrugs Jay.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asks Sean.

"Well, we weren't really talking then," reminds Jay. "And if I didn't pass, then I'd have to admit...you were right?"

"Right?" says Sean.

"Before Ellie's graduation, you said that I had a choice after I got expelled," continues Jay. "Like...I finally made a choice to do the class and eventually get a shop. Ellie knew. I know my dad thinks I'm a loser and so does Dale, and Lexi's going off to university so...yeah, I don't want to be stuck in one place, asking for favors all my life."

He'd tried to apologize for that day and hoped Jay would come around. Now it seems that Jay not only took it to heart, but was making something happen for himself. Mr. Hogart or Cindy or whoever should be witnessing this for themselves. No matter. He'd mirror what he believed would be their reaction.

"You're doing yourself a favor, man," insists Sean. "Props to you. Rolling in cash in no time, I bet."

"Maybe," mulls Jay. "Okay, yeah."

They both laugh.

The word "favors" seems to latch onto his mind for a second after he said that. Sean honestly thought Dale was doing him a favor, and so did Jay. How quickly the favors turned into faults, leaving him doubtful of everything he managed to get. Where is he going to get rent if he doesn't go back? Who is he going to tell? Will his family hang on when he's told them? Will Ellie hang on? Finally, what should he hang onto to keep himself afloat?

"Got room in your shop for another mechanic?" says Sean. "If everything works out, I'll still need a job."

"How much would you work for?" returns Jay.

"Not sure," says Sean, chuckling.

Jay lowers the TV volume a hair and grins. "Then, I'm not sure either, Eminem."

"Nice, man," returns Sean. "Nice."

"What can I say?" quips Jay. "I try."

II.

"Ohhhh," groans Ashley.

His girlfriend's hair flows across the dark blue blankets of her bunk bed, shifts when Ashley tosses and turns. Craig parts the curtain a bit. The sunlight coming from the window illuminates her frowning mouth and shut eyelids.

He checked on her throughout the night, ever since he carried her from the graveyard. Her wet clothes soaked his shirt, and she was heavy, yet he trudged on so she could find a comfortable position for what he was sure would be a killer hangover. He must be the single roadie on this trip who'd carried their significant other to the bus. That's a small thing that made him smile. Eh, he's been needing a lot of those lately.

The person who couldn't get him to smile walks slowly to Ashley's bunk, attempts to peek inside.

"She's tired," cautions Craig.

Mark, in a dark green T-shirt and clinging dark jeans, puts a cup in Craig's line of sight. Craig wrinkles his nose. The cup holds a murky orange liquid that smells like hot dogs mixed with bananas. The texture and the smell is giving him a headache comparable to Ashley's.

"Kennick's handy-dandy hangover shake," explains Mark. "Tell her to drink it and she'll be alright. It's gotten many a girl through the day."

He nods with confidence and rejoins Dashiel and Bianca in the common area. Craig rolls his eyes. Hasn't Mark provided enough of his wisdom to Ashley? She doesn't need his stank shake, either. Craig parts one of the bus windows and tosses the shake into the street.

"Craig?" calls Ashley.

The splatter must've woke her. Craig bends to Ashley's side.

"I'm here," says Craig.

"Feels like they're doing demolition on my head," moans Ashley. "Is it morning?"

"Yep," replies Craig. "Hungry?"

"Oh no," mutters Ashley, slowly rising. "No food. No noise. No..."

"Drinking?" offers Craig.

"Craig...," begins Ashley. "I...I got a little too into the whole scene. I'll admit it."

A little too into the whole scene? That won't fly with him.

"Ashley, you could've died last night!" whispers Craig, urgently. "And over what? A night of drinking?"

She pats her hair, not looking at him, as she searches for her other sock that slipped off during the night.

"I had it under control," mumbles Ashley.

"No...no you didn't!" cries Craig. "Is it always going to be like this from now on?"

"Huh?" says Ashley, standing, then wobbling.

"Drinking with Mark and Aja every night," says Craig.

"I don't drink...every night," says Ashley. "That is so ridiculous. I just let loose after a good performance. Is that a crime?"

"It's not...it's...," and then Craig sighs.

While he totally gets that Ashley requested and deserves her freedom, if that freedom leads to a dangerous road, he has to tell her. Still, maybe Ashley is closer to the truth. She isn't drunk every night. If she were an addict, he would've surely seen some signs by now. Ashley isn't lying to him or hording bottles or fetching a drink twenty-four seven.

"I want you to be more careful," says Craig, wrapping his hands around her waist.

"Will be," assures Ashley. "And though, I'm hungover, I'm processing exactly what you're saying. I...celebrated way too much."

The celebration in itself is strange to him. Should you celebrate a performance that's not really yours? The dress, the song, and the performance came from Mark's mind, not hers, and she's grateful for that? She's been beaten down by a few, yes, but that doesn't have to mean Mark should worm his way into her music. Let Ashley be Ashley. It got her this far.

"Can't you celebrate by doing something else?" urges Craig.

"Like square-dancing?" jokes Ashley, laughing, then clutching her head. "Owww."

"Lay down," says Craig.

"I'm really sorry, Craig," says Ashley.

Ashley resumes her place on her bunk and blinks at the bottom of the top bed.

"Not a drop of alcohol today," guarantees Ashley. "Feels like there's a major rock concert playing near my forehead."

"Are you fronting it?" says Craig.

"No, you are," says Ashley, yanking on his arm so he'll come to her.

"I've been known to rock," teases Craig, kissing her smooth forehead.

III.

A red light blinks in the dark. Manny's sight goes straight throughthe room to itand it takes her a couple moments to realize it's the answering machine. Setting the basket down gently, she flicks on a light to find no one in the room. Some shuffling upstairs leads her to believe that Hannah, Emma, and Lia were above her.

Her time with Blake would've been nice if her heart wasn't aching. Being with a boy who was into her, with the candles lit and the compliments coming, was way too familiar. After the fact, she recalls her first date with Toby. She took the initiative and it paid off. Toby, in his handsome suit and with a sweet smile, brought her flowers. They traded memories, talked, laughed. Then, they danced and she didn't want to go back to Emma's. Going home, she'd be leaving Emma's and she hopes that their date doesn't become some distant dream since she was moving away from where it ended. Everything's ending, isn't it?

Manny sighs and presses the rewind button. There is a notepad if the message is for Kel, and she used to jot Lia's messages, too. An unfamiliar voice speaks as the red light stops flashing.

"Hello! This is a message for Lia Andrews. I'm Billy Rosen, and you auditioned for _Hearts for Sale_ last week," says the casting director. "Great news! We'd love to have you aboard for the role of Claudia. I called your agent, Ms. Colleen Dale, with further details. Needless to say, we're very much looking forward to working with you, Lia. You haveour number if there are any questions. Again, will be talking with you soon and congratulations!"

She shakes her head, and writes the message quickly so she won't regret not doing it later. Well, that settled that. Lia has the role and this will be her first film, a tribute to her mother of sorts. While I have nothing, adds Manny in her mind.

Slowly climbing the stairs with her things, Manny heads for Lia's room. The door is locked and she knocks.

"Hey," greets Emma, sticking her head out of Hannah's door. "She went to Colin's for the night."

"Oh," says Manny. "I've got a message for her."

"I can give it to her," offers Emma. "You should maybe rest? You look a little..."

"Yeah, I'm tired," admits Manny.

She hands Emma the paper, thanks her, and retreats to her room. She fetches her award from the basket and searches for a spot for it. Ruling out the nightstand, where it could easily fall and break, and the nearly empty bookcase, Manny sets it on the vanity. The award's reflection in the mirror is just as beautiful as the award itself.

Slinking across the room, she lets her butt meet the carpet. She doesn't feel like sleeping. Manny sighs and retrieves her small pencil case. Lately, she hasn't written her parents. Being with J.J. this past weekend was sort of a kick in the pants for her to contact them more. None of these dramatic occurences were their fault. They were as innocent as they could be and she's thankful for that.

Manny unclips the case, and a couple pencils and a small, square box fall to the floor. Muttering, Manny picks up the box and tries to remember what's inside. Then, the memory hits her like a ton of bricks. She opens it. The seemingly simple mood ring shines in the sunlight as the sun sinks to the ground outside. There were silver petals around the mood-revealing orb, a design she always liked. Manny slips it onto her finger and tries to halt the grin forming on her face. It almost hurts when she stops it. Wearing it consistently reminds her of a day that didn't hurt.

_"Step right up!" called Derek, hopping onto a soap box. "Step right up!"_

_"Whether you're a cherry fanatic or an apple fiend, we've got a pie for you!" joined in Danny, trying his best to get on the box, too._

_The two boys wrestled for a few seconds, a small crowd gathering. Manny shook her head at them, although after Danny rudelyguessed her weight, she was more than happy to see Derek win in that skirmish. He managed to, Danny resolving to stay put on the pavement._

_"The pie-eating contests to beat all other pie-eating contests!" announced Derek, proudly. "Only two-fifty to enter!"_

_"One dollar," corrected Darcy, crossing her arms._

_"Dude, we're trying to raise money for charity!" pleaded Derek._

"_A dollar," insisted Darcy. "Yeah."_

_Spinner stood beside her, sneezing and shivering after having fallen in the dunk booth repeatedly. This was his idea, the event put into motion by Darcy, so Manny guessed he was willing to suffer the most. Emma came from behind to wrap a towel around him and lead him to the side._

_"I'm in!" volunteered Nate. "Can't turn down sweets."_

_Darcy hopped up and down, then kissed his cheek._

_"No artsy actor can wallop me," boasted Sully, flicking a dollar into the jar._

_"Any other takers?" prompted Danny. "J.T.? Toby?"_

_"Running the funhouse in a few minutes," reminded J.T. with a wide grin._

_"Nah," said Toby, standing beside Manny._

_While Nate, Sully, and a few other grade eleven boys situated themselves into chairs, pies in front of their eager mouths, Manny laid her head on Toby's shoulder and sighed peacefully._

_"One...two...three!" counted off Derek. "Eat!"_

_The boys lower their heads to the formerly pristine desserts and go for it. Pretty soon, their noses, cheeks, and chins are full of pieces of pie and cooked apples. Manny scrunches her nose. This was for a good cause, but she wasvery glad her boyfriend has better manners. J.T. laughed when Sully's pie can flipped forward and found the lap of his designer jeans._

_"I...love...apple...pie," sputtered Spinner, shivering faster._

_Emma smoothed down his wet hair and patted his back supportively._

_"Hmmm, I don't know if I can watch this," whispered Manny to Toby._

_"It is some noisy noshing," comments Toby._

_Toby stared down at the line at J.T., then smiled at Manny._

_"The funhouse is free," whispered Toby._

_"Continue being repulsed or taking advantage of a secluded spot?" considered Manny aloud. "What are we waiting for?"_

_Toby took Manny's hand and lead her away from the messy munching. They cleared the parking lot, passed Marco and Ellie distributing condoms, Linus glaring at Marco as he made balloon animals for his girlfriend Mary's baby brother, and Snake getting his face-painted to resemble a Klingon._

_"Toby! Manny!" called Snake, making a weird sign with his right hand. "Live long and prosper."_

_"Uh...right," replied Toby._

_"Bye," said Manny, before they walked on._

_"Stay still, Mr. Simpson," ordered Amy as Manny turned around. "I'm taking a Slurpee break in five. Man, I hate charity."_

_"Community service, Amy," reminded Mr. Simpson. "Community service looks good for college applicants. We've talked about it."_

_"Well, if I'm helping people, can I tell you that you desperately need a facial?" waved off Amy. "I mean, like **desperately**."_

_The funhouse was a few feet away and there was no chance anyone could miss it. J.T.'s contacts at the TV station made good on their word and donated the large tents and a few props. His main supervisor had a sister who worked in the circus and he donated fours attractions, for the day: four distorting mirrors; a light-up skull; a tipping floor and..._

_"I saw one of these in a movie!" cried Manny._

_She stood in front of a cylinder that swirled and swirled and swirled. Toby scratched his head and peered inside._

_"Tobes, we gotta go through!" exclaimed Manny. "Where else would you find this crazy thing?"_

_Toby stared at her, a distressed expression filling his eyes._

_"I kinda get dizzy easily...," began Toby._

_Manny pouted and played with his collar._

_"Please," pleaded Manny, then kissing him as she talked. "Please...please...please."_

_Toby releases a defeated breath, the cylinder whirring in the background. It was harmless and she hoped he'd see that._

_"If...if you hold my hand," negotiated Toby._

_She clapped and gently weaved her fingers through his. The cylinder became louder as they got closer._

_"I've got you," consoled Manny, as she stepped inside._

_The movements under her feet were rhythmic and moderate. It wasn't nearly as fast as it appeared. She glanced at Toby, who was keeping his feet solidly on the bottom. He was holding up better than her, her legs shaking briefly. Toby chuckled behind her._

_"It's likebeing intheblack hole," said Toby._

_"Right...not so bad, huh?" said Manny._

_They finally reached the end of the cylinder, Manny tottering as her feet found firm ground. Toby exited with a smile._

_"Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down," breathed Manny, pretending to wipe her brow._

_"What?" said Toby._

_"Playskool rules, yo," joked Manny._

_Toby shrugs without recognition._

_"They were toys," said Manny. "J.J. gave them to me. I was into anything that was cute and shiny. That still applies today, actually. Pillows, jewelry, glasses."_

Manny momentarily played with Toby's glasses, making his cheeks go pink. Toby told her that he remembered that day, because it was the first day she said she liked them.

_"I liked anything that lit up," shared Toby._

_"Did you have a Lite Brite?" prodded Manny._

_"Nah, but I tried to stuff my uncle's cigarette lighter in my overall pockets once when I was two," replied Toby. "My dad didn't forget. When Ashley and I were seeing that therapist for our new living arrangement, he brought it up. Maybe he was afraid I'd grow up and be a pyromaniac or whatever."_

_Manny laughed. "I'm sure that's not it."_

_"Eh," said Toby, shrugging._

_"What else did you guys talk about in there?" asked Manny. "I mean, you don't have to..."_

_"Most of it was boring," provided Toby, walking past to her. "Except...well, I did tell him I made some new friends that year."_

_"Was I...was I one of them?" stammered Manny, blushing._

_"You...might've been mentioned," teased Toby. "I mean, you were the least dramatic friend I had."_

_Manny wound her arms around Toby's waist, staring at him in the dim light behind the curtains. The suggestion to come here was growing more appealing by the minute._

_"What'd you tell him about me?" nudged Manny._

_"That you were the nicest person I'd met," answered Toby._

_"I am nice, aren't I?" sighed Manny, both of them chuckling as they shared a few light kisses._

_Toby paused as Manny attempted to meet his lips one last time. He holds up a finger and gestures to the next part of the funhouse._

_"Let's do the mirrors," urged Toby. "Can't do a funhouse without the mirrors?"_

_"Why?" sighed Manny. "What our lips were doing was pretty fun."_

_"Hey, I did the spinning...whatever it's called," said Toby._

_"Fine," said Manny as Toby got her to go forward._

_Before long, Manny stood in front of a mirror, distorting her tiny frame. Or her large frame, thanks to the tricky glass. Manny frowned. Though it's an illusion, she doubted any girlfriend wanted her boyfriend to view them look that._

_"Yuck!" cried Manny. "Toby, you don't want to see me get..."_

_She glanced to her left and right, Toby nowhere in sight._

_"Bigger," finished Manny._

_Okay, the quiet was eerie. She stared at the eerie light up skull, almost expected it to do a scary cackle, though Halloween was months away._

_"Toby?" she called. "Where..."_

_"Is this bigger?" said Toby from behind._

_Manny whirled around to lightly slap his shoulder. Toby chuckled._

_"Sorry," said Toby. "I needed you to look away for a minute."_

_"Is it bigger?" he said again._

_He held a tiny brown box, presenting it to her after she stared at the box in the mirror. Manny stared at him and wrested it open. A ring with a blue orb, silver petals surrounding it, lay against cotton. Manny squealed._

_"So retro," complimented Manny._

_"Chante and Mary were selling stuff at their booth," said Toby. "I mean, when they weren't arguing about why Chante thought a kissing both would've been better."_

_"I can imagine," said Manny. "But I absolutely, absolutely adore it. Long-term boyfriends are so much better in the taste department."_

_Toby beamed. "And how many girlfriends can say they have a thermochromic gift?"_

_"I'm going to pretend I know what that means," said Manny, innocently._

_"Only means that the ring changes color with the person's temperature," explained Toby._

_"So if it turns red, does that mean I'm hot for you?" kidded Manny._

_"Uh, no," admitted Toby. "Although, that would be okay with me..."_

_"I bet," interjected Manny. "Well, let's see."_

_Manny tucked the box into her pocket and slid it on her finger. The small orbwent from gold to green, finally resting on blue. Manny rubbed the orb. Toby glanced at it and smiles._

_"Blue," said Manny. "What is that? Sad?"_

_"It means you're happy, I'm pretty sure," answered Toby. "We could go ask."_

_"We don't have to ask," reassured Manny, throwing her arms around Toby. "I am so happy."_

_"I hope it's always blue, then," said Toby as they part._

_"Blue for life," sighed Manny, nodding as their lips met._

_The curtain whipped in the light spring wind. Manny peered for a second at the mirror as they made out. They looked bigger, but closer. She thought it was a good thing, a sign that maybe they'd grow closer._

Her skin is cold tonight, free from being flushed, a bit frosty, like she isn't young anymore, isn't expecting any more. The orb is amber, not blue, just amber. She doesn't know what it means. Manny lets it stay there, though, praying it will turn blue. There are hints of dark green as if the ring may be trying. But tonight, that's all it can do. It's what she can do.

Manny retrieves her phone and lets the voicemail say what it needs to say. She needs to say something, too.

"Hey, Toby," says Manny after the loud beep. "Um...you may not want to hear me right now, and I get that. If anything I said scared you or hurt you, I'm sorry. The gift...maybe it put too much pressure on us. I mean, it's no mood ring, but I thought you'd like it. It showed how I felt. Or maybe it was something else I did...or we did. But I don't care. I just care about you. I miss you. That's...all I can say right now. Call me...if you'd like, or not. I hope you do.Okay. So...bye."

She lets the dial tone sound in her ears, the ring clinking as she lowers the phone and lets the tears go.

IV.

"Ah!" cries Jay. "Lexi!"

Alex pounds Jay's pillow briefly and situates it under his head.

"I swear to God, Jay!" exclaims Alex. "I swear to God..."

"The remote fell," defends Jay.

Alex bends and picks up the remote, putting it on Jay's lap. Ellie plays with a wooden tongue dispenser, then pops it in her mouth. Alex does likewise and crosses her arms.

"So explain to me why you won't buzz the nurse again?" says Alex, removing the tongue dispenser. "The doctor told you not to move your leg."

"She smells," says Jay.

"Well, I got news for you," throws back Alex. "This whole hospital smells. The cafeteria food tastes like three day-old barf. The doctors expect me to smile at them because I'm a girl."

Ellie covers her mouth to keep from busting out laughing.

"What? It's true," says Alex. "I...hate being here."

Jay smirks. "Ilove you, too, Lexi."

"Shut up," says Alex, fixing his blanket. "And buzz the nurse next time."

"Alright, alright," gives in Jay. "Can I get some pudding?"

"Fine," mutters Alex. "Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Vanilla," says Jay, smiling widely. "Chocolate's not good for my complexion."

"Not good for his complexion," says Alex, throwing an annoyed glance at Jay and then flicking his ear.

"Hey!" complains Jay.

"I'm getting calls he's gotten shot and he worries about his complexion," complains Alex as she leaves the room. "Worried me so much...freakin' vanilla pudding-eatin'..."

"She loves me in her own way," assures Jay, turning to Ellie.

"Ha!" they hear Alex from down the hall.

"I saw your father," shares Ellie. "He's in the waiting room with Tracker. And just so you guys know, millions of questions are in every conversation. Totally willing to hear any answers."

Jay stares dismally at his elevated leg.

"It really hurts," groans Jay. "Isn't Sean going home today?"

Ellie sighs and tosses the tongue dispenser in the trash. Nothing from Jay and nothing from Sean. She should grill him, but from their days at Degrassi, Jay's alwayshad a better poker face than Sean. Plus, Jay's right. Her father kindly offered Sean a ride and she's been itching to talk to him ever since Tracker left Sean's room, just as confused as when he went in. Someone has to talk. They can't live like this.

"Be seeing you," says Ellie, squeezing his hand and walking to the waiting room.

The room is more full than when she left it. Mr. Hogart and Cindy were talking in whispers, but everyone else gave Ellie their undivided attention, no one as much as Sean, letting his head fall as she approaches. John and Amanda Nash were to Sean's left while Mr. Ehl was to his right. When Sean raised his head, his eyes were red and she can tell he hasn't gotten much sleep. Three weeks of rest, she tells herself. His appearance nails the doctor's instructions in further.

"Ellie?" prompts John.

"Let's go," says Ellie, softly.

Ellie starts to the hospital entrance, John pushing Sean alongside her. Her mother walks ahead to open the car so they can situate Sean in the front seat. Ellie supposes the fallout from theconversation with her mother regarding Sean will have to wait until they do the nice thing and bring Sean to his apartment. Where he'll be alone, thinks Ellie.

Her lips tremble as John helps Sean manuever to the passenger side. His limbs are shaking considerably, even when he's in, thanking her father. She hates for him to be so weak, with her unaware of why he's so weak. Isn't he the person who was there for her when she was at her weakest emotionally?

Tracker lays a hand on her shoulder.

"Doctor Southworth gave him clearance and everything," says Tracker. "I'll be at a hotel for a couple nights. Gave him the number. I'm staying with hopes he'll talk. I think he might."

"Thank you," says Ellie, more of a croak because she's letting her emotions speak for her.

Tracker waves at Sean through the window, Sean returning it.

Silently, Ellie gets in the rear with her mother, blankly staring at her husband's neck. Ellie stares at Sean, in the same direction. They meet eyes in the rear view mirror and he smiles faintly. Ellie drops her gaze as the engine roars loudly.

V.

Ashley fumbles with her comb and brush in the warm steam of the single shower. There have been other not so great days in the cramped space. She discovered male body hair in the drain, red, so nobody could pinpoint Craig. There was something that resembled a used condom, and Freddie Frink, electronica's saving grace is how he introduced himself, bragged about a one night stand the day after. But surely, surely, the most unpleasant moment comes today. Her compact shows that she's sporting a wet, ugly, Grudge movie-style 'do. Letting it be so wet for so long has taken its toll.

"Feel like a sheepdog," mutters Ashley, stepping out of the shower.

Luckily, no one's there to take in her sheepdog resemblance. It's the afternoon of a free day and people were in London, enjoying their time to themselves. Craig is among them. She convinced him to take his notebook somewhere, and go and write. Her hangover shouldn't spoil his day.

Ashley wraps her dark purple robe tight around her body. Despite its clinginess, it's incredibly more comfortable than the leather dress she sported. The dress lays on her bunk, so tomato red she thinks it might spill juice if she touches it. Sure, the crowd loves it, but they didn't have to look at it everyday.

"Kerwin!" bellows a voice from the front.

She grabs a towel and furiously winds it around her hair.

"Just a sec," she yells.

"We don't have a sec!" says Mark, bounding onto the bus. "Oh!"

Mark covers his eyes, chuckling.

"It's not funny!" says Ashley. "Can I have five seconds to change?"

"Has to be five seconds," says Mark. "_The Tart' _s here to interview you!"

"Me?" cries Ashley.

"No joke," promises Mark. "Um, can I look at you now?"

"Eh, the damage is already done," sighs Ashley.

"It's...really not that bad," says Mark, appreciatively, making Ashley smile. "You'll be getting half of the features page. A proper interview and everything."

A real interview, with a notable British periodical? Ashley doesn't know whether to hop up and down and squeal, or crawl into her bunk. She takes a couple deep breaths, decides to panic, anyway.

"What...what am I going to say?" exclaims Ashley. "I've never done an interview! Like a legitimate interview! I'm going to sound totally childish."

"Ashley, I thought this is what you wanted," says Mark. "To be noticed. You will do fine. Look, I'll be beside you. I'm a pro when it comes to the press."

"You...you don't have to," says Ashley.

"I want to," assures Mark.

Ashley smiles wearily. "You must think I'm a baby."

"Nope," says Mark. "I think this is well-deserved. Get dressed. No time to lose."

Nodding with excitement, Ashley starts to go through her clothes for an outfit that would be appropriate for a professional interview. She can't take any chances. Then, she remembers what would be getting more attention than her ensemble.

"My hair!" cries Ashley.

"Uh, a hat," says Mark, grabbing a bowler hat of his and throwing it at her.

"Classic," assesses Ashley. "I like it."

"I'll go entertain her," says Mark, leaving her to get changed.

The panic returns, as Ashley selects the outfit she would've worn last night. Basic black would have to work. Tucking her hair under Mark's bowler, she goes to the bathroom and checks herself in the mirror. Surprisingly, it's not bad. Her stomach gurgles. It's not butterflies, realizes Ashley. She's hungry.

Ashley rolls her eyes and opens the bus' fridge. Her lonely orange juice sits near two cans of soda. She pours herself a glass, returns the carton to its spot. One of Aja's teeny tiny bottles of alcohol tips over when Ashley shifts the carton. Gin. Ashley touches it, simply to raise it.

She doesn't have to have it. That's what she implied to Craig.This interview would...go well. So what if she hasn't done it before? The journalist loved her set. Right? It was never confirmed, was it? This could be an interview next to a scathing review. Then, she'd be another fatality on the list of young songstresses whose career the _Tart_ killed. Ashley sips her juice.

"One drop," she tells herself. "Okay, a couple drops."

In a single fluid motion, the bottle is uncapped and two splashes of the gin joins the juice. This will ease her anxiety, get her to leave the bus. She doesn't need more. Yep, not a single drop more. Ashley closes the fridge, gin still firmly in her other hand. She caps the bottle and slides it into her purse. A little pick-me-up. Aja carried booze around with her everyday, and she's no worse for the wear. It's fine.

"Mark, I'm ready!" calls Ashley, darting off the bus.


	61. Do You Believe in Magic?

**LXI. Do You Believe in Magic?**

_Do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart  
How the music can free her, whenever it starts  
And it's magic, if the music is groovy  
It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie  
I'll tell you about the magic, and it'll free your soul  
But it's like trying to tell a stranger 'bout rock and roll_

_If you believe in magic don't bother to choose  
If it's jug band music or rhythm and blues  
Just go and listen it'll start with a smile  
It won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try  
Your feet start tapping and you can't seem to find  
How you got there, so just blow your mind_

_If you believe in magic, come along with me  
We'll dance until morning 'til there's just you and me  
And maybe, if the music is right  
I'll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night  
And we'll go dancing, baby, then you'll see  
How the magic's in the music and the music's in me_

_Yeah, do you believe in magic  
Yeah, believe in the magic of a young girl's soul  
Believe in the magic of rock and roll  
Believe in the magic that can set you free  
Ohh, talking 'bout magic_

_Do you believe like I believe Do you believe in magic  
Do you believe like I believe Do you believe, believer  
Do you believe like I believe Do you believe in magic_

**Do You Believe in Magic is the property of the Lovin' Spoonful and appears in the film _The Parent Trap_.  
In Another Life is the property of Ashlee Simpson.**

"Take two at a time," advises John Nash. "There. I've got ya."

Ellie rests her hand on the rail, stares at the four or five steps to Sean's apartment door. This isn't the way she envisioned her father coming to visit Sean's place, but neither was her mother storming into Sean's house party months ago. They were both healthy then, healthy and happy. Not so today, thinks Ellie, as Sean positions one foot on the last step. John nods with satisfaction. Ellie makes a move to fetch her key to the apartment, but remembers just in time that she didn't want her parents to know she had it. Amanda Nash had been eyeing her suspiciously once they parked near the building. Sean removes his key, anyway.

"This is a nice building," comments John.

"Yeah, it is," says Sean.

She would have to agree. The tenants that she knew were friendly, and Ray was probably the sweetest landlord imaginable. Later, she'd go tell him about Sean's status. Since she didn't know his number, Ray was in the dark. He's not the only one. When is Sean going to talk? Tracker seemed to believe he'd gotten through to him, yet there are no guarantees.

"In we go," says John, letting Sean go in on his own.

On level ground, Sean had no trouble. His balance was a bit awkward due to the strong meds, however, so the steps weren't as easy. Ellie would've liked to support him herself, but she recalled that she'd had some difficulty when she attempted to steer him into Lincoln.

"Sorry it's not the most good-looking place," says Sean as Ellie and her parents walk inside.

"Oh, it's fine," assures John.

"Well, I've seen it," says Amanda, tersely.

Ellie shakes her head at her mother and immediately goes to the kitchen. She holds the bag with Sean's medication and starts to set them up near the refrigerator.

"Thanks for all your help, Mr. and Mrs. Nash," she hears Sean say from there.

"No trouble," assures her father. "Let's go and see if Ellie needs our help, Amanda."

Ugh, why can't her mother leave? This must be bringing back bad memories of when Ellie lied to her to go see Sean at the party. Most of her better memories with Sean were at their house.

"He's on the couch," informs John. "Looks comfortable."

"Okay," says Ellie, fetching a zip lock bag.

"You certainly know your way around the kitchen," says Amanda.

"Mom....," begins Ellie.

"Simply making an observation," interrupts Amanda, with a slight smirk. "Well, your dad's willing to give you a lift to the seminar. Of course, we will have to stop by the house to get your things."

Right, the seminar. She has a class today. That totally slipped her mind. Of course, it's important to go, but she can't shake the feeling that if Sean's talking, it would be today and she really needs to be there to hear it.

"I'm not going to go," says Ellie.

"What?" cries Amanda. "Eleanor Nash...."

"Amanda, be reasonable," interjects John.

"No, John, that's the last straw," complains Amanda. "Listen, young lady. I've put up with a lot. Your father and I. But this is where I draw the line. You're going to class. Sean is eating into your time and I won't have it."

"My boyfriend is in there," says Ellie, gesturing to the living room. "He's seriously injured and probably scared."

"He put himself in that position," insists Amanda, crossing her arms.

"You didn't have him collapse in your arms, alright?" exclaims Ellie, tears lining her eyes. "Or wait outside the hospital room! Or have to tell his brother that he's in trouble! You didn't have to do any of that."

Her shoulders shake a bit, as her father rests his hand on the left one. Amanda's gaze falls to the floor. That's when she hears a couple tentative steps. Ellie doesn't want to look, but eventually does. Sean stands firmly in the doorway, lips firmly together. It's pretty obvious he'd heard at least half of the conversation, most likely her half since she was so irritated.

Amanda sighs heavily. "You know, do what you want, Ellie. I clearly have no say anymore."

Brushing past her and Sean, her mother walks quickly out of the apartment. John kisses Ellie's cheek, gives Sean a pat on the back, and follows. She doesn't want to guess what kind of conversation her parents would be having on the car ride home.

"Ummm," says Sean, his voice trailing off.

This is their first time alone together since this horrible string of events. She isn't sure where to begin either. In fact, she was hoping he would.

"Are you...are you thirsty?" asks Ellie, going for a seemingly easy question.

"No," replies Sean.

"I'll go to the store later. Get you some food," says Ellie, then turning around so she doesn't have to face him.

Her initial task was to put some ice into the zip lock bag, so she decides to do it. There isn't much ice when she opens the fridge. As the air grows colder around her, she wonders if it's as cold as the chilly silence between them. She misses those moments when they shared everything-- the cars Sean was working on, the articles she was planning for the _Grapevine_, the travel guides they read for the preparation of their trip. They certainly can't be this way on the road, if they're going.

"You should go to your seminar," says Sean, Ellie barely hearing it as the ice maker releases a few cubes.

Ellie closes the door, fastens the bag.

"Well, who's...who's going to take care of you?" stammers Ellie, managing to look him in the eye.

"Everything will be fine," assures Sean.

"But will you?" asks Ellie, her voice scratchy.

Her eyes grow wet again as Sean advances to her.

"El, I...," starts Sean.

"Maybe I should go," interrupts Ellie, handing him the bag. "Make sure to ice your ribs, and you take your next set of pills in a couple hours."

"Yeah, thanks," says Sean.

He walks her to the door, Ellie resolving to call Marco for a lift to the university. She could live without her bookbag. Her mother's insistence that Ellie couldn't and shouldn't take care of him when she started her first year at U of T flashes across her mind. She quickly silences it. Nobody could or should tell her how to feel. Her heart can only determine what she'll do, and right now, it's set on being around.

"Might come tomorrow," says Ellie.

"I'll be here," promises Sean.

She believes this promise, even in the face of all these doubts. Sean moves in to kiss her and Ellie backs away. It's not an insult really, more an instinct. Luckily, Sean provides an understanding look and shifts so she can go through.

"Thank your folks for me, again?" calls Sean as Ellie descends.

"Okay," calls Ellie.

Removed from the building, she locates her phone and stares at the numbers. She doesn't have to, since Marco is on speed dial. She should get to where she's going. Rather than call, she leans against a stop sign and lets her frustrations flow in tears. It's warm and the evening is growing more humid. Sweat thunders down her face, in tiny beads with no set direction.

II.

Ashley swirls the cup repeatedly. It looks like normal orange juice. She drinks two large gulps and winces. It doesn't exactly taste like orange juice. The drink is good, though. Her head is throbbing rapidly, an unfortunate reminder of last night's drinking session. Righting Mark's hat, she spots its owner next to a small pub across the street.

Mark's idea of entertaining apparently meant flirting, as there were a lot of shy glances and blushing coming from the _Tart_ reporter. The woman, surely in her early or mid-thirties, has chesnut-colored hair and is dressed in an expensive-looking navy blue suit. A photographer in black jeans stood by her side.

Oh no, they were taking pictures? She would've worn something more appealing if she knew. Ashley downs the rest of the juice, tosses the cup in the trash, releases a deep breath, and walks to them, as cheerful as she can be in her hungover state.

"Evening," greets Ashley. "Hi. I'm Ashley Kerwin."

The reporter turns from Mark and produces a forced, toothy grin.

"Ashley!" says the reporter. "My, you're prettier in public than you are on stage. I'm Finley Jenkins, and this is my photographer, Rami."

Rami stares at the three of them nervously and starts to play with his camera. Ashley bets he's not as scared as she is at the moment.

"Honored to do two interviews with Finley before," says Mark with sincere charm. "She's been with the _Tart_ since she was your age, Ashley."

"Intern first," shares Finley. "What age are you exactly, Ashley?"

Ashley massages her brow, squinches her eyes. She's inexplicably hot, hoping the hat is covering up any embarrassing drops of sweat.

"Mmm...eighteen," answers Ashley, then coughing. "Sorry."

"That's quite alright," assures Finley, writing down the information on her notepad. "Shall we go in, get settled?"

The four of them enter into a pub, which, to Ashley's dismay, is crowded by early partiers. The decor is calm and soothing, with wooden furniture, small red lamps, and gleaming bottles behind the bar, but the noise inside is rambunctious. A group of teen girls are cackling at a picture the center girl has on her digital camera. Three middle-aged men sing loudly and badly to a song blaring throughout the place. Young men yell and toss nuts at each other. Ashley has to duck to avoid a few cashews flying her way.

"Shouldn't we be somewhere quieter?" offers Ashley.

"I can interview anywhere," reassures Finley. "Unless...you think this is beneath you?"

Finley stares at Ashley harshly, while Mark shakes his head fervently behind her. Did she say the wrong thing? She's been doing that a lot lately.

"This is perfect," says Ashley with fake confidence.

"Good," sighs Finley. "I hate pretentious musicians. That's something I've always appreciated about Mark. He keeps in touch with us working stiffs."

"Well, in all honesty, my fans tend to be younger...and scream-y," says Mark, pulling out Finley's chair.

Ashley slides into a chair across from Finley, and next to Mark. She's hoping that if she makes another stupid comment, Mark would kick her under the table as some subtle sign.

"Were you a Mark fan, Ashley?" questions Finley.

She grins at Mark as Rami drags a chair to the table and aims his camera at Ashley.

"Not initially," admits Ashley. "I read about his accomplishments in the tour brochure, and was instantly interested in his music, though. I feel very lucky to be on tour with him."

There, sighs Ashley inwardly. She didn't say anything remotely stupid.

"And you, Mark?" quizzes Finley.

Why is she asking him questions? Isn't this interview focusing on her?

"I consider myself as more of a mentor to Ashley," provides Mark.

What? Ashley tilts the hat up a bit. Is she hearing him correctly? Maybe he's a bit of a guide, with some helpful information, but a mentor?

"A mentor in what way?" prods Finley.

Yes, she'd like to know that herself.

"Explaining how the industry works, selecting songs we perform, introducing her to the right people," goes on Mark. "Like you, Ms. Jenkins."

"Oh, Mark," giggles Finley. "Stop."

Please do stop, thinks Ashley, clearing her throat. While she does thank Mark for the guidance, there are a lot of other people who were involved in her training and who she used for inspiration. He certainly can't take every bit of credit.

"What brought about your smashing duet?" says Finley.

Ashley beams. So Finley would give them a favorable review. Finally! She'd have to mail the review to Jeff, Kate, Toby, and Meredith, then secure copies for Ellie and Craig...well, Craig would probably buy ten or more copies. That's how proud he'd be.

"Actually...," says Ashley.

"It was my idea," interrupts Mark. "Ashley had a few bumpy patches at the beginning of the tour. She needed someone to boost her confidence, because as I'm sure your readers will discover, she's the true definition of talent. But she is a newbie."

What were the few bumpy patches? She got a horrible reception at the End, but her other performances were fair to good. Was it that bad? Ashley stares at Mark blankly. He slides the table's bowl of nuts in front of her.

"Oh, a slow starter," muses Finley, tapping the top of her pen against her lips. "That'd be a right angle to sell this baby. Why do you think the audience took to you guys?"

Thankfully, Mark gestures for Ashley to speak. The only problem is...is that she can't. Ashley moves her mouth and nothing, absolutely nothing, is coming out. She's still flummoxed regarding the last statement from Mark.

"Well, from the get, Ashley and I gelled," says Mark, shrugging. "Call it what you want. Natural chemistry. Magic. We have it. I can say, without hesitation, that I've never felt as comfortable as I do playing with her."

That was a nice answer, even though, again, it's a bit of a stretch. The performance was more natural than she expected, and she believes she held her own.

"Do you feel similarly, Ashley?" says Finley.

"Huh?" says Ashley.

She's growing more hot by the minute. Rami snaps her picture and the flash dances across his eyes. Then, she hiccups. Finley chuckles and sighs deeply. Great. This is not going the way it's supposed to go. Find your courage, Kerwin, she scolds herself. We're not discussing rocket science or brain surgery. Music is the one subject that you have to be confident about.

"There is someone who I have more chemistry with," reveals Ashley, Finley nodding for her to continue. "His name is Crai...."

Ashley covers her mouth, yet the hiccup escapes. Rami, while not talking, bursts into a fit of laughter.

"And how do you spell Cray?" says Finley. "What an odd name."

"No, no," replies Ashley. "It's C-R....eep!"

Another hiccup halts the spelling and Ashley's cheeks grow crimson.

"Creep?" sighs Finley. "Mark, why not share how you selected this particular song? Your partner seems...flustered?"

"Fine by me," says Mark. "Okay. I knew we needed a song that captured my edge and Ashley's rich, darker vocals. So I ran down a list of songs in my mind, fetched a classic songbook...."

Ashley places a hand over her chest, groaning quietly as Mark goes into detail. The hiccups were weakening, but she's more concerned with how weak she came across. Maybe she shouldn't talk any longer. Mark has been answering most of the questions, anyway. She slides down in her chair and stares dismally at Finley's pen as it moves on the page.

III.

"This place always cheers me up," says J.T. "Thinking it might do you some good, too."

Toby and J.T. pass a couple potted plants on the way to the receptionist's desk. A large bronze sign announcing **CTJH** is hung behind the desk. J.T.'s former TV station isn't as busy as it would be during the fall, but it's busy enough as most of the workers are doing prep for the coming season. Guys carrying packages walk in various directions as people, headsets near their ears, make commands in their small mikes. A young boy glides by them on a scooter, whooping.

"Lead kid on the nature show," explains J.T. "Huge temper."

"Oh," says Toby.

"Losers!" shouts the kid, laughing as he sails past the two boys once more.

"PJ J.T. gets no respect," mutters J.T.

Toby sort of wishes J.T. had respected his own wish to be by himself. After leaving the Santoses, he tried to set his mind on other things with not a lot of success. He familiarized himself with the school handbook, the new regulations Coach Armstrong created for the new archery team, and took a few calls from Liberty, who'd be meeting them soon to deliver a second draft of the debate team rules. He was fine with the first draft she handed him earlier today, but Liberty didn't like the wording of the mission statement. Toby knows one mission statement that was more offensive.

Sergeant Blanchett made no comments in regard to the links Toby provided when he called today, and Toby couldn't get a read on what he'd discussed with Clara. All the Sergeant said was that Officer Wheaton would be stopping by this evening to talk with him, Jeff, and Kate.

Toby hates being in the house for too long, particularly the bedroom. That's where he read Justin's awful, racist rants and his group's terrible beliefs. Worse, though, is being very aware that he'd spent his last night with Manny in there. His last night with Manny, repeats Toby in his mind. She wouldn't be there to reassure him that he's doing a great job with his first presidential tasks. Her parents would've received the phone call a few hours earlier, and she isn't there to comfort them or maybe even him. Her non-presence is almost too cruel to take. Toby stops in mid-stride and stares off, down the hall.

J.T. pauses too, and rests a hand on Toby's shoulder. He'd been staring off for the past two days, and clearly J.T. had picked up what was behind it.

"They're doing their best, Toby," assures J.T.

"I want this to be over with," says Toby.

"Focus on why we came here then," suggests J.T., smiling widely. "So your best friend could show extra initative in securing his rightful place on TV screens across Toronto. Trust me. This'll be fun."

It might be fun on a different, happier day. During their trip to the Santoses, both Snake and Spike asked if J.T. was also going to pursue acting like Manny. That's when Toby saw the wheels turning. He can't blame J.T. It's the ideal job for him and a second stint as a host would be sweeter than the first. J.T. had the experience and the drive, and the ratings rose for his show last year so the station would profit from it. But nothing in life is set in stone. He thought he'd be with Manny for the long run and it became a short run. Toby shakes himself, as if he could shake the sadness away.

"Gotta find the station owner," sing-songs J.T., glancing around.

"He isn't busy?" says Toby.

"Of course, he's busy, Tobes," replies J.T. "But if you get in good with the head honcho, it can only work in your favor."

The search continues for a full minute, until J.T. says "Aha!" and motions to a slim, dark-haired girl in a tae kwan do uniform skipping to the receptionist's desk. She's sprightly, full of energy, and very much reminds Toby of...he can't finish it.

"Racquel!" greets J.T.

"Hiiii-yah!" yells Racquel, kicking her foot near J.T.'s stomach.

"Ooof," moans J.T., crouching playfully. "Right in the belly. You're getting good at those kicks."

"I'm almost a yellow belt!" says Racquel.

"Awesome!" congratulates J.T. "Listen. Is Mr. Reyes...I mean, your daddy at work today?"

"Yes," says Racquel. "He's coming to take me home in a few minutes."

"Excellent," says J.T., beaming.

The glass doors of the station part, the three of them staring at Liberty coming into the station. If possible, J.T.'s smile becomes cheesier and Toby's stomach becomes slightly nauseous at the change.

"Delivery for President Toby Isaacs," says Liberty, handing Toby a folder. "Typed, edited, sure to pass with flying colors."

"Wow," gasps Racquel, going to Toby. "You're a president?"

"Um, yeah," says Toby, a bit surprised by the question.

"My daddy's a president, too," says Racquel.

"And what a great president he is," sucks up J.T. "Can you do me a favor, Racquel?"

"What?" says Racquel.

Liberty and Toby exchange a look.

"I want you to tell your dad that P.J. J.T. really wants to come back and be the host for the afternoon hour," says J.T. "Can you do that for me?"

"Umm...yeah," replies Racquel.

"Good girl!" praises J.T., tugging at her ponytail.

"Don't touch my hair," moans Racquel.

"Yes, girls are picky about their hair," says Liberty, smiling at Racquel. "Aren't we?"

"Who are you?" questions Racquel.

"Boy, you sure are inquisitive," comments Liberty.

"That better not be a bad thing!" cries Racquel, getting into a fighting stance. "And you better not be a spy! Those are secret papers, aren't they?"

"No, I'm not a spy," defends Liberty, a tiny amount of hurt in her voice.

"She's...my friend," offers J.T.

"I'm not dumb!" says Racquel. "She's your girlfriend. Oooh, Daddy doesn't like workers bringing their girlfriends to shows. Unless you pay."

"Racquel, no one's going to a show, alright?" assures J.T. "Just...please do what I asked. Oh, here he comes."

J.T. immediately stands up straighter as his former boss strolls to them. His dark, wavy hair shines under the florescent light, and his grey suit is crisp and clean. It might be what Anne Marie wore if she were a man in the entertainment industry. Gross. Why did he have that thought?

"Are you ready to go, sweetie?" asks Mr. Reyes.

"I have something to tell you first," says Racquel.

"Go on," mouths J.T., trading a small glance with her.

"Mmm hmm?" says Mr. Reyes, frowning in suspicion.

"J.T. wants to....uh, be president of the station...and his girlfriend's a spy and a host...and like, he won't pay for her," rattles off Racquel. "I think the guy with the glasses is okay, though."

"Um....," says J.T., then laughing weakly.

Mr. Reyes appears confused at Racquel's confusion, and Toby has to admit that it's pretty funny, though he wouldn't dare to laugh. Liberty's face is almost as red as J.T.'s.

"J.T., what are you doing here?" asks Mr. Reyes, calmly.

"Hoping to get a really early audition?" says J.T., then biting his lip.

Mr. Reyes releases a few hmmms. "Monday. At two. See me."

"Oh wow!" cries J.T., happily. "Sweet. I mean...thanks, Mr. Reyes."

"As long as you don't take my job," kids Mr. Reyes. "I like being in charge."

"No problem," assures J.T.

He smiles, maybe his version of a smile because he doesn't smile big. He scurries to his office.

"Come on, Racquel!" he calls behind him.

"Uhhh!" yells Racquel, really hitting J.T. in the stomach that time.

J.T. clutches his stomach and moans.

"That's for dating a spy!" informs Racquel.

Wavering to a plush red chair, J.T. sits, Liberty squatting to offer him some consolation.

"Man, you can kick," comments Toby.

"Yep," brags Racquel, then she talks softly. "If anybody mean comes after you, I'll kick them for you."

Given the protection and the watchfulness coming his way, Toby has no choice, but to smile. He wishes things were that simple. Toby tenderly shakes her hand.

"Deal," says Toby.

IV.

"Why are elves green?" asks Hannah.

"They just are," answers Emma, too exhausted to consider why they are that color.

Emma props the book firmly on her knee and lets Hannah view the three green elves and a shoemaker, who looked remarkably tan and toned for living in a colder part of Europe. Global warming affects us all, thinks Emma in her head as she turns the page.

"I want an elf," says Hannah, climbing off the couch.

Emma grins. "Yeah?"

"I wouldn't make him make shoes, though," asserts Hannah. "He can eat ice cream with us."

"Is that your sneaky request to have some?" teases Emma.

"Yeah," admits Hannah, giggling.

"After, you're going to bed," says Emma, closing the book and setting it on the table.

"Yay!" cries Hannah, running to the kitchen.

"Don't run," scolds Emma, before hearing the doorbell sound.

Who could that be? Manny just came in and was sleeping. Lia's at Colin's. Kel would use his key. Emma checks her watch. Ah, she'd shoo them away and then go scoop some ice cream for Hannah.

Emma stands on her tiptoes and looks into the peephole. Spinner is staring at his feet in the small circle. Spinner! What in the world is doing in L.A.? Emma fusses with hair briefly and opens the door for him.

"Spin!" says Emma.

"Um, sorry, it's late," says Spinner. "I just...like, went driving, and kept driving, and kept driving. Couldn't be at Grandma's. Mom has no idea the car's gone..."

"Come in," requests Emma, closing the door behind him.

She is glad to see him, but driving from Santa Clara to Los Angeles isn't merely a ten minute drive. Something must be bugging him. Should she dig? Technically, she is his girlfriend now, so she has more of a right, yet she should respect his privacy too.

"You said if I ever needed to talk, we like....," explains Spinner, shrugging at her.

"Sure, yeah," insists Emma. "Um, let me scoop some ice cream for Hannah and we'll talk."

"Hannah's still up?" says Spinner, brightly.

The knowledge obviously makes Spinner happier so she invites him to the kitchen. They find Hannah, with the refrigerator door parted, searching for the carton. Emma knows Lia kept it on top for that very reason.

"Hey Hannah!" says Spinner.

"Spinner!" shouts Hannah, running to hug his legs.

"I made a special trip," says Spinner as Emma retrieves the Rocky Road ice cream.

"To see who?" prods Hannah.

Emma nods at him to give her the answer she'd like most.

Spinner laughs. "You, of course."

"Can Spinner have some ice cream, Emma?" says Hannah.

"A little," replies Emma, raising her eyebrows at Spinner.

"The evil badger catcher lucks out!" cries Spinner. "Woot!"

"Woot!" mimicks Hannah, jumping twice. "Oh, that reminds me. I'll be back!"

"Be careful, and no running," instructs Emma.

Hannah stops running and paces herself until she's left the room. Emma hears someone racing up the steps, though, and she doesn't have to guess who.

"I think it's programmed in kids' brains to run," sighs Emma.

She's not certain Spinner hears her as he has his chin on the counter and remains silent. Spinner is rarely silent. Emma spoons out two scoops and slides the bowl to him. He grins slightly.

"Tell your significant other what the trouble is," encourages Emma. "That way, I'll feel more significant."

Spinner chuckles, then frowns. "Kendra."

"Is she okay?" asks Emma.

"Not really," informs Spinner. "Bone scan wasn't good. They're going to put her in casts tomorrow. She's going to be immobile for the rest of the month. Then, her scholarship's like in...it's bad, Em."

Emma breathes deeply and drops herself into a nearby chair.

"I'm sorry, Spinner," says Emma.

"Like I've always been good at making her feel better," says Spinner. "With the Toby thing, too. But she didn't listen to me or want to talk to me today or anything."

"She probably will...later on," guesses Emma.

At least, this is what Emma hopes will happen. She doesn't know Kendra enough to speculate what's more likely to happen.

"Mom's trying," sighs Spinner. "Grandma too. I feel...useless."

"That's the last thing you are," consoles Emma. "If I had a big brother, I'd want one just like you."

Spinner grins and reluctantly takes a spoon resting on the counter. Hannah must've set those out, too.

"Let's drown our sorrows in ice cream," suggests Emma, standing and hugging Spinner from the side.

"Sweet stuff usually puts me in a good mood," gives in Spinner.

"Me too," says Emma, smiling.

Hannah's steps are heard far away so Emma quickly fills Hannah's bowl. Hannah hums as she reveals a tiny purple shoebox, glitter spread across the top of it.

"What's that?" asks Emma.

"I keep my wands in this box," explains Hannah, climbing onto a stool next to Spinner. "That and a couple other magical things."

Emma has yet to be introduced to this box, despite viewing many of Hannah's wands outside the box. Hannah routinely used them when they were reading fairy tales and had slept with the wand on occassion. Hannah gingerly opens the box, and they view five wands, with different lengths, a small flipbook of magical creatures, and a magic eight ball.

"Dude, that's a lot of magic," says Spinner, approvingly.

"It's a good thing to have," comments Hannah. "The next time you came, I decided that you and Emma have to be in the room, especially since you aren't getting married soon."

Spinner's expression grows from amused to terrified. Emma has a similar reaction. Manny may be willing to hand Toby wedding coins, but she and Spinner had just gone official. Emma refuses to look at Spinner, becomes way more interested in her ice cream.

"Um....right," says Spinner, wearily.

"I'm going to ask the eight ball if you two should go on a date tonight," informs Hannah.

Alright. This is where Emma has to speak.

"Hannah, I'm baby-sitting you," reminds Emma.

"Manny's home and I'll go straight to bed," promises Hannah. "It's seven-thirty. Not too late."

"Manny's asleep," informs Emma.

With the words still on her lips, Emma scrunches her nose when she hears a different set of feet on the stairs. They're joined by a low "bleh", Manny groggily coming into the kitchen in a T-shirt and sweat pants.

"Hey," greets Manny.

"It's magic," breathes Hannah.

"Or convenient," mutters Spinner, Emma pushing his head gently.

"Oooh, ice cream," says Manny, taking the whole carton. "Am I dreaming or is Spinner here?"

"Only Emma can dream about Spinner," says Hannah with supreme confidence.

"Mmmkay," says Manny, then leaving the room.

Hannah holds the magic eight ball, closes her eyes, and stares at the round, black eight.

"Should Emma and Spinner go out and have fun tonight?" she asks.

Emma has no preference, but she isn't exactly thrilled that a seven-year old is taking charge of her dating life. Then again, if Spinner has to talk, better them being on their own than in a house with more people. She goes to the doorway and tries to see what Manny's doing.

"_Let's get together, yeah, yeah, yeah_," sings Manny somberly, using the remote like a baton. "_Why don't you and I combine_...."

Well, it looks like Manny's awake.

Hannah flips over the black ball and squeals with delight.

"As I see it, yes," announces Hannah, showing them the message.

"Dude," says Spinner, looking it over. "Remember when Manny twisted her leg when Terri made those tarot card predictions?"

Yes, that was pretty freaky. Still, that's no indication that Terri just didn't get lucky.

"Spin, you honestly believe this stuff?" questions Emma.

"The magic eight ball never lies," affirms Hannah. "Ever."

Before Emma can argue, Hannah's taken her bowl of ice cream and is sitting next to Manny as the Parent Trap blares on the screen. Manny grins as Lindsay Lohan appears on screen.

"I like the older version, and so does Lia," informs Hannah.

"This one's pretty good," defends Manny, who'd laways had a soft spot for Lohan.

Spinner smiles at Emma, and as much as she considers staying here, Emma returns the smile.

"Manny!" calls Emma, her eyes focused on Spinner. "Feel like being a nanny for the night?"

"Yeah," calls Manny. "If you bring me a spoon."

V.

Toby is two steps ahead of them. No matter what he does, how slow he walks, he is two steps ahead of them. The sidewalk is gold as the day darkens, pink and purple stripes appearing in the sky. Meanwhile, Liberty shares the key strengths of her debate team members while J.T. dutifully listens. Toby isn't clear if they're a couple yet, but if they aren't, they're certainly getting there.

"Chris Sharpe has a gift for rebuttals," says Liberty. "Yes, I definitely formed a top-notch team for our first year."

"Just as long as Chris doesn't scratch the podium when he runs out of words to say," jokes J.T. "Get it? Scratch?"

Liberty laughs. "Yes. I get it."

They reach the Kerwin-Isaacs home, and fail to talk as they view a police cruiser parked near the curb. Toby looks at the grass, then at the car, almost praying that it was fake or that he wasn't sure of why it is there. J.T. stands by Toby.

"Is everything okay?" questions Liberty.

J.T. hasn't told her anything? Well, that's best. Toby nods.

"Well, I'll email you a copy of last year's budget," says Liberty. "Since the Council doesn't have a treasurer, it's imperative..."

"You can't email him, Liberty," interjects J.T. "I mean...."

Toby shakes his head and starts for the door. Whatever explanation J.T. is going to give Liberty, he doesn't feel like hearing. He'd already called Darcy on his dad's cell, had to lie that his computer is broken. Sometimes, he would like to smash it himself. That way, he wouldn't have to see it or be tempted to mail Manny. He also left his cellphone on the computer desk. Kill two temptations by putting them side by side, and avoiding them all together.

He enters, views the living room. Three cups of coffee, on coasters, were set on the table. Kate flips her hair while Jeff stares at the mantelpiece. The third person with coffee is a genial looking man, maybe in his early forties. Toby wishes he looked less genial. He could dislike Officer Wheaton if the man looked mean or annoyed to be there. No, instead he greets Toby with a grin, his brown hair neatly parted, and as shiny as his badge. His uniform is as neatly tailored as Mr. Reyes' as well.

"Toby!" calls Jeff, rising. "We've been expecting you."

It's said as if Officer Wheaton is coming for a positive visit. Toby swallows a lump in his throat and tries his best to appear hospitable.

"Hi," says Toby, going to them. "Officer Wheaton, right?"

Officer Wheaton stands to shake hands with Toby, and Toby takes a seat next to Kate.

"What grade are you in, Toby?" asks Officer Wheaton.

"Senior year...my last," replies Toby.

"Wow. Well, my senior year was the greatest," says Officer Wheaton.

This is probably meant in a good way, but Toby doesn't take it like that. He wants a fun, carefree senior year too, to look forward to graduation, to take the girl he loves to the prom. Can anybody promise him that? Officer Wheaton, apparently figuring out that that wasn't the best thing to say, clears his throat.

"Your father tells me you're a good, responsible kid," says Officer Wheaton. "This will make it a lot easier for both of us."

Toby stretches his legs awkwardly. His father must've forgotten the not so good actions, including having Manny here when they were out of town.

"He is good," insists Jeff.

"What's his usual curfew?" asks Officer Wheaton.

"During the summer, we've been more lenient," answers Jeff. "It was ten, ten-thirty. Toby was usually on time."

"Good," says Officer Wheaton. "I'm going to suggest eight-thirty, nine for the time being."

Toby's mouth tightens into a frown. It's one thing to have Kate, his stepmother, help his father come up with a curfew, but quite another to have a cop do it.

"Good," sighs Kate. "It won't be dark."

"Do you have any commitments during this summer, Toby?" asks Officer Wheaton.

Great, moans Toby inwardly. He has to talk, go along with this. Where's this other cop that's supposed to follow Manny? He'd like to meet him or her, too. Why hasn't he heard from the Santoses?

"Student Council stuff," shares Toby, hesitantly.

"He's president," says Kate, patting his knee.

"That's wonderful!" cries Officer Wheaton. "So I'm assuming you meet during the morning or the afternoon?"

"I'm meeting the Spirit Squad at one tomorrow," says Toby.

"We also make it a point to go to synagogue on Saturdays," brings up Jeff. "We haven't in the past, but we're getting better at it."

"Hmmm, well, it's my personal opinion that faith can get you through many things these days," says Officer Wheaton, smiling at each of them.

Toby's not sure what to say to that, but is eager to say something else.

"Am I...um, going to meet the officer who's with the Santoses?" asks Toby. "With Manny, specifically."

"Eventually," assures Officer Wheaton. "But not right now. She'll be with Officer Patton. He's very qualified, been with this Division many years."

This isn't an answer he likes, or was expecting. It's bad enough that he can't interact with Manny. He can't interact with a proxy either. They're ultimately doing what Justin craved, being split apart. And I helped it along, thinks Toby, lifting his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"I'm pretty tired," says Toby, apologetically.

He's more bothered than tired, can't sit here any longer.

"Fine," says Officer Wheaton, rising with him.

Is he going to be with him, even in his bedroom?

"You're sleeping downstairs....or not?" says Toby in confusion.

The adults laugh. Toby rolls his eyes.

"No. Simply wanted to shake your hand again," says Officer Wheaton. "I guess we'll get further acquainted tomorrow. Unfortunately, since the persons of interest know your home address, you're more at risk. But your parents offered the guest room, and I've accepted."

The guest room? That is better than the bedroom, though.

Toby shakes his hand and starts to ascend the staircase.

"Now that we're on the subject," says Jeff. "How much freedom will Toby be granted?"

None, supplies Toby, not willing to hear Officer Wheaton's reply. If he hates this, Manny will definitely hate it. Toby goes into his bedroom, closes the door, puts his back against it. Alone. Finally.

Toby walks to his bed, strokes the blanket. He recalls Manny laying there next to him, smiling at him, kissing him when he accepted the coins. She was either laughing or staring warmly at him. He doesn't remember a frown.

It's too early to sleep and he stares at the computer. He should beg Officer Wheaton to confiscate it, like they did when Jordan got busted. Emma got a new computer, a fresh start. He'd have a computer that didn't have evil e-mails, an account that he could use. He could type without trepidation. This whole problem could vanish, or at least vanish from his sight.

He slowly stands in front of the monitor, eyes drifting to his cellphone. Might as well check, thinks Toby. There are no calls. He opens the phone and reads that there's five missed calls. As he goes through the recognizable numbers, his heart sinks. Manny. Manny. Manny. Manny. Manny. She's been trying to communicate with him for the past two days as the phone lay dormant on the desk.

The last call has a voicemail. He presses it before he can stop himself, cursing himself for doing it.

"Hey Toby," he hears. "Um, you may not want to hear me right now, and I get that."

Toby holds a fist to his brow, shaking his head over and over.

"If anything I said scared or hurt you, I'm sorry," continues Manny. "The gift...maybe it put too much pressure on us. I mean, it's no mood ring, but I thought you'd like it."

His sight travels to his closed briefcase, where the coins were safely tucked inside. Toby feels his legs going down, his butt finding the bed.

"It showed how I felt," says Manny, her voice sounding fresher than it might've yesterday. "Or maybe it was something else I did...we did. But I don't care. I just care about you. I miss you."

Toby holds the phone firmly in his grip, Manny still audible. His chest heaves and his heart quivers. Tears rush against his cheeks. The room feels more vacant than it ever did.

"That's all I can say right now," says Manny. "Call me, if you'd like to...or not. I hope you do. So...bye."

He closes the phone, runs his finger along the small screen which houses Manny's digits. Will he get to dial them again? If so, when? When? It was nothing she did. Nothing. He'd love to ease her fears, but he can't, not on any night, or the nights in the near future. Toby unfurls the fist of his other hand and cries into it.

The door of his room opens, revealing his father.

"Toby, we've been discussing....," starts Jeff, then instantly going to his son. "Toby?"

"I can't do this," sobs Toby, barely looking at him. "I...can't!"

"I promise you that as soon as we catch who we need to....," says Jeff.

"When is that going to be?" cries Toby. "Dad, you don't get it. Nobody does."

"We're trying to," says Jeff, softly. "Kate and I are here for you."

"Like we're waiting for some miracle where they're instantly caught," says Toby sarcastically, then coughing.

"I know it's hard, Tobes. I know," assures Jeff.

"No, you don't," sobs Toby. "I lost someone who was my girlfriend, my friend...the first girl I...I loved. That I love."

"Toby," soothes Jeff, sitting by him on the bed.

"There's people out there who hate who I love," cries Toby. "I don't want to care what they think. Or ask for their permission. They weren't there for me like Manny was. They should be nothing."

"Wish it was that easy, Toby," says Jeff. "I really do. But we don't want to play around with threats and anger and hate. They can turn into some ugly things."

"I wanna call her," sighs Toby after some long, heavy breaths. "Please."

"Son, they're cutting off the two of you for your own good," says Jeff, softly. "Give it some time."

"What good is it doing?" sobs Toby. "I don't want her to be a number I stare at. You can't ask me to accept that."

"Afraid I'm going to have to, Tobes," admits Jeff, his own eyes watery.

Toby cries louder and lets the phone slip from his fingers. His breathing grows raspier as Jeff hugs him. He's not ready for the hug to end, but he hopes the night does.


	62. Singin' in the Rain

**LXII. Singin' in the Rain**

_I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain  
What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again  
I'm laughin' at clouds so dark up above  
The sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love  
Let the stormy clouds chase, everyone from the place  
Come on with the rain, got a smile on my face  
I walk down the lane with a happy refrain_

_I'm singin', just singin' in the rain_

**Singin' in the Rain is the property of Freed and Brown and appears in the film of the same name.  
In Another Life is the property of Ashlee Simpson. Yes, it's in this chapter. :)**

"Go green!" shouts a woman in hot pink shorts as she distributes pamphlets.

She almost misses Spinner, but quickly inserts the paper into his hands. Emma laughs as Spinner stares at the paper wordlessly. When he suggested that they head to Long Beach, she bets he didn't anticipate that. Though, this whole night is something they hadn't anticipated.

The fact that Spinner sought her out, even if it meant driving for miles and miles, touched her incredibly. His mother and grandmother were right there in Santa Clara, closer people that could've offered him some consolation. But he wanted her to listen and he trusted her judgement. It's most likely because she trusted in him when the drama with her parents was going down, and it is odd that now both of them had issues at home to deal with. She hopes she was a good enough ear.

"What are they advertising?" asks Emma.

"Motion detectors on lights in kids' rooms," replies Spinner, giving the pamphlet a quick lookover. "In case they leave the light on."

"Not a bad idea," says Emma.

"Grandma would like this," affirms Spinner as he puts it in his pocket.

"Your grandmother's into that type of thing?"

"Big health food junkie. She's made me eat I don't know how many vegetables."

"No sympathy from me," says Emma, smiling.

"Man," groans Spinner.

They laugh and continue down the busy boardwalk. Different tanned men and women carry towels, baskets, changes of clothes, or beach bags, heading into their homes after a day of swimming. To Emma, the brown and grey buildings look like sandcastles under the deepening blue sky. Far off in the distance, a pearl-white lighthouse shines among moving palm trees. She's glad Spinner is less distant, taking her hand as they walk.

"Can't believe I'm leaving in a couple days," says Spinner.

Two days? She'd completely blanked on Spinner's schedule. Ever since the day at the school, when Spinner was last here, she has focused on Hannah and being there for Manny. It shortened any time she had to think about Spinner's departure. Emma lowers her gaze.

"I'd like to stick around for Kendra," admits Spinner.

"Oh," says Emma, softly.

"And you," adds Spinner, squeezing her hand.

Emma's face brightens.

"Well, then. We'll have to do one thing you absolutely most do before you leave L.A.," says Emma.

"Um..."

Spinner glances at their surroundings. A father and three boys hold fishing poles. Emma winces at the sight of a dead fish in a plastic bag the father carries under his arm. Luckily, it's too late to fish and she didn't think Spinner would suggest that anyway. His eyes move to a couple demurely eating oysters on a bench. Please, no, begs Emma inwardly. She's not hungry and she doesn't want to eat dead animals.

"Know what?" says Spinner. "I realized I don't have like a picture of us. Not on the ski trip or during the pageant...nothing really."

That's correct. He gave her a picture of him at the Dot, but it was small and she wasn't in it. Spinner turns her slowly and motions to a yellow photo booth at the end of the street.

"In there?" says Emma.

"Not unless you'd rather do those old time photos where you're wearing a bustier and I'm holding a gun," jokes Spinner.

"Me? Into guys with guns?" says Emma.

Maybe this isn't the best thing to comment on, with the shooting and everything, and Spinner appears to have the same thought. This discussion is kind of dicey for both of them, so it's best to move on.

"Um, let's go," says Spinner.

"Right," says Emma almost immediately.

Spinner parts the curtain to see if the booth is empty. Nobody's in there. On the panel are several images of happy-go-lucky pairs-- friends, lovers, mother and daughter, father and daughter. Spinner slides into the booth, Emma following.

There are a collection of buttons and a list of instructions on the blue touch-screen. Emma presses power and yelps when a strange, robotic voice begins to speak. Spinner chuckles and inserts a five dollar bill into the slot.

"Welcome to your Capture Camera experience," rumbles the voice. "You will have a total of five minutes for this session. At the end, you will receive four pictures that will be printed and distributed into the side pocket as you exit. Press start to begin."

Emma presses start.

"Adjust the screen to capture what you would like in the picture. Use the up and down arrow keys."

Beginning to fix her hair in the screen, Emma sees Spinner smile.

"Girls," comments Spinner.

"Shut up," laughs Emma. "What pose should we do?"

"We could put our heads close together for the first," offers Spinner.

"That sounds good," says Emma.

The two of them move in tighter, Spinner's smooth cheek pressed against hers. Spinner presses the up button a couple times, then freezes it while smiling at the camera.

"Please readjust for number two," instructs the voice.

"Number two?" says Emma.

"You could sit on my lap," says Spinner, winking at her.

"How about no?" returns Emma, sticking out her tongue at him.

"That's it!" cries Spinner. "We'll do the double tongue takedown."

Emma nods.

"One...two...three," counts of Spinner, releasing his tongue in tandem with Emma.

She freezes the picture, and they chuckle at the sight of their released tongues staring back at them. This is pretty fun, though the voice sounds sick by the third round.

"Select picture number three," growls the voice.

"Dude, were they high when they were recording this?" asks Spinner.

"This must be old. It sounds like Grover," says Emma.

Spinner raises his eyebrows at her.

"Jack's into _Sesame Street_," shrugs Emma. "What...if I lay my head on your shoulder?"

"That'll work," says Spinner with pride.

Emma tucks her hair behind her ears and lets the crown of her head rest on Spinner's shoulder. She crosses her eyes before Spinner can touch freeze. He elbows her.

"Eh," says Spinner.

"Couldn't resist," giggles Emma. "Okay, we'll make this a serious one. You can call the last picture."

Rather than reveal his choice to her, he makes it known in another way. He tenderly puts her arm around her and scoots his waist closer to her waist. It's nice, simple, and definitely her favorite pose. Emma beams as the button is pushed.

The voice asks if they want to review their pictures, which they do, satisfied with the results. Spinner presses print and they leave the cramped booth and breathe in the fresh beach air. Still, Emma didn't mind that it was cramped. It was like the two of them were in their own little world and it wasn't a bad planet to live in.

"All set," says Spinner, finding the row of pictures in the small yellow pocket.

Emma stands by him and looks at their joint effort. She hasn't truly smiled like this in the past few days. Sure, there were light smiles if she found something amusing or interesting, but she can see her teeth gleam in the black and white squares. It's almost as if the film has found some momentary joy so strong she's wondering if she imagined it. There, clothed in a flowy white tank top and jean shorts, is Emma Nelson. Next to her, in a blue T-shirt and brown cargo pants, is Spinner Mason, not a worry to be seen. Together, it's a wonderful memory that will shine whenever she reminisces.

"We look like we should be touring with Kid Elrick," praises Spinner.

"Kid who?" blanks Emma.

"The best artist to ever live!" reassures Spinner. "Dude, I gotta lend you the CD."

Emma's not sure she's looking forward to that, yet she kisses him on the cheek. While doing so, her eye catches the picture of a father and daughter. The daughter has long, red hair while her father has a thick, blonde mop of hair. The father's smile looks more pained than the girl's, like he can barely do it. Emma's own smile fades as she doesn't stop staring.

"What's up?" nudges Spinner.

Yes, a little too familiar. It's almost like those two are a version of Emma and Snake, with switched hair colors. Why? She doesn't want her own issues to interfere with what could be their last date. Hannah is banking on them having a good night, with no room for her troubles. The drama is in Toronto, a whole continent separating them. He can't come into her mind like this. Emma sniffles.

"I'm having some stupid thoughts," replies Emma.

"Nah," says Spinner. "No thought you could ever have would be stupid."

That is comforting. She'd hate for him to think she's paranoid or worse, weak. Emma leads Spinner to a row of vendor tables, turquoise jewelry and other metallic trinkets glittering behind her.

"Snake sent me a postcard," shares Emma, the words easier to say as they stream from her mouth. "He wants me to call him."

"Do you want to?" questions Spinner.

"Yes," says Emma. "And no. The whole situations's weird. I can't just pretend things didn't happen, you know?"

"Mhmm," says Spinner. "Maybe he realizes he shouldn't have done what he did.. It's not like he and Hatzilakos are dating."

"How do I trust that that's it, Spinner?" sighs Emma. "It might not be her. What if it's someone else next time, though?"

"You can try to trust him," replies Spinner.

"Why?" says Emma. "Why should I if he was so willing to throw away our family for some other woman?"

"I...I don't think you can throw away family," says Spinner. "It's too deep. It's too important."

Emma gazes at him as soft breezes play with the tips of his hair. Her family is important, important enough to make an attempt at saving it. Didn't they get through the unforgettable wedding, Snake's illness, the shooting? Snake took her himself to go to the clinic, during the whole scandal with Jay. He was so disappointed they had to take that trip. Still, he stood by her. She loves Hannah, but she didn't desire to be in the poor girl's shoes. Hannah and Kel were divided, Lia resented him, their mother was so depressed....they were practically a ruined family. That's the last direction Emma wants her family to go.

"Spinner?" says Emmma. "Can we find a booth?"

"Like...a picture booth?" says Spinner in confusion. "We..."

"No," interrupts Emma. "A telephone booth."

Spinner nods. "We can do that."

II.

He hasn't eaten oatmeal since he was about ten. Sean lifts the spoon, stares as the light brown liquid slide down the grey handle of it. A throb of pain travels from his chin to the back of his neck. Eating is a worse chore than talking. These stitches were too much of a nuisance. Sean pushes his chair from the table.

"Hmmmph," moans Sean, going to set the remainder of the food in the fridge.

The doorbell rings soundly, once, twice. Then, it's constant and annoying. This person must be impatient. On other days, he would've liked it to be Ellie. But their last awkward exchange totally put things into perspective, made light on how things have changed. He hates that it's changing. Sean puts the bowl on the counter, takes a swig of water before answering. He discovered that water did wonders for a sore mouth.

Sean peers through the tiny hole and has the sudden urge to burst through or the kick the door. Dale pulls at his ponytail and shifts his feet. His eyes were red and panicked, like a drowning animal.

"You're in there, Cameron," says Dale. "I saw your car."

Sean fastens the chain on the door, making Dale jump.

"Go away!" instructs Sean.

"Got your cash," says Dale.

He hears something drop, and an envelope comes whizzing past his legs, landing next to one of his textbooks. The envelope is much fuller than it usually is, and Sean parts the door, the chain obscuring Dale partly from his view.

"I'm done with you," says Sean, shaking his head at him.

"That's an unwise decision," says Dale. "You're more idiotic than I thought."

Sean closes the door, quickly fetches the envelope, and reopens the door to toss it at Dale's chest. His cheeks now as red as his eyes, Dale knocks the wall next to the door with his fist. The door clatters back and forth.

"Have to make a dock stop tonight!" shouts Dale through the slit.

"I don't care," insists Sean, practically spitting his words. "Not after what you did to Jay. What you did to me."

"Look, I got rid of the gun," says Dale, softly. "I got rid of it."

"Right. You got rid of the evidence," says Sean, smirking. "I'm so thrilled for you. You did something to save yourself."

Dale clicks his tongue and throws a look behind him, as if he's being followed. Sean hopes he is being followed.

"Word is the cops wised up and have been moving in near our territory," whispers Dale.

"Like I said, I don't....," starts Sean.

"Sean, you better care!" whispers Dale, thrusting his finger through the small slit so it would be in Sean's face. "I ain't your worst enemy, okay? I at least don't ice you when a deal goes south. There's meaner guys out there than me, Cameron."

Huh? He's aware of the car ring, but he doesn't talk to these other guys the way Dale does. Sure, he remembers the mean-looking guys at the docks. That doesn't mean he recalls their names or where they came from. Those are Dale's responsibilities.

"What are you saying?" says Sean.

"Jay's gotta take the fall," answers Dale, wearily.

Sean attempts to close the door on him again, without success. Dale has fit his whole arm into the slit.

"He has to say it's a two-man operation!" whispers Dale, intently. "He can say one of his stealing buddies, or whoever, went with him, shot him. It's easier for us if he does this instead of making the wrong people angry."

"Wrong people?" says Sean.

"People like money, Sean," says Dale. "Therefore, they like the business that gets them their money. The cops can't bust another ring or even get info. Then we'll all go down, including you."

This is more complicated than he'd ever thought. But honestly, he's already paying for it. Any other terrible things coming his way, he'd like to at least meet with some degree of honesty, of integrity. Lies and sneaking around got Jay shot, and Ellie suspicious. It has to stop.

"Then I'll go down," says Sean, staring hard at Dale. "Get out of my building!"

"You are the dumbest...," says Dale, then backing up. "I knew you were dumb when my dad hired you. You just proved it!"

Sean shuts the door, hearing Dale's departing footsteps behind it. His mouth twinges at the hard surface when Sean lays his mouth there. The stitches sting. Though it hurts, he smiles.

III.

"Hee," chuckles Spinner. "There's a guy in here named Finkelberger."

"Spin," quiets Emma as she holds the postcard near a streetlamp above.

Spinner holds up his hands and puts the phonebook in its original position. Snake said he had no commitments in the evening, and the time difference would make things late in Toronto, though not too late. She did try his cell, but she kept hearing static after the first ring. Emma called her mother to ask for Snake's new home phone number. Spike sounded thrilled to hear her, yet a bit startled that she asked for something related to Snake. Emma would've liked to stay on with her mom longer. She didn't want any distractions, though. Maybe sending Spinner off to do something else would be better, too.

"Can I have a moment?" she asks Spinner.

"Oh...sure," says Spinner, giving her a small wave and walking to gaze at the vendor's items.

Emma closes the glass door and stares ahead at the waves crashing against the sand. The water frothes as it reaches the edge of the beach and then smoothly rolls on the sand. She dials the new number as another wave pounds in the dark.

"Hello?" says a voice after the first ring.

"Hi...um, Snake?" replies Emma, running a finger against the stretchy phone chord.

"Emma," says Snake, happily. "Hey. How...how are you?"

"Good," replies Emma, winding the chord more and more.

"I'm glad," says Snake.

Silence goes both ways. She's waiting for a word and so is he. Naturally, she should speak because she called. Right? She's having a hard time coming up with a subject. What did she ask him....when they were closer?

"How was your day?" questions Emma after a deep breath.

"Pretty hectic," admits Snake. "My students found _Family Guy_ scenes on Hulu and it was downhill after that."

Emma snickers. "Really?"

"They were particularly taken with the technologically savvy baby," continues Snake, warmly. "What's his name? Stanley?"

"Stewie," corrects Emma. "Spinner tried to explain the appeal of the show to me once."

"Did he succeed?" says Snake.

They pause for a couple seconds.

"Nah," they both say at the same time, then laugh.

"It's great to hear your voice, Em," says Snake, softly. "Don't get me wrong. I love having Jack visit, but I'd like to have the two of you one of these days."

Though she suspected he missed her, it's quite another story to hear it from him right here. He does care and he has been thinking about her, how their family feels less complete. Emma lets the chord go. She doesn't have to twist it anymore.

"Well, I come back next month....," reminds Emma, not bothering to finish her train of thought.

"My university gig is ending two weeks from August thirtieth," says Snake.

Having him say gig is somewhat endearing. Only a guy raised in the eighties would use that lingo when he's not referring to a concert.

"Let me check with Mom and I'll call you," says Emma.

"Em, that's be great," says Snake, excitedly. "Oh, I can cook you and Jack vegetarian lasagna or make pita bread or...."

"We have to get the okay from Mom first," interjects Emma, smiling.

"Right, right. Absolutely," says Snake.

"Have you talked to her yet?"

"Actually, we were with Toby a couple days ago," replies Snake. "I shouldn't...no, everything's fine."

Toby? That isn't a name she suspected to appear in this conversation. Maybe Snake found out that he and Manny broke up, and felt bad mentioning him to her. She should leave well enough alone. Besides, Spinner is approaching her.

"Can I call you...maybe in three days?" suggests Emma. "Probably after Hannah's bedtime."

"That's more than doable," assures Snake.

"Oh, and Dad...one more thing?" says Emma, smiling through the glass door at Spinner. "Thanks for the trip."

"My pleasure, Em," says Snake. "Talk with you later."

"Bye," says Emma.

Emma places the phone on the hook, the edges of her mouth wide from smiling. Spinner's a few feet away, but she runs once she leaves the booth, her hair flying behind her. She fervently hugs Spinner who appears surprised.

"There's this huge sense of relief," sighs Emma.

Yes, there certainly was, and it couldn't have come at a better time. Emma separates from Spinner.

"I found something cool!" announces Spinner.

"Yeah?" encourages Emma.

Spinner grabs her hand, and they jog a couple blocks. They pass stores, tired surfers, aspiring musicians who listen thoughtfully to a stereo. The winds float past their faces and they're both flushed as they reach a wide open space. They stand in a brown concrete square, etchings in the center of it. Emma tosses Spinner a puzzled look.

"Where are we?" yells Emma over the loud music playing from the stereo.

"Wait for it!" instructs Spinner.

That's when Emma notices small grey circles in the four corners, the lights giving the circles a healthy sheen.

_Do you love me oh do you love me  
I say so  
Do you need me oh do you need  
God I hope  
I get this feeling deep inside  
That somewhere somehow you've passed me by_

As the sounds get softer in her ears, she hears light whisps like a faucet is being turned on underneath her feet. Emma gasps as lovely arches of clear water flow from the circles. The streams go up, sideways, down, criss-cross. It's like they are in a refreshing, wet pyramid. Drops find Emma's shoulders, knees, and legs. Spinner laughs as he ducks under the arches to remain dry.

"No, you don't!" exclaims Emma, dragging him into the wet zone with her.

"Ah!" says Spinner, trying to resist.

_I can't put my finger on it but  
The more that I see you the more that I know  
Everywhere you go is everywhere I've been_

"I feel like I'm in a waterfall!" shouts Emma over the noise.

"I just feel wet!" responds Spinner.

"Or a...," begins Emma.

"Tropical rainforest!" finishes Spinner.

"Right!" admits Emma. "Should I redo my pageant dance?"

"You're missing your chainsaw music!" says Spinner.

"Bleh, chainsaws. Now that I think about it, no wonder I didn't win," pouts Emma, playfully.

"Yeah, Manny did," says Spinner, innocently.

Emma puts her hands on her hips. "Come here!"

"Nah...I don't trust that smirk, dude!" says Spinner, laughing and dashing to another part of the square.

Emma manages to catch him, grab his arm. Spinner croaches and lifts Emma from the ground. She wipes her face, streaming with water as Spinner raises her skyward.

_You finsh all my sentences before they begin  
And I know that I look in your eyes  
It's like I've seen you before about a million times_

He's probably the first boyfriend who could lift her, does lift her. Spinner whirls them around in the streaming water until they grow dizzy.

_You make me feel so  
You make me feel so Beautiful  
It doesn't matter  
No it never matters if we're out or at home  
We can make hours into years  
Wherever you go you're always here  
It's like I've known you from before  
But I'm just so happy you walked through my door_

But when they stop, they kiss, and her mind feels trapped in a stronger, better whirlwind.

IV.

He keeps his eyes on the desk. Stretching out everything in front of him might help. There's the Council handbook, the budget report which Liberty delivered, the proposal Darcy drew up. He drank some coffee, which he seldom drinks. His throat was dry this morning and he needed some kind of motivation.

The Spirit Squad is definitely not lacking any motivation. No, Darcy seems bent on making a good impression on him. His vice president, Jenna Mortenson, was still vacationing in France with her family. Liberty said she'd step in if Toby needed a second opinion. She is straightening her own paperwork for the third time. J.T. is pretending to throw his mascot head into a basketball hoop. The cheerleaders were in various states in the auditorium. Some, like Darcy, were silently rehearsing a cheer. Others, like Chante, were giggling as they recounted their summer activities.

"Prepare yourself," cautions Liberty. "If this is anything like Paige's presentation this past year, we're in for a long day."

Toby was visiting Florida last summer when Liberty met with the cheerleaders. He was grateful he was spared. A part of him still wasn't too fond of the Spirit Squad for shunning Manny after the Peter incident, but he has to be fair.

What isn't fair is who's sitting on the opposite side of the auditorium. Dressed in his street clothes, a green corduroy shirt and blue jeans, Officer Wheaton tosses a pencil in the air and catches it. He was in that outfit to "fit in". Toby doesn't know. He sort of stuck out as the only adult in the auditorium, and he hasn't seen anyone wear a corduroy shirt in a long time. Liberty gives him a quick glance.

"Who is he again?" asks Liberty.

"Uh, my uncle," replies Toby, though Officer Wheaton looks more Irish than Jewish.

Officer Wheaton certainly likes to talk, especially religion. He talked about Catholicism more than Joseph did, and Toby had officially learned a couple catechisms thanks to his new tag-along officer. Conversely, Toby was encouraged to share his Passover memories.

"Fine," says Liberty. "Just remember, Tobes. Flattery shouldn't get anyone anywhere."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asks Toby.

"You'll see," says Liberty.

Toby shakes his head and starts transferring some information from the budget to his notebook. Before he knows it, he sees a hand holding another book. Chante grins sheepishly at Toby when he raises his head.

"I know we've had our differences, Toby," says Chante. "But I hope there aren't any hard feelings."

Toby massages his brow briefly. Yeah, you embarrassed my girlfriend during an event she worked her butt off for. Sure, he'll forgive and forget. Thank goodness Darcy is captain this year.

"What's this?" intercepts Liberty, nodding to the book. "A bribe?"

"No," says Chante, glaring at Liberty. "It's a thank-you gift from the Squad. For meeting with us."

Chante pushes the book forward. Toby hesitantly takes it and opens it to the first page. There's a photograph of him and Manny before he gave his election speech. Manny's wearing a **Vote Toby** button.

"We really miss Manny on the squad," adds Chante, with a forced grin.

So inappropriate, thinks Toby. Inappropriate and...depressing. He glances at Officer Wheaton as his eyes water. Toby roughly shuts the book and hands it to Liberty.

"I'll look at it later," says Toby. "And this is a political matter, not a personal one."

"Touchy," gripes Chante, then shrugging and skipping to Darcy.

"So fake," mutters Liberty.

"Darcy, are we ready?" calls over Toby.

"Yes, sir!" says Darcy, saluting him gleefully. "Girls, get ready!"

"And?" says J.T. in frustration.

"Oh yeah, and J.T.," says Darcy, waving him off.

J.T. adorns his panther head, joining the girls as he stands to their right. Twelve Spirit Squad members, ponytails high, pom poms in hand, their skirts rustling, put their hands on their hips.

"Give me a D! D!" shouts Darcy.

"You got your D, you got your D!" cheer the other girls.

"Give me an E! E!" says Darcy, her voice modulating a tad.

"You got your E, you got your E!" reply the girls.

Doing the Cabbage Patch, and then a rough-looking snake, J.T. dances in the corner, in time to the lively beats. As much as he likes his friend, and Darcy as a person, he's not sure he's going to make it to the first S of Degrassi. Why'd they give him that present? It only hammered in that his relationship is done and the memory of Manny always seems to spring up.

When Jeff left him in his bedroom last night, he made a conscious decision not to sleep. One night wouldn't kill him. He was afraid of what he'd dream. The last dream with Manny ended with her lying on the ground, covered in blood. Now, when he shuts his eyes, he's not sure what to expect. There are real menaces out there, who despise him and Manny. So he stared at his closet all night, didn't have any breakfast and got ready to leave his house at eleven. Officer Wheaton was easily convinced to leave early. Toby drove them to the school in his car. It felt nice to have some control, even if it was just for the ten minute drive.

"What does that spell?" calls Darcy, Toby breaking out of his thoughts. "Degrassi! Degrassi!"

"Go Degrassi!" yells the entire Spirit Squad, doing jumps and somersaults after the final word.

Sweating, Darcy stares at Toby with a pleased smile.

"Um...nice," comments Toby.

"Thanks!" says Darcy. "We were going to do that one at the first pep rally if and when we receive our new uniforms."

"Yay, uniforms!" says a blonde cheerleader, thrusting out her arms and hitting herself with a pom-pom. "Owww!"

"Your proposal says you'd like to do a series of car washes," recalls Toby. "Honestly, with the right advertising, I think two car washes would be enough. It seems like Paige did alright last year with one. I can't approve four unless you move a couple to another location. Sorry."

"Manny got a band to play so we got more customers," reminds Darcy. "We don't have that luxury this year."

Toby falls silent. This is the second time Manny's been mentioned and he can't bare to use the name itself. His gaze falls to the handbook.

"Umm....," begins Toby.

"Well, Manny's taste in music obviously sucked," says Chante, flipping her braids. "Cause where is Downtown Sasquatch now?"

"Quiet, Chante!" exclaims Darcy.

Toby shakes himself. He can't be flustered today. They elected him to handle these types of situations.

"I do prefer the two car washes and the bake sale idea, however," says Toby, swallowing a lump in his throat. "The auditorium would be available during the two weekends before basketball season starts. You could sell baked goods then."

"Agreed that that's the best option," says Liberty. "Too many car washes would eat into your portion of the budget and decrease your chances of making consistent, significant revenue. Do something new, fresh."

"Hmmm, my mom would have to cook a lot," thinks Darcy aloud. "Does anyone know how to make raisin bread?"

The girls whisper among themselves, Toby hoping they'll go for the plan. Making plans for car washes were more difficult as he had to chat with the sponsors, find a faculty sponsor, visit the event himself to make sure things went smoothly. He can't imagine doing that four times. Manny did tell him that it was a heap of work. Of course, they were friends then, and not going through this. Toby removes his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"Suppose that will be okay," says Darcy, wearily. "Oh, do you guys want to see our new cheer?"

"Uh....," begins Toby.

"Let's humor them, Isaacs," whispers Liberty to Toby.

"Sure," says Toby, weakly. "Go ahead."

"This one's for you!" says Darcy, merrily thrusting a pom-pom towards Toby.

"Thanks?" says Toby, more of a question than a statement.

"How funky is your chicken?" cheers Darcy, flapping her arms like wings. "How loose is your goose?"

"Come on, everybody," cheers the rest of the girls. "And shake your caboose. And shake your caboose!"

The cheerleaders wiggle their hips, J.T. flapping his panther arms. To Toby, it looks like a blue and gold seizure. His head is starting to hurt. Darcy flaps her arms and begins another round.

"Need some air," says Toby to Liberty.

"Please...hurry back," sighs Liberty.

Toby nods his sympathy and walks out of the auditorium. The hall is clear and inviting. Good. He can breathe. Part of him wanted to get back into a routine and be away from home. Most of these people weren't involved in the horrible events of the past month. His friends were here. So why does he feel so alone?

Because I am alone, kind of, thinks Toby. At the end of the day, when others are considering car washes and bake sales and classes, he's the only person who has to deal with this.

He coughs and heads for the water fountain. Bending to drink, he hears a couple light footsteps. Toby raises his head, his heart speeding up. The other person in the hall stares innocently at him.

"I just came to get some water!" exclaims Toby, angrily.

"Toby, you can't wander off alone," says Officer Wheaton. "I can stay in the rear of the room, or even outside the door, but you can't be alone, especially if I have no idea where you are."

"Where I am is sick and tired!" returns Toby. "I'm seventeen, almost an adult!"

"Well, today you're a minor, so there are certain extra precautions we have to take," insists Officer Wheaton.

"Even if you're in the room, you can't protect me from certain stuff," says Toby, hating that his eyes are getting more and more wet.

"Whatever it is, we'll work together," says Officer Wheaton.

"How are you going to help me deal with hearing Manny's name everywhere, huh?" demands Toby. "Or hearing what she's doing without me? Or knowing that...that it's my fault?"

The last sentence is so hard to utter, but he did, and it's true.

"This is my fault," repeats Toby, barely a whisper.

"You're...just trying to live your life," says Officer Wheaton calmly, putting a hand on Toby's shoulder. "I was seventeen once, too. You don't have to tell me."

"This sucks," says Toby, staring Officer Wheaton dead in the eye.

Officer Wheaton hands him a hankerchief from his pocket. "I know."

V.

"Don't worry," comforts Spinner. "The upholstery in my grandmother's car should be less damp by the time I get home.'

Emma provides him with a slow grin, a frown not far behind. The night is ending. Their date is ending. Parked in front of the Andrews house, it's become painfully obvious. She wonders if Hannah's awake, eager to grill her about tonight's event. Normally, Manny would too, but it might be too rough for her to hear any romantic moments.

"At least we know what it's like to be a starfish," shrugs Emma.

"A starfish?" says Spinner.

"They glide during the tide," explains Emma. "When they move, it's through suction. Water clings to their skin. My clothes are definitely clinging to my body."

"Mine too," admits Spinner.

"Spin, you can't go home this late," worries Emma, though it may benefit her more than him. "Maybe Lia wouldn't have a problem with you staying."

"My mom and grandma would," says Spinner.

"Not if they thought you were helping me out, which you are doing," insists Emma. "Come on."

"Ehhh...if it's okay with Lia," concedes Spinner.

"Awesome," says Emma, softly.

"Hey, that's my word!" protests Spinner. "I'll...uh, get the door for you."

Spinner leaves the car and Emma releases a sigh. This is the best night she's had in California, even better than their kiss in the Tunnel of Love. Maybe it's a sign that their first night together was in there. Maybe she is falling in...no, too soon to consider that four-lettered word.

"Ooof," cries Emma, stumbling, another four-letter word coming from her lips.

"Careful," cautions Spinner, taking her hand as she leaves the car.

Spinner locks it and they go to the doorstep. Emma rings the bell. They both detect some airy music playing from a nearby room. Emma's still trying to identify it as Lia opens the door.

"Hi," greets Lia, sadly.

"Hey, Lia," replies Emma. "Um, this may be too hospitable, but can...Spinner spend the night? He's really quiet and polite and...."

"Cute?" guesses Lia, in a joking manner.

"I don't snore," adds Spinner. "I...think."

"He can crash on the couch," says Lia. "As long as he's gone by five. My dad gets back from his business trip at six."

"Yeah, we don't want to break any rules," reassures Emma.

"What rules?" laughs Lia. "Psh. If my dad is ever around to enforce them, be sure to tell me."

Emma decides to leave it at that, she and Spinner trailing Lia as they arrive in the living room. What's there is the cutest thing she's seen all night, no offense to Spinner. Colin, Manny, and Hannah were on different chairs in front of the widescreen TV. The movie _Singin' in the Rain_ blasts its opening credits.

"Colin found out it was going to be on TV tonight," explains Lia. "I told them they wouldn't make it after the Lindsay Lohan double feature."

"Promised Hannah we'd watch it, anyway," shares Emma.

"Can I use the bathroom?" asks Spinner.

"Uh-huh," says Lia. "It's the second door on the left."

"Thanks," says Spinner, grabbing at his wet, sticky shirt.

As Spinner heads upstairs, Lia takes a hold of Emma's arm when she moves to go change too. Emma notes that Lia's face goes from nonchalant to mildly interested.

"Got an interesting message on the machine, too," says Lia. "From Cavalier Elementary."

Oh, great. Emma wagers that the secretary she upset had called to make amends with Kel or Hannah's fake brother, Spinner. Anything to make sure Hannah Andrews wound up at her school.

"We went for a visit," confesses Emma. "Just a look-see."

"My dad wants Hannah guarded, and for good reason," says Lia, folding her arms. "She doesn't have to hear about her family from complete strangers."

"Lia, she's lonely," whispers Emma, glancing at a sleeping Hannah.

"And innocent," says Lia. "We're doing what's best for her. You may have your own ideas about that, but keep them to yourself. That's what I'd do...if I wanted to keep my job."

Emma's mouth drops. "Is that a threat?"

"No, that's reality," says Lia. "I'm telling you for your own good. And for Hannah's own good, you'll leave things the way they are. Dad's not as understanding as I am. Never has been."

Lia nods to her and climbs the stairs. Well, she would hate to lose her job. Hannah seemed so happy at the school, though. Why couldn't Kel sacrifice what he wants for her for what Hannah needs? To Emma, that's not asking too much. Honestly, she's had enough thoughts about dads in general tonight.

"Psst," says a voice from the couch.

Emma smiles at a clearly awake Hannah.

"Was it fun?" whispers Hannah.

"A wonderful amount of fun," whispers Emma.

"Okay," says Hannah. "I'm going back to sleep now. Shhhh."

Emma puts a finger to her lips and watches Hannah close her eyes, and dream her dreams.

VI.

"Hey!" shouts the same girl who hit herself in the head with pom-poms earlier. "Who tied my shoelaces together?"

She hops awkwardly across the auditorium floor as Chante and a couple other Squad members giggle as they pack up.

"Kaelyn," moans Darcy as she bends to untie them. "This is soooo not Squad spirit."

"Aaah!" cries Kaelyn, falling on the floor.

Toby barely pays attention to them. Officer Wheaton is waiting outside, and he has somewhat of a new respect for the man after showing Toby that he cared. Holding this information in secret, Toby wasn't getting much of that. Liberty did give him a few concerned glances when he returned to the table.

"Tobes!" calls J.T., jogging over, still in his panther uniform.

"Yeah, J.T.?" says Toby.

"When you and Darcy interact, it'd be cool if...if you mentioned that a mascot would also like a new uniform," poses J.T. "Hint hint. I mean, laundry detergent doesn't make this suit less itchy."

"Fine," sighs Toby.

"And I'll...uh, call you later," says J.T., returning to the rest of the squad.

Earlier, they had left the floor to discuss whose mom or dad would bring what for a bake sale. Darcy liked to plan earlier than Paige did. The group broke after a few minutes, but curiously, Darcy, Chante, and J.T. were in a mini-conference right after. He didn't want to be too nosy so he resolved to further discuss the budget with Liberty. What he learned was that the budget was pretty small this year, though there is enough to give each club a decent portion.

The lights in the auditorium become dim, a signal that the janitor was raring to lock up.

"Alright, guys!" announces Toby. "Time to go!"

Kaelyn sighs happily, two shoes firmly on her feet with the laces in their proper places. Chante and the rest exit with their bags, J.T. doing likewise. Liberty rushes to catch J.T., maybe to get a ride. Pretty soon, it's only him and Darcy left in the dim room.

Toby picks up his briefcase and groans when a few papers fall to the floor. Darcy rushes to fetch them.

"Thanks," says Toby as Darcy hands them to him.

"No problem," says Darcy. "Listen, Toby...."

She stops as if she shouldn't continue.

"Yeah?" prompts Toby.

"About that book, Chante felt so guilty about the whole variety show thing," insists Darcy. "I wouldn't have let her do it otherwise. J.T. let it slip that you and Manny are...."

"Oh," says Toby, softly.

Perfect, thinks Toby. Now the whole Spirit Squad, and the big gossips like Chante, know about Manny. They didn't know the half of it really. The half of it.

"In any case," goes on Darcy. "I'm sorry we did that. Most of us on the Squad love Manny and respect you so much. I hope you believe that we're here for you. You have friends."

It's a sincere statement and Toby offers her a little smile, the sole smile he can give to her.

"Okay," says Toby.

"No, like seriously. A lot of people like you in the school," assures Darcy. "You won the election, after all."

"Eh," says Toby, shrugging.

"Well, when I'm blue, I do the funky chicken," offers Darcy. "It always cracks me up."

He reimagines the floppy arms, wobbly knees, and J.T.'s Cabbage Patch, then laughs. He has to admit that it was pretty hilarious, in hindsight. Darcy nods with satisfaction.

"Told ya. You'll be alright," says Darcy, then catching up to Kaelyn struggling to get the heavy door open.

Will he be alright? He doesn't have an answer for himself, a sure one, anyway.

Toby repositions his briefcase, motions to Officer Wheaton that he's ready. They walk in the darkness as the auditorium goes black behind their backs.


	63. We Sleep Forever

**LXIII. We Sleep Forever**

_She walks the line into her deathbed rings  
I say she's all alone  
Begging for forgiveness  
I won't teach her to lie or make a plan  
That clairvoyant stare and grin  
God won't forgive me  
For this I know  
Tragedy unfolds tonight  
As you sever my skin apart  
Take this sadness and close your eyes love_

_Hey, call the angels. This razor blade was meant for me  
Hey, call the angels. We'll mutilate insanity_

_She cuts a vein although it's much too dull  
I say she's all alone  
Fighting for redemption  
I know little pain, a little lust  
I lose myself at night to feel the rush  
Of tearing my skin apart  
Now take this sadness and close your eyes love_

_Hey, call the angels. This razor blade was meant for me  
Hey, call the angels. We'll mutilate insanity_

_Go deeper, I feel it  
I see your ghost appear  
Go deeper, I see it  
I feel your ghost appear  
I won't say goodbye tonight (We'll sleep forever)  
Hold on, hold on tonight love  
We'll sleep forever  
Hold on, hold on tonight love  
We'll sleep forever  
Hold on, hold on tonight love  
Close your eyes_

_Hey, call the angels. This razor blade was meant for me  
Hey, call the angels. We'll mutilate insanity_

_Hey, call the angels. This razor blade was meant for me  
Hey, call the angels. We'll mutilate insanity_

**We Sleep Forever is the property of Aiden and is from the film _Dead Silence_.  
Blue Parade is the property of Sarah Slean.**

**Author's Note: Okay, with the next two chapters, I'm going to try to catch up all the storylines so they're in the same time frame. This means a great deal of Sean/Ellie in this chapter, and then CrAsh in the next one. There's a bit of Tobanny in them, but it's all heading towards the same day with Toby at the end of THIS chapter. That means, chapter 65 will take place on the same day/evening.**

**I've definitely been appreciating the reviews I have been receiving. I was first approached about doing more Jalex in chapter 42. As you can guess, that's very problematic as I've already established who the story was about and thought it would hurt the story to put them in every chapter. However, I have made it so that I'd be keeping up with those two in some capacity. That will remain and I pretty much think you'll like where they end up. ish78 really nailed it when she said that in a way, yes, I am focusing on who these characters are as individuals moreso than who they're dating. But that doesn't mean I'm not listening to what some of you want. So yes, Jay and Alex are on this rollercoaster, too, although not like the big players. :) Thanks!**

"You sure like your margins wide," mutters Bridget Geyer, blinking madly as she scrolls the cursor down.

Ellie glares at her, then turns her attention to the old _Core_ copies they were sifting through earlier. Marco's lucky grey hoodie hugs her petite frame. He made her wear it when they discovered the evening had gotten chillier on the way to U of T. She shivered throughout the drive. It wasn't because of the weather. No, it was her synapses snapping due to all the emotions she hasn't voiced.

She knows something else she'd like to snap. But she hasn't thought about cutting or her rubber bands since Dale followed her home. Of course, this has to do with Dale. He's always bothering her or Sean or anyone else in this unclear story. Why won't Sean just make it more clear for her, be as telling as the stories they're doing in this seminar that she wishes she hadn't gone to?

Bridget is not the best partner to have, either. Whether it was Ellie's wording or grammar, Bridget had issues with her contributions to their piece. She thought Ellie's quotes were "clunky". Bridget consulted outside sources which would've helped more in a journalism thesis than in a thousand-word article. Plus, she did the ultimate annoying action-- asking Professor Williams for his opinion on Ellie's half and not her half. If she wasn't so preoccupied with her relationship, she wouldn't have let it fly. Matthew is very much missed.

"Professor Williams said it was fine," says Ellie.

"He didn't say it was _good_, did he?" groans Bridget. "I'm changing it."

"Bridget," says Ellie, as calmly as she can make it. "We've done the stupid layout five times, and you even told me that I have more layout experience than you."

"No need to toot your own horn," says Bridget, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. "I mean, come on."

Ellie throws a passing look at Matthew, peacefully editing his project with Orlando Seward, who always seems to be wearing a tie. Matthew spies her, waves, and starts towards her. Good, he's offering her a reprieve.

"The layout's staying," says Ellie, authoritatively.

"We're supposed to be a team!" exclaims Bridget. "If your team member has opinions, you should listen to them."

"Well, how about giving your opinions before we start the thing!" exclaims Ellie, causing the next pair over to gawk at them.

"Redheads," moans Bridget, quietly. "So temperamental."

"Oh, I'll show you temperamental...," begins Ellie as she rises from her seat.

She feels a light tug on her arm, exhales as Matthew leads her to the side. Too bad, because she'd like nothing better than to box Bridget. Or maybe she's misdirecting her anger?

"You're up in arms tonight," notes Matthew. "Are you okay?"

"Normally, I could take her perfectionist attitude, but...she's impossible."

"She...is annoying," says Matthew, weakly.

"I so shouldn't have come," mutters Ellie, releasing a heavy sigh.

"Ellie?" encourages Matthew.

That's truly all Ellie would rather say. How is she going to tell him that she's worried about her judgemental mom, her ailing boyfriend, and her own sanity? Ellie rubs her forehead with her hands.

"Hey, it's cool," assures Matthew.

"I wish it were cool, Matthew," groans Ellie. "I really do."

Grumbling incoherently, she starts to gather the printed pages of her and Bridget's article. It was due in two days and she'd already asked Professor Williams if she could leave a little early to meet Marco at the front of the building. Ellie didn't bother to share this with Bridget, as it would mean more complaints.

"Oh, I wanted to show you something," says Matthew, jogging to his work station.

Ellie waits patiently, thankful to hear Bridget say she has to use the washroom. She could slip out unnoticed after Matthew showed her what he had to show her.

"Remember that car ring I mentioned the first day? The one that got busted?" reminds Matthew. "There was a robbery at Hill's in Toronto, and they think another ring has started up."

Hill's? Like Sean's Hill's? It has to be the same shop.

"See," says Matthew, handing her a newspaper.

Ellie unfolds the paper and finds where Matthew circled the particular article.

"The robbery at Hill's Mechanics, where employee Jay Hogart, 18, was left injured at the scene of the crime, is reminiscent of past criminal activities, says Officer Dee Hendricks," reads Ellie. "The suspects definitely knew which item they were looking for, continues Hendricks. It had to be someone with access to Hill's and some knowledge of the area's recent shipments. We're keeping a close eye on the docks where the manufacturing companies send their orders. Reports say that the item was a 2008 Acura Integra spindle. Hogart has yet to be charged, and remains in critical condition at Lincoln Hospital."

"It says Jay went to Degrassi," says Matthew. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah," answers Ellie, softly.

The actual car sounds familiar, too. Yes. Ashley owns an Acura. Chances are it's a totally different car, though. Sean told Ashley herself all the parts were in, and it would be repaired in no time, so there is probably no connection.

"Oh," says Matthew. "Maybe I shouldn't have shown..."

"No, it's pretty refreshing to actually hear things that aren't lies," says Ellie, more to herself. "Are you going to do an element of this story for your final piece?"

"Nah, I'll let the pros handle that one," demurs Matthew. "Some bit of news will come up that I can tackle, I'm sure."

She's anticipating some news, too, and hoping that when she's informed, it won't be so disappointing. Like their articles, she'd like the truth, no matter how many words it takes.

II.

There are five hours left. The sun is warm against his face and he's really never taken it into account all summer. You don't usually enjoy those things unless you're not sure if things will stay the same. His shoes kick a couple of acorns along the sidewalk. They rest square in front of the first step leading to the synagogue.

Maybe talking with Darcy, a person who allowed her faith to factor into every part of her life, urged him to come here. He hasn't set foot into the building since he had that strange conversation with Rabbi Miller. Ugh, he could just imagine how he must've appeared that day. He was frantic, throwing out questions and trying to make sense of what went through an angry mind.

Toby climbs the steps and enters the synagogue. Officer Wheaton is a few steps behind him, silently admiring the building's architecture. He wonders if Manny liked the way it looked, too. She appeared right at home during Confirmation. In fact, she was less anxious than he was, except for the moment where she gave him the necklace. Toby glances at it before going into the sanctuary.

"Rest my feet," comments Officer Wheaton, sitting in a back seat and fanning himself.

Toby advances to the bimah, the spot where he'd been weeks ago, where he delivered his Confirmation speech. The floral arrangements he, Clara, and Matthew lay down that day were long gone. He wonders if Manny kept the larkspur corsage he gave her. To his regret, he put his down somewhere and couldn't remember what he did with it. Maybe he should've kept better track of it. There were a lot of things he wished he hadn't lost. He sighs and sits to the right of the bimah, gazing at the golden arches above it.

Hearing some light humming, he suspects it's Officer Wheaton until he recognizes the tune from one of the synagogue's recent ceremonies. Rabbi Miller plods down the aisle, head buried in a thick book. Toby glances at him, then stares straight ahead.

"Now if I can find that passage....," murmurs Rabbi Miller.

He'd love to remain hidden, for Rabbi Miller to pass him by. While the rabbi was usually in the synagogue at various times during the week, he was usually in his office. Toby thought he could and would be alone. Plus another meeting with Rabbi Miller meant he'd have to explain their last conversation.

"Hmm, have you read this?" says Rabbi Miller, walking to and sitting in the seat in front of Toby.

Should he answer? He couldn't find privacy in any spot. Toby peers at the page and shakes his head.

"It's the Old Testament, though," provides Toby.

"Ha, so you have read it," says Rabbi Miller with a grin.

"No, I just read the name of the book," says Toby.

"The Song of Solomon," thinks Rabbi Miller aloud. "The Song of Solomon."

Okay, he very much likes Rabbi Miller, but he isn't in the mood for a religious discussion. He's more in the mood to find out why things are happening the way they are happening, if maybe someone bigger than he is can do anything about it.

"It's very odd...this book," continues Rabbi Miller.

Toby plays with his watch, though he politely listens.

"A love story set right smack in the middle of these proverbs and bits of Hebrew history," says Rabbi Miller. "It's perhaps my favorite Jewish romance."

"Wasn't Solomon the one with all the wives, though?" throws out Toby.

"Yes, but this woman must've inspired him the most," says Rabbi Miller.

"I guess," concedes Toby. "They must be the epitome of a good Jewish couple."

"A good couple? Yes....but she wasn't Jewish," says Rabbi Miller. "She had dark skin. Some say she was Egyptian or Ethiopian. Very smart and beautiful. As you can imagine, their union faced a lot of opposition, even from Solomon's own people."

He lets his head fall. This isn't some random dialogue they're having. Someone has told Rabbi Miller about the situation and most likely encouraged him to speak with him about it. Though he feels mildly ambushed, he's also tired of being upset. He doesn't even get to be upset at the right person, what with Justin and his friends in hiding.

"Toby, I don't claim to know the future, or what goes on in every part of the world," confesses Rabbi Miller. "But I do know that Adonai wants his children to be happy."

Happy? The last time he was happy seems like it was ages ago. With Manny not in the picture, there's more loneliness than anything else.

"My dad called you?" asks Toby.

"No, Clara did," explains Rabbi Miller. "I saw you coming out of my office. She told me about the investigation and wanted to come by this afternoon to discuss Justin."

"Justin," murmurs Toby angrily, resting his hands on his knees.

"It is difficult to come to terms that someone you love is so full of hate," offers Rabbi Miller.

"Well, I can't hate someone that I love because someone else hates them," says Toby.

Rabbi Miller nods, a somber expression on his kind face.

"When I first met Manny, I knew she'd be my friend for a long time," muses Toby. "There was something about her personality. I'm not sure. She was just always able to read me."

"That's a wonderful thing," says Rabbi Miller.

"And like...even today, when she's nowhere near, I still like to think she'd walk in the room and be able to do that," finishes Toby.

"Sounds like it's something to hold onto," says Rabbi Miller.

That would be more doable if they allowed him to contact her. He tenderly twirls his Star of David necklace, positions it so Rabbi Miller can view it.

"She gave me this," shares Toby. "And she has one, too. I said I didn't care that she didn't know everything about it. I still don't."

Rabbi Miller lays the book in his lap and stares at him.

"If Solomon, someone who's so smart, and Adonai don't make exceptions for who they love, why should I?" says Toby.

He's met with no reply, only a smile. Rabbi Miller is intelligent. He knew if he gave Toby the lead, he'd arrive at this conclusion or something like it. The difference this time is that they're not in class. No, this is the real world, the topics more tangible and cold. This is what he has to face.

"How does Solomon's relationship end?" asks Toby.

"Not very well," admits Rabbi Miller. "Though, their love remained."

Toby lets the necklace rest on the very top of his chest. The chair next to him creaks, as if someone were sitting next to him, taking in the same talk. Then, silence overtakes the room until Rabbi Miller speaks once more.

"Yes, yes," he says. "Love remains."

III.

"How was sem?" asks Marco.

Ellie sets her cup on an end table. He picks it up and puts it on top of a coaster.

"Marco!" cries Ellie.

"It's gonna leave a stain," defends Marco.

She sighs in exasperation, is tempted to do the same when Paige enters the room and actually uses a coaster. The three of them sit on the couch of the Del Rossi living room.

"Hon, don't sulk," advises Paige. "It'll leave worry lines."

"Well, there goes my Maybelline contract," quips Ellie with a fake smile.

"Why do you two always fight?" sighs Marco.

"I don't know," shrugs Ellie. "It's...fun?"

"Yeah," says Paige.

"So moving on," begins Marco. "There's a party we have to plan."

Ellie scratches her head. When she returned Marco's hoodie this morning, he insisted that she stay so he could ask her something. She thought maybe it had to do with possibly living together for their frosh year, which totally appealed to her. Amberly had taken the first step in initiating contact, calling Ellie at around seven-thirty in the morning. The girl sounded way too chipper and way too girly. Her favorite show was _Paris Hilton is My New BFF_. Strike one. She had a beta fish named Swimmy. Strike two...major strike two. Lastly, she called her Eleanor. None of her friends called her that, thank goodness. She's so eager to say adios to Amberly.

"Party?" blanks Ellie.

"Alex never got to celebrate graduation or getting this new job," explains Paige. "And Emily and Chad haven't done anything thus far so...."

"Sadly, that's not a surprise," says Ellie.

"So we'll have a small get together with her friends," says Marco, smiling. "Mom and Dad are going on a trip for their anniversary, leaving my house free. The only condition is that we can have twelve people max and I have to keep the house clean."

"Oh," says Ellie, glancing at the coaster.

"Marco!" says a voice giddily from the room next door.

Paige and Ellie trade an amused smile.

"Ma!" complains Marco.

"Your father's coming home in twenty minutes," calls his mother. "Then your friends will have to leave...because it'll be.....family time."

Mrs. Del Rossi releases a sweet giggle after that statement. Marco rolls his eyes.

"Huh?" says Paige.

"Family time means they want me to go to my room so they can smooch on the couch," says Marco, frowning. "It was cute at first, but after three straight days of it? No. I've never seen two people so happy to go to Vancouver."

"Aren't you and your muscular mechanic going to Vancouver on your trip?" prods Paige, raising her cup.

Ellie messes with her hair instead of granting Paige a reply. Marco, obviously choosing to stay quiet as well, starts making a list of what to bring. As he gets Paige involved, her mind starts to wander yet again. The road trip almost seems ridiculous, ridiculous in the fact that it isn't as important as what she and Sean really need. They need honesty, trust, time. She'd love to be as giddy as Mama Del Rossi.

"Tomorrow good for both of you?" says Marco, interrupting her musings.

"That's soon," says Ellie.

"Alex has to work the other days of the week," says Paige. "Are were you listening?"

"Not when _you _were talking," smirks Ellie.

"Anyways," says Marco, pointedly. "Jay's surgery is the day after. This might boost her spirits before."

"She's definitely been down in the dumps, lately," notes Paige.

We've all been down in the dumps, thinks Ellie. She can only hope it doesn't get worse. Her mind strays back to Sean, wonders how he's faring alone in his apartment. Should she have made more than one ice pack? Did he have enough food? She did say she'd be going over there today.

"Okay," says Ellie, standing. "Tell me what to do because I have to leave."

"I've got decorations covered," announces Paige. "If you were in charge of that, no doubt we'd be surrounded by black streamers and Hot Topic knicknacks."

"I was going to suggest that we screen the Kevin Smith film," says Ellie. "Particularly Paige's scene. Oh wait, I got the DVD....yeah, not in there."

"Come on," groans Marco. "Ellie, you can do the music."

Ellie nods and drinks the rest of her coffee in a hurry. She puts her cup on the coaster.

"Finally," says Paige. "Some manners."

"Ha ha," says Ellie, dryly.

"Alright, alright," shushes Marco. "I have an important question. Does anyone have the phone number of that guy Towerz?"

IV.

The microwave flashes thirty, twenty, releases a long beep. Ellie carefully removes the lunch and puts it on a serving tray. Mild steam rises to her nose. The chicken soup smells fresh and delicious. More pressing, it's a dish that Doctor Southworth said he could eat after a couple days of oatmeal and yogurt. Ellie presses a fork into the soup and makes sure the noodles are soft.

"Sean?" calls Ellie. "It's ready."

Sean meets Ellie in the middle of the living room and takes the tray. She gazes into his eyes for a few seconds, and then breaks the stare. This had become a bad habit with them. It occured when Sean first answered the door, when Sean was telling her what pills he'd already taken, when Ellie decided to make some food for him.

"My mom used to make this for Track," says Sean after clearing his throat.

"You're not a soup fan?" says Ellie.

"I'll be one today," says Sean, grinning.

Ellie releases a small smile and flops into the chair opposite Sean. He blows on the soup, stops and caresses his cheeks.

"If it's too hot, wait," cautions Ellie.

"Got ya," agrees Sean.

"Has Tracker been by?" asks Ellie.

"Earlier," replies Sean. "He's staying an extra few days. Co-worker is covering for him. I told him not to. It'll be an inconvenience for his customers."

While she's glad to have Tracker involved, he wouldn't have to be if Sean fessed up. You'd think he'd at least spill to his brother if he can't talk to her. He should be talking to her. Didn't he remember those conversations when they were first going out, about the cutting? Those were incredibly hard for her to share. She didn't want her first boyfriend to think she was weak for doing it or considering doing it. Then, no one wants to tell the guy you love that your mother has a drinking problem. But she told him because she trusted him. Why can't he trust her? This isn't them. This isn't what it should be.

He collects some soup with his spoon, the soup inches from his mouth.

"Sean, I can't take this anymore," says Ellie, firmly.

Sean drops the spoon, clattering as it hits the edge of the bowl.

"I need to hear everything," continues Ellie, her eyes no longer dry. "So I won't worry all the time or feel caught between you and my parents. I've tried to be so patient...but I need to hear it. All of it."

Sean swallows a lump in his throat and scoots further down the couch, until he's next to Ellie.

"Ellie, whatever it is, it's done," says Sean, rubbing her back.

"What is whatever?" cries Ellie. "Am I going to have to see you beaten up for the third time? Am I going to have to call your parents next time? Sean, this isn't...isn't good!"

She cries into her hands, grateful that it means she doesn't have to stare straight at him for a few seconds. She can call whoever, or do whatever, but it doesn't change the fact that's she scared and tired.

"I...I got fired," admits Sean, barely above a whisper.

Ellie dries her eyes voraciously and gives him a hopeful stare.

"That part I knew," says Ellie. "Alex told me you were working at another shop."

Sean's mouth trembles slightly. He finally takes his arm off of her, shakes his head at her.

"Ellie, it's Dale's shop," says Sean.

"Sean," breathes Ellie, standing.

Her sight rests on the kitchen. This is his new job? Her body practically goes limp. To think that Sean was going there everyday, working with a guy who cut him down every chance he got.

"It's illegal?" says Ellie, raising her eyebrows at the wall.

"Legal business, stolen parts," supplies Sean. "Ellie, I needed the money."

"Cause there are no other shops in Toronto," says Ellie, sarcastically.

"None that were hiring," swears Sean. "It...it made sense at the time. And one of the parts, I took from Ashley's car."

"Sean," moans Ellie, unable to say what she's truly thinking.

"Dale told me I'd be making money to pay for rent, for my food, for our trip..."

"Forget the trip, Sean," says Ellie, lowly.

She's met by complete silence. Yes, she's very aware how much he wanted to be on this trip with her. Ellie holds her hand against her dry throat and turns to him.

"What price are you paying for this trip?" chokes out Ellie. "You work for a guy that belittles you. You lie to the people that love you. You get hurt...twice. I guess Jay's in on this, too, since you guys were hurt the same night. And you risk going to jail?"

Sean raises wet eyes to the ceiling. She didn't even hear him crying. She's making sure to hear everything else, though.

"I'd rather not go on the stupid trip than see you like this," says Ellie through gritted teeth.

"Ellie, I didn't want it to be like this," says Sean.

"Well, it is," returns Ellie. "Now, what are you going to do?"

"I told Dale that I was through," answers Sean.

"He doesn't seem like the type to take no for an answer," says Ellie. "You have to go to the cops. We'll tell Tracker. We'll..."

"Dale's threatening me," says Sean, wiping his nose with a napkin.

"Just...you?" breathes Ellie.

"No," admits Sean. "You...and Jay."

"For how long?"

"Since I joined his shop."

Ellie puts her hands on her hips and stares at the floor. What can she possibly say to that? Say to anything? Is she imagining this? Can't it all just go away? Ellie walks to the door, starts to fumble for her bag.

"Ellie," says Sean, touching her elbow from behind.

"You've lied for weeks, Sean," sighs Ellie.

She doesn't stare back at him, though his touch is warm and gentle. It reminds her of a boy who seems further away than the boy in the room.

"Who's going to defend you, when you're so busy defending us?" asks Ellie, softly. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Ellie eases herself from his touch and closes the door behind her. Her body is fighting to run, to leave. It eventually lets her. It gets her on the bus to go home. When the wheels start in motion, she surrenders control. She's expecting her body to do all sorts of things-- cry, hurt, maybe even fall. Instead, it lets her down. Her body simply stays still and cold, like a rock left on the street in the relentless rain.

V.

"I don't want some cheesy party," groans Alex, zipping her black sweatshirt over her wifebeater.

Paige and Marco link arms, dragging Alex forward.

"It won't be cheesy," assures Marco. "Your best friends are going to throw you the best mini-gathering since..."

"Since Craig and Ashley's bash, I guess," supplies Paige.

"You weren't there," reminds Alex, throwing a glance at Paige. "Guys..."

"Ellie, little help here?" encourages Marco.

Ellie rubs her forehead and then decides to push Alex from the rear. She'd been getting tension headaches for the past few hours. When they were getting food for the party, when Ellie flipped through her CDS for the music, and when Dylan drove them from store to store, the headaches were there right along with her, Paige, and Marco. She has a feeling they'll be showing up throughout this shindig, too. They apparently felt the need to crash the party.

Marco ceremoniously opens the door, the lights off. Alex tries to make a run for it but Paige grabs her hand. They had to tell Alex about the party to pry her away from the hospital. Mr. Hogart and Cindy were also there, in a conference with a man Ellie believed to be Jay's lawyer. Paige literally had to steer Alex to her own car.

"Surprise!" calls a group of voices when Marco hits the lights.

"Say hi, Alex," whispers Paige.

Alex stares blankly at the other people and sneers.

"Ugh," she says.

The group doesn't seem to mind, laughing and chalking it up to Alex being Alex. Dylan turns the volume of the stereo up. Ellie doesn't even recall bringing that CD. Not much is sticking in her memory bank since yesterday, not if it didn't have to do with Sean. He was working for Dale. The parts were illegal. He stole from Ashley. The facts run on replay every chance they get. Ellie's as excited for this party as Alex is, as she notices Alex hit a green balloon in the far corner. Paige makes it go steady again without any trouble.

Alex's friends were an interesting group. In addition to herself, Marco, Dylan, and Paige, there were a few Degrassi students. There were a couple girls from her former lacrosse team. One of Alex's theater co-workers, Sandra, was somebody else Ellie recognized. Alex's friend Towerz was examining the sound system. Count on Marco to always find someone else's number. His Bollywood prom was as impeccably planned as this...well, before the fire.

Ellie strolls to Alex, Marco, and Paige. She may not feel like talking, but she did want Alex to know that she was happy for her. Towerz nods at Alex, who walks hurriedly to him. They follow her.

"I say we case this joint," says Alex to Towerz, sounding mildly sincere.

"Alright then," says Marco, pulling her to the center. "Let's get you in a better mood."

"Bring out the cake!" yells Dylan after shutting the stereo off.

Sandra appears with a medium-sized cake, chocolate with vanilla frosting.

"One, two, three," encourages Marco before singing. "_For she's a jolly good fellow. For she's a jolly good fellow_."

"_For she's a jolly good fellow_," sings everyone else but Ellie.

"_Which nobody can deny_!" they finish.

"Can you hold the knife, El?" asks Marco, as Sandra wavers with the cake.

"Sure," says Ellie.

Alex purses her lips as they put the cake on the table. It is pretty, Ellie has to admit. Emily wanted to contribute in some way so they let her decorate the cake. There is a mini-lacrosse player, pretty adronygous since they couldn't find a female, and a little cap and gown. Chad attempted to eat it and share it with his poker buddies. Luckily, Dylan was taller than Chad, so he lost his appetite really quickly.

"We're all so proud of your accomplishments, hon," says Paige, glancing around the room. "We know you'll go on to great things."

The tiny flames dance on the cake's candles. Alex clicks her tongue and walks to a bathroom. Several gasps echo in the room. Ellie almost gasps too.

"So...no cake?" says a redhead from the lacrosse team.

"I'll...I'll go talk to her," says Ellie.

Since Ellie wasn't as pleasant as the rest of them about this party, she reads that Paige and Marco would be okay with her going based on their expressions. Ellie can understand. They tried to do something nice and it backfired. But Alex, like her, had a lot to go through this week.

She finds Alex huddled near the toilet. Ellie sighs loudly and closes the door after her, obscuring the party, which somehow became loud and cheerful again.

"Smells like peaches in here," says Alex.

"Yeah, their bathroom always smells good," says Ellie, setting the knife on the toilet.

"I didn't mean to be like...rude," mutters Alex.

"Yeah, you did," teases Ellie.

"Okay, a little," says Alex, grinning a bit. "But I do like cake, and Marco, and Paige, and everybody...most of the time."

Ellie joins Alex on the floor, both of them stretching their legs. The foot of her right black boot is a tad bigger than Alex's left sneaker.

"Jay's...thing is tomorrow," says Alex.

Even though Ellie is aware of that, she plays dumb and listens. Alex rubs her eyes repeatedly.

"Do you know how many times I've patched up my mom after her boyfriends knocked her around?" says Alex, softly.

Ellie tucks some hair behind her ear.

"I made sure not to cry in front of her, let her know I was scared," said Alex. "I don't cry on the field, either. It doesn't help."

"Maybe it does."

"No, it doesn't," says Alex. "When we were smaller, I like really busted my knee once. It was bleeding and that's the only time I let someone see. Who was with me? Jay. He held my hand."

"Yeah," says Ellie, resting her hand on Alex's knee.

"I don't like looking weak," says Alex. "I may feel weak, but I don't like looking it."

"I understand," says Ellie.

Alex pulls at her sweatshirt. She makes a fist, punches it in her palm. Her eyes close and open. A couple tears fall on her face and she shakes her head.

"But when I get some stranger phoning me to say my best friend's been shot, I completely lose it," says Alex. "And it's not like I can patch him up, you know. Some doctor has to do it."

"It'll be fine...Alex," says Ellie.

"That's what they always say," chokes out Alex. "Like they have to say that. Who's going to hold his hand now?"

"You will, when they're done," comforts Ellie.

"Ellie, he should be at this party," says Alex, as her tears begin to dry.

"A lot of things should've happened, but they turn out alright anyway," says Ellie, realizing it's more to herself than to Alex.

Please let them turn out alright, thinks Ellie. Please let Sean be safe, let them find who they need to, and let it end.

"Ah, you have it so together," compliments Alex. "Meanwhile, I'm sniping and missing out on good cake."

"I don't...don't have it together," stammers Ellie.

"But at least, Sean doesn't have cops interviewing him," says Alex. "I mean, his situation's not as bad. He'll be okay, right?"

Alex stands, starts to check her face in the mirror. Ellie hugs herself and grins behind her.

"How do I look?" asks Alex, staring at Ellie's reflection. "Pathetic?"

"Like a lacrosse assistant coach and someone that's university-bound," says Ellie with a smile.

"Thanks," says Alex. "If anyone asks why my eyes are red, tell them I lit up."

"You are bad," says Ellie, pushing a laughing Alex out of the room.

Not following her this time, Ellie closes the door, locks it. She stands in front of the mirror, observes flat eyes, pale skin, and slightly mussed red hair. She takes two steps back and lets her fingers inch down her sleeve. Ellie's boot hits the bottom of the toilet. She can see a bit of herself in the blade of the knife. The sharp edge shines as the faint peach smell fills her nose. She holds the blade to her skin and shudders. What if she presses, presses hard? It would transfer the pain somewhere else. She could...she could. Ellie lets the knife fall to the floor as another headache appears.

"Uhhh," groans Ellie.

"Ellie?" calls Marco from the other side of the door. "Are you okay in there?"

She hurriedly flushes the toilet and stares at the door.

"Yeah," calls Ellie over the swirling noise. "I'm fine."

VI.

Toby pauses to read the latest announcements. The youth group is trying to plan a trip to Canada's Wonderland sometime in August. There would be a special prayer meeting the following Thursday. Rabbi Miller would officiate the Berstein-Stone wedding on the fifth.

Wow, a wedding. The two future newlyweds were pictured in a large oval in the center of the paper. Mitch Berstein has a ton of thick, blonde curls while Judith Stone has pretty brown ringlets streaming past her shoulders. They're incredibly in love. Toby can tell from viewing them. You can just see it.

Officer Wheaton stretches, follows Toby out of the synagogue. As soon as the glass door parts, and his foot is on the step, his eye meets Clara coming forward. He notices Derek and Danny walking away in the distance.

"Hi," says Clara, softly.

His voice doesn't come, as much as he would like it to speak. The last time they were in the same room, he felt as though Clara hated him. She certainly blamed him.

"Hi," he manages to say once Clara's in the synagogue.

She probably didn't hear him. Officer Wheaton heads to the car, stops when he realizes Toby isn't with him.

"I need to talk to her," says Toby.

Officer Wheaton nods. "Okay."

They reenter the synagogue, Rabbi Miller no longer in the sanctuary. Clara might have been early to meet with him. Rather than sit in the audience like Toby did, Clara has situated herself behind the piano. The room barely has any light, only the light from the afternoon sun, yet she removes some music from her bag and sets it on the piano.

Clara begins to play. The song is soft and sad, and one he's never heard. It's not as clean as when his father is playing, but he doesn't mind. He goes up the aisle a bit, then stops. From this spot, Clara's face is incredibly visible. Tears fall at a rampant pace. They make her eyes shine, make them luminous. She sings, warbly and beautiful.

_I hear them coming  
The blue parade  
They're throwing snowflakes and  
Singing my name  
In deep blue voices  
I hear them say,  
There's good love out there  
Just you wait..._

Toby positions his body towards her, resting his hand on the edge of a chair. She might not like that he's listening, but he can't turn away. He's not sure why he's drawn to stay. Perhaps it's because he might know exactly what she's going through. She might know that this is so hard it can't be described with simple definitions or have a clear-cut conclusion. She might know that it's going to take more than themselves to make it through.

_He don't read stars now 'cause he's getting old  
So busy neutralizing  
So much it leaves me cold and  
How could you lie  
How could you leave?  
And take of my body, my hands,  
My deep blue dreams..._

The keys seem to strike his heart, as if the thudding rhythm is propelling him to walk. He does, freezing at the bottom of the bimah. Clara has her eyes closed.

_Hold on, I'm coming  
Don't let anybody in  
Hold on, I'm ready  
Lock your doors and wait for me..._

That's where the song ends. Clara stands, uncomfortable as he is, a few feet away from him.

"You weren't supposed to listen to that," says Clara, wiping her cheeks.

"Sorry," says Toby. "Do you want me to go?"

Clara releases a deep breath. "No. Not today."

He's glad. It could mean that Clara's done being upset with him. That said, now he isn't sure where and when to move.

"Can you sit on the piano bench with me?" asks Clara.

"Okay," answers Toby.

Taking his own sweet time getting there, he sits with her and reads the title. "Blue Parade". Toby guesses it means a parade of troubles, blues right after another set of blues. He shakes his head.

"How's Manny?" asks Clara.

"I don't know," says Toby.

"Right," says Clara quietly.

Clara turns the sheet music over and stares at the empty white side.

"Toby...why...why'd you pick Manny instead of me?" questions Clara.

Oh, boy. He thought he made it pretty clear when they were at camp. Toby didn't want to hurt her feelings, on that day, and not today either.

"I fell in love with her," says Toby.

Of course, that's the more simple answer to a complicated question. Manny's loving and gracious and free-spirited and open-minded and so many other things. Clara has some of those same qualities. They just didn't send him over the moon like Manny's.

"I'm glad you did, because I found Justin," says Clara.

Toby bites his lip from launching into a Justin rant, or even an annoyed murmur. He should let her talk.

"For the first time, a guy picked me," sighs Clara with a grin. "He left me sweet messages and complimented me and let me confide in him."

Justin did come across as an attentive boyfriend when he went to the guy's house. It was everything else that was unlikable.

"Then, Sergeant Blanchett calls me in for questioning," says Clara, with a pained grin. "And he tells me about the e-mails and the threats and the images..."

Her voice starts to crack, her body shivering a bit. Toby lowers his head. He'd like to comfort her. Reaching out for her hand, she pulls it away.

"Why didn't I see any signs?" says Clara. "He'd make these pretty bad comments, but I thought he would change. Why did I believe that?"

Toby recalls Justin's practically empty room. He barely had anything. His one luxury was the telescope and a computer, Clara's glowing image his screensaver. The neighborhood kids befouled his car and laughed about it. His parents weren't close to him and his grandfather was cold. No wonder he wanted to leave.

"Because you love him," says Toby.

"Yeah," says Clara, rolling her eyes. "And I still do. Forgive me, but I still do."

"You don't need to be forgiven for that," assures Toby. "Not from me, at least."

Clara smiles and sniffles. Almost as instantly, a frown finds her lips once more.

"Toby," whispers Clara. "I asked him to meet me here. That's why I'm late to meet with Rabbi Miller. He never showed."

"What?" whispers Toby.

"Derek and Danny saw me at the corner, and started talking with me," sighs Clara. "That maybe scared him off."

Toby rises from the bench in a flash, causing the leg of it to squeak harshly. Clara trails him halfway down the aisle. Justin was here? He might've actually been here. Plus, Clara gets to see him? He'd love to see Manny. It should be the other way around, shouldn't it? Like Justin should feel trapped, and punished, not him.

"I was thinking he could talk to Rabbi Miller!" whispers Clara, urgently.

"Why would you bring him to a place where me and my family come regularly?" exclaims Toby. "I thought he was banned!"

"He said he apologized for hurting you," says Clara. "The rabbi could maybe bring that good side out again."

"Justin didn't apologize," informs Toby, coldly. "As for his good side, I'm not waiting around to see it. In fact, I won't!"

Toby passes a wordless Officer Wheaton. He hears another pair of feet, smaller in size. He so wants to hop in his car and speed on home. His curfew can't come fast enough. What made Clara think that Justin would want to return to the synagogue? This is where he watched him and Manny kiss, was apparently so disgusted he's punishing them weeks later. Toby grabs eagerly for his keys. He decides to take an alternate route to the parking lot. Here's hoping Clara doesn't see him.

He accidentally kicks a foreign object. Must be a rock, thinks Toby, finding his car key. A piercing scream makes his ears ache. Toby turns around to Clara.

"Oh my...," says Clara, her voice dropping.

Toby stares at the ground, bends to touch a black spraycan. He glances at Clara and then behind him. Rising heat fills his lungs as his heart thumps with a wildness all its own. His name is on the synagogue wall, big and black for everyone to read. He's sure they'll read it, his eyes watering. Officer Wheaton stands at his side and tries to make Toby face any other direction. But his legs are stuck to the grass, certain blades as black as the dark message.

**_Toby, the Traitor_.**

The formed letters are crude and large. The stone background makes it seem more permanent. The words cut deep with unforgiving malice.


	64. My Hit Song

**LXIV. My Hit Song**

_First take a bass line  
Then add a drum loop  
It should trigger  
primeval movement  
Next take a hook line  
Maniacally repeat  
It is infecticious  
it is contagious_

_I've been a waitress, a shopgirl, a mailgirl, a sidekick  
And eyes on the future and now  
This is my hit song  
This is my one chance  
To be a rock star  
Come on adore me  
This is my image  
These are my dancers  
Come on promote me  
Come on adore me  
Adore me  
Adore me_

_I got a cool band  
We got a stylist  
Our lyrics convey  
A certain youthful rage  
and oh how hungry  
Oh how we want it  
The market research says we will make it_

_I've been a waitress, a shopgirl, a mailgirl, a sidekick  
And eyes on the future and now  
This is my hit song  
This is my one chance  
To be a rock star  
Come on adore me  
This is my image  
These are my dancers  
Come on promote me  
Come on adore me_

_This is my hit song  
This is my one chance  
To be a rock star  
Come on adore me  
This is my image  
These are my dancers  
Come on promote me  
Come on adore me  
Adore me  
Adore me_

_Life can be suitably just wait and see  
Video, radio, everywhere me  
My demographic will spread far and wide  
Is this a hit song  
Well you can decide_

_This is my hit song  
This is my one chance  
To be a rock star  
Come on adore me  
This is my image  
These are my dancers  
Come on promote me  
Come on adore me_

_This is my hit song  
This is my one chance  
To be a rock star  
Come on adore me  
This is my image  
These are my dancers  
Come on promote me  
Come on adore me  
Adore me  
Adore me_

_This is my hit song  
This is my one chance  
To be a rock star  
Come on adore me  
This is my image  
These are my dancers  
Come on promote me  
Come on adore me  
Adore me  
Adore me_

**My Hit Song is the property of Melissa Lefton and appears in the film _On The Line_.  
Summertime is the property of George/Ira Gershwin.**

She knows one little dirty secret about Colin. He is a serious drooler. Two pillows propped under his head, the one-time Cyrano is practically frozen in the chair nearest the TV as Manny stumbles to stand up. Hannah is to her right and somehow Spinner had finagled a stay on the couch. He wasn't alone, though. Someone had carefully situated a teddy bear in between his chin and a drooping arm. If she were a betting woman, she'd say Hannah did it and not Emma.

But she doesn't have time to bet. Manny remembers that she has to meet Colleen at eight-thirty as soon as the agency opens. Colleen was working out of another building, though she wouldn't take Manny being unfamiliar with the location as an excuse for being late. She'd already kind of annoyed Colleen with the whole spontaneous trip to Toronto to see Toby. The trip felt like it was necessary back then. Today? She wishes she'd stayed put in L.A. They're no longer together. Toby isn't taking her calls. She's afraid she'll tank her auditions because she can't focus one hundred percent. Of course, then there's the lawsuit. That discussion shoulld be fun to talk about. Manny rolls her eyes and heads to the kitchen for some water.

She almost turns back when she sees who's already there. Lia returns a carton of milk to the refrigerator.

"Hi," says Lia, softly.

Mia about faces, but stays once she hears Lia's voice again.

"Manny, can you listen for a sec?" says Lia.

"A sec," replies Manny, crossing her arms. "Go ahead."

Lia stands, her maroon silk pajamas nicely ironed. Her bounteous red hair is straight and slick.

"So I was talking with Colin, and what do you know? That pesky thing called a conscience showed up," says Lia, nervously.

Manny unfolds her arms.

"The movie? My dad is a take no prisoners kind of person. Maybe that's where I get it from," continues Lia. "In any case, I was so driven that I forgot what it means to be a good friend."

This does sound sincere. Although with Lia's history, she can't fully trust it. It so stinks that you can't trust the person who you're living with, but it is what it is, thinks Manny.

"This doesn't have to do with the fact that I'm meeting Colleen this morning, does it?" says Manny, raising her eyebrows.

"No!" protests Lia, softly. "When Emma gave me the message about _Hearts for Sale_, I realized how hard it was for you to do that, have to hear it. I'm sorry."

Manny had so many different emotions that day-- happiness after receiving the award; confusion while being with Blake; sadness after trying on the mood ring. Frankly, she couldn't muster the hate she would need in order to hate Lia that day or today, not this early anyway. All that has truly remained is a faint dislike.

"Fine," sighs Manny.

"That's not a very convincing fine," notes Lia with a hesitant smile.

"Well, I've been hurt so many times," offers Manny. "It's going to take a while for us to be on the same page."

Lia twists her lips and nods. "I can wait."

Her feet cool against the floor, Manny grabs a container full of ice water. As she closes the fridge, she spies a cup held in her line of vision. Lia gives it to her.

"Thanks," says Manny as the girls trade weak grins.

II.

"I was horrible," laments Ashley, pacing back and forth in front of the pub.

Mark, casually smoking, watches her. As Finley suggested, Mark stepped in and took care of business. Why did she have to be such a...what did Mark call her? Oh yeah, a newbie. She can't play music by herself or answer interview questions by herself. Ashley pauses and shakes her head. She'd totally acted her age, if eighteen year olds are that empty-headed. Eh, maybe she acted younger.

"You punish yourself way too much," says Mark.

"I looked a mess, sounded like a mess," says Ashley. "Of course, I'm punishing myself."

Ashley breathes deeply and stands beside Mark. He offers her a cigarette.

"Nah," dismisses Ashley. "I've got my own stress relief."

She unzips her bag and locates the tiny bottle of gin. There isn't a lot left, but she almost doesn't care. Finley and the botched interview would become foggy with the right amount of sips. Ashley tips the bottle, Mark watching her with interest.

He's not the only one. Ashley spies a dark-headed guy in a leather jacket strolling their way. He's behind a group of pub patrons mocking a couple of their completely drunk mates so Ashley quickly downs the rest of the gin.

"Don't tell Craig," whispers Ashley, tucking the bottle into her bag.

"Sure," says Mark, chuckling. "Oh, a mint."

Mark slips her a mint right in the nick of time. Ashley puts it in her mouth and starts to suck just as Craig reaches them.

"Had to weave through the drunken mob to get to you," says Craig, kissing Ashley's cheek.

"There'll be scords of mobs around Ashley in the future," speaks up Mark. "She had a professional interview here today."

Craig's mouth drops and then he smiles.

"Ash, that's awesome," praises Craig, hugging her.

Over Craig's shoulder, she can see Mark give her the thumbs up and make his way to the bus. Ashley nearly swallows the mint before Craig lets her go. The guilt was making her throat feel a bit narrow.

"It was weird," demures Ashley. "Well, hopefully it won't be. I don't know."

"We gotta get copies!" cries Craig. "Since your dad's a journalist, he can get a bunch, right?"

"Yeah, maybe," says Ashley.

Craig leads Ashley away from the pub, near a street corner. The awkwardness behind them, she can tell that Craig's excitement has only risen. Ashley searches his exuberant gaze.

"I finally, finally, finally think I have a song," shares Craig.

"Yeah?" cries Ashley, really swallowing the mint this time.

Ashley strokes her throat as Craig continues to ramble.

"It just came to me," says Craig. "Went to a park, lit one of those new-age candles, and the rhythm started coming. This...this might be my best work ever."

"What's the name of it?" asks Ashley.

"Oh! No lyrics or title yet," admits Craig.

"But the melody..."

"Very much there," assures Craig. "Maybe I got inspired or it was luck or...I've got a good feeling about it!"

She beams. Whenever Craig shared his musical discoveries and songwriting prowess, she couldn't help but feel excited, too. When she sees him sing along from the audience, it's like a duet. When he was struggling with a piece of music, it felt like her struggle too. They had some strange, subtle connection that let them share their triumphs and troubles together. She's very grateful that's been the case for a few years now.

"I can't wait to hear it," says Ashley.

"How about I set up my guitar, and you come look for me on the bus?" suggests Craig. "If you're not too busy?"

"Mark wanted me to review a song we might play....," begins Ashley.

The song is yet another cover. She's only played the Joan Jett song, and while it was met by an amazing reception, she didn't exactly want to do another cover. In fact, she was working up the nerve to ask Mark if he could do background vocals or music on one of her original pieces. They could still be a team, a team on her terms. But after that interview, where she passively sat and let Mark run the show, that idea seems less possible.

"Oh," says Craig. "That's right. You have a performance tomorrow."

"The day after," says Ashley, stroking his shoulder.

"That might be best," says Craig. "Probably have some lyrics by then."

"Or we could actually perform it," suggests Ashley. "We can learn it together. I can sing back-up vocals."

"You're going to show me up," says Craig, pretending to pout.

"Other way around," compliments Ashley.

"You're the musician on the big tour," shrugs Craig. "Me? Eh."

Ashley silences herself, hears the doubt in his voice. Craig smiles and heads for the bus. With his head low and his feet dragging, she could tell what he was thinking even if he wasn't saying it. She does, because it's the way she feels around Mark. There's got to be a way to increase both of their self-esteems.

"Hey!" yells a familiar voice. "Ashley!"

She looks to her left and views Julian huffing as he approaches her quickly.

"Come...come with me," urges Julian.

Ashley would rather check on Craig, but she follows him. They cross a street and round a block. She has no idea where they're going. A plain brick building with a green door stands erect as Julian searches for a key. He opens the door and it is like they're behind the scenes at a TV network. In the small room are multiple television sets, men with headphones on, and lots of buttons and keys set on a wide panel. They murmur directions as different scenes play on the TV.

"It's like a mini-BBC," says Julian. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah," says Ashley, still in awe.

"Remember I said we'd be doing a broadcast on you? Today's the day," explains Julian.

Her heart beating fast, Ashley grins and lets her eyes find the screen. After a couple seconds, she can see herself, behind the black Triton keyboard, smooth lips moving as she sings. This would make up for her horrible picture Rami took at the pub. Not a hair looked out of place on her groomed head as the performance flew by.

"We have two, another video," says a man as he takes some notes.

"Another?" inquires Ashley.

"The performance last night, and the gig at Piccadilly," explains the man.

"Oh, right. I sang with Craig," recalls Ashley aloud.

"The thing is we were going to use the Piccadilly tape. Honestly," says Julian.

"That'd be great," encourages Ashley. "Craig's kind of been down lately. In fact, that goes for both of us."

"Sorry to hear that," says Julian, earnestly. "Only...we were considering releasing your performance with Mark instead."

"The sound is clearer," adds the man, rewinding the tape. "The audience is way more enthusiastic. You look sensational. Makes sense to me."

Does it? They had to have quite a few of Mark's performances taped. After all, they managed to put his song over her performance in the last broadcast. Plus, Craig deserves it.

"I'd prefer it if you included the song with me and Craig," says Ashley.

"Ashley, this is a business decision," sighs Julian. "I made sure to tell the press after the performance last night that they could expect great things from you and Mark in the future."

"And you didn't think to clear that with me?" says Ashley, scrunching up her nose.

"It's not anything against Craig," reassures Julian. "I loved you two that night."

"So then using that tape won't be a problem," says Ashley.

Julian's gaze evaluates Ashley up and down. She keeps her face firm to show that, unlike in the interview, she's taking control, that's she determined to be heard.

"As you wish," says Julian. "You heard her, Gev."

Gev nods knowingly and selects the other tape. Ashley releases a deep breath and leaves the building. She removes the small gin bottle from her purse. The liquor is gone and it's light. She tosses it in the trash and hears it clink at the bottom of the can.

III.

Whistling, Craig rebuckles his guitar case. He'd designated a special spot for it in the closet nearest Ashley's bunk. Linens were above it so nothing hard would fall on it if the bus jerked around on the road. It sits in the dark as if it is waiting for Craig to get another burst of inspiration, a clue.

He has no clue who set their case on the floor of the closet. Closing the closet, he makes sure it's the right one when he reopens it. Yes, this is where it should go. Craig feels a soft touch on his shoulder and hops to the side.

"Mine," says Aja, apolgetically, fetching her case.

"Oh," says Craig.

Craig slides his case inside as Aja props hers up like a music stand. She pretends to blow dust off of it.

"This is my sax," explains Aja. "Sax, meet Craig. Craig, meet sax."

He smiles wearily. Ashley did mention that Aja played the saxophone in passing. He must've forgotten.

"You don't like me much, do you?" says Aja, bluntly.

"Who...me?" stammers Craig. "For...for using the closet? No, I..."

"I mean, in general," clarifies Aja.

"We...barely talk," replies Craig.

That wasn't the most sensitive answer. Ugh, when he doesn't know what to say to girls, he says the lamest things. He still remembers that awkward conversation with Ellie at the wedding, when he said he was flattered that she liked him. Luckily, Aja doesn't appear the least bit offended.

"I've got enough friends, Craig," laughs Aja. "Friends that include Ashley."

"Yeah," says Craig, slowly closing the closet.

"That means I've got her back if she's under the weather," assures Aja.

"That's the thing," says Craig. "She's...she's never been under the weather...until England. Not that I remember."

"She's just enjoying herself," says Aja. "I was eighteen once, too. You have to spread your wings, live a little. Don't tell me you haven't gotten Ashley to unwind a smidge."

Craig can't deny that. When they were prepping the music for the infamous Creed guy, Craig made sure Ashley was having fun during the preparation. They discussed the latest albums they bought, praised or panned their picks, and went right to the music again, playing their hearts and souls. Typically, Ashley was a tightly wound person. He just doesn't think she should sacrifice her safety for a night of fun.

"I just don't want her to get distracted from who she is or what she's doing," says Craig.

"Then, she'd be like me," sighs Aja.

He stares at her saxophone case, remarkably shiny and new.

"Now, I'm doing hair for 'em all with a daft expression on me face, like I don't give a lick," goes on Aja. "I got goals too, you know?"

He can more than identify with her. If this song wound up dead on the floor, like the others, he wouldn't be too surprised. Supporting Ashley is in the cards. It's something he wants, loves to do. Still, he'd like to be on his own tour someday and if Ashley's supporting him during it, all the better.

"Where'd you learn to play?" asks Craig.

"From me dad," replies Aja. "He was into the blues. Specially the female singers. Throaty voices."

"My dad was into that music, too," informs Craig.

"Guess it's the best type for when you going through pain," sighs Aja. "My brother and I didn't have it easy."

"Hmmm, that's something Ashley has that I envy," confesses Craig. "It wasn't as easy for me until I was in junior high."

"Some of us still going through it," says Aja, her eyes moving skyward.

Craig tenderly takes her case and sets it in the closet beside his. Aja scratches her head, mussing up her mohawk a bit, and smiles slowly.

"I think there's room for two," he says.

IV.

"Take a seat, Manny."

Colleen's instructions are delivered as she sifts through her file cabinet. Her blonde hair touches the top of the folders as she bends to check the tags. Manny wonders if Colleen misses her Toronto office. It's almost been a year since Manny first went to Bluewave, meeting Lia right before she went inside. That office was professional and glamorous. You could tell stars were born there. The L.A. office is less homey and reminds her of the front office at Degrassi. There were the necessities (fax machines, telephones, a desk), and a few film posters, but other than that, it wasn't as interesting. Then, she remembers the most interesting agency she's visited. It happened to be the agency that she had no interest in signing with-- Anne Marie's.

During the car ride to the office, Manny checked her messages. Once she reached the office, she checked her messages. Toby obviously has decided not to call her. It was a pretty ruthless realization, pretty much because it so wasn't like him. He was a nice guy when they were friends, when they were sort of dating, when they were dating, even when he was mad. Toby at least wanted to keep her in his life. Now, he's shut her off on every level. Wiping her eyes, Manny stares at Colleen's Rolodex as she sits, tugging on an earring.

"Aha!" cries Colleen, pulling out a folder. "These are the three auditions I have for you."

"During the last week of this month, right?" says Manny.

"Yep," says Colleen. "Since Lia's already succeeded in scoring a part, I can devote more time to you and a few other clients."

Colleen delivers this with a proud toss of her head and Manny darts her eyes. If she knew how Lia won that role, she wouldn't be so boastful. Rather than talk, Manny accepts the folder and starts going through the pages.

"We'll discuss those later," says Colleen.

Manny nods and shuts the folder.

"Okay, the pesky lawsuit," sighs Colleen, sitting behind her desk. "We're looking at a mid-October court date. I assume you haven't told your parents yet?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," confesses Manny.

"If you want, I can sit down with them in August, when you go home," suggests Colleen.

Colleen has gotten her this far, so Manny nods encouragingly.

"Let me make a note in my calendar," says Colleen, reaching over her phone which starts to ring.

She holds a finger up at Manny and answers.

"Colleen?" she says. "She's....here? In...the office? Did you tell her I was with someone?"

Whoever it is, Manny can see Colleen's irritation growing. Colleen is a pretty calm person in general so this person must be extremely annoying. Manny tosses a look behind her shoulder and views the doorknob turning.

"Oh, save me," groans Colleen, slamming the phone down.

The door swings open, Manny's mouth falling. In a short-sleeved, silk, zebra-print shirt and black mini, Martika Timmons enters unannounced with a toothy grin. Manny quickly faces Colleen who offers her a sympathetic stare. Never mind her rude arrival. Manny thought she'd never have to lay her eyes on this woman again. She was like a cockroach. You think you've gotten rid of them, but they always manage to return.

"Colleen!" greets Martika, extending her hand.

Her agent remains seated.

"Manny!" continues Martika. "So lovely to see you."

"What do you want, Martika?" asks Colleen, frowning.

"Surely you're going to ask me to sit down," says Martika.

"Would you like to have a seat?" says Colleen.

Manny lifts her chair and scoots it away.

"Thank you," says Martika with an airy giggle. "I happen to be in the neighborhood and thought it best if we chat."

"About?" says Colleen.

"This little lawsuit," replies Martika. "It's really a difficult process that I don't believe we have to go through. Pinecrest is prepared to meet any monetary wishes, resolving this matter privately."

"I don't want your guilt money!" cries Manny.

Colleen holds up her hand to silence Manny, though she chooses to speak herself.

"Or Pinecrest is trying to save face," says Colleen. "You put my client through great emotional stress. What makes you think we'd settle out of court?"

"Not to make light of this...it _has_ been done before," says Martika.

"You're just afraid Pinecrest will get abused in the press," smirks Colleen. "If they haven't already."

"We've lost plenty already, thank you very much," huffs Martika. "I don't see why it's out of the question."

"Oh, it's clear you don't see certain things," says Manny, glaring at her.

"Manny," says Martika, with fake warmth. "We...we've suffered. I've lost a couple clients. I mean, we've lost Blake. He was our biggest star. It can't get any worse.."

Manny smiles to herself. So Blake did follow through on his promise. Good for him.

"I've even taken a pay cut," reveals Martika. "Luckily, the film's going ahead as planned. We found another actress for the part, Manny. I think she's a friend of yours."

"Who?" wonders Manny aloud.

"Elena Cruz of Vista Agency," supplies Martika.

Okay, now _that_ isn't good news. Elena would most likely be caught in the same trap Manny found herself in, and end up resenting herself for taking it. Accepting the part of a maid, however short-lived, made her life almost unbearable.

"So everyone's happy," giggles Martika, the laugh causing Manny's chest to burn. "Let's leave well enough alone. Now I'll toss out a ball park figure here and...."

"No," interjects Manny.

"What?" says Martika, rolling her eyes.

"You heard her," says Colleen. "She said no."

How could she consider any other answer? When she went to Filipinotown, took in the mesmerizing mural by Eliseo, saw other young girls like her, heard how they admired her for playing an authentic character, that was a day she desired for every other actress, including Elena. They were so much more than what people like Martika thought they should be. If Pinecrest didn't know this, or nurture it, they would. It's worth a try, worth putting out there.

"Manny, I stayed away from the ball because I honestly felt so bad about how I treated you," sighs Martika. "Our beliefs may be different, but...."

"I want something different," interrupts Manny. "And we won't have to go to court for it."

"Manny!" says Colleen in frustration.

"What is it?" says Martika hopefully. "Another part?"

"Yes, but not for me," says Manny, looking her straight in the eye. "I want Elena to play Karen. Give her the lead."

"The lead?" exclaims Martika. "It would mean rewriting the script, casting new actors. That's....that's...."

"That sounds like a sensational idea to me," offers Colleen, happily.

"I don't want any association with Pinecrest, but since Elena's signed for this project, she should get a role to match her talent, not a role based on her color," continues Manny.

Martika smacks her lips and turns away. She stares at the wall for a couple minutes. Manny crosses her fingers, though she hides them so Martika won't view her doing it.

"Things _are_ changing, Martika," says Colleen, raising her eyebrows. "Pinecrest could use the good press."

Uncrossing her legs, Martika stands ceremoniously.

"I'd rather make a concession than watch my husband's project go under," sighs Martika. "Fine."

"And...those pictures that were in question?" prods Colleen.

"Those weren't released on my command," shares Martika. "I'll destroy them. They're no good now."

Manny releases a pleased sigh and closes her eyes. This is happening. This is really happening. Finally, someone is getting a chance. It may not be her chance, but in time, that will come.

"Can I be the one to call Elena?" asks Manny.

"Well, you'll have to tell her it's unofficial, but I'll set things in motion," replies Martika.

"Ready to shake your hand now," informs Colleen.

Grimacing, Martika shakes her hand and leaves the office. Manny releases a squeal, which may be unprofessional, yet she couldn't care less. Colleen claps her hands and chuckles.

"You were amazing, Manny," congratulates Colleen. "You could tell her skin was crawling throughout the conversation."

"This totally feels like a court win," says Manny.

"Feel free to use my phone," suggests Colleen. "I have some calls to make."

Manny takes the phone off the hook as Colleen exits. Her happiness subsides as she puts the mouthpiece against her lips. For all the joy running from one end of her body to the other, she wishes she could call him and share the details. Toby would be so proud. She shakes herself and finds Elena's number on her cell.

"Hello?" says Elena, picking up after the second ring.

"Elena, this is Manny," says Manny.

"Manny!" greets Elena. "Hey! Long time, no hear."

"Well, hear this," says Manny, beaming. "You're going to play Karen, instead of Gabby."

Elena releases a scream that's music to Manny's ears.

"How?" cries Elena. "No...like really, how?"

Manny leans against the desk, ready to spill everything.

V.

"_Summertime_," sings Ashley. "_And the livin' is easy_...."

"_Kennick's drinkin', but at least he's not high_," joins in Mark, playing with his guitar strap.

"You are not helping," groans Ashley, massaging her forehead. "Mmmm, how's the crowd looking?"

Mark parts the door slightly and Ashley stands behind him. They were playing the Sussex tonight, a larger pub than where Ashley did her interview, with cheaper beer and with similar patrons. Loud, young men and college students guffaw and knock fists or heads. The wooden interior makes the whole room dark and she can barely see anybody's faces. Craig is somewhere among them. He had left her so she can do a last run through with Mark.

They were going old school, a classic cover of Janis Joplin's cover of Summertime. Mark won Ashley over regarding the song. She thinks Craig will like it too since he was a big Janis fan, particularly a fan of this song. Ashley didn't know the reason but at least she remembered the fact. Whatever, she's just glad he's been less offended lately and in a better mood.

Shutting the door, Mark grabs a beer and drinks a couple gulps.

"Boyfriend brought the keyboard on stage?" guesses Mark.

"We argued about the spot," laughs Ashley. "It's not well-lit, a dark site."

"Dark and sexy," shrugs Mark. "I've always loved this stop. Not to mention you can bum some beer."

Ashley looks at the frosty bottle, then back at her notes. There were some difficult key changes in the middle of the song and she has to nail them. Half of the human population is aware of this number, whether by Ella, Janis, their music teacher, anybody, so if she royally screws up, she'll never live it down.

"How are my two musical mates?" asks Aja, slipping an arm around Ashley.

"Nervous beyond compare," answers Ashley dismally.

"Oh, it won't be so bad," consoles Aja. "What can make the crowd turn against ya, huh?"

"If you were playing your sax with us," speaks up Mark.

Ashley's mouth starts to form a grin until she stares from Mark to Aja. It was a joke, wasn't it? Aja's eyes find the floor as Mark shakes his beer.

"Mark," scolds Ashley, glancing at him.

"I heard you today...practicing," sighs Mark. "You couldn't hear that you were out of tune?"

"Had a broken reed, that's all," defends Aja.

"A broken reed," smirks Mark. "Yeah...okay."

Aja stares at him and walks away briskly. What's Mark's problem? Weren't they friends? Maybe it's the liquor talking, or maybe he's just mean? Ashley shakes her head at him and goes to get her outfit.

"You're mad at me," notes Mark as Ashley unfolds her black skirt.

"Where are my shoes?" says Ashley, ignoring him.

"The truth hurts, Ashley," says Mark. "And the truth is she doesn't have what you have. The stage presence, the talent, the drive. Nobody has it on this tour...except us."

What does that mean? Never mind. She needs to focus and it's not like he's saying anything truly important. Ashley moves to a stall where she believes she left her black pumps. Mark crouches alongside her as she bends.

"Why do you think the _Tart_ wanted to only interview us?" questions Mark. "Or why the fans went crazy? These other people....our tourmates? This tour is _it_ for them."

"Now I wonder what you say behind my back!" snaps Ashley.

A few musicians turn in their direction, though it's obvious that they haven't heard the conversation. Ashley goes to retrieve her notes, Mark in tow. She wishes he would leave. Instead, Mark makes her face him.

"I say you're the best," insists Mark with a surety that makes her freeze.

"What happened to being my mentor?" asks Ashley.

"That saying?" replies Mark. "The student becomes the teacher? I've never heard anyone sing Summertime like you. If you can work that, you can work anything. And you can....Ashley."

She lets her eyelids fall and grins. It's nice to have your talent recognized, not only recognized but praised by the sole signed artist on the line-up. He genuinely thought she was talented.

"I've got some tips on how you can make it a real showstopper," encourages Mark. "Let's work together. We slayed at the Hammersmith. We can slaughter here."

"What...what'd you have in mind?" asks Ashley.

Mark guides her to the stall next door. "You won't be sorry."

VI.

Ashley sits on her bunk, black skirt draped over her legs. The bus is empty and peaceful. Every other musician is warming up their voice or their instruments, or both. Correction, she thinks. Every smart musician is warming up. But this is where Mark lead her to once they left the backstage area.

"Mark, shouldn't we be going....," starts Ashley.

"Found it!" exclaims Mark.

He goes by a few bunks and flops down next to Ashley. His leg is touching her leg, something she doesn't feel totally comfortable with. No, she reminds herself. No more immature thoughts or reactions today. She's embarrassed herself enough today. Instead, Ashley focuses on the mini DVD player Mark is holding.

"Watch her closely now," urges Mark.

Ashley bites her lip and views the screen. The familiar strains of "Summertime" fill the back of the bus. A deep bass supports the withering woodwinds and soulful saxophone, as a twentysomething girl stands in a white spotlight on a dark stage. The lights become brighter and she's clothed in a skin-tight, short blue dress the color of hotel sheets. While singing, her microphone right above her breasts, she gestures to the audience members. She goes off stage and droops her body in an older man's lap, coyly plays with the tie of a relaxed patron, moves through the crowd with amazing confidence.

"Interesting," says Ashley.

"Audience interaction is always a plus," notes Mark. "They like to be loved, too. I used to take my jacket or shirt off, throw it to my fans."

Ashley laughs. "Sure. Okay."

"I did!" cries Mark. "They tore the thing into pieces, but it made their night."

"So what am I going to toss them?" says Ashley. "My panty hose?"

"Was actually thinking you could do what this girl did," suggests Mark. "I mean, this is a very different crowd from the Hammersmith. They would appreciate some flirtation and attention, I'd bet."

"I...I don't flirt," stammers Ashley.

"Psh, every girl flirts," insists Mark.

"Why can't we do what we did last time?" asks Ashley.

"Because it's stale...it's old," replies Mark. "Different people want different things, Ashley. I'm trying to help you out here, get you a wide fan base. Have I ever let you down?"

Well, the last performance was a massive success. Still, that performance didn't throw her principles out of the window. Mark may not believe her but she didn't flirt. Even with Craig, she wasn't very flirtatious before they started dating. She was more the understated type.

"Seems kinda sexist," says Ashley.

"I'm the biggest flirt there is, and I do it at the right time," laughs Mark. "Julian was flirting up a storm with Finley when I found her."

Ashley chuckles. Picturing the tour director doing it is hilarious. One thing's for certain. It would make her performance less boring, and a new crowd could definitely want new things from her. This crowd, particularly, came across as less attentive. The performance on the DVD player ends, ear-shattering applause coming from the speakers. The girl on screen runs off and then returns for another long standing ovation.

"They did love it," admits Ashley. "Only I'm...I'm nervous. I can't do something like that."

"It's sex appeal," says Mark. "We all have it, and we have to use it now and again."

"I don't want my music to get lost..."

"They'll be eating out of the palm of your hands. They won't be able to get enough."

She's not sure that will be the case, though she certainly hopes they'll pay attention and say she did Janis proud.

"I'll try it...once," says Ashley.

"Great!" exclaims Mark. "You can't wear that, though."

Yeah, she supposes. Wearing a black skirt and a cotton top wouldn't fit on this occassion.

"Do you have the leather...," begins Mark.

Nope. She is not wearing that crazy costume a second time. Ashley goes through a mental list of her clothes. She snaps her fingers.

"I have a skirt Craig bought me, at the market," recalls Ashley. "It'd be perfect."

"Change and I'll meet you backstage," says Mark, returning the DVD player to his bunk.

When Mark departs, Ashley flings her clothes onto her bed until she locates the red skirt. She quickly pairs it with a white tank top. Checking her reflection in the mirror, Ashley is pleased. At school, at home, she didn't wear a lot of color after grade nine. It makes her look a little less serious. Ashley fluffs her hair and goes to wash her hands. There are no more paper towels so she searches in the cabinets. Coming up short, she tries the refrigerator for any napkins. There is nothing there, save Aja's assorted bottles of booze. Gripping a bottle of bourbon, she turns it in her fingers. The liquid sound makes her stomach gurgle. She shrugs.

"Cheers to the best performance ever," she says, opening it and drinking a couple drops. "It's showtime!"

Not content with the momentary taste of it, she polishes off the bottle and fans herself. She moves another bottle lightly with her fingers, inching it to the front. The cap is off in a second.

VII.

"Who dares me?" yells a guy, his stomach hanging below his shirt. "Hey, who dares me?"

"Go on," waves off a friend of his.

"I'll make a peanut fly with my bellybutton...I will!" cries the guy.

Craig runs his hands through his hair, forgetting that his curls are long gone. Would these be the kind of guys he met during university? At fraternity parties? Like I'd join a fraternity, thinks Craig. I'm here for Ash. I'm here for Ash. He repeats the mantra in his brain until he locates a seat at a table in the middle of the pub.

A small projectile flies over Craig's head. What do you know? It's a peanut. Craig glances at the pilot, receiving congratulatory pats on the back from his mates. He wishes Ashley and her tourmates would have a more warm atmosphere. Maybe these guys would give them their attention once the lights were dimmed and the drinks were settling in their systems. Drunken debauchery can't go on forever. Neither can a drunk girlfriend. Thankfully, Ashley has learned from her mistakes. She was interviewed in a pub and didn't drink, though she had to nurse a major hangover that morning. So far, today, she hasn't had a drink. The cautious Ashley he knew and loved was very much present the past two days.

Craig folds and refolds his napkin as Aja and Dashiel join him at the table. Dashiel's axe had been damaged after his performance at the Hammersmith. Some idiot snapped the strings or cut them, leaving Dashiel moaning and groaning and refusing to play. Craig sympathizes with him as he'd gotten the chance to play Dashiel's guitar when he performed with Ashley. It was an amazing instrument.

"Bloomin' prats," degrades Dashiel, nodding to the rowdy guys.

"They're little lushes, nothing more," provides Aja.

"Your girl and Mark are going first," shares Dashiel, staring at Craig. "Last minute request made by Mark."

"And what Mark says goes," mutters Aja with a hint of contempt.

Craig doesn't mind the contempt. He really can't stand that Ashley always seems to be in some secret conference with Mark. It probably has to do with their new team status. He will support it, but it doesn't mean he can't silently detest the idea.

"Who's ready for a show?" yells a slim man with a grey ponytail as he comes onto the stage.

The audience whoops and hollers, Craig and Aja exchanging a smile. Dashiel remains pouting.

"First up, we have a team to titillate," announces the man. "You're sure to fancy 'em. The lovely Mark and Ashley, otherwise known as Kerwin and Kennick!"

"Whooo!" shout several men and Aja.

The crowd continues to be sort of busy though Craig's relieved to see that a lot of people were taking their seats and growing quiet in anticipation. Craig smiles, hoping that he's the first person Ashley will spot.

A lone figure walks to the stage, Craig recognizing the thump of heels. It's Ashley, her black silhouette in a flood of blue light. Several catcalls follow her entrance.

"_Summertime_," sings a voice that cloaks his ears. "_And the livin' is easy_..."

A capella, Ashley's tone is clear, lighter than usual, and Craig closes his eyes to feel the effect.

"I love this song," praises Aja.

He loves it, too, though for a reason Ashley is unaware of. His mother used to sing this to him when he was barely a year old, before he went to bed. Those days were when his memories weren't haunting him, weren't depressing and painful. Those days were when his father wasn't quick to harm and came home at a decent hour. Those days were when he'd catch a glimpse of his parent's happiness, whether dancing to music or laughing about the neighbors, revealing to him why they'd gotten married in the first place. It was before everything that brought him to Joey and eventually, to Ashley. He didn't want to psych Ashley out by mentioning the personal connection, so he merely applauded Mark's choice and eagerly waited for her rendition of it.

"_Fish are jumpin', and the cotton is high_," continues Ashley.

Suddenly, other lights come on full blast, the red hue of the lights matching Ashley's tight skirt, ending just above her knees. Men clap exuberantly as her body becomes clearer. What's with the tight clothing? The skirt looks vaguely familiar, but it isn't the skirt Ashley selected for tonight.

Mark plays his guitar right behind her, light riffs modernizing the classic song. Craig narrows his eyes. Mark was totally ruining it. But apparently no one seems to care as they keep their eyes on Ashley stepping off the stage.

"_Your daddy's rich, and your momma's good lookin'_," sings Ashley, coming to the pretzel pilot and inching herself into his lap.

Craig's mouth drops as more supportive shouts and whistles surround the chosen guy. He can't believe what he's seeing! Ashley getting in some guy's lap? It isn't his own lap. No, it's a stranger's lap. Ashley pats his cheek and rises suddenly. Craig's hand curl into a fist.

"_So hush, little baby_," sings Ashley, standing next to him. "_Don't you cry_."

The guy stands and hugs Ashley close to his body. Enthusiastic cries encourage the body to body contact. Body to body. Craig bites his lip hard, feeling a bit of blood at the side of his mouth. He gets up, trying to meet Ashley's gaze as she tries to escape the hug. The hug won't end. His hands moving downward, the guy clasps her butt and pinches lightly.

"Hey!" yells Craig, rushing past two tables.

"Stop," says Ashley quietly to the guy.

"Aw, come on, love," says the guy, attempting to kiss her.

"Get off my girlfriend!" shouts Craig.

He roughly pulls the guy off of her, pushing him to a point where his thigh hits a table.

The guy laughs. "Hey, I just want my money's worth. She came to me, givin' it up for free."

Ashley has a distressed face, turns away from them both. The music pauses as the crowd takes in the scene. Murmurs cross the room.

"What's the matter, mate?" calls the guy. "Worried she's looking elsewhere? Cause she sure seem willing!"

Reddening, Craig lunges forward.

"Craig!" shouts Ashley.

"Don't start nothin' you can't finish!" teases the guy. "That's what I'd tell your girl, too, while she's whorin' herself!"

His feet fast, his arms moving on their own accord, Craig tackles the other guy to the floor. The guy chuckles as he tries to drunkenly hit him with not a lot of success. His right fist pounds furiously, meeting the other guy's skin in his blurring eyes. All he can hear is laughter and more laughter. This pig...this piece of scum touched her, insulted her. Then, a desperate cry breaks through the inner insults.

"Stop...Craig, stop!" cries Ashley, her face full of tears.

"You mental?" shouts someone else.

The voice belongs to Mark. Mark pries Craig off of the man, the man's friends glaring at Craig. No one else speaks as Craig struggles to catch his breath.

"Kick him out!" begins one guy near the stage, and then it becomes a chant.

Craig shrugs himself out of Mark's hold.

"Kick him out!" they yell. "Kick him out!"

Locating Ashley in the chanting crowd, he stares at her helplessly. Ashley opens her mouth, then closes it. Craig straightens his shirt and leaves the pub to a round of pleased cheers.

He halts at the sidewalk, his vision still hazy. What is he doing? He just couldn't let it go on anymore. What boyfriend would let his girlfriend be felt up by some jerk? But in no way was that the best way to handle it. Joey would be so disappointed, though not as much as he's disappointed with himself.

The door parts and Craig views Ashley, her arms crossed as she stands in front of him.

"What's your problem?" exclaims Ashley.

"Another guy touching my girlfriend!" replies Craig. "What? You want me to like it?"

"Craig, it was a performance," says Ashley.

"Well, I wish I missed that one!" cries Craig. "The clothes, the petting, the...I don't even know where to begin, Ash!"

"Excuse me for trying to figure out who I am on stage!" snaps Ashley.

"Who you are on stage got lost awhile ago!" returns Craig.

Ashley's lips tremble and Craig feels like punching himself rather than punching someone else. He tenderly touches her arms and stares into her ice blue eyes. This is a blue that's familiar to him, not the strange light surrounding her silhouette, but her beautiful, seeking eyes.

"Ashley, you don't have to impress everybody," whispers Craig.

"Everybody has expectations," says Ashley, shaking her head. "Why can't you let me meet them?"

About to offer her a sweeter response, he realizes that her breath's not as sweet. Craig takes his arms away from her.

"Their expectations include drinking?" sighs Craig.

Ashley rolls her eyes. "I had a couple. Big deal."

"If you're drinking, chances are you didn't want to do all that on stage in the first place!" guesses Craig.

"Well, they liked it so it doesn't matter what I think. They matter...they...," points out Ashley, her voice breaking as she starts to cough.

The cough is persistent and Ashley weaves to a trashcan on the left. Her lips part and a rush of vomit falls on empty beer bottles and other pieces of litter. Craig releases a sigh and holds her hair away from her face. The tendrils brush against his fingers as she moans. Ashley grips her throat and drips of spittle run on her chin. Craig rubs her back.

"Ash," sighs Craig.

She covers her eyes and shivers.

"Craig," sobs Ashley. "I don't know what...."

"You don't have to say anything," consoles Craig.

Ashley nods and lets her tear-streaked face hit his chest. It's the softest hit anyone's taken tonight.

VIII.

Manny watches the speedometer's numbers rise and fall. There is almost a mechanical music to it, a steady occurrence. The cabbie fiddles with the air freshener and puts his neck against the headrest. Manny stares out the window, sunshine running across her forehead and nose. She'd love to take all the time in the world.

"This the place?" asks the cabbie.

"Yes," replies Manny. "Sorry."

She pays the fare and exits the vehicle. New Diamond Talent Agency. The building's the same, even though the situation is far from the same. Where should she begin? Usually, you begin with why you're there. She has no definite answer for that, except that her heart lead her here. As wonderful as the conversation with Elena went, she wanted another conversation to happen. He just had to say that he was fine and that he didn't hate her.

Letting her feet guide her, Manny enters the building and gets on the elevator. The clattering door reminds her of the Chateau Marmont elevator. He held onto her like he'd never let her go. They were so entangled in the romance of it, maybe she missed the reality that was looming over them. Manny stares as the lit button goes dark and the doors move.

What brought her here most of all was another request. She isn't sure how to phrase it. The request didn't have to do with her career or anyone else's career. She decided to ask Anne Marie if she'd say good-bye for her. She'd written the letter while Colleen made her calls. Life is so funny. There was a time when Anne Marie and Toby weren't in contact, and she may've been envious of how close he and Manny were. The tables have turned. Perhaps it's right. If it had to be this way, if there has to be a choice, it's better that he and Anne Marie are close.

"Hey, it's you!" pipes up a distant voice.

Manny advances to the secretary's desk, Donna instantly smiling.

"Nice to see you," greets Manny. "Um, Ms. Isaacs is probably busy...."

"Eh, she's been in a good mood lately," shares Donna. "Let me buzz her."

"Oh, thanks," says Manny.

Before Manny can take a seat, Donna clears her. She takes her time getting to Anne Marie's door. Unzipping her purse, Manny removes the letter and pushes through.

"Manny!" greets Anne Marie, warmly. "Come in, come in."

This is almost an alternate universe. The last time she was here, Anne Marie looked ready to throttle her or slam her head against the glass desk. She is on the phone, though, so maybe that's why.

"Yes," says Anne Marie into the mouthpiece. "Fax me the logistics. Alright. Talk with you later. Uh-huh. Bye."

Manny's eyes travel from her to the school picture neatly situated on her desk. The school picture might've been moved closer to her computer. Toby, a full smile brightening his face, stares at her. He looks as sweet as he always did. Manny almost crumples the letter in her grip.

"This is a surprise, and it saves me a trip really," says Anne Marie to Manny.

A trip? Manny sits up straight.

"The DVD from the ball?" explains Anne Marie, taking it from a drawer. "I got a copy too. You were made to be filmed, young lady. Absolutely beautiful on camera."

"As...as long as I don't have celery in my teeth," kids Manny, nervously.

"And your speech? Still gets to me," confesses Anne Marie with a pleased sigh.

"I meant every word," says Manny.

She says this with complete confidence, which almost lets her relax.

"Have to mail Toby his," says Anne Marie. "Oh, and we were discussing you in our last phone call."

"Oh?" prods Manny, hoping for a hint.

"He told me your birthday's near, and was throwing out gift ideas," shares Anne Marie. "Ah, guys and gifts."

This must've been before the day at the airport, when Toby cut her loose. Maybe Anne Marie could mail the letter with the DVD. What a bittersweet package that would be. No, that didn't feel right. Maybe she has to do it herself.

"Although, the problem seemed to be not what to get, but how to keep it a surprise," continues Anne Marie. "He was very excited about a couple possibilities."

Manny holds her breath, not able to take it anymore. Hearing this isn't helping, though of course, it's not Anne Marie's fault.

"Manny?" says Anne Marie, with a concerned expression on her face.

"I have to leave," says Manny.

"Wait," urges Anne Marie.

No more words are able to come as they're interrupted by her phone ringing repeatedly. Anne Marie gestures for her to stay and Manny feels she at least owes her that. Groaning, Anne Marie tells the caller there's static and presses a button.

"I'll put them on speaker phone," says Anne Marie. "Hello?"

"Anne Marie, it's Jeff," says the speaker.

"Are you on your cell?" asks Anne Marie.

"Yes, I know there's probably static," groans Jeff. "This can't wait, though."

"What is it?" says Anne Marie.

"Toby," replies Jeff.

Manny rushes to the desk, the letter falling to the floor. Toby? What about Toby? What's wrong?

"Toby?" says Manny.

"Hello?" says Jeff again.

"Manny's with me," explains Anne Marie in a panic. "Is he hurt? Is he in trouble?"

"No...no doctor," replies Jeff.

"Well?" says Anne Marie, practically yelling.

Manny meets Anne Marie's eyes as her heart accelerates.

"It's bad, Anne Marie," says Jeff, finally. "I think...I think he's going to need the both of us."


	65. Count On Me

**LXV. Count On Me**

_Count on me through thick and thin  
A friendship that will never end  
When you are weak, I will be strong  
Helping you to carry on  
Call on me, I will be there  
Don't be afraid  
Please believe me when I say  
Count on...._

_I can see it's hurting you  
I can feel your pain  
It's hard to see the sunshine through the rain oh  
I know sometimes it seems as if it's never gonna end  
But you'll get through it  
just don't give in_

_Count on me through thick and thin  
A friendship that will never enn  
When you are weak I will be strong  
Helping you to carry on  
Call on me I will be there  
Don't be afraid  
Please believe me when I say (Please believe me when I say)  
Count on....  
(You can count on me, oh yes you can, ahhh)_

_Ohhh  
I know sometimes it seems as if  
we're standing all alone  
But we'll get through cause love wouldnt let us fall_

_Count on me through thick and thin (...count on me...I'll be there)  
A friendship that would never end (Friendship that... will never end)  
When you are weak (You are weak)I will be strong (I'll be strong)  
Helping you to carry on (Helping you...carry on)  
Call on me I will be there  
Don't be afraid  
Please believe me when I say count on  
(Please believe me when I say)  
(Count on )_

_There's a place inside of all of us  
Where our faith in love begins  
You should reach to find the truth in love  
The answers there within, ohhhh  
I know that life can make you feel  
It's much harder than it really is  
But we'll get through it (we'll get through it)  
Just (just) don't (don't) give in..._

_Count on me through thick and thin (count on me)  
A friendship that would never end (It will never end)  
When you are weak (You)  
I will be strong (I'll be strong...)  
Helping you to carry on  
Call on me I will be there (call on me...i'll be there)  
Don't be afraid (Don't... be afraid now)  
Please believe me when I say  
Count on  
Count on  
Count on  
Count on  
Count on  
Count on  
Count on me...  
Ohh yes you can, I know I can, sure I can, so glad I can, so glad I can, Count on me_

**Count On Me is the property of Whitney Houston and Cee Cee Winans, and appears in the film _Waiting to Exhale_.  
AN: This chapter is dedicated to ish for her birthday! Yay!!! Sorry for the wait, and hope you enjoy! **

**Okay, so the first four scenes take place the same evening where Justin tags the synagogue. Quite a few things happen that same day, but yes, it's all continuous with the different plots. Hope you had a great Thanksgiving!**

The strong scent of nail polish remover covers every other smell in the vicinity. Her brush swipes a nail carefully and she blows on it afterwards. Stretching her fingers, Cindy Hogart checks one, two, three, four of her formerly hot red nails. Ellie starts towards Marco in the hallway next to Jay's room, but pauses when Cindy speaks to her.

"Ever had a manicure?" questions Cindy.

"No," answers Ellie.

"Girls should take care of their digits," cautions Cindy in a sing-song voice. "What's your favorite color?"

Ellie gives her a cautious glance. "Black."

"Oh," says Cindy, smirking as she faces another direction.

Marco smiles as Ellie stands next to him. That smell was driving her up the wall, or actually, Cindy was driving her up the wall. Jay's father disappeared inside the hospital room to talk with the nurse that would be with Jay during the surgery, which is an hour away. There was no sign of Alex, Emily, or anybody else. Ellie elected to stay near Jay's hospital room with Marco. She partly wanted Jay to rest, and was partly dreading running into Sean in the waiting room if he came.

It was hard enough being around Jay. She didn't want to bother Jay with questions about Dale's line of work with his father nearby, on the day where they'd be cutting him open. Sure, they were expecting the procedure to go well, but he didn't need the extra stress.

All the secrets were out, but she didn't know what to do with them. Would Dale still be part of Sean's life even though Sean dismissed him? What would Ms. Kerwin do when she found out about Ashley's car? Is avoiding jail some fruitless hope that she has, and who should they contact if things get worse? Ellie plays with her hair, grimaces as a dull aching sensation runs across her brow.

"Take some medicine," encourages Marco.

"It's a headache, comes and goes," offers Ellie.

"Cause you're not taking medication," argues Marco. "It just suddenly started last night at Alex's party?"

"I'm fine, Marco," insists Ellie.

The fact of the matter is that she did take a couple pills last night, and they didn't work. She went to sleep earlier, though she awoke to the same pain.

"At least the intermission seemed to help Alex," says Marco. "I think she was having fun the last hour."

Marco's right. They sat around the table, and started reliving Alex's Degrassi days on the lacrosse team, as Marco's vice president, and as the girl who punched Amy during play rehearsal. That last memory made Ellie grin the most. Paige termed it "the bracelet beatdown".

"So what exactly did go on in the bathroom?" asks Marco.

Sure, she'd tell him. She'd tell him that she pressed the knife against her unmarked skin, delighted at the touch of its chilly blade, felt a rush of both sadness and relief. Ellie shrugs.

"Girl stuff,' says Ellie.

"Hello?" cries a girl as she walks to them, her loud boots echoing through the hall.

The girl is blonde, dressed in tight jeans, a nice black jacket Ellie wouldn't have minded owning, and wearing a pair of stylish boots. Her demeanor is worried, though slightly cheerful when she reaches them.

"Hi," greets Marco.

"Is this...is this Jay Hogart's room?" says the girl.

"Yeah," replies Ellie. "He's on his way to the OR."

"Okay," moans the girl. "Can you tell him Mel from the center asked for him? I saw the horrible news in the paper. He's going to be fine, right?"

"Looks good," assures Marco.

"Thank goodness," sighs Mel.

"I'll tell him you stopped by," promises Ellie.

"Thank you," says Mel, then walking to the front door.

"Why do girls always seem to flock to Jay?" wonders Marco aloud.

"What's the matter?" kids Ellie. "Jealous?"

Marco shakes his head at her as the door to Jay's room opens. Jay's feet are seen first as his body lays across a gurney. Mr. Hogart strokes his moustache and nods for Cindy to follow. He doesn't acknowledge Ellie or Marco. The male nurse pushes the gurney, but doesn't say anything. Luckily, Jay's wide awake and appears anxious to talk.

"Thanks for coming, guys," he says. "Least they're leaving all my organs inside."

She and Marco laugh lightly.

"This is serious, Jason," says Mr. Hogart.

"And costly," adds Cindy.

"Thanks for pointing that out, Cindy," says Jay, rolling his eyes. "Nice to see that my health ranks highly with you. Maybe you can give me a mani-pedi before I'm put under?"

"Hmmph," mutters Cindy, stopping in her tracks.

"That's enough," cautions Mr. Hogart.

The loss of a young woman ended up paving the way for another. Ellie grins sheepishly as she views Alex leaning against the wall next to the operating room, Emily on the other side of the door.

"Sexy Lexi came," greets Jay, saluting her. "Thought you weren't going to make it?"

"I had nothing better to do," returns Alex, walking to him and tugging gently at his hospital gown.

"Who are you kidding?" says Jay. "You couldn't stay away?"

Alex purses her lips and kisses Jay's forehead.

"No, I couldn't," admits Alex.

"We know you'll be fine, sweetie," assures Emily.

"Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" says the male nurse, starting to wheel him again.

"Can I...can I walk him in?" asks Alex.

She and Ellie exchange small smiles as the nurse weighs it in his mind. Mr. Hogart looks wearily at Emily.

"Yeah, I don't see why not," replies the nurse. "For a quick second, and I mean, quick."

Alex holds out her hand for Jay to take. He does and winks at her.

"A true ladykiller," says Jay. "She can't resist the lead Candy Bandit, folks."

"Whatever," says Alex as they go through the parted doors. "We both know I ran that show."

II.

Manny yanks the handle of her suitcase, the large item toppling to the floor. Since it wasn't zipped, several things slip from where she packed them, including a can of hair spray and a few hair ties. Manny groans, collects them, and situates them back inside in a hurry. She hardly notices Emma's head peeking into the doorway.

"Manny?" says Emma.

Rather than answer her, Manny goes to put on her denim jacket. She grabs a piece of paper from her vanity and starts to scribble.

"This is for Lia," says Manny, more to herself than anybody.

"What's going on?" cries Emma. "Is it your dad? Your mom? J.J.?"

Manny zips her suitcase, slings her purse over her shoulder. She doesn't have a lot of time.

"Stop," says Emma, standing in between her and the door.

"Emma, I can't," says Manny, softly.

"You were perfectly calm yesterday," says Emma. "The definition of Zen. And now?"

"I gotta go," mutters Manny, trying to edge past her. "I gotta leave. I gotta..."

"Manny!" cries Emma.

"Move!" snaps Manny.

Emma's eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling and Manny grants her an apologetic look. She didn't mean to go after her best friend. Her nerves all over the place, especially with this latest information. Manny covers her eyes as she starts to cry.

"Anne Marie's coming any minute!" sobs Manny. "I can't see him! He won't answer the phone!"

"Okay, so this involves Toby," says Emma. "And you're...leaving?"

Manny nods and sniffles. Emma goes to fetch a tissue, Manny accepting it. This day was a complete turnaround. Telling Elena the big news brought her total joy, and hearing from Jeff brought total despair. There is so much he didn't say, though. He told them Toby's security had been beefed up, that Justin was involved, and that she couldn't see him? Why couldn't she see him? Anne Marie wondered the same thing, though taking in how distraught Manny was, she made arrangements for Manny to join her. Manny would at least be in Toronto, if she had anything to say about it.

"I...I don't know...how bad...it is, Em," says Manny, through rushed breaths.

"Slow down," advises Emma.

She presses a hand to her heart and breathes in steadily. She can't meet Toby like this. I have to be the strong one, thinks Manny. He's going to need me. She wishes she had an idea as to why.

"Let me help you take your bag downstairs, okay?" offers Emma. "Spin can drive you to Anne Marie's."

"No," replies Manny. "She's coming by for me."

"Give Toby my best," says Emma, putting an arm around her.

Manny rolls her suitcase across the carpet. "Okay."

III.

"You always eat somethin'," scolds Aja, crouching near Ashley's bunk.

Curled on her blanket, Ashley's vision is foggy. The poster above Sarah Lincoln's bed appears as if it's about to slide. The Cure look like ghosts. Her eyes hum as she moves her gaze to the top of her pillow. She shifts to the other side, with a window, the cool air of a summer night welcome against her hot cheeks.

From the window, she can view the Sussex, the show still in progress. Man, she bombed. To have the interview yesterday, and what happened tonight in the same span of time is so strange. Why couldn't she have some balance in her life? She almost wants to go back to the days when half of the crowd was talking amongst themselves rather than listening to her. Eh, maybe not.

"Four bottles?" says Aja pointedly. "Missing from the lot."

Yes, that was the total stock. She told Craig two and winded up drinking four or five. Ashley can't remember. They were small, though, and she hadn't paused to count them. She thought it'd give her a kick in the pants, remain harmless.

"I was too nervous to eat," defends Ashley.

"Well, trust me. Your stomach won't thank you in the morning," sighs Aja.

"Feels like I threw up my stomach," groans Ashley, tapping the glass of her window.

"Craig went to get you food," informs Aja. "That'll help a bit."

She spies something that won't help a bit. None the wiser, Craig is coming to the bus, Julian rushing to catch him. The expression on Julian's face was anything but friendly.

"Oh, no," groans Ashley, struggling to stand.

Her wrinkled skirt falls towards her knees as she passes Aja and leaves the bus. Craig provides her with a look of surprise, then turns around as Julian joins them.

"That..that spectacle!" exclaims Julian. "Young man, you were totally out of line!"

Craig says nothing for a few seconds and lets the bag of fetched food rest against his leg.

"That guy was out of line," insists Craig. "He was inappropriate, drunk..."

"Apparently, he wasn't the only one," says Julian, gazing at Ashley. "I'm extremely disappointed in you, Ms. Kerwin."

Yeah, he could add his disappointment onto her disappointment. She let Mark get inside her head, got drawn into believing it was the right thing to do. But after the reaction at the Hammersmith, could you blame her? She just wanted to keep the momentum going.

"Mark was drinking," says Ashley, which made her sound way younger than she intended.

"He's not throwing up in trash cans, is he?" remarks Julian, as his lips tighten.

"He's also not getting pawed by perverts," returns Craig.

Ashley blinks a couple times. The streetlights were doing a number on her eyes. Ugh, she so wants to sleep right now. No more fighting, so she can sleep. She takes Craig by the arm.

"I suggest you watch your tone," says Julian to Craig. "A great deal of money goes into this tour each year. Now, I will make sure Ashley's safe, that each of my performers is safe, but your sudden bursts of anger will not happen again. Is that clear?"

Craig clicks his teeth and sighs.

"Clear," replies Craig.

"Good," says Julian, turning to Ashley. "Take this as a warning, young lady. You're to be at your best during your performances, or else I will find someone who's more professional. I've dismissed musicians for their recklessness, and am not afraid to repeat myself. Understand me?"

"Yes, sir," says Ashley, softly.

Julian straightens his tie and with individual hard stares directed at the two of them, returns to the pub. Ashley begins to climb the bus steps, grows nauseous and sits on the first step instead. Craig hangs by her side.

"This is so not how I saw tonight," laments Ashley.

"Ash, it has to stop," sighs Craig. "There's like two weeks left. More than enough time to show who you really are."

"You're...you're right," says Ashley.

She shuts her eyes and grimaces at the various less than sober memories. From the stage, she saw an abundance of young men focused on every inch of her body. She could smell the alcohol, feel the hot stage lights, caught Mark in the corner of her eye. Not too many minutes after, she was in a rough pair of arms, hairier than Craig's. The smell intensified, an unappealing mix of beer and pretzels, and his stomach pressed hard against hers. This made her want to run, not sing. The lyrics simply came because she'd practiced them so many times before. It was like her soul was taking a break. She doesn't believe she's ever sang a song where that was the case.

Craig deserves a massive apology. While crafting it in her mind, her phone rings. Reading her mother's number, she answers.

"Mom?" says Ashley.

Ashley instinctively wipes her chin as if liquor were still against her skin and her mother is viewing her. Thankfully, her buzz isn't as bad after hurling.

"Hey, Ashley," says Kate Kerwin. "We...we need to talk."

"About?" prods Ashley.

"I've already spoken with your father," informs Kate. "We need you to come home. Is it possible for you to leave for a couple days?"

"A day and a half," wagers Ashley, dizzily going through the tour's schedule.

"That'll do," says Kate. "Craig can come, too, I suppose. I'd be willing to pay."

Since when did her mom offer to do something nice for Craig? This must be pretty serious.

"Mom, what's going on?" asks Ashley. "For real."

"Some huge things," says Kate.

"Hmmm, make the arrangements," says Ashley. "I'm coming."

IV.

A waiter sets down an order of fries and flitters away. The Dot is overly crowded tonight, for whatever reason. Although, thinks Ellie, it is summer and practically the weekend. The company at her table, however, only has school on their minds.

"Intro to Physiognomy?" says Jimmy. "What's that?"

All of their gazes float to Ellie. Why is it that if there's a word, they automically turn to her?

"It's the science where you can determine a person's character by reading their facial features," replies Ellie.

"Ohhhh," say Jimmy and Hazel in unison.

Marco, Dylan, and Hazel immediately dig into the fries as Jimmy flips another page of a course catalog. Hazel was choosing courses for the year, another soon-to-be student of the University of Toronto. If everything went according to plan, Jimmy would be joining her next year.

A TV blares in the background, a new addition since the owner found it drew more customers to the Dot. Last semester, Marco and Tim came here to watch the pre-Oscar segments while Ellie filled out scholarship applications. It wasn't too fun, though it was productive.

"And...and conchology?" asks Jimmy.

"Ummmm," says Ellie, drawing a blank.

"Jimmy, are you really interested in taking any of those?" sighs Marco.

"Nah," laughs Jimmy. "I'm fooling with you."

Ellie tosses a fry at his shirt. They all laugh as their tired waiter sets a salad next to Hazel's glass of water.

"Losing weight before his prom," explains Hazel.

"Haze, you don't need to," insists Jimmy.

"It's not like we haven't been cursed in the semi-formal department, Jimmy," reminds Hazel. "Besides, I saw this dress at Pretty Pretty that even Paige couldn't find fault with."

Jimmy shakes his head and continues to read the catalog. Ellie's catalog is somewhere at home and she's only been through it twice. She is hoping that she can take a lot of film and English courses, but she hasn't checked if there are any requirements or prerequisites. Normally, she'd be on top of this. Marco and Dylan were way ahead of her.

"Aren't you excited about prom, Ellie?" questions Hazel.

"Prom?" says Ellie.

"Yeah! You are going as Sean's date, right?" continues Hazel.

There it goes. No matter where she goes, or what people were discussing, Sean's name has managed to pop up. First with Paige, and now with Hazel. She would almost guess that they'd planned this. Ugh. Ellie drinks her water instead of answering her.

"Speaking of loverboy," says Dylan, gesturing to the door.

Wearing a gray T-shirt, and loose-fitting sweat pants, Sean walks slowly to the counter. The exasperated waiter flips open his notepad as Sean dictates his order. From there, Ellie could tell that his waist was hurting, Sean's hips bent slightly. He should be at home, resting. Ellie throws a cautious glance at Marco.

"Maybe if we all work together, we can figure out what conchology means," suggests Marco in an effort to change topics.

"Nobody cares, man," says Jimmy, everyone but Marco nodding in agreement.

Strolling in after Sean, Darcy and the rest of the Spirit Squad go to their usual table, where Nate is seated. She kisses him on the cheek as the Squad spread themselves out. How nice, to have normal interactions with your boyfriend. Ellie releases a deep breath. It's as if Sean heard it, moving in the direction towards the table.

Ellie slumps in her chair. She can't talk with him, not yet. Anger and fear weren't things you got over in a couple days. Plus, she'd rather not get into the less than virtuous business of Dale's while eating dinner with her friends.

"Hey, guys," greets Sean.

He's met by earnest hellos from everyone, except Ellie. She grants him a small smile.

"Paige told us you got hurt," says Hazel.

"He should be at home resting," says Ellie, though she wasn't planning on showing her concern so blatantly.

"Visiting Jay," shares Sean. "Alex is with him. The surgery was a success, the doctor said. That was worth leaving home."

"Great!" says Dylan.

Ellie glances over her shoulder and views the waiter searching through the throng, a plastic container in his hands.

"Your food is ready," says Ellie.

"I'm taking it home with me," assures Sean. "Ellie, can we talk for a few?"

"Ummm," mulls Ellie.

Luckily, she's interrupted by someone else calling her name. Matthew and a pretty girl with dark braids had just come into the restaurant. The girl wears a conservative blouse and a long, black skirt. Ellie gives Sean a hesitant stare and walks to the entrance. Hearing some slight rustling behind her, she smiles warmly at Matthew.

"Hey," says Matthew. "Ellie, I wanted you to meet Ebony."

"Hi," says Ebony, awkwardly presenting her hand.

"Hello," greets Ellie. "Matthew's told me a lot about you. You're on break from school?"

"The summer session ended yesterday," informs Ebony. "The first thing I had to do was swing by and visit Matty."

"Awww, Matty?" teases Ellie, poking his shoulder. "That's so sweet."

"I know where you both live, okay?" returns a blushing Matt.

The girls chuckle, but stop when they're joined by a fourth. Sean is picking up his order and can't leave without passing them. He stares at Ellie a final time.

"Hey," says Matthew, breaking the silence. "I don't believe we've met before."

The group focuses on Sean.

"Oh...oh!" cries Ellie. "Matthew, Ebony, this is....Sean."

"So you weren't going to introduce us to your boyfriend?" scolds Matt, playfully. "Sean, your girlfriend's an amazing writer."

"Yeah...she is," says Sean, probably more tenderly than she deserves.

Ellie's cheek start to grow hot and she grins at Ebony.

"I'm sure Ebony has talents, too," says Ellie.

"Uhhh, I sing?" shrugs Ebony.

"The voice of an angel," compliments Matt, wrapping an arm around her waist. "She sang a song with me during a Purim party."

"Speaking of Purim, isn't that your synagogue, Matty?" asks Ebony.

Their eyes focus on the television set, Sean requesting that the waiter turn up the volume. Onscreen is a familiar reporter, Rachel Rhodes. She was the way too nosy reporter that covered the school shooting and angered Sean so much that he smashed a television. Sean hangs his head. Ellie puts a hand on his shoulder, stares at the screen.

Rachel is standing to the left of the brick synagogue, yellow police tape winding around a square full of grass. There were dark words against the brick, though Ellie couldn't read them.

"Here marks the site of one of the most alarming hate crimes in the last decade. At approximately six o' four p.m., police officials were called and were greeted by this rather cryptic message on the place of worship's south wall. Toby, the Traitor."

"Did they say Toby?" speaks up Darcy.

Murmurs flow across the room fast, the Spirit Squad craning their necks to see better, Marco and Hazel dropping their food, Jimmy laying the catalog across the table.

"Oh no," groans Matthew.

"Our sources tell us that the message is referring to one Toby Isaacs, class president of Degrassi Community School, who is involved in an interracial relationship. It is believed to be connected to a string of threatening messages sent to Isaacs in the not so distant past. One racial attack became physical and reportedly lead to an altercation that slightly injured Isaacs."

"When was that?" asks Nate, loudly.

"Beginning of the summer," answers Matthew, looking away from the TV. "Gosh, Eb."

Ebony hugs Matthew as Rachel Rhodes' voice again fills the restaurant.

"We've also received word that the young woman under scrutiny is none other than the reigning Miss Degrassi, a local actress, Manuella Santos," says Rachel.

"Poor Manny," sighs Hazel.

"Wow," breathes Sean.

"Neither the Santoses, nor the young man's family, could be reached for comment. Stick with us for the latest," says Rachel, as the channel switches to a meterologist with a grave expression.

Turning the TV off, the waiter shakes his head and starts to wipe down the counter. The Dot is the quiestest Ellie has heard it. How to make sense of this, she can't even fathom. Somebody is tormenting Ashley's stepbrother, perhaps the sweetest guy at the school? He's struggling with these horrible things?

"We should do something," speaks up Darcy.

"Like what?" says Kaelyn.

"The police are handling it," says Dylan.

"But they aren't Toby's friends," counters Nate, standing beside Darcy. "What he's going through is heinous. He should have some support."

"Manny too," adds Hazel.

"Actor dude...," starts Jimmy.

"Nate," interjects Nate.

"Oh, sorry," says Jimmy. "Nate's right. We can't let some ugly stuff break him down. Poor guy's been through enough."

"What are we going to do then?" says Kaelyn. "Hide them at our houses?"

"No, that's what they want," replies Marco. "If you hide, you show them that you believe what they believe. You give in. I do have an idea, though. It'll take some work, from everybody..."

"We're listening, Marco," chimes in Ellie.

They all are, clapping, Marco beaming at the many faces. As many problems as there are that have arisen, Ellie lets her hand stay where it is, on Sean, lets her feet stand firm.

V.

"You're not going to eat your bag of complimentary peanuts?"

Manny barely hears her as she repositions the airplane magazines in the seat pocket. She didn't read any of them, though she pretended to, flipping the pages slowly and staring at the pictures. Mid-flight, she said no to lunch while Anne Marie dined on a brisket sandwich she got from LAX. How can she be so calm? How can she remain composed, especially since the plane has now settled in Toronto?

"Saving them for later," answers Manny.

"Nuts do wonders for your heart," shares Anne Marie. "You worry about that sort of thing when you're older."

As opposed to today? Viewing Toby, actually seeing him in the flesh, would do wonders for her heart. The possibility of this evaporated as Anne Marie informed her that her parents would be taking her home. Based on Anne Marie's end of the conversation, the talk was curt and not any more informative than Jeff Isaacs'. She's about to tear up the seat cushion under her.

"The seatbelt signs have been turned off," announces the flight attendant over the intercom. "You may collect your belongings and depart. We thank you for flying Toronto Air and wish you safe travels wherever they may be."

"Gotta move fast," encourages Anne Marie.

Manny nods and quickly undoes her seatbelt. She takes her bag as Anne Marie fetches it from the overheard compartment. Then, the handle in her grip, she freezes. Anne Marie stares at her suspiciously.

"Manny?" says Anne Marie.

"I...I can't," whispers Manny.

"We've been given the all clear," points out Anne Marie.

"I'm afraid to leave the plane," confesses Manny.

"I don't understand," says Anne Marie.

Neither does she, because during the flight, she was itching to get off. It's just that between that time when they boarded and this current second, she'd get lost in some grey haze, an uncertainty that was more than a little reassuring. Not knowing the full details relieved her somewhat. Nobody was in danger, nobody spoke of horrible things coming her way, and she embraced it. What will she embrace now?

"Ms. Isaacs, I'm scared," whispers Manny.

"First, it's Anne Marie," she says.

"Sorry. Anne Marie," provides Manny.

"Secondly, I recall a young lady who walked into my office without an appointment, poured her heart out, and left with her head held high," continues Anne Marie. "And I quite admired that."

Manny smiles weakly, the length of her lips growing slowly. If someone who formerly disliked her thought that about her, that's truly saying something.

"Now I think we've kept your parents waiting long enough," says Anne Marie.

She puts an arm around Manny's shoulder and keeps it there as they go through the terminal. It's support that is more than welcome, especially as she stares at her two parents. Joseph has a set frown under his moustache and Maria, rising from a chair, is dotting her eyes with a tissue. This is definitely not how she wanted to meet her parents after not seeing them for nearly two months.

"Manny," sighs Maria, grasping Manny to her frame.

Her nose poking her mother's shoulderblade, Manny lets her suitcase go and shifts her gaze.

"Anne Marie Isaacs," says Anne Marie, shaking hands with Joseph. "Pleasure."

Joseph kisses on her cheek while shaking her hand. Manny manages to disentangle herself from Maria and take in the three adults. Are they ever going to be forward with her? Come on. She flew all this way, for what?

"Maria," greets her mother, shaking Anne Marie's hand.

"Time out," sighs Manny, then speaking louder. "What's going on? Please!"

"We'll discuss it at home, Manuella," answers Joseph gently.

"Why?" cries Manny. "What's the difference between here and Emma's?"

"He means our home, Manny," corrects Maria.

"Home?" blanks Manny.

"I'll take your luggage," offers Joseph, taking Anne Marie's suitcase.

They were both carry-on bags, as each of them didn't allow much time to pack a full-length suitcase. Oddly enough, the strangest sight isn't Joseph carrying her pink carry-on bag, but a police officer disengaging himself from a tired tourist family. He's dressed in full uniform, with snowy white hair and kind blue eyes. At first, Manny thinks he'll pass their group and board a flight. This isn't the case as he stands next to Maria.

"Manuella," greets the officer, whose nametag reads Patton.

"It's...it's Manny," she says, reluctantly.

"Are we ready to go?" asks the officer.

"Yes, sir," says Joseph. "After you, ladies."

Maria and Anne Marie move, though when Manny moves, Officer Patton is right by her until they reach the car where he holds the door for her. Manny closes the door, sits, narrows her eyes in confusion while staring after Officer Patton through the windshield.

"Face front, Manuella," instructs Joseph.

Sighing, Manny glances at Anne Marie, who is going through her Palm Pilot as the moon begins to show itself in the sky. Hardly anything is clear on this clear night. Manny stays still during the entire drive. Once they reach her parent's building, Manny peers through the window. Two police cars were in front of the complex. She spies another officer, a woman, reading a book in the car nearest a streetlamp.

Manny begins to open the door.

"Wait," cautions Maria.

She does as told, silently watches Officer Patton open her door. He only does this for her. Why her? Officer Patton escorts them up the stairs, Manny hearing the various echoes of the feet of her parents, Anne Marie, and herself. They let Officer Patton into their apartment first. Manny rubs her neck and follows.

Well, everything appears to be the same. The family pictures are on the desks and mantelpiece. The yearbooks she and Toby went through during a lunch with her parents sit placidly on the coffee table. The small rug leading to the kitchen is still red.

Officer Patton shuts the door and sits on the couch as if he's been doing it for weeks. She seeks to speak with Joseph or Maria, who busy themselves with various tasks.

"Will you be staying with family?" asks Maria as she takes Anne Marie's coat.

"No, a hotel," answers Anne Marie.

"Manuella, are you hungry?" calls Joseph from inside the closet.

Ugh, she is so sick of adults asking her that while other things are obviously happening that are more serious. This is her life and she should be in the know. They can't keep this to themselves. Anne Marie's totally on the nose. She's more brave than they think.

"Where's Toby?" asks Manny, making Joseph jump.

"Oh boy," mutters Officer Patton.

"Somebody has to tell me something," demands Manny. "Maybe...maybe I can help."

"Manny, there's nothing _you_ can do," insists Maria, stroking her hair.

"Is Justin bothering him?" cries Manny.

There are several looks, looks between her parents, between her parents and Officer Patton, between herself and Anne Marie.

"Yes, Manny," shares Anne Marie.

Officer Patton rubs his hands together. "It's far deeper than that, dear."

"There's a lot to discuss," sighs Joseph. "We were contacted not too long ago. Toby said that we should be expecting a call."

"That's where I come in," interjects Officer Patton. "A full investigation is being conducted. This young man has made it clear in no uncertain terms that he and his group have been watching Toby's home, and are searching for your whereabouts."

"Do...do they know?" stammers Maria.

"Thankfully, no," breathes Officer Patton. "Keeping Manny away from the Isaacs home is paramount. Whatever information they know of seems to be confined to the area of the synagogue and your school. We think it's largely to do with the fact that he's kept in contact with Clara, who I'm sure frequents those two particular places. Clara was very gracious in sharing some key information with us yesterday."

"How would he know Toby's address then?" asks Anne Marie.

"Through e-mail," says Officer Patton. "Or Degrassi school records. We've done our best in combatting any security breaches. That said, Toby did us a real service by orchestrating your daughter's move earlier than planned."

"Move?" says Manny to herself.

Manny rises from the couch in a quick movement. She passes them, leaves them without a word after grabbing her suitcase.

"Manuella...," begins Maria.

"No, let her sleep," interrupts Officer Patton, sadly.

Crossing the carpet of her home's hallway, she parts her door, darkness meeting her face on. With a shaking finger, she flips on the light and stares. Her room is colorful, furnished, neat, and yes, it's hers. This is where he'd been. He arranged each item, shelved each memento, endured each twinge of pain, pain she's feeling as her eyes perform a slow overview. Manny closes the door behind her.

She touches the desk, her bed, a new beanbag chair. She touches where he might've touched. Her hands are warm and empty. Manny hugs herself and flops onto her bed. Something is poking her in the back. She clutches her Papa Smurf doll and lets her back rest against the headboard. When the tears come, she allows it, because these odds and ends were moved with emotion. They don't move tonight. Only she is moved, by all of this.

VI.

"He hasn't eaten a thing, Jeff," whispers a voice from behind the door.

"Just...put it outside the door," says his father.

"For the record, he didn't go to sleep," sighs Kate. "He walked around. This house isn't that creaky at night, you know?"

"What do you want me to do?" says Jeff. "Sit in his room and watch him doze off?"

"I'll leave the plate outside the door," whispers Kate.

Toby is leaning against the door, touching the gold knob. He runs his thumb against the smooth surface. Sometime last night, or early today, or sometime, he'd locked it. He rubs his eyes with his sleeve.

"Toby!" calls Kate, knocking on the door. "We're leaving you dinner. Pizza. Do you want juice or soda?"

He presses his lips firmly together and goes to sit on his bed.

"We'll leave," adds Jeff. "Just...we don't want it to get cold. Okay?"

"Fine," speaks up Toby.

He hears a sigh of relief from the other end and departing footsteps. The pizza would get cold. He couldn't eat it, anyway. Though he hasn't seen the synagogue since yesterday, the words burn brighter than before, in a mind so emblazoned with its chilling letters. Traitor, traitor, traitor. Lies, lies, lies. Toby wanted to yell that back, yell at the wall as if Justin were standing in front of him, with his cocky, nasty grin. But he's nowhere to be found.

Walking to the window, he stares into the nearly here night. The sun is disappearing in the horizon and cars pass on the street. One car, however, swerves and comes to the curb. Two pairs of legs appear after the door is opened, and short, red-brown hair glints in the remaining sunshine. Ashley? Nah. No, it is her. Toby watches the cabbie hand Ashley her bag, Ashley paying him, and the car speeding away. He shuts the window and goes for the door.

Stepping over the plate of pizza, he makes it to the top of the stairs in time to view Ashley kiss Kate on the cheek and head to the living room with their parents. Toby peers at the door as another shadow appears from behind the side curtains. Anne Marie meets Jeff with barely a hello, as they go into the same room. His mom? His mom's here? Toby stares behind him, half of him urged to go back in his room, and the other half dying to know what they were discussing. He gingerly goes down two steps, then four, until they're in earshot.

"She's here," groans Anne Marie. "I can't change it, Jeff!"

Who were they discussing? Ashley?

"I'm only saying it'd be better if she wasn't!" cries Jeff. "Why on earth would you think that was the right thing to do, without consulting me?"

"I've seen them separated, Jeff. It's not good!" insists Anne Marie. "It's hard on him, it's hard on her."

"Based on what Mom said on the phone, I'd have to agree with Ms. Isaacs," adds Ashley.

"Thank you, sweetheart," sighs Anne Marie.

"Separating them is the safest option," says Jeff, angrily.

"Even if you did separate them, chances are they'd rebel and do what they wanted, anyway!" counters Anne Marie. "You've always been so by the book, Jeff. Well, life doesn't work like that."

"My son's life will if it's a matter for the police!" cries Jeff. "Kate?"

A moment of silence signals Kate is considering something. She sighs.

"His friends have been by," says Kate. "It's in the news, Jeff. Everybody knows. Hiding the situation is kind of pointless now."

"Ellie phoned me," speaks up Ashley. "About a program? I think it's a good idea. He was so alone during the shooting."

"The shooting," murmurs Jeff.

"Being alone...suck sometimes," says Ashley, shaking her head.

Toby stares at the floor and lifts his gaze. The movement releases a subtle creak, a creak so loud they can hear it. There's no more talking from the living room. Toby holds his breath. He didn't feel like explaining himself. Hearing some tennis shoes crossing the floor, he's hoping it might be Ashley. Ashley glances into the foyer, at Toby. His chest aches from the guilt.

"Anyone there, Ash?" calls Kate.

"Um, my purse fell from the hatstand," answers Ashley.

Toby smiles at her and ascends the staircase, trying to be as quiet as he can. Unfortunately, another sound echoes behind him.

"I'm going to the washroom!" says Ashley.

There's no use closing the door on her. Toby reenters the room, and sits on the floor, staring at his closet.

"Why aren't you on tour?" asks Toby as Ashley bends.

"Why is there pizza in the hall?" returns Ashley, setting the plate on his computer desk.

"I don't know," replies Toby.

"Okay," sighs Ashley. "Want me to shut the door?"

"Fine," mumbles Toby.

"I am performing tomorrow, for the record," admits Ashley after closing the door.

"Where?" says Toby. "Westminster? Camden?"

"Your synagogue," shares Ashley.

Toby stares dismally at her.

"Me and Craig," explains Ashley. "We were asked. Apparently, there's something about you that gets people motivated. Marco received Rabbi Miller's blessing and the rest...shall we say, is history?"

"Not going to the synagogue, ever again," sighs Toby.

He hates being so surly, especially if people really did go to all this trouble, but it's not like they asked him. Would any of them return to a place where they were called a traitor for the whole community to see? He didn't think so.

Ashley, with a long sigh, sits next to Toby on the floor.

"Toby, I stayed in my room for a long time," says Ashley. "The center of a scandal, where I was publicly embarrassed when my boyfriend cheated on me. Eh, you know the story."

Though he's listening, Toby fails to look at her, instead focusing on the shoes in his closet.

"It didn't solve anything," continues Ashley. "And who brought me through? My friends. They told me I shouldn't be sad all the time, that I should get out there and then I'd be okay. They were right."

Toby shrugs and starts to smile. What is staying in this room getting him? He's hungry, tired, and sick of staying in here. Man, even Officer Wheaton was snoring away in the guest bed. Toby laughs, maybe because of the snoring. Ashley raises her eyebrows.

"When did you get sisterly?" kids Toby.

"Well, I sucked during the shooting so....," says Ashley, then laughing too.

As their laughter fades, Toby takes a deep breath.

"How long is this thing?" asks Toby.

"Long, but I think you'll be impressed," assures Ashley.

"Thanks, Ash," says Toby, earnestly.

Ashley bumps him with her elbow. "No problem."

VII.

Toby tightens his tie in the mirror. This should've been like any other Saturday. Maybe they'd have breakfast, discuss what they were doing after the service, share what was coming up for them each week. The synagogue would be waiting for them, ready to hear their prayers and praise. Rabbi Miller would welcome them, him into what should be an untouchable building. Toby never considered it being anything else.

Instead, Justin's message is there, like a slap in the face before he will enter the sanctuary. He will be escorted by not only his parents, but Officer Wheaton and two other officers who volunteered to aid him. This must be big if people are volunteering. Hadn't Marco, the former Degrassi president, volunteered? Wow. This is so much bigger than he can articulate.

"Car's ready, son!" calls Jeff.

The tone is soft and bright, a noticeable difference from yesterday. It urges Toby onward as he goes down the staircase. Anne Marie, dressed in a lovely pale, orange blouse and matching skirt, hugs him briefly. She must've went shopping earlier. They were all wearing orange. Ashley researched the ribbon color for supporting cultural diversity. Ashley researched everything. They acted accordingly. Toby's tie is orange.

"Let's get a move on," encourages Jeff, an orange hankerchief in his breast pocket.

Ashley and Kate, slipping into the family car, wore orange cuffs. Officer Wheaton, who joins Toby in the back, wore a jack-o-lantern pin, after a last minute plea to be involved some way.

Jeff drives leisurely to the synagogue. Toby looks out of his window at the stoic trees, the blossoming flowers in gardens, the energetic squirrels bounding across the grass. It seems to be a normal summer day, maybe because it is one. He straightens his jacket as the car approaches the building.

It, of course, looks normal, too. They weren't facing the wall where Clara screamed and he cried. A police car is visible near the site, thought. He has no interest in making a beeline for it as they park. Instead, he spies a rush of people making a beeline for their car. Jeff curses under his breath, Officer Wheaton doing the same as they exit the car.

A group of reporters try to peer inside at Toby, their cameras flashing.

"Is he in there?" yells a reporter in the back.

"This is prohibited property, sanctioned by the police!" orders Officer Wheaton. "You must remove yourself from the premises...now!"

"A word! Just a word!" cries a female reporter, who looks awfully familiar.

Toby shudders. Rachel...Rachel Rhodes.

"I'm sure you remember me!" exclaims Rachel. "I interviewed your son during the tragedy of...of the shooting? You'd think he'd want to get his voice heard. What would he say to the people harrassing him?"

"He'd say to leave him alone!" snaps Jeff. "So do it!"

Rachel clicks her teeth, stares at Officer Wheaton, and departs as the other two officers from the precinct arrive and head for her. Toby unbuckles his seatbelt and follows his father and Anne Marie to the synagogue, the rest of the party behind him.

"Toby!" calls J.T., right before they enter the building.

Grinning, Toby stares at him. Liberty is to his right. Liberty wears an orange hair tie, and J.T. tied an orange bandana around one pants leg. Toby has to admit that he couldn't think of a more creative accessory for the occasion.

"This is going to be some presentation," boasts J.T. "I mean..."

"Don't spoil it," shushes Liberty.

"Especially in the time frame we were given. It's...."

"Shhh," says Liberty, putting her hand over his mouth.

Toby chuckles quietly, his family members exchanging pleased looks. He'd only laughed in front of Ashley for awhile now, so they must've been glad to hear it.

They enter the lobby and Toby hears many voices drifting from the sanctuary. That definitely wasn't normal. The synagogue is rarely full to capacity. The Confirmation was the last big event they had, and it certainly wasn't this heavily attended.

"Man, thank goodness I made Danny prop his feet on the chair in front of him," says J.T. "That way, we'd have a seat."

"J.T.!" scolds Liberty.

"I got Derek to save a spot for you," defends J.T.

They enter, Toby wearily peeking into the sanctuary. Every chair is filled. Rabbi Miller, Matthew, Clara, and a few of the elders were scooting around up front, friendly expressions matching friendly expressions. Many people were holding programs. In the right section, Marco pats Ellie on the shoulder before sitting down in between Alex and Dylan. The left section holds various members of the Spirit Squad, Darcy and Paige in the front row. These people were his classmates, some of them barely his friends, and they came?

Exiting the washroom, Craig and Sean come down the hall. Craig kisses the top of Ashley's head as Sean pauses to stand next to Toby.

"Hey, Toby," says Sean. "You holding up alright?"

"Um...yeah," replies Toby.

"I had nothing orange...sorry," confesses Sean, hobbling away to take a seat in the back.

"We're going in, son," says Jeff. "Come in when you're ready."

Jeff hugs Toby with full force, Toby patting his father's back. He's released as he watches everybody leave, except Officer Wheaton. Toby rubs his brow.

There are so many people. So many.

The front door opens again, a head of blonde hair, and another head coming through. Sully and his girlfriend from the miniature golf course stare innocently at Toby.

"Uh, we were going to sneak inside," says Sully, shyly.

"I told you we should've left earlier," whispers his girlfriend.

"Thanks...thanks for...for coming," stammers Toby.

"We're like...you know...," says Sully, avoiding meeting Toby's eyeS.

"We're sorry," inserts his girlfriend.

"It's okay," says Toby.

Sully grins and shrugs. "Good. So...."

"We can go in?" says his girlfriend.

"Yeah," says Toby.

Wrinkling his nose in amusement, Toby puts his hands in his pocket and paces. He kind of checks everything-- how long the walk is, how many steps he's taken, where the light is dimmest. He shakes himself. This is easy. They were all here for him. Yes, they were supporting him in perhaps the kindest way they could. This is no time for nerves. Toby frowns, then bites his lip. Nah, he's nervous.

Another creak echoes, with Toby staring at the door. A slim, smooth arm appears before she does, and he nearly falls to the floor as he's seen that arm so many times when she's hugged him, touched him, waved at him. She's not waving good-bye. She came. Toby lowers his eyes.

Two other pairs of feet enter, Toby barely seeing them.

"She insisted on coming," says Maria, apologetically. "Mr. Isaacs encouraged it when we called this morning."

"It's just for a day," remarks Joseph.

"Well, I can't think of a safer synagogue," sighs Officer Wheaton.

Maria strokes Toby's shoulder as she passes, Joseph doing the same. They enter the synagogue, forcing Toby to look up at the remaining Santos.

She is so beautiful. He almost lied to himself about how much, to try to push down the memory of it. Who is he kidding? He could never push it down that far. Wearing a white blouse and an orange skirt, Manny's hair is tied into a demure ponytail. He recognizes the skirt. She wore it on the day she was supposed to eat with his mom, the day when they were flying a kite on the beach. He would like for them to fly away, dodge this drama in a single second. Manny smiles and sniffles.

"You moved me home," says Manny, her eyes shining.

"Um," says Toby as he drops his gaze to his shoes.

"You look tired," notes Manny. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Not much," confesses Toby. "Not at all really."

Manny hugs him briefly, with his head still down, then goes back a couple steps.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asks Manny.

"I broke a promise to you," replies Toby, gradually lifting his head.

"What promise?" says Manny.

"Contacting Justin," says Toby. "I told him not to talk to me. Then, this...kinda happened."

"Everything you said at the airport?" questions Manny, getting closer to him.

"I would've said anything to get you on there," admits Toby, smiling slightly. "You shouldn't have to deal, with any of this."

Manny lays her hand against his chest.

"Why didn't you let me choose?" whispers Manny.

"I...I wanted to protect you," answers Toby.

"Remember what I told you?" says Manny. "At the bed and breakfast? It's not fair to you to forget yourself. You can't stretch yourself that far, sweetie. Or else you'll break."

"There have been times when I've felt broken," confesses Toby, his eyes growing wet.

"That's where I come in, Tobes," says Manny with a hopeful smile. "I'm your friend. Well, more actually."

"You're here?" says Toby.

"I'm here," whispers Manny, a couple tears falling. "I always will be."

"Manny, I'm sorry," whispers Toby.

"It's okay," guarantees Manny. "So, you want to do this?"

"I can't believe there's all these people," sighs Toby.

"Well, it's easy for me to believe," says Manny, kissing him softly on the cheek. "You don't have to go through this alone, Toby."

"This might be what I need," sighs Toby, glancing at the sanctuary.

"We all need something," says Manny.

"I need a hand maybe?" says Toby, holding out his hand for her.

"You've got it," whispers Manny, taking it.

The sanctuary grows taller as they enter and Toby keeps his head erect, his shoulders back. Manny's hand clutches his, like a private embrace. Bodies rise to stand, and there is wave after wave, of applause. They greet him and Manny with warm grins, looks of affection, supportive nods. The clapping bounds on every side of this place of faith. It stays in his heart long after it has finished.


	66. Once Upon A Broken Heart

**LXVI. Once Upon A Broken Heart**

_Once upon a broken heart  
I was walking alone in the dark  
Looking for a way to start again  
What I wouldn't give for a friend  
There was no love in my life  
There was no light in my eyes  
All the tears that I had cried and cried  
Seemed like they'd never end_

_And I never believed fairytales came true  
But now I know that they really do  
Now that I found you, now that I'm here with you  
Just look at the sunshine, and you  
Showed me a world  
That I'd never seen  
I woke up and fell into this dream  
Happily ever after just took time  
Once upon this broken heart of mine_

_Long ago and far away  
I could never dream of the day  
That your love would come my way and stay  
And sweep me away and I_

_Never believed fairytales came true  
But now I know that they really do  
Now that I found you, now that I'm here with you  
Just look at the sunshine, and you  
Showed me a world  
That I'd never seen  
I woke up and fell into this dream  
Happily ever after just took time  
Once upon this broken heart of mine_

_this is the way a fairytale feels  
This is the way I know it's real  
'Cause this is the way a broken heart heals_

_And I never believed fairytales came true  
But now I know that they really do  
Now that I found you, now that I'm here with you  
Just look at the sunshine, and you  
Showed me a world  
That I'd never seen  
I woke up and fell into this dream  
Happily ever after just took time  
Once upon this broken heart of mine_

**Once Upon A Broken Heart is the property of the Beu Sisters and appears in the film _Ella Enchanted_.  
If I Never Knew You is the property of Jon Secada/Shanice/Disney.**

They sit in the front, as if their seats were reserved, as if they're special. Manny believes he is, that Toby is special, that this is happening for a reason, the chief reason being that Toby is just as special to other people. But why did this have to be the event for them to realize that?

His parents, a serene-looking Bubbe, Ashley, Kate, and his Uncle Paul were also in the first row. Wow, she hasn't seen Toby's uncle since Hanukkah dinner when she came to their house totally upset and hopeless. Today, Toby looked a little hopeless when she first saw him. The bags under his eyes were so deep you could see them behind his glasses. His shoulders were tight under his suit jacket when she hugged him. His lips were pressed firmly together, until he smiled. He probably did smile before she came along, though she takes some pride when she pretends that he'd been saving that for her when they met again.

The sanctuary is about the same as she remembers, except that it is full to the brim with people she did and didn't recognize. The Torah lay on the well-lit bimah. The rest of the room is dim in comparison. She can barely make out the faces of a few of her classmates. Sitting with Rabbi Miller behind a podium are Matthew, Clara, Marco, and several older men. The men wear what Manny saw Toby wear during his bar mitzvah, white and blue prayer shawls. It reminds Manny of her own shawl, which she'd put away in her closet after the nice woman gave it to her when she went to the mission. Kippahs cover their heads. Toby isn't wearing his today.

Most everyone else had decided to sport more regular dressy clothing, with items of orange, since this wasn't an actual service. From her chair, she can spot Hazel's neon orange purse strap, Jimmy's orange T-shirt with a design of some kind, Derek and Danny's matching orange sports hats, and Joey's loud Hawaiian shirt with a picture of an orange sunset. Manny grins and glances at her parents behind them.

It took quite a while for her to convince them that this is where she needed to be. When she woke up, Maria immediately ushered her into the living room so they could have a talk with her, Joseph, and Officer Patton. The meeting wasn't pleasant, not at all. Officer Patton showed her how they had wired the phones to make sure that the station could keep an eye out for any threats. Gone were the days when she could simply dial up Emma or J.T. or Toby, when he was just a friend. They showed her the new locks on the door, on her parents' window, on her window. Manny fell asleep about ten minutes after laying on her bed so she didn't notice them since she was tired. She also didn't notice that someone had taken down the numbers on their apartment door that morning. Wasn't this drastic, she wanted to scream at them. But she knows her parents. They'd been strict before for her own good, so they would go along with the station having strict rules for her own good.

Worse is her overrhearing their plan to send her back to L.A. as soon as possible. She skipped breakfast just so she could lean in the doorway to hear it. Her mother was glad to have her home, which presented a problem. Maria had twisted Joseph's arm to let Anne Marie bring Manny out here. Officer Patton and her father were practically insisting that maybe she shouldn't have come. Apparently, Rachel Rhodes was digging where she shouldn't, and the more she dug, the more people would be looking for not only Toby, but "the young woman at the center of it", said Officer Patton. Manny wouldn't get a minute's peace, they believed.

They were a little more forthcoming with details, however, so Manny hushed her inner complaints. A crude bundle full of shards was left on Toby's doorstep. Justin had disappeared weeks ago. They took possession of his computer from his grandfather's house and were meticulously going through the files and CPU. They were also considering confiscating Toby's computer as well. That was the point where her heart ached. Toby wasn't materialistic in the least, but he loved his computer. It held a lot of sentimental value, for him and for them. She thought about when she first went to his house, to tell him and J.T. about Jordan. While she didn't say anything then, she finds it funny now that she was technically the first girl he had over at his home. Of course, Emma came later so they could watch that boring turtle documentary. She was first, though. Wow, there were so many firsts with him and the last thing she wanted to do was to stay home, showing that she didn't care.

So she did something drastic. After calling J.T., who begrudgingly told her that there was a program, she threatened to go to Toby 's house herself, in clear earshot of Officer Patton. Officer Patton nearly choked on his bagel. Everybody knew it wouldn't be an innocent house visit this time around. She negotiated. If they let her go to the program, she'd return to L.A. in three days. Three days isn't a lot of time and yes, she was giving in a bit. However, three days is enough time to have Toby know that she's behind him. Joseph called Toby's father, getting the reassurance of increased security, and that was that. Manny rubs Toby's back as Marco approaches an erected podium.

Toby grins at her and faces forward.

"Greetings, members of the Degrassi community, Rabbi Miller, and chief elders of the temple," says Marco, after tapping the microphone. "Though we were brought together under unfortunate circumstances, the fact that we have come is a message to those who fear what we believe that we're not going anywhere."

He's met with enthusiastic applause and it deadens after a full minute.

"Today, we are not silenced by an invisible threat," continues Marco. "We are drawn together to show our unflinching support for one of our own. We're doing this because of a young man who's loyally served us. As the former president of Degrassi Community School, I've had the opportunity to work with Toby Isaacs as the school's treasurer. Last year, he served as vice president, and president of the Computer Club, in addition to serving on other school committees such as the drama club schoolwide festival. I've witnessed his compassion, fairness, and intelligence firsthand."

Manny beams at Toby and squeezes his hand. His face is brightening by the second. After being teased in school, this had to be a complete turn around in that respect.

"I'd like to thank Rabbi Miller, my fellow students and alumni, Matthew Stern, Ebony Wiggins, Christian Michaels, the Degrassi police force....."

As the list continues, Manny lets Toby's hand go and lets both of them rest in her lap. She didn't mean to release him. His hand was delicate and comforting to hold. She just remembered where she was sitting last time, craning her neck to a spot currently occupied by Theresa Tellman, the Miss Degrassi director. Wow, she came? Manny's tempted to wave, except that she's not certain that's good synagogue conduct. Yet, flashes of her first day here enter her mind. She was so happy and there were no road bumps for her and Toby. She was sitting in the rear of the synagogue, celebrating a milestone in his life. Kendra was in California. Justin was more annoying than threatening. Toby was innocent and excited, and in a way, so was she. Everything seemed to be going right. Now, she's sitting up front for a much different reason. Would things ever be innocent again? Her heart would like it to be, and she'd guess Toby felt the same. Sometimes they did feel the same. Manny twists her lips as she stares at her folded hands.

_"Please tell me you sent me a valentine," sighed J.T., leaning over Manny's shoulder to watch her type._

_He popped his strawberry scented gum near her cheek._

_"Ewww!" cried Manny._

_"That means you have to get Liberty one," teased Emma, giggling with Manny._

_"I'm not getting a girl anything," assured J.T. "Or else I'd end up like..."_

_J.T. paused as Toby rolled his eyes. It was the day after and everyone had heard. News like that always traveled around junior high. Who kissed who, who liked who, who was mad at who for decorating their locker with felt hearts and strategically placed photographs...._

_"Can't we discuss Power Point presentations?" said Toby, pointedly._

_"Sure," said J.T., nodding._

_They stayed quiet, a supportive silence. The silence didn't last for too long, though._

_"J.T., did you find anything mildly interesting in your composition book?" asked Liberty as she walked towards him with a large smile._

_Eyes lowered, J.T. hesitantly held up a heart cut out of construction paper, with glitter on the edges. In the center, someone had taped a picture of J.T. wearing swimming goggles and an inner tube with a plastic frog head. Emma and Manny giggled even louder._

_"I knew you were feeding the guinea pigs in Hatzilakos' class during lunch," said Liberty. "It was an extra picture after I did the homage to you. Consider it a friendly gesture a couple days in advance."_

_Liberty walked away to take her seat, the closest one to Snake's desk._

_"It's a little too friendly," muttered J.T._

_"Plenty of time to make one yourself, J.T.," teased Emma._

_"Plenty of time to make one yourself, J.T.," repeated J.T. in a squeaky Emma impression._

_Although, rather than throw it into the trashcan, he slipped it into his backpack and zipped it up tight. Manny always thought he secretly liked the attention. It is nice to do something for somebody and for someone to know they're liked. She did that for Craig and he sort of brushed her off. Alright, he didn't like it. Maybe it was out of fashion, in addition to making the other person feel smothered, because Kendra didn't like it when Toby did it either. He planned ahead like Liberty, decorated the locker three days before Valentine's, a Sunday. Checking the clock and realizing they had three minutes left before homeroom started, Manny stood and went to the other side where Toby was seated._

_"You tried to warn me," sighed Toby as he stared at the Degrassi screensaver._

_"At least you have a significant other," pointed out Manny. "Craig was so not interested."_

_"Well, I did have a back-up gift," said Toby. "Something smaller. A normal boyfriend thing."_

_"Inquiring minds want to know," encouraged Manny._

_Toby removed a small box from the pocket of his Trapper Keeper and shook it. Manny gasped and immediately held out her hand._

_"Oooh, I'm hungry," said Manny, brightly._

_Laughing, Toby opened the box of conversation hearts. There were maybe thirty of them._

_"Might as well put them to use," said Toby._

_"Can I have...orange?" pleaded Manny sweetly._

_"Okay," replied Toby._

_"Can I have...like all the orange ones?" said Manny._

_"You're not hungry, you're greedy," kidded Toby._

_Manny lightly pushed him. "I'm heartbroken."_

_"Really?" returned Toby with an amused expression._

_She pretended to faint, her face near Toby's keyboard._

_"I can't eat. I can't sleep," groaned Manny. "All I think about is candy. Every second of every day. I have a problem."_

_"So basically, the power's in my hands," said Toby with an affirmative nod. "Why should I?"_

_"Um...do it because I'm cute," said Manny, shrugging._

_It came out completely genuine, which caused both of them to laugh. Toby shook his head and started unloading the candy hearts onto the first page of his notebook._

_"Thank you, Toby," said Manny, rising quickly._

_"Uh-huh," said Toby._

_"This day kinda stinks for me," admitted Manny. "I mean, you see people delivering roses to girlfriends, or hear them making plans to go to the movies or the Dot, and even my dad shaves off his moustache because he knows my mom likes it. So being single? Soooo depressing."_

_"What's more depressing is thinking that your girlfriend hates you," said Toby. "Things were going good, too."_

_"Relationships aren't always sweet and full of lovey dovey words," provided Manny, holding up a Love Hurts candy heart._

_"Why go through it then?" asked Toby._

_"I don't know," said Manny, patting his shoulder. "There's like these other things that make it totally worth it. Like these things that make you never want to let the person go. I mean, they wouldn't have a day dedicated to love if it wasn't worth it, right?"_

_"Right," said Toby, no longer frowning._

_Someone who was frowning was Spinner, knocking on the doorway, a fistful of roses in his hands. Snake groaned and started taking attendance. He and Emma's mom were having minor fights because of Spike's pregnancy mood swings. Emma was spending more time over Manny's house, too._

_"You have two minutes, Gavin," said Snake._

_A few of the girls giggled as Spinner walked into the class. Most of them remembered his butt from mooning the gym more than they remembered his name. Without looking at her, Spinner threw a rose on top of Emma's Media Immersion book._

_"Here," muttered Spinner._

_"Gavin," scolded Snake._

_"I'm only delivering these because Paige promised me some cheesy fries," said Spinner. "Later, eighters."_

_"Eighters?" said Liberty as Spinner left._

_"Grade eight students?" guessed Manny._

_"Lazy lexicon if you ask me," said Liberty as she uncapped her highlighter._

_"Manny!" whispered Emma, excitedly. "It's from Sean!"_

_Manny traded glances with Toby and went back to her best friend. They peered at the message. **Have a cool day, Sean.**_

_"Awww," sighed Manny._

_"A cool day?" cried Emma. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"It's a pink rose. That means he likes you," offered Manny._

_"Have a cool day," repeated Emma. "After I invited him to my house. A cool day! Manny? I mean..."_

_Her words failed her after that._

_"Well, have a cool day," teased Manny._

_"Ah ha ha ha ha!" sung J.T., mischeviously in a low whisper. "You gotta get him a valentine."_

_For once, Manny wasn't jealous and was glad that she was not being teased. Sharing a smile with Toby, he must've been on the same wavelength. Sometimes a friend was really all you needed. Toby slid his notebook with all the orange hearts towards her. She smiled and ate a heart._

Broken out of her reverie by more applause, Manny joins in and refocuses on a couple approaching the podium. A cheery Darcy and Nate were holding two pieces of paper. Darcy's hair was held by a sparkly orange Scrunchie while Nate had on a pale orange dress shirt.

"With the permission of the Toronto police force, we are organizing an event for tomorrow," announces Nate.

"We've decided to paint over the south wall, and make a mural there," explains Darcy. "All community members are encouraged to participate."

Murmurs of appreciation and excitement fill the sanctuary. Manny hasn't seen the wall yet the idea sounds amazing to her. She turns to Toby who releases a quiet sigh.

"Jimmy Brooks and Ellie Nash have submitted an idea for the proposed mural," says Nate. "The wall will be completely white, a fresh slate. Then, we will cover it with hands of different colors to show both unity and difference."

The crowd claps and watches as Darcy puts her hands on her hips.

"_Every member of the Spirit Squad has signed up_," sing-songs Darcy. "So don't be slackers, people."

Amused chuckles follow Darcy's statement. Nate leaves her alone at the podium, Darcy setting a page on the podium.

"I've been asked by Marco to read a passage of Scripture," says Darcy, then clearing her throat. "This is from first John, chapter 4, verses 7, 11, and 12."

Manny hasn't read her Bible in months, or maybe longer, gazing at her parents briefly. They seem very pleased to hear it. Maria clutches Joseph's arm.

"Beloved, let us love one another," recites Darcy. "For love is of God; and everyone that loveth is born of God and knoweth God...beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another. God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in us."

Toby smiles at Manny for a second and looks at Darcy.

"I firmly believe in those words," says Darcy. "And so does Rabbi Miller. That's why he and the elders agreed, with your permission, Toby, that the mural should be named after you."

Manny's jaw drops almost as much as Toby's does. She claps enthusiastically, the leader in resonant applause for the notion. Toby appears speechless. He finally nods slowly.

"Cool," says Darcy, giving him the thumbs up while everyone laughs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Ashley and Craig moving to a corner room. They must be involved in the program. It's funny. She would've cared where they were going and what they were doing a couple years ago. Today, she doesn't. She's more set on keeping tabs on Ashley's brother.

J.T. and Liberty, on the other hand, were moving to the podium. There seemed to be a couples set-up to this whole shebang, or it's only her imagination. J.T. displayed his leg with the bandanna for everyone to see. Several people laugh, though it didn't seem as funny as Darcy's gesture.

"Toby Isaacs, this is your life," says J.T. in a microphone, this time outdoing Darcy.

"What my creative cohort means is, we're here to tell you a few things about a relationship we admire," speaks up Liberty.

"We've known them since they were barely teenagers," joins in J.T., sincerely. "They're probably the two most loyal people I've ever met, and I'd trust either with my life. Whether they are supporting each other's ambitions, listening to one another with care and respect, or talking about each other affectionately, their relationship is something to be appreciated and not derided."

They're met with polite applause.

"J.T., I wrote that last sentence," whispers Liberty, even though you can hear her statement via the microphone.

"Oh...yeah," says J.T. "Sorry."

"Never mind," waves off Liberty, then smiling. "No matter their romantic state, the one thing that glorifies their relationship more than others is a foundation of friendship. J.T. and I have been privileged to watch Toby and Manny continually look out for the other as friends. It is a bond that we know cannot be destroyed by intolerance. We love them and will stand by them."

The room claps wildly with the end of their words. It's one thing to be privileged to watch, and it's another to be privileged to be one of those people in their relationship. Manny threads her hands through Toby's, who strokes her knuckles with his thumb. If there is ever a point where they're going to pray, she's going to pray these three days last forever.

II.

"Your shirt scares me," admits Ashley.

Craig stares innocently at his choice of attire. It was a shirt with a skull, with orange flames around it. The shirt made Kate Kerwin do a double take, too. Craig puts his guitar strap over his head.

"It was either this or Angie's hall monitor sash," defends Craig.

"Angie gets to bark orders in the hallways?" says Ashley, rubbing her hands together. "Cool."

"Yeah. She's like _stop, children, what's that sound_....," sings Craig.

"_Everybody look what's going round_," finishes Ashley. "Look at us. Finishing each other's choruses."

"When did that happen?" says Craig.

"Hmm, not sure," says Ashley. "Our voices just kinda find each other. We're definitely going to need it today."

"Last minute prep is bleh," agrees Craig. "But I'm really glad I'm part of this."

"Me too," says Ashley.

The two of them were tucked away in the anteroom reviewing their music. Thankfully, the song is pretty simple to the point where they can sightread. Craig hasn't had to sightread in ages. When he performed at the battered women's shelter this past winter, where he also had to cram in a short time span, he at least had heard of the songs Diane mentioned. This was a song he'd heard maybe once, largely because the hall monitor of the Jeremiah household was a Disney supporter.

"At least we're not singing," sighs Craig.

"Or acting look fools to get recognition," adds a glum Ashley.

Craig set down his guitar again and put an arm around her. On the plane ride home, he'd kept an eye on her. Sometimes their conversations would last a long length of time, and sometimes they were full of two word answers or questions. He was glad they were getting away from the tour for a bit. Any temptations that have or didn' t have to do with Mark would be out of sight, and hopefully out of mind. That apparently isn't the case after Ashley's final words.

"You're going to be as good as new when we go back," assures Craig.

"All the other performers will think I'm some dumb girl," moans Ashley.

"Not Mark," he mutters under his breath.

Luckily, Ashley doesn't hear and starts smoothing her hair in a nearby mirror.

"At least my mom didn't go into cardiac arrest when she saw my hair," says Ashley, shrugging.

"And her contempt for me was noticeably lower," says Craig.

"Probably short-lived," guesses Ashley. "No offense."

"Nah, I'm expecting it to end," says Craig. "She wanted to know if I was spending any time doing my _own_ stuff."

He was sort of insulted by the question, moreso because she asked it with ease. It was a subtle dig, but a dig nonetheless.

"It's just to her, you're still the guy that cheated and made me cry in my room," says Ashley, facing him. "Never mind all the good stuff."

He'd love for Kate to think the opposite. True, he's never sat down and talked with her about what he did and why he did it. He's not sure he could be coherent. Kate intimidated him _that_ much. But facing a future without Ashley was more intimidating, and he's set on making that stick.

"Well, you...you don't feel that way, do you?" asks Craig.

"After what you've done for me this summer? Definitely not," replies Ashley.

Craig beams and retrieves his guitar, ready to play all day, any day with her.

III.

The middle part of the program is full of prayer. Most of the elders who were here today Toby hasn't met. Their interactions were usually with Rabbi Miller and the other, older members of the synagogue. They lead these prayers, some which required everyone to stand, and others that allowed them to stay in place. Most were said in English. Elder Feinberg lead them in a doxoloxy. Because of his Confirmation classes, Toby knew this was done in Christian services, but it was really derived from a Jewish practice. He noticed the Santoses looked the most comfortable during this part. This one called for them to stand. Manny closes her eyes first, and Toby does the same. He wishes he wore his kippah.

"We humbly come before you to ask for guidance during this troubling hours," prays Elder Feinberg. "We know that you know what needs to be done. We thank you that we can seek you when light seems so distant. We ask that you touch the hearts of these young, hate-filled children...."

Toby's eyes flutter open instinctively. They manage to meet Clara's, whose eyes look as if they've never been shut. She'd been staring at him. She mouths "sorry" to him. He nods at her as the prayer finishes.

Clara walks to the podium and strokes the sides of it. Toby catches Christian sitting up a little higher in his chair. Clara releases a deep breath as people sit.

"Two years ago, I met two young men," starts Clara. "They were both equally skilled in computer science. At times, they both felt misunderstood. They both loved their religion. Then, one day, one of the young men told me he was unhappy."

Toby stares at her and set his palms against his knees. He feels Manny shift in the seat next to him.

"The young man's parents told him outright that they wanted a different son," says Clara, sniffling. "Someone more adequate and less pathetic. These comments crushed his gentle spirit. How can you love yourself if your own parents don't want anything to do with you?"

Toby tries not to look at her any longer. Part of him doesn't want to listen, to this sympathy regarding Justin. It's not because he doesn't care; it makes him feel guilty and he's uncomfortable with it. When he ignored Justin, it must've hurt him. Didn't it? Justin told Toby himself that he didn't have many friends and Toby saw how the neighborhood kids treated him. Is it really any wonder why he's so cold?

"This young man left and searched for a place where he'd finally fit in," continues Clara as tears roll down her nose. "He lost himself along the way. The one...the one consolation I can offer this young man, if he were to hear me, is that the half of him that was good and kind hasn't been forgotten. It hasn't been."

Clara wipes her face furiously, not having much success in keeping more tears at bay.

"To the other young man," says Clara, focusing on Toby. "I thank him for being my friend. I thank him for following his convictions. I thank him for being a true testament of our faith and love, of which the Talmud says, "where there is love, no room is too small". I hope any conflict we've had is small enough that we can repair our friendship."

Toby pushes himself upward as Clara smiles. She'd already lost one of the young men in her life, and he didn't want to be the other. Clara departs from the podium and rushes to hug Toby. He pats her back briefly before she hugs Manny as well.

After Clara returns to her chair, Ashley and Craig, guitar against his chest, leave the anteroom. Ebony and Matthew, holding microphones, walk down the steps until they're in clear view of the crowd. Ashley sets herself behind the piano and plays a few bars. Craig sits on the carpeted stage and following a count of four, he begins to play a slow, lulling melody.

"This is dedicated to Toby and Manny," says Matthew into the microphone, and then starts to sing.

_If I never knew you  
If I never felt this love  
I would have no inkling of  
How precious life can be  
And if I never held you  
I would never have a clue  
How at last I find in you  
The missing part of me_

Blushing fiercely, Ebony looks around the sanctuary, refocusing on Matthew after a few seconds. Matthew continues:

_In this world so full of fear  
Full of raging lies  
I can see the truth so clear  
In your eyes, so dry your eyes  
And I'm so grateful to you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you_

Toby believes he's heard this song awhile ago. Checking to see Manny's reaction to the tune, her expression is clearly more touched than Ebony's even if Matthew isn't gazing into Manny's eyes lovingly. In fact, Manny seems downright enraptured, turning to Toby. Ebony sings:

_If I never knew you  
I'd be safe, but half as real  
Never knowing I could feel  
A love so strong and true  
And I'm so grateful to you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you_

He loves seeing Manny this joyful, loves seeing her period. He thought it was near impossible that he'd see her anymore during the summer. Truly, he sort of sowed the seed for that to happen. He wanted her to be safe so he thought that meant weeks apart, or who knows? Maybe longer. So how is it going to be once the program has ended? Will their happiness end too? That would be, to quote Manny before she left him at the airport, "brutal".

Ebony's voice is a lot more pure than Matthew's, which is kind of raspy. Still, it sounds like they're both choking back tears or maybe that's just how he hears it. There was no singing or any program during the shooting. There were counselling sessions at school with Ms. Sauve or in-class discussions and for him, private meetings with Rabbi Miller. It was tough being in the same room where the majority had no clue how scary it was to watch someone die. More than a year later now, he had that awful dream about Manny when he thought all would be well. There were plenty of times when things were well between them. Those were the moments he'd endure anything for.

_Being in the mall made his heart quicken. He could be driving past it or talking about it and it wouldn't have the same charm. No, he actually had to be inside for the more positive inner monologues to start._

_This is the site of our first date, thought Toby as he and Manny went past a smoothie stand. The movies in the mall. It is also the site where he first said "I love you". To keep the romance alive, and to lower the stress of her being Miss Degrassi, they decided to take an annual trip here to walk around and reminisce. They would always end up at Gizmos n' Things without Toby asking and Manny humored his adulation over the store's newest offerings. Then, they'd make sure to make a beeline to Campanelli's hardware store, and Manny loved to repeat the story of how she left the place to go find him at the bus station. She routinely told the story with energy and he loved to hear it every month. Who wouldn't want to hear it repeatedly? Okay, perhaps a couple people less sentimental like J.T., but Toby mentally asserted that his own opinion was the only one that mattered._

_They stopped near a department store, some knockoff of J.C. Penney's or Macy's. Maybe it was J.C. Macy's. Toby didn't keep track of stores he steered away from. Manny had already purchased two shirts for sale at Pretty Pretty, where she told another story about her and Paige buying the same prom dress. That was less romantic, but pretty funny. The more romantic story was nearing an end._

_"And I watched your bus, bound for Kytel Computer Camp, speed away in the cold," finished Manny._

_"A true movie of the week ending," said Toby, smiling._

_"Don't say that!" reprimanded Manny. "Our ending was in the restaurant, a happier ending. And we're more classic than a movie of the week. I'm talking kissing-in-the-rain, making-out-in-a-meadow, carry-me-upstairs potential. We're that epic, Tobes."_

_He dropped the shopping bag and attempted to pick her up, Manny laughing with protest._

_"You said you wanted to be carried," said Toby. "I could carry you up the escalator."_

_"How come you take me so literally half the time?" whispered Manny, glancing at a few curious customers._

_"Because I literally love you," replied Toby as he retrieved the bags._

_Well, she didn't argue with that._

_"Awww," sighed Manny, linking her arm through his._

_"Do you know what time is it?" asked Toby. "Promised Mr. Simpson I'd have you home by eleven."_

_"Eleven oh five," corrected Manny. "He said we could have an extra five minutes."_

_"Whoa, you really worked him over," complimented Toby, letting his arm move from her shoulder to her waist._

_"I'm that good," bragged Manny._

_Mannequins in different spring fashions lined the aisles where they walked. Shirts and pants were folded into squares, while watches and brooches were on display on a sales rack. Toby bent down to check the digital numbers._

_"It can't be two-fifteen," said Toby, checking his own watch. "And there are no clocks... anywhere._

_Manny bursted out laughing._

_"What?" said Toby._

_"Toby, for a math genius, you don't know much about numbers and shopping protocol," said Manny, tenderly. "They don't put clocks anywhere because they want you to focus on other numbers, namely the price. The more time you spend in here, the better."_

_How strange, but yeah, it made sense._

_"That's....smart," admitted Toby._

_"Well, so are you," said Manny, kissing her cheek._

_"Free samples!" yelled a salesgirl at the counter. "Try our newest scent! Free samples!"_

_"Free until they get you to buy it," murmured Manny. "Still...."_

_Rather than complete her sentence, she dragged Toby to the counter. Toby was grateful for it. He got to rest his arm and set down the bag. Manny didn't ask him to hold the bag, but he saw his dad do it for Kate a couple times when they were first dating._

_"Interested?" said the salesgirl, cheerfully. "Charlize Theron chose this scent herself."_

_"No way!" cried Manny. "She's like my favorite Academy-Award winning actress in the past seven years! Minus her boring turn in Hancock. But other than that, heck yeah!"_

_"I can give you a little spritz and then you can see how you like it," offered the salesgirl._

_"Spray please," prompted Manny._

_The salesgirl held the golden bottle to Manny's hand and squirted her wrist. Manny smelled it for a second._

_"I don't know," said Manny honestly. "Toby?"_

_"Uh, I don't wanna wear perfume," said Toby, nervously._

_The two girls laugh, Manny holding her hand in front of Toby's face._

_"You are my boyfriend now," said Manny, shyly._

_Grinning, Toby delicately takes her wrist and briefly holds it to his nose. Manny lowers her eyes as her cheeks become more red. It kind of smelled like vanilla and he's always liked that smell so......_

_"Ooooh, his eyes lit up!" exclaimed the salesgirl. "That's a total sign."_

_"Yeah. I like it," admitted Toby as he lifted his head._

_"Then, I will get a bottle," decided Manny._

_"Thirty dollars," informed the salesgirl. "Let me wrap the bottle for you."_

_"That's...that's not too much?" he whispered to Manny._

_"You'd be surprised how much girls are willing to spend to beautify themselves, Toby," said Manny with an amused grin. "That was clear to me post-pageant. Besides, I want to treat myself before drama camp starts. You also get to reap the benefits."_

_"Okay," said Toby, raising his eyebrows._

_While Manny received the bottle and chatted with the salesgirl, Toby milled around the men's section, taking in the different ties and immaculate suits. One suit stood out above the rest. It was a black suit with an off-white dress shirt, and a maroon tie. The maroon tie had tiny ships on the front of it. Toby glanced at the shiny mall floor. The suit was almost an exact copy of his. He'd worn it to the Academic Bowl, returned to school in that suit covered with yellow paint and white feathers, had on only the off-white shirt and maroon tie when he met them in a hall. Rick's maroon tie would be imprinted in Toby's mind forever. He saw it touch the floor when Rick lay dead on the ground. Somebody tapped his shoulder. He jumped and put a hand on his heart when he saw Manny._

_"It's just me," said Manny._

_"I...yeah, yeah. Just you," stammered Toby._

_"I sweet talked the time out of the salesgirl," revealed Manny. "We better head for the car."_

_Toby opened the bag for Manny to put the smaller perfume bag inside. She kept her gaze on him until they reached the last section of the department store, with bedding and pillows of various shades and prints._

_"Manny," said Toby, letting his feet freeze in that spot._

_"Yes?" said Manny._

_"Tomorrow...tomorrow's the anniversary of the shooting," said Toby. "It came to me just now, I guess."_

_Manny walked to where he stood, her beautiful, bright eyes scanning his face._

_"It's good to remember it," assured Manny._

_"Why?" replied Toby, truly surprised._

_"So you can see how far you've come," explained Manny. "How strong you've been since then."_

_"I'm not sure I want to remember," said Toby. "Not something that dark."_

_"But can you forget it?" said Manny._

_There was only one answer to that question. Toby breathed deeply and hung his head._

_"No," replied Toby._

_"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Toby," said Manny, cupping her chin. "Nothing. You couldn't have changed it. Things happen and you move on."_

_"I...," began Toby doubtfully._

_"You move on," repeated Manny._

_Toby dropped the shopping bag, not to rest his feet, but to hug her that time. Manny chuckled and returned it._

_"Just don't move on from me," added Manny jokingly._

_"I won't," said Toby, pecking her on the lips. "Trust me."_

He's uncertain if she does trust him. Toby stares at Matthew and Ebony, whose relationship seems so fresh and alive compared to his own. They were singing with their full hearts, no worry on the horizon. It didn't matter who they worshipped or what they looked like, and he wants that, too. Toby closes his eyes as they both sing the bridge:

_I thought our love would be so beautiful  
Somehow we'd make the whole world right  
I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong  
But still my heart is saying we were right  
We were right  
And if I never knew you  
If I never knew you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Empty as the sky  
Never knowing why  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you_

What had they lost? Nothing, thinks Toby, guilt flowing through his body like blood. He lost the most important things-- his happiness, Manny, his freedom. This program would end and reality would crawl back in like a venomous snake. That would be the case until Justin was caught.

"Lost forever, if I never knew you," sing Matthew and Ebony in unison.

Toby opens his eyes, hearing Manny's hands smack against each other as everyone applauds, Craig and Ashley playing the last parts of the song.

Rabbi Miller stands, the sanctuary growing quiet. He made that impression. Services always grew quiet when Rabbi Miller was ready to speak. The rabbi wore his tallit, kippah, and an orange ribbon. He has no book or papers with him. It is only himself.

"The first time I came to this synagogue, I was impressed by the architecture," says Rabbi Miller. "The second? I was impressed by the sheer enthusiasm of my fellow believers. Today, I am impressed by something new, the vitality of Degrassi's community spirit. That you would leave your homes, businesses, and other commitments to show your support in such a small window of time, says something about what love means and how it should take form."

Toby glanced at chair after chair. Everybody is smiling and eager to hear more.

"Because of the nature of the situation, I have been permitted to know certain details about the investigation," shares Rabbi Miller. "And I'm moved to make this very clear. The Zionist youth movement is not, on any level, affiliated with racist beliefs. National pride and appreciation for our history, and how we overcame struggles, should not be enforced in a way that belittles other creeds or cultures. Anything coming out of the mouths of these young, misguided groups are lies."

From afar, Rabbi Miller stares at Toby warmly, eventually returning his gaze to the full width of the sanctuary.

"Friends, and I do mean friends," says Rabbi Miller. "I know some of you may be disheartened or scared. Some of us may be asking why. All I can offer to you are the wise words of not a prophet I've studied or those of a fellow rabbi, but of the young man we came to honor today. He said he couldn't remember a single battle where love and peace weren't the ultimate aim. So let peace be our goal during thesee trying days. I think that statement is more than applicable."

Rabbi Miller descends the steps to echoing applause, opening his arms. Toby stands and embraces him firmly. He can't believe Rabbi Miller had used his speech in that speech. It was a message to keep going. He should at least try to do that. Rabbi Miller releases him as Toby's eyes grow increasingly more wet.

"Would you...like to say something?" asks Rabbi Miller.

Say something? What could he say? Toby glances at Manny, who provides a nervous smile. He peers at the bimah, glowing under the light. If he spoke there once, he can speak again.

Toby runs his fingers through his hair, hoping he didn't mess it up. He can't mess up. On the other hand, he has to let them know how much all of this means to him. They can't go home without being aware that they've touched him. He places his palms against the top of the podium.

Start with the simple things and keep going, he tells himself. Do the easy part first.

"I...I have to thank you all for coming," says Toby, his eyes moving from the Spirit Squad to Christian to Ms. Kwan to so many others.

"I know Manny would say the same," continues Toby.

"I would!" says Manny, probably louder than she intended.

The crowd laughs, as well as Toby, who waits until the noise dies down. Manny speaking let him relax a bit.

"The last few weeks have been...been tough," shares Toby. "It's tough to like hear things you never thought you'd hear. Especially in this day of age, where you live, where you feel comfortable."

Toby repositions his glasses.

"But I guess I had to understand some things," says Toby. "That I should ask for help, and not hide, and when I feel...when I feel things, I should feel them firmly and not care what anyone has to say. These people aren't living my life."

He's glad to view his father and his mother exchange grins full of pride.

"And it's all the better because you guys are in it," continues Toby. "At school, I've kept to myself and made it a goal to blend in as best I could. Still, I felt pretty invisible until the election. But today, I don't know? I feel pretty popular."

Laughter follows this sentiment, and Toby shrugs.

"Well, you know what I mean," says Toby. "And regarding who I choose to spend my time with, inside and outside of the synagogue...."

He stares at Manny, an unwavering stare.

"I don't think I fell in love with the wrong person," finishes Toby, confidently. "I have always, always cared about her, and the only difference between us now is...for me, I don't think it's ever been this strong."

Manny stares at her feet, moving her hair back as she smiles. He spies the glint of her Star of David necklace against her skin and gives the crowd a last smile.

"Thank you all so much," says Toby. "I really mean it."

Another standing ovation greets him as he heads down the steps. Jeff and Anne Marie flank him, and he's surrounded by hugs. If more trouble is coming, he'll think of this moment. He'll think of this moment and live through it.

IV.

"Some ceremony," says Ellie, elbowing Marco as he places some folders into his bag.

"Yeah, Toby's thanked me five times," laughs Marco. "He's such a sweet guy."

"He is," says Ellie.

"So what are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?" inquires Marco.

"Might spend it with Ash," replies Ellie. "I mean, who knows when I'll see her after the tour, when driver's ed rears its ugly head?"

"But I'm still your bestest...," starts Marco.

"My bestest, bestest, bestest friend?" interrupts Ellie. "Of course!"

"Better be," murmurs Marco, leaving to talk to Jimmy.

Ellie nudges him with a hip and tries to locate Ashley through the moving body of people. She immediately spots Craig conversing with Mr. Simpson, Ashley nowhere near the vicinity. Ugh, it is sort of pressing that they talk. When Ellie called her, it was just to relay the information from Marco about the program. She didn't let on that she knew anything and it's making her stomach burn that she didn't.

Sean stole from Ashley. Those four words sound so foreign in her mind. He stole from Ashley. You don't do that to your girlfriend's best friend. She came with Marco, though she did think she saw Sean in the rear of the sanctuary. It would be a very Sean thing to come. Now was it a Sean thing to steal? Okay, yes, he stole a few things two years ago, and yes that included stealing from their favorite teacher, Mr. Simpson. But he made it right. Can't Sean make it right in this instance? Ellie massages her forehead, which started to bother her following Toby's address to the crowd.

"El!" cries Ashley, excusing herself as she passes Derek and Danny, staring at her butt as she goes.

Ellie shakes her head at them and they briskly walk in the other direction.

"What's with the head shake?" asks Ashley.

"You don't want to know," replies Ellie, hugging her. "I missed you."

"Me too," says Ashley.

"Only one postcard?" pouts Ellie. "I'm sure there's more than one Gothic building in England!"

"Sorry, I've been busy," says Ashley.

"Tell me how things are going," encourages Ellie.

This is good. The more Ashley talks, the less chance she'll mention her car or Sean.

"Um...I'm going to be in a newspaper, the _Tart_," supplies Ashley.

"That's a major one, right?" cries Ellie. "My aunt in Fergis reads it. That and the _Onion_."

"Good taste," says Ashley, grinning. "Okay, next free day, I'll send you and Meredith make-up postcards. Anyway, where's Sean? I'd love to talk to him about my car that's currently ready to go, right?"

"Uh...he went off with someone, I'm thinking," says Ellie, cautiously.

"Maybe Craig knows," sighs Ashley. "Try to call me tonight, okay? Craig and I leave at noon."

"That soon?" sighs Ellie.

"It sucks," agrees Ashley.

"Fine," says Ellie, hugging Ashley and watching her leave afterwards.

That was one way to avoid the problem. Ellie rolls her eyes. Her head throbs in succession and her stomach is in knots. In a way, she's glad Ashley's leaving so soon. She hates doing this.

IV.

She hates doing this. As content as she is letting Toby make the rounds and speaking with his teachers, the local businessowners, and the like, this unfortunately created a lot of dead air as she stood awkwardly next to the other members of her family. And who she basically means is her mother. Craig was a few yards away in a group that included Paige, Hazel, and Jimmy. She hopes Craig isn't telling them any London stories, not that she thinks he'd do that. Still, it wouldn't hurt to silently wish it.

"Your father tells me you're going to have an interview in a paper," says Kate out of the blue.

Craig must've contacted Robert and Chris, because she didn't. She didn't want anyone to read that disastrous interview.

"Yeah," replies Ashley quietly.

"Am I going to get a copy?" says Kate.

"Whatever," says Ashley, staring at her nails.

"Ashley, you've been moody every time we're alone," sighs Kate. "If you're that upset with me, weeks later, fine. But I deserve more than a whatever. I am your mother."

"Fine," says Ashley.

"Do you talk this way to Craig?" smirks Kate. "With one word answers?"

Lately, yeah, thinks Ashley. She just doesn't feel like dealing with anything other than her music, like her judgmental mother. Craig's right. There's plenty of opportunities to show she's as good as they thought she was when she was offered the tour spot.

"Mom, I'll have Dad mail you a copy," promises Ashley.

"Thank you," says Kate. "So where does Craig sleep?"

Ashley lets her mouth part in surprise.

"Where do _you_ think he sleeps?" returns Ashley.

Kate huffs. "I told Robert you had an attitude when he was in town."

"It's because you keep prying where you don't need to pry," says Ashley, crossing her arms. "And Craig does have his separate bunk, for the record."

She starts down the aisle, Kate stopping her in her tracks.

"I worry about you," whispers Kate.

"Believe it or not, I can take care of myself," insists Ashley.

"Craig broke your heart last time," reminds Kate. "I have a right to be cautious."

Craig's not breaking anything. She's breaking, from trying to please everybody. She's tired of pleasing everybody, particularly anybody that consistently questions her decisions.

"He's not a good influence, Ashley," says Kate. "I'm afraid that when you look at him, you'll get lost in love, he'll feel pressured, and he'll wander off and find someone else like last time. He should be doing his own thing and letting you do things by yourself. Time apart. That's what hurt your relationship not too long ago."

So not true. She is the one who felt the pressure and needed to escape to go to England, where she wound up lost anyway. Craig somehow kept himself together and forgave her for hurting him. They're on equal footing. Her mother would have to accept it.

"I came for Toby," says Ashley, her voice stern. "Are we done?"

"I guess so," returns Kate, frowning as she walks past her daughter and down the aisle.

V.

"You're supposed to be in bed, punk," chides Tracker on the other end.

Sean stares at his cell and then puts it back against his ear. Tracker went to Sean's apartment earlier this morning, fully expecting his brother to be resting. He figures he probably should rest what with the doctor's orders being to do it. He hates staying on the sofa or in bed, though. The pills were making most of his injuries seem like next to nothing, save for an occasional muscle spasm. It also hurt when he got inside his car, but the pain was momentary.

"I'll go straight home, no stops," promises Sean.

"I'll come by later then," sighs Tracker, hanging up with that last statement.

To be completely honest with himself, he is avoiding Tracker. Watching Ellie's face fall from innocence to disappointment caused a pain no medicine could cure. Seeing that repeated in Tracker is currently more than he can handle. Ellie's trust almost never wavered when things got suspicious, even when he showed up to her graduation dinner looking mangled and miserable. She sacrificed her free time to take care of him. She was simply being Ellie and he went along with it for much too long. Sean taps the top of his chair and tries to find any traces of red hair in the sanctuary. There was a red-hairedRabbi Feinberg talking with that girl Clara, and Toby's mom had red hair, yet no Ellie. He should go, look for her later.

"Ashley wanted to know about her car," says a hesitant voice behind him.

Ellie stands there, hands stuffed in her black jacket.

"Oh," says Sean.

"Are you...going home?" asks Ellie.

"I am," answers Sean.

Offer her a ride home, idiot, he moans inwardly. This is the perfect opportunity for you to talk to her. She approached you. Do it.

"See you," says Ellie, walking past him.

"Bye," says Sean when she's no longer anywhere near him.

Well, that was pointless. Sean lets himself fall into the chair in silent frustration. He misses when their conversations were natural and he wasn't planning ways to be around her. The sole plan back then was repairing Snake's car before the end of the summer.

_"If what's his face catches us hanging around, is he going to call the cops?" asked Jay._

_He kicked a plastic baby manatee under Mr. Simpson's car and it let out a low squeak. It looked like it came from a Happy Meal. Sean put down his toolbox and moved to the front of the car._

_"We can say we're here for shop tutoring," offered Alex. "Learning how to fix an ugly car, 101."_

_"The car's fine," defended Jay. "It's the mechanic that's ugly."_

_"Shut up," said Sean, smirking._

_"Oh, that reminds me of this guy I made out with in the backseat after the drag race," said Amy, extremely loudly._

_Sean started to get the hint that Amy might still be interested in him and announcing her hook-ups was a loud effort to make him jealous. He didn't care, and she should've gotten that he didn't care because he never said anything about it or looked at her or pretended to be curious._

_"Amy, we heard this story at lunch," groaned Alex. "Hook up with Towerz and then we might care."_

_Sean and Jay laughed at that, imagining Towerz going from someone like Liberty to Amy. Sean had to laugh._

_"I just thought someone might want to know," said Amy, looking a bit defeated._

_The door opened and Ellie stepped onto the stoop with her black boots. Sean smiled at her and stopped fiddling with the ignition. Emma propped her head out of the window, Manny doing the same._

_"Um, I think only Sean has authorization to be on our lawn," called Emma._

_"Yeah," added Manny, then more meekly. "Yeah."_

_"I guess we could go trash the ravine," said Alex, smirking at Emma._

_"Hey, I'm with that," said Jay._

_Emma shook her head and slammed the window down hard. Manny waved merrily at Sean and they both disappeared. Ellie had gone inside to retrieve some layout ideas for the Grapevine, but appeared to be relieved that the short visit was over. She mainly did stick to the lawn and Mr. Simpson liked her alright to the point where he didn't say anything. As for Jay and Alex? They were...well, they were Jay and Alex. They were interested in seeing what a teacher's house looked like and were now bored._

_"I'm hungry," announced Jay._

_"The community center has vending machines," suggested Alex. "Like very, very giving vending machines if you know where to put your hands."_

_"Peace," said Jay, throwing up a peace sign and walking away, his arm swung around Alex._

_"I'm coming," said Amy. "Bye Sean."_

"_Bye," said Sean, immediately putting his head under the hood._

_"Bye Pippi Longsticking," said Amy, laughing and tugging on one of Ellie's red pigtails._

_"It's Longstocking," corrected Ellie with a patronizing smile. "And don't touch my hair."_

_"So?" said Amy. "You're a dork for knowing that. Pigtails are so age five, poser."_

_Laughing loudly as she departed, Amy followed Jay and Alex. Sean and Ellie stared after her._

_"Don't ever go to another drag race," said Ellie._

_"Okay," chuckled Sean. "The good news is that I'm practically finished. The ignition's been the real burden. My guess is that Mr. Simpson isn't the best mechanic."_

_"No, that's you," said Ellie, resting her chin on his shoulder._

_He kissed her on the lips and closes the hood._

_"You've been working hard," complimented Ellie._

_"I hate letting people down," sighed Sean. "Especially people that like me. Simpson giving me another chance? I won't forget it."_

_"Hey," consoled Ellie. "You're definitely the type of person that makes the right decisions. I mean, you did decide to stay in Toronto."_

_"And it had nothing to do with you," teased Sean, crouching down next to his toolbox._

"_Yes, you and the cars in Mr. Ehl's class couldn't be separated," said Ellie, grinning._

_"Love at first engine roar," shrugged Sean. "Okay, I need a Phillip's."_

_"Is it this one?" asked Ellie, holding up a screwdriver._

_"I love that you don't know which one it is," laughed Sean. "That's a standard, El."_

_"At least today, I knew it was a screwdriver," defended Ellie. "Uh-huh. Yeah. Me. Ellie Nash."_

_"Yes. You," said Sean, kissing her forehead. "Ellie Nash."_

People are exiting the synagogue, and Sean elects to join them. It was nice when Ellie only didn't know what tool was which. That kind of thing was easy to tell her. Today, there's so much that isn't.

VI.

"If you're going to hate somebody, it should be because they've got bad bangs, not what color they are, you know?" says Heather Sinclair. "And even _bangs_, you can change."

"That's...sweet, Heather," replies Manny with a confused grin.

"No, it's common knowledge," insists Heather. "And hey, I didn't know there were all these hot Hebrew guys hiding in this synagogue? I mean, that Matt guy? Hello!"

"Yeah," says Manny, shaking her head as Heather walks towards Matthew and Ebony.

Boy is she in for a rude awakening. So is Toby, thinks Manny. How is she going to tell him that she's leaving, especially after his beautiful thank-yous? He'd think she didn't feel as strongly as he did, and she did. Her love for him is growing. There's no question about it.

"Manny," says Maria, turning her around and tapping her own neck.

"Oh, thanks!" whispers Manny, hurriedly taking it off.

When she moved back her hair earlier, the Star of David necklace escaped from behind her shirt. She hid it under there, away from the eyes of her father. But it was a sign of the solidarity between her and Toby, and she couldn't think of a more appropriate event in which to wear it. Manny takes it off and Maria slides it into her purse.

"Manny?" says a voice shakily behind her.

Manny whirls around and is less than enthusiastic to talk to this particular person.

"I'll let you talk," says Maria, leaving the two girls alone.

"Hi," says Manny, wearily.

"Hi," says Chante. "I...I'm sorry for the stuff I did, last semester. If it earns me any brownie points, my cousin works at Campanelli's Hardware and they're like donating the white paint for the mural."

"I'm sure Toby appreciates it," offers Manny.

"But...what about you?" asks Chante. "It's not like I'm mean like that Justin guy. I'm not spraypainting stuff on walls or..."

Chante starts to choke back tears, her eyes blinking as she stares at Manny. Manny sighs. The words, good words, from Toby's speech enter her mind. The battle between her and Chante might be seen as frivolous, especially in the wake of the events of this summer. That didn't mean it didn't hurt, but maybe the hurt will start to fade if she forgives.

"When does...when does this wall thing start exactly?" prods Manny. "What should I wear?"

Chante grins from ear to ear. "I'll be there. Hopefully, that won't keep you from coming."

"Nothing can keep me from coming," says Manny, putting an arm around her.


	67. Send Me An Angel

**LXVII. Send Me An Angel**

_Do you believe in heaven above  
do you believe in love.  
Don't tell a lie  
don't be false or untrue  
it all comes back to you.  
Open fire on my burning heart  
I've never been lucky in love.  
My defenses are down a kiss or a frown  
I can't sunrive on my own.  
If a girl walks in and carves her name in my heart  
I'll turn and run away.  
Everyday we've all been led astray  
it's hard to be lucky in love.  
It gets in your eyes  
it's making you cry_

_Don't know what to do  
don't know what to do.  
You're looking for love calling heaven above.  
Send me an angel  
send me an angel  
right now  
right now.  
Send me an angel  
send me an angel  
right now  
right now.  
Empty dreams can only disappoint in a room behind your smile.  
But don't give up  
don't give up  
you can be lucky in love.  
It gets in your eyes  
it's making you cry_

_Send me an angel  
send me an angel  
right now  
right now.  
Send me an angel  
send me an angel  
right now  
right now  
right now._

**Send Me An Angel is the property of Real Life and appears in the film _The Wizard_.**

"Have you given her the ring yet?"

The question is said softly as Toby bends to retrieve a piece of paper that had fallen to the floor. Some other businesses in the mall had heard about Campanelli's Hardware donating the paint, and the owners were kind enough to give him their cards or coupons. It might also be because Manny had regularly interacted with them as Miss Degrassi or as a repeat customer. In any case, he picked up the pay for one, get one for free clip for Tino's Pizza and Subs as Bubbe's cane came into sight.

"No, not yet," says Toby.

He had been ignoring the ring. It was in the dark, in his desk. He kind of chucked the idea of giving it to her after the morning at the airport. After that moment, he pretty much pushed any chance of Manny having it to the realm of "never". He thought Manny would never want to see him again and never accept something from him. But here she is, a stone's throw away, talking with Nate and Darcy.

Bubbe positions her cane near Toby's foot. She was wearing a long, black dress that went to her ankles, looking very ladylike and conservative, but she was wearing bright orange flats which tickled Toby. It was just very her. His father seemed embarrassed by them, and let Aunt Helen and his cousin David sit next to her.

"You'll find the right moment," says Bubbe with a firm nod.

"I'm...I'm not sure how long she's in town for," admits Toby.

He's not sure of anything. While being there for him is a Manny thing to do, what did it mean? Does she want to be his girlfriend? Does she just want to be friends? He could understand that, due to the circumstances. Maybe today just brought it to light. He didn't want to burden her with loads of security and nosy reporters and problems so big that a whole community raises its voice in protest. That's a pretty full plate.

"I'd do it soon," advises Bubbe. "Sometimes situations like this are helped by reminding the other person what they mean to you."

His mind travels back to when Bubbe presented him with the ring and told him the story of how the ring symbolized hope for them. The memory attached to the memento carried great weight, still does, and he is sure it would mean something to Manny, no matter what she decided to be to him.

"You call me at the end of the weekend, or if you ever need to, Tobias," says Bubbe.

"I will," promises Toby, hugging her before she moves to his father.

Alright, thinks Toby. I will ask. It proves to be quite difficult as Manny's surrounded by the entire Spirit Squad now. Toby sighs and pushes forward. He's immediately stopped by someone he talked with earlier.

"That wall's gonna be some sight," says Mr. Campanelli.

Toby tries to peer past his broad shoulders, fails to see Manny, and grins at the business owner.

"I'm definitely coming to help," says Toby.

"Oh, me too, me too," says Mr. Campanelli. "Me and a few of my workers. But if you need anything else, be sure to holler. The customers Manny brought in that day still come in. I never forgot what she did. You take care."

Good. That was a nice and quick conversation. His search is thwarted, however. Manny's disappeared. About to walk to J.T., he's stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you finally available?" says the voice he was hoping to hear.

"For you?" replies Toby. "I am _very_ available."

Manny tucks some hair behind her ear and smiles. He loves when she does that.

"I...I couldn't call you," says Toby.

"Yeah, they explained why," says Manny. "I'm glad they have an officer checking in on Spike's too. With Mr. Simpson and Emma gone, she and Jack are alone."

He didn't know that, although it makes sense with it being Manny's former address. It's yet another family suffering in this complicated web. Toby puts his hands in his pockets.

"Your parents don't like that you're here, do they?" asks Toby.

They both glance at Joseph and Maria, chatting comfortably with Rabbi Miller and Elder Feinberg.

"They're...a little worried," admits Manny.

Of course they're worried. Their daughter is in a potentially dangerous ordeal. Wasn't his first instinct to send her away?

"So you're going to have an entire surface dedicated to you," reminds Manny. "I'm impressed."

"I'm...in shock," says Toby.

Manny laughs and takes his arm, walking with him to the front door of the sanctuary.

"Are you feeling better?" says Manny, halting to face him. "I wish I could've been there for you."

"You're here now," says Toby.

They say nothing for a few seconds, their eyes going in different directions. He should be able to tell her everything he's wanted to tell her-- that he missed her, that he couldn't stop thinking about her, that he doesn't want her to leave. Toby's gaze rests on Officer Wheaton. He's with Officer Patton, the first time he's witnessed them interacting. They were chuckling so it appeared to be a positive discussion at least. He'd love something like that with Manny. If as reading his thoughts, she speaks.

"We've gotten like no privacy," says Manny.

"There's a lounge at the end of the hall," shares Toby. "Last year, I went to study there sometimes."

"You want to....," starts Manny.

"Yeah!" replies Toby, not meaning to interrupt. "I mean, sorry."

Manny throws a guilty look in Officer Patton's direction, but allows Toby to put a hand on her back and guide her towards the room. He feels less guilty after cooperating with them for days. He's allowed a bit of fleeting freedom.

II.

His cellphone vibrates repeatedly. A couple of the officers milling about the parking lot gaze at him curiously. Earlier, they'd been doing small interviews with the program attendees. They had to say their names, how they knew Toby, and give them Marco's name. It was a gripe to many, though extra nerve-wracking for him and no one knew why.

The spindle, for better or for worse, is where he left it. The trunk of his car is full of incriminating evidence that he still hasn't gotten rid of, even after very sensible advice from Jay. There were other things that demanded his attention-- his injuries, Toby's delimma, Tracker checking on him, and Ellie. Ellie, sighs Sean inwardly. He threw a couple of glances at her during the program and she was so far away from him. That might be permanent if he doesn't act, and doesn't act fast.

"Tracker," grumbles Sean, detaching his phone.

No, it's not Tracker, notes Sean immediately. The foreign number flashes by and the person hangs up before Sean answers on the fourth ring. Shaking his head, he starts to unlock his car door.

"Found you!" calls a voice three cars down.

Sean swallows a lump in his throat, and puts on a forced grin for Ashley. Her brown hair, with hints of purple, flies a bit in a light breeze. What's more discreet is his doings with her car. He couldn't put the stolen part in there, could he? Sure, he's pressed for time but they could easily trace the stolen spindle to him if they asked the right questions. Plus, Ashley would get drawn into the deceit, Ellie would be disgusted with his actions, and he'd hate himself, too.

"Hey," says Sean.

"Will my car be ready to cruise around in come August?" asks Ashley. "Jeff just told me one part had to be replaced."

"Sooner, actually," replies Sean, trying to erase any revealing doubt in his reply.

"I'm so glad you're the one who did it," sighs Ashley. "There's all this pressure on tour. It's...."

"You'll pull through," assures Sean.

"Anyway, knowing that I have a friend to deal with this gives me some peace," says Ashley, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Glad to do it," says Sean.

"Have to stop by Craig's," says Ashley, gesturing to Joey's car.

"Okay. Um, good luck," says Sean.

"Thanks, Sean!" she calls, then jogging to the Jeremiah vehicle.

The car backs out, flows through the parking lot breezily, and heads down the road. Sean gets into his own car. His key is put into the ignition, remains there. It almost didn't seem fit to be on the same road with a driver that trusts him completely. He finally turns the key after a few minutes. The sharp edges of the key touch his fingers, glint like the edge of a knife ready to cut.

III.

"See, this is how you take out a heart," says Manny, squeezing the tweezers before carefully putting them into the small hole.

Toby stretches his arms and tries to contain a yawn. Though he's tired, he's had a smile on his face for the last fifteen minutes. There was an annoying voice in his head reminding him that their parents were probably looking for either of them. He just didn't want to let her go yet.

The game beeps and the man's nose glows bright red. Toby chuckles. Manny hits the side of the game and presents him with the tweezers. They'd found this in a small box of toys and games for the synagogue daycare, held when service was in session. He hasn't played Operation since he was maybe eight.

Toby takes out the wish bone without much trouble.

"What?" cries Manny.

"You're sure you've played this before?" asks Toby with a smirk.

"Yes!" says Manny, defensively. "The funny bone looks easy. Ha!"

She almost gets it but has to drop it when she hits the side of the hole again.

"This game's rigged," proclaims Manny, shaking her head.

"It's all hand and eye coordination," says Toby. "But you do have twenty-twenty vision..."

"Which is not helping," sighs Manny. "Maybe it's the hand part. You must have really firm fingers."

"Nah, my palms are kind of sweaty," says Toby. "Might be because you're around."

Manny answers with a grin and sets about removing the Adam's apple. She hasn't gone for the broken heart anymore. The man whose body they were looking at didn't have a clue what it's like to have a real broken heart. The man did, however, know what it's like when someone rips out your heart. That might be easier seeing as you'd be dead and you couldn't feel the pain. Thinking of death prompts a far more sinister memory. The dream where Manny died comes to fruition as she bends over the game. There is Rick taunting Toby for lying to him, trying to read how much Toby cared about her, Toby catching her in his arms as the picture fades. Toby sinks into the couch as his pulse races.

"Your turn," says Manny, then noticing his body language. "Toby?"

"Yes?" says Toby.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just a little sleepy."

"Maybe you should go home, get some sleep," suggests Manny.

"I can't...sleep there," says Toby. "It's like too stressful. Not that the synagogue is immune from Justin-related problems, but..."

Manny rises from the couch and retrieves a pillow from a nearby armchair. She situates the pillow on the other end and pats a place for Toby to lay his head.

"Thanks," says Toby, letting his body stretch across the couch.

"I feel like a therapist," laughs Manny, tucking her legs under her and sitting next to him. "Only I'm doing nothing."

"You can tell me some stuff about California," shrugs Toby. "How's the lawsuit going?"

"There isn't going to be a lawsuit," says Manny, beaming. "Yours truly secured a lead role for a fellow Filipina actress, from a formerly funky studio, in lieu of the lawsuit. Yes, a giant, cultural step forward."

"Manny, that's amazing," compliments Toby.

"It made me happy," says Manny. "One day, my time will come."

"In my book, it already has," reassures Toby.

She sighs and strokes his hair.

"It could be a regular thing," says Toby. "Don't they have committees or organizations where they try to help in that department?"

"I don't really know," replies Manny. "Would think so."

"You could be president of it," says Toby.

"Hmmm, we have enough presidents in this room," counters Manny.

Rather than argue, Toby grins and unbuttons his jacket. The jacket is black, though another jacket remains in his mind.

"Manny, do you remember when we went shopping and you bought perfume?" asks Toby.

"The vanilla stuff?" recalls Manny. "Yeah."

"And I mentioned....," begins Toby.

"Rick," inserts Manny.

"That wasn't that long ago," points out Toby. "And I still have dreams about him. And you...he shot you in one of the dreams."

"When was this, Tobes?" she asks.

"The night before Justin pushed me," says Toby.

"Nothing's going to happen," says Manny, helping him get his jacket off.

"We don't know," moans Toby.

"Well, I'm not staying away from you," comforts Manny. "That isn't part of the plan."

Toby's eyes scan her very firm countenance. It's a more than welcome sight. Her body blocks the man with the broken heart, with neither of them viewing it any longer.

"What _is_ part of the plan?" says Toby.

Manny squeezes his wrist. "We wait and see."

IV.

His guitar case stretches across both his legs and Ashley's. Crammed together in the backseat, he was kind of hoping Angie would tag along. Instead, they were granted another passenger in her place, Kate Kerwin.

He should've seen it coming. Joey and Kate got to talking, Craig certain it added up to them bemoaning what it was like to send your kid away to a completely different continent. Joey said it'd be good for Kate to tag along and see Ashley off. He couldn't understand why Joey got along with Kate more than he did, or rather, he did understand, but was envious. At least Joey didn't ruin a wedding reception. No, he only danced badly at weddings, remembers Craig. The mental jab at Joey elicits a smirk, which he throws at a distracted Ashley. Ashley is actually paying attention to the conversation, unlike him.

"It was my idea for Ashley to join Craig's band," says Joey. "Really."

No, not really, groans Craig inwardly. Joey fetched his ancient keyboard to jam with them, and Craig mentioned that Ashley should play with the Squatch the year after. He may've been the catalyst but he didn't set the ball in motion. That's Joey for you.

"I often wonder why Ashley abandoned her all girl group," muses Kate.

"It wasn't my group. We got together for a contest we lost. And nobody was serious about the music except me," lists Ashley in frustration.

"Pardon my daughter," sighs Kate. "She's in a mood."

Craig lifts his case to rub Ashley's knee. Yes, he so wishes Angie came.

"We've arrived," announces Joey.

"Thank goodness," mutters Ashley, quickly opening her door and shutting it.

Joey leaves to help take the luggage from the trunk. Craig starts to join them, though the car locks on him. Somebody had hit the lock. Kate has locked Joey's car. The hood was up so he's basically trapped.

"Uhhh....," says Craig, nervously.

"I don't mean to be rude," says Kate, peering at him through the rear view mirror. "With my daughter being so stubborn lately, I fear you may be my last link to knowing anything anymore."

"Knowing anything?" says Craig as he tugs at his T-shirt.

What is she talking about? Has news of Ashley's drunken escapades gotten to her somehow? No. Who would tell? Did Julian call her? Please let me out of this car, he wants to shout.

"Please don't tell me you haven't noticed the attitude," remarks Kate.

"She...she just wants her freedom, Ms. Kerwin," offers Craig, because that's all he can offer.

"I wanted freedom when I was eighteen too, and I had no idea what to do with it," says Kate pointedly. "I worry. It's natural."

Of course she worries. She wouldn't be a mom if she didn't. What he'd hate to tell her is that he's slightly worried, too.

"I'm going to be there for her, if that's what you're asking," assures Craig.

Kate whirls around and Craig meets her gaze with no signs of flinching. He hears some slight movement and the door unlocks.

"Let's keep this conversation between us," says Kate.

If it meant having any understanding, however long it lasts, with her, that works for him.

"Sure thing," says Craig.

Ashley opens his door for him, Craig leaving with his guitar case. She leans against the car as Joey and Kate discuss passports. Plane take-offs and landings grow louder behind them. He would like it if they could put all the drama behind them, with Kate eventually giving them her blessing. Today could be the beginning.

"Did she lay into you?" whispers Ashley.

"No," answers Craig. "You'd be surprised."

V.

Sean limps past the parked cars, little by little. He's not looking forward to the steps. The program made him late to take his hourly pills. Ellie had written down which pill to take and at what time, and now it's left up to him. It's for the best. For most of the day, he would be alone so he'd have to get used to doing what he had to do.

Opening the door of the apartment complex, he waddles past the mailbox and immediately decides to check it later as his ribcage and stomach were stinging with some slight pain. He would love to fall into his bed and sleep for hours. His shoe touches the first step. The stairs might take awhile, he thinks.

"Hi."

That wasn't a thought; it was a voice. Sean looks up the stairwell, the pain in his chest replaced by his heart increasing in speed. The boy's backpack is dangling from his slim right shoulder.

"I got your number and address from the office records," says Ty. "I called earlier and you weren't there."

"Um, hi," says Sean tentatively.

What's he doing on this side of town? Is Dale aware he's gone?

"You look like you don't want me here," says Ty, rising from the step he's sitting on.

Dale doesn't want you here, thinks Sean.

"No, no," says Sean. "Who drove you?"

"I took a bus," replies Ty with a hint of pride. "This is the farthest I've ever been."

"Let's...let's go inside," suggests Sean.

He felt no need to explain why he's talking to a kid in the stairwell. He's not so concerned about what the neighbors might say to him as to what they might say to Dale, if he's snooping around. Sean slowly ascends the steps, Ty staring at him the whole time.

"Your mouth doesn't look as bad," says Ty.

Right. When Ty saw him last, his mouth was gushing with blood and his wounds were practically unsightly. Sean nods anyway.

"Here we go," says Sean, flicking on the light as the two of them enter.

Ty shuts the door and smiles as he takes in the room. Sean finds it hard to imagine why. This place wasn't impressive.

"You live alone?" asks Ty.

"Just me," says Sean. "I used to have company over, but..."

He fails to continue. His company consisted of Jay and Ellie, one of who can't leave the hospital, and the other who was keeping away from him. This isn't too much of a home.

"I'd love to have my own place," sighs Ty.

Now, his place was odd. Sean recalls the many sleeping bags, the school supplies, Ty shivering near the heat of the oven. It was like some tucked away shelter for lost kids. He wonders what Ty has lost to turn to Dale of all people.

"It's alright," says Sean.

"You go to school during the year too?" says Ty.

Sean nods. "During the day."

While he doesn't mind the interview, he would love to get to the bottom of Ty magically appearing at his apartment. This is a long way for him to travel.

"Does Dale know you've left?" questions Sean.

Ty starts for the door, Sean quick to follow. Ty doesn't make it far as Sean gets a hold of his arm. He finally freezes. He only lets go when he notices Ty's eyes start to tear up.

"I...I didn't think he'd use it," says Ty, after a long breath. "He flashed it around sometimes. But I didn't think he'd ever shoot somebody."

Sean closes his eyes and breathes. Ty cries more fiercely, and lets his head fall into Sean's chest. The pressure bothers Sean, like an animal trying to burrow under his shirt, but he deals with it. Ty probably has a lot more to deal with.

"Do you have somewhere else to stay?" asks Sean.

"That's the only place I've got," says Ty, sniffling as he removes himself from Sean's hold without looking at him.

"Tonight, it's not," says Sean, steering him towards his apartment.

"Thanks," says Ty.

After shutting the door, he retreats to the kitchen and starts popping open the bottles. He fills a cup with water. With the faucet leaking, he catches Ty standing in the doorway.

"For the pain," explains Sean.

"Take pills, too," says Ty. "For respiratory problems. My family on my dad's side always got stuck with bad lungs."

"My mom took Decadron," informs Sean, recalling the name he saw on one of Ty's bottles.

"Me too, but...you already knew," suspects Ty.

"I...I went up there because you went missing," says Sean.

"Why you think I'm here?" says Ty, smiling slowly. "You went missing, too."

Heh, it is nice to be appreciated. He doesn't miss working on stolen parts, yet he does miss the other guys who were so willing to learn and who were interesting to talk to during work. But even the good parts of bad things come to an end.

"I'm not coming back, Ty," says Sean.

"Cause of what Dale did?" asks Ty.

"That and other things," answers Sean.

"Dale doesn't like when you ditch him," says Ty, letting his pack fall to the ground. "Just telling you."

Honestly, he could care less what Dale likes. He won't say that to Ty, though. Ty's away from Dale and that's a blessing in itself.

"How long are you staying?" asks Sean.

"Uh, I guess I can help you while you heal up or something?" replies Ty.

He could use an extra hand and a more mobile body. Plus, he can't let Ty go wandering the streets and fending for himself. Like Tracker, that is something he couldn't do. Maybe taking care of somebody is hereditary in his family like the not so good lungs in Ty's family. Maybe it's an unfair comparison. He's not sure. He can only say yes.

"Sounds good," answers Sean. "You can stay."

"Good," sighs Ty. "Because my feet hurt."

Sean chuckles. "So do mine."

VI.

Manny stares at the several engraved symbols on the small object. She has no idea what each one means or why she's even trying to read them, though she puts the item to good use nonetheless. She spins it, the signs becoming shadows as it whirls around against the wooden surface.

"I don't think this is working, Manny," speaks up Toby.

"It's supposed to make you dizzy," affirms Manny.

"Dizzy and drowsy are two different things," laughs Toby, good-naturedly.

"Well, scratch that," sighs Manny, collecting the dreidel in her fist. "Maybe I'll just pull a Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller and talk you to sleep."

"You could never talk to me sleep," says Toby. "I find you too interesting. You'd have to be quiet."

"I should leave then," suggests Manny.

"No...don't leave," says Toby softly.

He barely touches her skin, yet it sends light tickles down her throat like someone pressing threads of silk near her neck. It's nice and brief as Toby lets his hand fall to the cushion once more.

"Manny, I missed you badly," whispers Toby.

Well, he couldn't have missed her more than she missed him. But this isn't a contest. Manny leans in.

"Me too," she says.

"There's a lot going on," sighs Toby. "But your smile makes me think I can get through anything."

"Toby," says Manny, fondly.

"When you say it like that....," begins Toby, his voice faltering.

"Yes?" prompts Manny.

"When you say it like that, it's almost like you're my girlfriend again," says Toby with a wide smile.

Toby shifts a bit on the cushions and Manny stands with warm cheeks. Her sight finds a white blanket in a chair halfway across the room. She heads to it and checks how thick it is, her mind somewhere else.

She does feel like she's his girlfriend, from every moment since their first date until today. They haven't talked about it, though. If she gets the talk going, it may come out easier. Yes, she's ready for what they're going to face. Yes, she forgives him for his drastic measures. Yes, being with him is as simple as they can make it.

After taking a deep breath, she walks to him.

"Toby, I...."

No more words leave her mouth as she gazes at Toby, sleeping soundly as his chest rises and falls in peaceful motions. Sure enough, she was silent and he was down for the count. Manny unfolds the blanket and makes sure his whole body is covered.

She hears a light click and turns to shush the person. This person had more power to shush her, however. Joseph beckons Manny to the door. Her eyes on the floor, she exits the lounge and positions herself in front of him.

"You had us scared to death," whispers Joseph, fiercely.

"Joseph," says Maria, calmly.

"We were playing games and Toby needed to rest," defends Manny, managing to meet his gaze.

"You need to tell us where you're going, us and Officer Patton," scolds Joseph.

"I'm sorry," murmurs Manny, grabbing her ponytail in frustration.

"This was a mistake, Maria," says Joseph as if Manny weren't there to hear it.

"I can't help wanting her near us, Joseph," sighs Maria. "I'm her mother. She'll be dealing with this next month, anyway."

Next month? Why couldn't they find Justin and his racist friends sooner? What more are they going to put Toby through?

"This is ridiculous!" cries Manny.

"Manuella," says Joseph in a warning tone.

"I haven't exactly been blessed with amazing boyfriends," sighs Manny. "And now you're pulling me away from on that actually is amazing?"

"For your own good," says Joseph.

"Toby's tired and scared and barely hanging on by a thread," says Manny. "I need to be here with him. That is for his own good."

"No, we said one day," reminds Joseph. "We let you come here today, and we'll be making arrangements until you leave."

"The mural painting is tomorrow, Dad!" cries Manny. "I said I would go. He's counting on me to be there."

"I said no," insists Joseph.

"Don't you care about him?" says Manny, her eyes growing wet.

"Of course we care about him," insists Maria. "But we're allowed to care about your safety just as much."

"Need I remind you that they're threatening _you_, Manuella," says Joseph, stooping to meet her eye to eye. "We came today because we care. And we're doing what we're doing because we care about you."

They were spinning it in their favor, pulling the parent card. It wouldn't be so easy for them to do if they were in the relationship. She might as well give up, for now. They won't let her go. Manny folds her arms.

"Let's go home," says Manny, passing her father.

Manny, Maria, and Joseph approach a weary Officer Patton, who looks out of breath.

"You found her," breathes Officer Patton. "I checked every inch of the grounds and..."

"She was in a room," explains Joseph. "And she won't do it again. Will you, Manuella?"

"No," says Manny in the flattest answer possible.

"Let me walk in front," says Officer Patton. "We have to be extra cautious with most of the people having gone home."

Her parents stand on either side of her, Manny feeling like she's being escorted to prison. They make it down the stairs fine. Then, there's a bustle of motion and flashing lights against her face. Manny covers her eyes.

"My sources never lie!" boasts Rachel as she jogs forward with her microphone. "Manny Santos, alive in the flesh."

"Hey, sweetie!" yells a cameraman. "Looky here!"

"Manny, if I could get an exclusive interview!" yells Rachel.

"Leave my daughter alone!" shouts Joseph.

Officer Patton takes Rachel Rhodes by the waist, physically moving her as the cameramen circle Manny. Manny manages to dodge a couple, running towards the emptier lot on the side. There's activity everywhere and she just wants to run where there's less. She hears her mother calling after her. The sound makes her pause and she tumbles into the grass, the blades itching her bare arm.

Manny props herself up by the elbow and her blurry gaze becomes focused as she lifts her head. When everything is clear, all she can read is three black words. **Toby, the Traitor. **They seem longer and larger than they probably are, and ten times more ugly in the bright sunshine. She'd love to scrub them with soap and water until the brick is so brittle you wouldn't be able to tell it was brick. She'd have to settle for a white blanket of paint they'd use for the wall, more comforting than the blanket she laid over Toby.

"Come on, Manny," says Maria, as she and her father help her rise.

Manny stares at the words for a final moment and lets her mother guide her head to her breast, as she follows her parents to a safer place.


	68. True Colors

**LXVIII. True Colors**

_I see your true colours shinin through, I see your true colors, and that's why I love you_

_They say this love wasn't meant to be  
Two people from two different worlds  
We wasn't meant to be  
It musta been fate you was sent to me  
We'll make it through these hard times, eventually  
Let's stand and fight  
Walk by faith, and not by sight  
We're all the same colour when you turn out the lights  
I take the sunshine with the pain  
Where my saren guards at, thats when it rains  
No fridge, kept the food on the window pane  
We all breathe the same air, so we all the same  
I'm trapped in this ghetto maze tryin to make it out  
If you don't know me, don't judge me  
What you talkin bout?  
A father, boulevard of the broken dreams  
Single mothers, ya'll my heros, ya'll my Queens  
To get my moms out the hood thats my hope and dreams  
To raise my son to be a soldier by any means_

_I see your true colours shinin through, I see your true colors, and that's why i love you  
i see, and i knwo its true, i know, i see em! yeeeaahh .. true colors.. i see baby ..._

**True Colors is the property of Fredro Starr and appears in the film _Save the Last Dance_.  
All I Have to Give is the property of the Backstreet Boys.**

"I'm sorry, El," says Marco, taking the food from her. "It's a done deal."

Ellie stares at each of the tiles they cross as they walk along a new corridor. Things were just stacking up, weren't they? Marco offers her a couple sympathetic glances and rights his beanie. She should remind him that she gave him that beanie.

"If you heard this girl's voice...," starts Ellie.

"Dylan asked me a week ago," interjects Marco. "We had to make a decision on the house like almost immediately."

"You're living with girls!" cries Ellie.

"They're the ones who initially lived there," defends Marco. "Ellie, if it were in my power, there'd be no question. You'd totally live with us. But it's not my call."

Why is she even arguing? Nothing is working out for her. Amberly's voice would annoy her for the entire year. She called again, to make some suggestions about how to decorate their room. From their conversation, she could already tell there'd be a whole lot of neon and a whole lot of heartthrobs on the wall. Ellie rubs her head.

She hates that she had this thought, but she did want to follow Sean after Toby's program. Putting aside what he did with Dale, he is still hurt and he is still alone. Who's going to be there if she isn't? There's Tracker, though he isn't staying forever. Ellie would at least be in the same area once Tracker reported back to work.

"You're still having...," says Marco.

"The headaches!" inserts Ellie. "Yeah, okay? It's nothing serious."

"We're in a hospital," says Marco, gesturing around. "Maybe you should get checked out."

"No, Marco," says Ellie.

"When my grandmother was really under a bunch of stress, she'd get these tension headaches," says Marco. "And I know you've been having it rough lately."

"Marco," sighs Ellie.

"El, you have a tendency to hold stuff in," reminds Marco.

"At least I'm not...," she says before stopping.

Marco switches the bag to the other hand and winds an arm around Ellie's waist. She can't tell him what almost happened in the bathroom at Alex's party with the knife. She hadn't, but she wanted to do it. The inability to do it is taking a toll, however. With no one to unload her problems onto, for fear of confessing what she craves to do, the stress could be showing up in an unexpected way.

"Talk to me," encourages Marco.

"Let's just deliver Alex's food," sighs Ellie, passing him and entering Jay's room quickly.

Strangely, Alex isn't there. She was the one who called, begging for a burrito at nine o' clock at night. Marco and Ellie stare at each other, and at the young blonde woman running her hands through Jay's hair.

"Hey!" greets Jay.

"Hey!" greets Mel, brightly.

"Hey," answer Marco and Ellie, wearily.

Ellie notices that Mel is wearing the jacket she likes, and a very, very tight black minidress.

"Are we interrupting?" inquires Marco.

"I'm dyeing his hair," proclaims Mel.

"Uhhhh," blanks Marco.

"From sandy brown to chocolate brown," continues Mel. "It'll show off his cheekbones."

Ellie raises an eyebrow. He's going to let a girl he's known maybe less than a month touch his hair. I mean, Jay does his wear his hat most everyday, thinks Ellie. So it wouldn't make a huge difference post-hospital. But still very odd.

"I'm gonna help Mel earn her license," says Jay with a wink at them both.

Oh there's the reason, supposes Ellie. Jay, ever the flirt.

"Are you sure, Jay?" asks Ellie.

"Why?" says Jay, scratching his head. "Does...does dyeing hurt?"

"No," assures Mel, massasing his shoulders.

"Well, okay," says Ellie, eager to ditch this discussion on hair. "We're going to leave some food for Alex."

Jay shrugs off Mel's hands and sits up immediately. "Alex?"

"Yeah, the program's over and so is her shift," provides Marco. "She's on her way."

His cheeks go from pleased to pale. Grabbing the blanket and wrapping it tightly against his frame, Mel slides off and catches her balance so she won't hit the hard floor.

"It's been fun," says Jay, extending his hand to Mel.

"What is this?" asks a voice from the doorway.

Ellie and Marco stare at Alex and back away from the bed. Ellie didn't need any more stress.

"Jay's going to be my hair guinea pig," says Mel, warmly.

"She means the Jay down the hall," says Jay.

"Such the kidder," laughs Mel.

There's a long silence, followed by a shift from a paper bag.

"Your burrito," says Marco, handing it to Alex.

"Marco!" whispers Ellie.

"What?" he says.

"I don't have time for this," says Alex, closing her eyes and holding up her hands.

"Could do the both of you," offers Mel. "Any friend of Jay's is a friend of mine."

"Did he give you a bracelet yet?" says Alex with a smirk.

Ellie grabs Marco's beanie and covers her face with it. Her cheeks are way too hot from the held in laughter. Marco shakes his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asks Mel.

"Ask him," says Alex, throwing the burrito into Jay's lap.

"Lexi!" groans Jay, trying to rise, then yelping and touching his leg.

Mel plays with her necklace as she stares after Alex. Marco snatches his beanie back from Ellie.

"I'm picking up some ex-girlfriend vibes up in here," reasons Mel, turning to Jay. "Am I wrong?"

"What had happened was....," starts Jay.

"Eh," says Mel, silencing him. "I'm kicking it with my crew at the strip club."

"Strip club," breathes Jay.

"Mmm hmm," says Mel. "Adios, pretty people."

They watch Mel leave, boots echoing in her wake. She doesn't blame either for them bailing. Not being in the middle of drama is something she misses. A tiny bit of her does feel bad for Jay, though. Jay wordlessly opens the burrito, pushes it away, then continuously hits his forehead with a fist.

"It's low fat," offers Marco.

II.

"_If I never knew you_," mutters Officer Wheaton under his breath. "_If I never felt this love_...."

Toby takes off his glasses and peers past the window at the houses. They were nearing his home, Officer Wheaton's bad singing the soundtrack of their drive. Curiously, Jeff and Anne Marie were in the front, while he and Officer Wheaton were in the rear. Joey had dropped off Kate earlier. J.T. and Liberty promised to come over later. And Manny? Well, she just vanished.

His eyes opened and she was gone. This time, however, it was different. It still felt like she was in the room, and her absence, for the first time in days, didn't make him less happy. Maybe it was because she stayed with him for as long as she did or maybe because she told him herself that there was nothing for him to worry about. Hearing it straight from her mouth was something he didn't know he needed, but he needed it. Toby smiles as Jeff parked the car.

"We're proud of you, for the record," says Jeff, craning his neck to stare at Toby.

Toby nods at them. Officer Wheaton stops singing and releases a low whistle.

"Um, before we head in, there was a little matter outside...nothing for you to fret over," says Officer Wheaton.

"What?" says Jeff.

"Some journalists managed to...find Manny," shares Officer Wheaton.

"What?" cries Toby.

"We had it under control," says Officer Wheaton. "We destroyed the tape, told them we'd take action if they disrupted her privacy again. Manny's as good as a ghost in this town. No thanks to Rachel Rhodes, of course. But yep, she should be safe."

"I hate that woman," murmurs Jeff, opening the door. "I hate...."

"Jeff," says Anne Marie.

They both stare at Toby for a few seconds, whose expression has fallen. How could it not? If Rachel had her way, and she was more than capable, she'd be at the mural painting with a lens focused on Manny for several hours. Or she'd have some jerk photographer taking pictures from the bushes. That might have been the last he saw of her.

"Do you think it'd be okay for Manny to come tomorrow?" asks Toby, softly.

"I see no reason why she can't," answers Officer Wheaton. "I'll be there, and some of my co-workers. No one would try anything with all those people around."

"She'll be there, Toby," says Jeff, confidently. "Let's go inside."

Leaving the car, Anne Marie hugs him from the side as they go down the walkway. Jeff and Officer Wheaton seem to be discussing the Rachel Rhodes situation further.

"Never you mind what that woman does, okay?" consoles Anne Marie. "I tangle with those types on numerous occasions and I'm not afraid to do it again if things get out of hand."

"Thanks, Mom," says Toby.

"This is a little better than once a week e-mail," says Anne Marie, ruffling his hair.

Toby chuckles and shrugs. They enter the house, Kate immediately standing up from the couch, two more bodies in the chairs near it. J.T. and Liberty smile upon seeing him.

"Thought you could use some company," whispers Anne Marie.

He grins at her. While his father expectedly stopped everything to come help him, this is his mother's second consecutive time being there for him without fail. He could more than get used to her being only a few feet away.

"What are you watching?" asks Toby, sitting in between Kate and Anne Marie.

"As of now, a blank screen," answers Liberty.

"But we are getting ready to have the world premiere of Toby and Manny Go To the Starlight Ball," says Anne Marie, removing the DVD from her purse.

"You get to see _moi _all stylish," whispers J.T. to Liberty.

"Speaking of which, this may be my first real interaction with Liberty," says Anne Marie, reaching past Toby to shake her hand.

"I'm such a fan," says Liberty. "A female leading a top casting agency in Los Angeles. I did some Googling."

"Hmmm," says Anne Marie, wonderously. "Well, I guess it's nice to be Googled."

"Toby Googles himself," kids J.T.

"Shut up," says Toby, smiling.

"I've done it at least once," says Anne Marie.

They all laugh. J.T. inserts the DVD and hits play. He motions for Toby to step to the side, allowing Liberty, Kate, and Anne Marie to view the beginning of the ball. An announcer is describing the location with precise detail.

"Toby, did they tell you about Rachel Rhodes?" whispers J.T.

"A little," replies Toby.

"I saw it," says J.T., momentarily glancing to the left. "They cornered her and her folks. She was nervous. Manny fell."

Toby removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. They certainly didn't tell him all that. Could it get any worse for her?

"I think she saw the wall, too," finishes J.T.

Yes, that's definitely the worst. He glances at the screen as the carriage finally comes into sight. Toby is helping Manny down from it. Kate and Anne Marie beam at the screen.

"Awww," says Liberty.

Toby stares at the screen, too, but solely at Manny's smile. She'd continue smiling if he could make it so.

"J.T., can you call her and tell her not to come?" says Toby.

"For the mural thing?" cries J.T. "Toby...."

"She's not getting hurt because of me," says Toby. "I'm sure her parents would be okay with it, too."

He hates imagining microphones in her frightened face, her lying on the ground, her panicking. That sort of thing might've been what she had to deal with in the lawsuit, which she gracefully avoided. She simply doesn't need to be in the thick of things. Joseph and Maria shouldn't have to endure it either.

"I shouldn't have told you," sighs J.T.

"No, you should've," insists Toby.

He leaves an open-mouthed J.T. and resumes his place on the couch. They discuss many things that night-- where Manny found her dress, how amazing her speech was, how handsome he looked. But they didn't mention how they thought the two people in the carriage felt right now.

III.

With three beeps, the van goes backward. The flashing red lights and the wheels underneath come close to the curb and the van halts. Mr. Campanelli's arm escapes from the window, signalling the okay. Nate hoists the door open, revealing cans of paint, brushes, buckets, packaged hankerchiefs, three boxes of gloves, and a few smiling workers. The gathered artists for the day clap. J.T. pounds Toby proudly on the back.

"No work and all play makes Danny a lazy boy," sighs Danny, climbing into the truck with Nate and Derek.

"You mean like the chair?" kids Derek.

"It's too early for this, man," says Danny, clicking his tongue.

"You're right," shrugs Chester, removing a bucket. "I didn't even shower."

"Gross!" cries Clara. "Nobody stand next to Chester!"

"Ha ha!" yells Chester, raising his arms.

A group of Spirit Squad members gag. But everyone forgets Chester as they set on removing the materials. Mr. Campanelli comes around to help. Most of the other adults were chatting with the police officers, clad in sweats instead of uniforms. They were a fair few: Jeff, Kate, Anne Marie, Mr. Simpson, Spike, Joey, his girlfriend Diane, Christian, Ms. Kwan, Mr. Armstrong, Principal Hatzilakos, Mr. Perrino, Calvin and Kym from Kytel, members of the congregation, and several business owners. Alright, there were more than a fair few. Rabbi Miller was the most interesting, though. He wore a yellow shirt, and jeans. Toby would never get that out of his mind.

Most of the guys have emptied the truck, setting the cans, buckets, and brushes near the site. Toby avoided looking at it when he could, accepts that he'll have to before they get to painting. He reads it and touches his throat. It's like the words are stuck there. He hates that he'll probably always remember them.

"Toby, it's nothing personal," says Heather, turning him to her. "But I'm going to need frequent breaks. The paint smell makes me woozy. I'm all for redecorating, but hello, my health comes first."

"Right," says Toby, going to fetch some gloves.

There are two shadows left in the van. The two girls pull a box to the front. One is more than familiar.

"Why can't I kick J.T.?" moans Racquel.

"Because it's not nice, and you know it," says the taller girl. "I want you to apologize to him."

"Eh, I'm sure he's over it," speaks up Toby.

"It's the president!" exclaims Racquel, carefully leaving the truck.

"Get going, mi hermana," says the other girl, scooting Racquel away.

"Saying it in Spanish doesn't make me go faster," says Racquel before she leaves.

"You'll have to excuse her," says the other girl. "Our father teaches us good manners, I swear."

Clearly out of the shadows at this point, Toby notices how long her hair really is, brown and wavy, past her thighs. Her eyes are brown too, large and inviting.

"I've got a sister, too," says Toby. "Not a little one."

"Well, she'll get older," says the girl. "Care to give me any tips?"

"Ummm, don't hog the bathroom?" offers Toby.

The girl laughs and Toby smiles.

"I'm Lucie, by the way," she says. " Full name is Analucie."

"Toby," he says. "Or....uh, Tobias."

"Toby?" cries Lucie. "Wait, you're the guy they're doing all of this for?"

Toby nods.

"That's pretty cool," says Lucie.

"Looking forward to see how it turns out," says Toby. "I don't do much painting."

"I do, Tobias," teases Lucie. "And now that I know you, I can help you."

Toby glances at the wall, and then at her.

"Alright," he says.

"You need some gloves," says Lucie, grinning at him as she takes a pair from the box.

He catches them when she throws them. "Thanks."

IV.

"I think I know how to construct a mural, Jimmy," argues Ellie.

"Um, who won the mural design contest?" reminds Jimmy, gently. "There's obviously some creative juice flowing in this brain."

"Is that the same creative juice that contributed to your sexist rap?" says Ellie.

"Guys, guys," intercedes Hazel. "You both are talented, okay? I'm sure if you two work together...."

"Ellie showed up late," brings up Jimmy.

"Don't tattle on me!" cries Ellie. "I had....hair issues."

"I have ponytail holders for those!" offers Kaelyn, tying her shoes with paint-splattered fingers.

"Believe me, nobody can sympathize with follicle trauma better than me," says Hazel, calmly. "But can we get back to work?"

The three of them continue to go at it, Toby painting the center of the wall carefully. J.T. pats his streaked pants.

"And they're supposed to be the alumni of our prestigious school," whispers J.T.

Toby grins and spots Liberty, to the right of J.T.

"How close are we?" he asks.

"By my calculations, we're seventy percent done," guesses Liberty. "There's been a good work-to-minute ratio, despite Jimmy and Ellie's kerfuffle."

"Kerfuffle," says Derek with flourish.

Every so often, he went past their portion of the wall and did this. He kept viewing Clara as he did it, too. Perhaps it was to show that he was smart, even though Liberty always supplied the words. This might be the weirdest way to get a girl's attention ever. Toby sighs with relief.

"Good job so far," congratulates Lucie.

Lucie showed him the proper method when it came to painting, and shared a few other things, too. She went to Bardell, despite protests from her father who wanted her at an elite academy where there were no boys. She got a job at Campanelli's to save up for a car, though Mr. Reyes said he wanted to buy her a car for her good grades. The common thread seemed to be that Lucie wanted to be as independent as possible. Toby found it hard to believe she was just seventeen.

"Lucie, what happens if you eat paint?" calls over Racquel.

Taking off her gloves, Lucie moans as she heads to her sister, who had made a friend in Joey's daughter Angie.

"There's proof that Bardell isn't full of just jerks, eh?" says J.T., elbowing Toby.

"Have you met her before?" asks Toby.

"In passing," answers J.T. "She's not into the entertainment industry, I know that. Into the outdoors."

"Kind of like an anti-Manny?" proposes Liberty.

"Manny likes the outdoors," insists Toby.

"Yeah?" says J.T., laughing with Liberty. "How?"

"She likes the mountains," remembers Toby aloud.

He smiles to himself, Manny's voice chronicling the rainbows of Manila once more in his mind.

"Well, you learn something new everyday," says J.T.

Liberty shrugs and nods. Toby resumes painting as Hazel hits the play button on her CD player.

"Are you guys talking Manny over there?" sing-songs Darcy, waving her brush with faux attitude.

"Because us gossip folks wanna know," adds Chante.

"Mmmm hmmm," says Darcy, flashing all her teeth.

"Toby's in L-U-V," says Hazel, pulling him away from the wall. "That's all there is to it. I know he wasn't feeling it when he was kissing me."

"Wait," says Marco. "Who kissed who?"

Toby blushes furiously and tries to retrieve his paintbrush. Luckily, most of the adults were in a seperate group where his love life isn't at the center. From what he's heard, they were discussing Ashley's tour, what airline Anne Marie was taking home, and the highlights of the synagogue program.

"Would Rabbi Miller approve, Toby?" kids Matthew.

A few of his so-called friends catcall and whistle, Hazel bowing.

"His heart truly does belong to Manny, guys," says J.T. with embellished adulation. "It's...truly one for the ages. It...should be set in song."

"_I don't know what he's done to make Manny cry, but Toby will be there to make her smile_," sings Darcy, in perfect synch with the song on the radio.

The Spirit Squad jumps and rushes to join in.

"_Toby doesn't have a fancy car, but to get to Manny, he'd walk a thousand miles_," sings Hazel into her paintbrush.

"_I don't care if he buys you nice things, does his gifts come from the heart_?" sing Kaelyn, not changing a word.

"_I don't know_," sings Chante. "_But if you were Toby's girl, he'd make so you'd never be apart_."

"Woo!" yell Paige and Darcy.

Jimmy and Ellie, too amused to continue fighting apparently, stare at Toby with sympathetic smiles. Lucie does the same, though hers is more shy.

"Come on, guys," says Toby, his skin growing hot.

Instead of retreating, they surround him in a circle, singing to a pop song that he wouldn't mind forgetting.

"_But Toby's love is all he has to give_," sing all the girls. "_Without Manny, we don't think he'd want to live_."

"_Toby wishes he could give the world to her_," yells over Angie.

"_But love is all he has to give_....," continue the girls.

Darcy holds out her paintbrush towards Toby.

"To Manny" inserts Toby, weakly.

Everyone claps widely, Toby laughing. Maybe he won't forget it. There was some good-natured spirit revolving around the performance.

"Concert's over," insists Toby as he manages to cut through the group.

Despite the moans of the group, they right themselves and move to the wall. Their movement is brought to a stop as another vehicle appears. Out come a few guys and Mr. Reyes, holding eight pizzas and three packs of soda with them.

"Who's hungry?" calls out Mr. Reyes.

"Dad?" says Lucie, grinning.

"Yeah!" shouts Racquel. "Now, I don't have to eat paint."

"Racquel said nobody brought any food," says Mr. Reyes. "It's something small we can do."

"We appreciate it," says J.T. "Lunch!"

The kids and the adults are no longer apart as they come together for something very important...food. Toby takes off his gloves and stares down the road leading to the synagogue. He supposes Manny got his message. It's for the best. Why doesn't it put him at ease then?

"Ready to wash our hands and eat?" proposes J.T.

"Yep," says Toby.

"What's wrong?" says J.T., staring at the road with him.

"Eh," replies Toby. "I'm missing somebody."

Toby glances at the white wall and lowers his eyes.

J.T. grins. "I bet she's missing you, too."

V.

She's learned various things in the past several hours. George Clooney and Amy Adams were considering doing a film with one another. MGM is changing a few of their executive positions. Seth Green is the mastermind behind _Robot Chicken_. And yeah, being in a room, even a Toby assembled room, is not the same as being with him.

Throwing down an issue of _Entertainment Weekly_, Manny opens her bedroom door and tip-toes down the hall. It's nearing six and still light outside. The light allows her to view her parents in the living room. They're not doing anything terribly interesting either. Maria is sewing and Joseph is doing a crossword puzzle. Officer Patton is in the chair opposite them, going through a Degrassi yearbook. She hopes it's not the one where she was wearing glittery barrettes. Anything that makes her look more innocent is a hindrance in this case.

Maria sighs loudly. Joseph glances at her. She does it twice. He shakes out the newspaper.

"Maria, if you have something to say....," begins Joseph.

"They're probably done, anyhow," says Maria.

Manny lets her head go around the corner. They could see her, if they were looking. Luckily, they have their heads focuse on their individual items.

"It couldn't be helped," says Joseph, firmly.

"Joseph, you weren't there when I had to view the wall of my church," says Maria, clutching the sock she was working on.

Manny's eyes rest on her mother. That's right. Someone painted hateful words on her mother's church when she was confirmed. Well, isn't that more of a reason to have let her go? Manny's sight goes to Joseph.

"I'm sure your parents would've protected you, too, if they knew," reasons Joseph, not looking at her.

"How Toby is feeling? Must be terrible," sighs Maria. "That's how it was for me."

Joseph releases a loud breath and closes his newspaper.

"We're losing J.J. for a happy reason," says Joseph. "I'm not losing Manny for a sad one."

"You're making her lose time with him," argues Maria. "Moments they'll never get back. I'd...I'd let her go."

"It's ended, Maria," says Joseph, resolutely. "My parents were strict with me for my benefit. She'll come to understand."

She waits for her mother to say anything else, but is met with dead silence. Even the pages they were turning become more quiet. Why should she expect anything else? They were right. The mural is sure to be completed at this hour, and they'd have to be cleaning up. Cleaning up? Manny grins and returns to her bedroom, quietly shutting her door. Yeah, she could be quiet too. And hey, she kind of got her mother's permission. Kind of.

Manny opens her desk and finds a screwdriver her father must've used while putting it together. She's been on enough of her dad's construction sites to know how to twist it and get a window lock off. She diligently turns the tool and sighs as it gives way. Points for the actress for ingenuity. She'd have to climb down the fire escape with the sun setting as her legs touched the ground. That's when she has to be most quiet.

VI.

"I am not talking to him!" insists Alex, pacing in front of the door. "I am not talking to him!"

"Then...then, why are you still here?" asks Ellie.

Alex leans against Jay's door and kicks it at the same time. Her lacrosse skills must've contributed to her agility. Or her anger, wagers Ellie. Alex sighs as her cellphone rings for the umpteenth time.

"What?" snaps Alex when she answers. "No! Huh? Well...yeah, keep staring at the back of my head."

She closes her phone and glares at Ellie.

"You think I should go in?" says Alex, calmly.

Wow, she went from angry to calm in no time flat. If Alex does go inside, it might save her another headache from the consistent cell ringing. Jay could obviously see the back of her head from there. Ellie debates what to say as they're approached by Cindy and Mr. Hogart. Mr. Hogart is in his usual business attire whereas Cindy is wearing a halter top and skinny jeans.

"Why are we here today?" moans Cindy. "I'm missing _Desperate Housewives_."

Alex laughs outright, Ellie mentally shushing her.

"What?" says Cindy.

"Inside joke," waves off Alex. "Hey, Mr. Hogart."

"Hello," says Mr. Hogart. "We're meeting with the doctor concerning Jay's physical therapy."

"He's...he's going to need physical therapy?" asks Alex, the first hint of of compassion showing on her face.

Ellie had no idea either. Maybe Sean had heard. How tough for Jay.

"I'm paying for a good physical therapist," assures Mr. Hogart. "If you'll excuse us..."

Mr. Hogart walks inside Jay's room with Cindy pouting as she trails him.

"His stepmother's not too nice, is she?" says Ellie.

"She's an angel compared to Chad," counters Alex. "But I better go in there with them."

Ellie gives her a puzzled look. She's starting to picking up vibes like Mel, but they're on the other end of the spectrum. She can't fault Alex for being there for him.

"I'll fry him for wasting my cell minutes," sighs Alex, smiling and ducking inside.

Ellie stares into the small window at the group of four. Jay brightens when he sees Alex, and she sits in a chair near his bed. Cindy stares off into space. Ellie guesses she probably does that a lot.

She removes herself from the door when she hears a couple pairs of feet strolling to the spot where she stands. Starting to move, she glances at the two cops pausing at Jay's door. Ellie pretends to stare at her skirt as if she's a stranger to everyone around her.

"That Cameron kid has a record?" whispers the male cop.

"Jerry, he was working on the same car the part had to have come from," sighs Dee. "I knew Jay was likely covering for him. They're friends, Mr. Hill said."

"Can't do nothing 'til Hogart confesses," says Jerry. "Either that or we get a warrant for Cameron's place."

Ellie holds her breath as she scurries to the waiting room. A warrant? Cameron? They figured out he was involved? She removes her cell as she leaves the hospital. Her call rolls to voicemail. A throbbing ache fills the width of her forehead. She's got to tell him. Why isn't he answering? Ugh, Sean.

"Please be home," she says, dialing a second time. "Pick up, Sean."

VII.

"I'm choosing green to match my braces," informs Kaelyn.

"You don't have braces," groans Chante.

"Thursday, I will," says Kaelyn. "Bye."

Jimmy marks Kaelyn's choice down on the list and wheels to Toby, J.T., and Lberty. They were selecting their personal preferences for the color of their handprints. Lunch threw them off. At least the pizza was good enough to have a reworked deadline. They planned to finish at seven, and it's currently seven fifteen. Most of the mural participants promised to be there early tomorrow for the final touches. Those who couldn't would add their handprints the next day in a reserved space near the bottom.

"Mmmm, red," decides Liberty. "It always makes a statement."

"Okay, and Toby?" says Jimmy.

"Blue," answer Toby and J.T. at the same moment.

Toby rolls his eyes as J.T. chuckles.

"I like blue," defends Toby, shrugging.

He hears a beep coming from the other side of the street. Mr. Reyes, Racquel, and Lucie were waving from their car. Mr. Reyes had stayed until Lucie and Racquel were ready to go home. Toby waves back. Their car leaves, his father and Kate and Anne Marie not far behind. Anne Marie was flying home tomorrow afternoon, and his father and Kate had to work the next day. Officer Wheaton would be taking himself and Toby home in a cop car. He volunteered to help clean up. After everything everyone else has done, he thought it was right. J.T. and Liberty stuck around and they were nearly done.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Tobes," says J.T. "Darcy's mom said she'd drop us home."

"Bye," says Toby.

Wow, notes Toby. As Mr. Campanelli drove the truck away, he is practically alone, save for an empty bucket he had to toss, Officer Wheaton rolling down his sleeves, and a couple lightning bugs illuminating the fully white wall.

Toby grabs the bucket, the bottom resting on his paint-splattered shirt. The huge garbage container is pretty high. He didn't take that into account. Sighing, he heads back to the wall.

"I got it," says Officer Wheaton, Toby handing him the bucket.

Toby pulls at his shirt and returns to the space where he'd been painting earlier.

"Sometimes I wish I were taller," says Toby to himself.

"Me too," says a voice.

It isn't Officer Wheaton's voice, or J.T.'s, or even Darcy's, but a voice that makes him question if he's even there. Toby pulls at his shirt and stares at her.

"I'm messy," says Toby apologetically.

"You look fine," says Manny.

Instead of going to her, he pats the wall, which has dried and can't read him the way she does. She shouldn't be here. Should she? What if Rachel's watching them? What if someone more sinister is watching them?

"You didn't want me to come?" asks Manny, a touch of hurt in her voice.

Yes, he wanted her to come.

"J.T. didn't call you?" asks Toby, the wall looking back at him.

"No," says Manny, tearfully. "What would he have said?"

"Manny," sighs Toby, pushing himself away from the wall and turning to her.

She bites her lip as tears roll across her cheeks. Toby looks skyward as he holds in his.

"Justin...," starts Toby.

"Justin isn't here," interrupts Manny. "It's just you and me."

"I wish it was," says Toby, wiping his eyes.

"So do I," says Manny as she comes closer.

"You should go home, Manny," insists Toby, shaking his hand. "It's what your parents would want."

"What do _you_ want?" asks Manny.

"I can't...I can't say," replies Toby, pulling his gloves off in frustration.

"Yeah, you can," says Manny, getting within inches of him. "You can say. You need to say it. I need to hear it."

Toby attempts to pass her. Manny blocks him.

"So they tell us we should fight, and you're not going to?" cries Manny. "I'm not going to fight how I feel, Toby! No stupid rules and no stupid thoughts have changed how I feel about you. So if you can't say the same, then I guess I'm fighting alone. Then...I'm alone."

He glances swiftly at Officer Wheaton, who appears flummoxed about how to act next. Toby's flummoxed as well, his mouth parted.

"What...what do you want?" says Manny, shivering despite the light jacket she wears.

She isn't alone, not by a long shot.

"What do you want, Toby?" repeats Manny.

"It's not obvious?" replies Toby.

Dropping his gloves, he takes her by the sides of her jacket and lets his mouth join hers, until they're travelling together. Manny sighs as her forehead pushes his glasses up and they're staring at each other with no boundaries as their lips come to a pause.

"I got paint on you," whispers Toby.

"So?" says Manny. "I hate this jacket anyway."

Toby sighs as he strokes her cheeks.

"I leave tomorrow night," says Manny.

"We're doing the handprints in the morning," shares Toby, grinning. "Can you come?"

Manny breathes deeply and rests her hands over his as they remain on her cheeks.

"Ummm," considers Manny. "My parents..."

"You can choose pink," whispers Toby.

Manny laughs quietly and goes in for a second kiss.

"Manuella!" cries a panicked voice in the background.

The warmth from Manny fades as Toby distances himself from her. Maria Santos stares at them briefly and holds her pocketbook to her chest. Manny drops her eyes. Officer Patton stands by a second cop car.

"Ms. Santos, I can explain," starts Toby.

"No, he can't," says Manny, standing in front of him. "I came on my own. He tried to stop me."

"I was with them the whole time, ma'am," speaks up Officer Wheaton.

"Manny, your father...," says Maria, her speech leaving her.

"You can talk to him, can't you?" says Manny.

Maria closes her eyes and shakes her head. She gestures for Manny to follow her, not bothering to look at Toby. He always thought Maria liked him. Well, not anymore. Toby goes to stand next to Officer Wheaton.

Officer Patton opens the car door for Manny, Manny staring at Toby as she gets inside. Officer Wheaton leads Toby to the cop car, but they stop at a whistle.

"Is the mural done?" calls Maria.

"No," says Officer Wheaton, Toby remaining silent. "Almost. Tomorrow morning. At eight."

"No promises," says Maria. "I'll see what I can do."

Toby and Officer Wheaton exchange wide smiles. Manny grasps her hand tenderly from the front seat.

Maria smiles at Toby, and honks at them before their car heads home.

AN: Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night! :D

Oh, and if anybody's into literary fiction, I've had a short story published and you can find the link on my profile. It's not Degrassi, but hey, would love for you to read it. No pressure, though. Nikki


	69. Feels Like Christmas

**LIX. Feels Like Christmas**

_If you want to see me  
Don't break down and cry  
I can be your sweetie  
If you be a friend of mine  
And I won't be foresaken  
If you think thoughts unkind  
Just bring home the bacon  
And bring it home on time_

_Hey Louie, can't you see  
I couldn't leave you if I tried  
Hey Louie, listen to me  
We got a thing so dignified  
It don't matter if we lived in a shack  
Or in a shiny cadillac  
It don't matter rich or poor  
When love is knocking at your door_

_It feels like Christmas  
Just like Christmas  
It feels like Christmas with you..._

_Hey Louie, life is sweet  
I can't be bitter  
When you're here with me  
Hey Louie, no regrets  
Holding on to things  
That you ought to forget  
Well, it doesn't matter tit for tat  
'Cause what you give  
You get it back  
It don't matter anymore  
When love is knocking at your door_

_It feels like Christmas  
Just like Christmas  
It feels like Christmas with you,  
Everytime I see ya  
Everytime I hear ya  
Everytime I'm near ya,  
I'd be happy  
Because it feels like Christmas  
Just like Christmas  
It feels like Christmas  
With you..._

**It Feels Like Christmas is the property of Cyndi Lauper and appears in the film _Life with Mikey_.  
**

_AN: I haven't forgotten Spinner/Emma. :) The next two chapters after this, you'll be getting a substantial amount of them. Their storyline has been frozen so I'm going to cover what happened with them while all of this Tobanny stuff was going on. Likewise, I'll be picking up the CrAsh story from when Ashley/Craig arrive back in London in ch. 71, and while Ellie's at the mural, I'll be following what happens to Sellie in the next chapter too for thematic purposes. I just want to give everything its proper attention so the story won't be affected._

**Happy New Year!!!!**

All the lights were on. That can't be a good thing. Staring at the bottom of her jacket, tiny traces of white paint along the edges, she tries to will herself to calm down. She has done this before. Last semester, when her mother reached out to her during the time of the pageant, she discovered the strength she needed to go to her family's apartment. Then, she went again to have her dress altered. Then, there were those lunches with Toby and them. This could be a very welcoming place if things fell in order. She has one ally in her mother already. With her father, Manny knew it took awhile. With Joseph, it usually took awhile.

Officer Patton gestures for the ladies to go on ahead of him and she wishes he weren't so polite. Maria holds in her breath, maybe as nervous as Manny, and opens the door with her key. Her father is leaning against a couch in the living room. Manny reluctantly follows Maria inside.

Joseph's face looks both tired and annoyed. He had to have guessed where she was, given the circumstances. He stands up straight.

"You messed with the lock in your room," sighs Joseph.

Manny lowers her eyes.

"Wiggled your way down the fire escape," continues Joseph. "Did exactly what you wanted, with no thought of how your mother and I would feel."

"What about what I feel?" says Manny, her eyes remaining on the floor.

"You're young," says Joseph, more tenderly than she expected. "You don't always understand your feelings and what might happen if you let them have their say."

"But you guys won't even let me have my say!" cries Manny as she raises her face to him.

"Your say might sacrifice your safety," insists Joseph, taking hold of her shoulders gently.

Manny shakes her head. Who is she fooling? Her father won't relent. Toby was right. Her parents didn't want her anywhere in public and tomorrow would mirror today, leaving Toby to paint the mural alone. Only this time, he had his hopes up for her to come. Her hopes were high until right now.

"The lock's been fixed," mutters Joseph to his wife.

"So that's going to solve it?" asks Maria.

Her mother was making good on her word. Manny holds in a grin she would throw her so Joseph wouldn't think they were in cahoots, which they actually weren't...really.

"I let you go get her," replies Joseph. "I did..."

"We were both in a panic," interrupts Maria. "But we both knew where she'd gone. Joseph, that says something..."

"Did I not let her go to the program?" returns Joseph.

"We could be doing a lot more," says Maria, tenderly. "Look at what all these kids are doing. Manny should be part of that."

"Manny's a special case," says Joseph.

Why are they talking like she isn't in the room? She isn't eavesdropping or sneaking out; she's in the room and came to the house willingly.

"I'm not scared!" cries Manny.

"Well, I am," shares Joseph, then softly repeating it. "I am, Manuella."

Maria and Officer Patton look at each other briefly, and he walks to J.J.'s room, where he was staying.

"Why don't we sit and talk?" suggests Maria, unzipping her purse. "I have the number of Sergeant Blanchett. Perhaps we can talk to him. Maybe he can help us with this whole thing. Okay?"

Manny watches her father's face relax a bit as he exhales. It's the most promising expression he's had all day. Manny goes to the couch and sits as Maria starts to dig. Then, something shiny and long peeks through and falls with a tinkle when it hits the floor. Manny bites her lip. Joseph's too quick for her mother to retrieve it. He frowns as the Star of David rests in his palm.

He holds it up for Manny to see, like she hasn't seen it before. She doesn't feel like explaining what it is or what it means or even what Toby means to her. He'd already make his own guesses. He'd just add more locks and chains that were shiny, but cold.

Manny stands, covering her face while she sobs. An open-mouthed Joseph says nothing when she passes him.

II.

The alarm goes off repeatedly. It sounds like a strangled duck. Sean harrumphs and sits up. The medicine had knocked him out. Or really, he hasn't been resting so maybe that contributed to being tired. But he doesn't regret attending the program or going to a couple of places for some necessities.

Unfortunately, the necessities were becoming fewer and fewer. He had no job. His father used to say that you can only stretch a dollar so far. Isn't he the living proof? Luckily, Ty didn't have an appetite most of the time. Yesterday, he was content with cereal and a cheese sandwich. It may be why he's so skinny. Today, he ate more cereal without complaints. Plus, the kid was as neat as can be. Sean couldn't believe a thirteen-year could be that neat. He folded the blanket Sean provided, propped the pillows up, and cleaned the plates and cups. Sean wasn't incredibly messy, but he didn't clean the apartment regularly. Neither Ellie nor Jay seemed to mind.

Entertaining Ty proved to be easy too. Being fired from Hill's lead to the loss of cable TV, and he wasn't a Toby so the Internet hours weren't cutting a hole through his wallet. Ty has yet to ask for either luxury. He did ask for books, though, so Sean gave him the ones he'd used in his first rocky days at Degrassi. Ty was content flipping through them first and starting them later, right before bed. With his love of reading, it was kind of like having a younger, masculine version of Ellie around.

He walks to his nightstand and slides the door open. She probably doesn't think he kept this. He takes out the red stocking with white fur trim, the initial S on it. This is when she brought Christmas in Tahiti to him. It was so thoughtful and it showed that she cared, despite him staying in Wasaga and not keeping in contact with her. He also reassured her when she was frightened about being intimate. Now, she's frightened and he can't reassure her the way he'd like to. Dale is unpredictable and he has no clue how to keep Ty here without him knowing. It is good that he's here, though. Very good.

Sean puts the stocking in its proper place and enters the living room. Bending forward in a chair, Ty is reading one of his former textbooks.

"You couldn't find more interesting books?" asks Sean, smiling.

Ty rests a finger in between pages to look at him.

"It's math," replies Ty. "Ever do chapter twelve?"

"To tell you the truth, I wouldn't remember," says Sean. "I slept through most of my classes back then."

"Mind if I do some problems?" asks Ty.

"Knock yourself out," replies Sean.

He tries to locate some paper and is interrupted by persistent pounding on the door. Sean stares wearily at Ty. Sean's praying it's not Dale. Staring through the peephole, he's more startled to view Ellie, nervously rubbing her forehead.

"Hey," greets Sean, standing with her near the door.

"Sean!" says Ellie immediately. "You have to get rid of it!"

Sean glances cautiously past her to the steps below.

"Are you okay?" questions Sean.

"Yes, but you won't be if they find it," whispers Ellie. "The spindle. I heard two officers say they're getting a warrant to search your apartment."

A warrant? Who knows what they'd want to search next? Undoubtedly, his car. Wouldn't that be the next logical step? The spindle is resting there and Jay told him to get rid of it, too. Where could he put it that wouldn't get him into trouble? Sean runs both hands through his hair.

"They're coming today?" whispers Sean.

"I wouldn't chance it," says Ellie. "They know you were working on Ashley's car, and that that part is the same model or whatever. I've been trying to call you."

"I must've slept through the ringing," apologizes Sean.

He's not amazed by her retrieving the information. She is a journalist, or a soon to be journalist. What he's amazed by is that she is putting herself in the mix, something he never hoped would happen.

"Go...go home, Ellie," stammers Sean.

"Sean, they're not playing," says Ellie, letting her hands fall. "They're going to interrogate Jay, and...."

"You can't be involved, Ellie," interjects Sean. "I won't let you."

"I am involved," insists Ellie.

"Not as a criminal, alright!" cries Sean.

His voice echoes through the stairwell, though nobody's there to hear it. Ellie's lips quiver for a second and she breathes deeply.

"Sean, you aren't a criminal," says Ellie. "You're someone who got caught up in this. You just did. You got caught up."

"Well, I'm not letting you get caught up in this," sighs Sean. "Your parents don't need this right now. You don't need it. Okay?"

Ellie nods slowly, yet she fails to move. Man, where should he ditch it? He starts running a list of locations through his mind. Yes, there! There would be alright and he'd be rid of this whole mess.

"Can I come in?" asks Ellie, weakly.

"Um, can you stay until I get back?" says Sean.

"Yeah," says Ellie. "Why?"

He parts the door and they view Ty using a pencil to do the problems in the text. Ty doesn't notice them, though Ellie definitely appears to be evaluating him closely.

"He was at the Dot," recalls Ellie.

"I met him at Dale's," informs Sean, so low Ty couldn't hear. "He's really smart. I told you about him when we were at the lake."

A sudden look of recognition appears in Ellie's eyes. Sean grabs his jacket and shouts a "bye" to Ty. He'd go, ditch it in no time flat, and talk to Ellie when he returned.

"What am I supposed to do with him?" whispers Ellie.

"Um, he likes to read," replies Sean, kissing her on the cheek and starting down the steps.

III.

Her neck is against the cool comforter of her bed, legs stretched across the floor. The dark midnight sky is brighter than the muted light in her room, a lamp casting shadows against the wall. When she was at Emma's, she'd long for her room, some privacy, every now and then. She missed her mom's home-cooked meals. She missed practicing her monologues and scenes for the drama club when her parents were making house calls during the weekend. She missed running into her neighbors in the complex and asking how they were. There was freedom that she took for granted.

Her eyes stray to her suitcase, already packed. She rushed into her room and started piling things in there without stopping to consider anything else. Toby would be waiting for her and she would have to sit here while he waited. She couldn't bear it. She'd go to the airport first thing in the morning so she wouldn't have to be anywhere near her dad.

"Manuella?" says a voice on the other end of the door.

Joseph taps the door twice. She wouldn't answer. Honestly, she thought he'd fold once her mother talked to him. So much for faith.

The door creaks open. She hates that she didn't lock it. They, after all, were perfectly fine with locking her away.

Her father's heavy steps cross from her doorway to where she sits. She glances at his shoes.

"Leave me alone," moans Manny.

"I have something that belongs to you," says Joseph, sighing as he holds the necklace over her shoulder.

Manny catches it in her hands when he drops it. Joseph sighs and sits by her, his legs going far past the length of hers.

"Thanks," says Manny, making a fist around it.

"I miss those days when I could come in any time," reminsces Joseph. "When you were small and I always knew what you were doing."

Manny folds her arms and turns to her left, not bothering to look at him.

"Then again, you were always pretty unpredictable," continues Joseph. "Remember when you and Emma and J.T. were hiding under your bed?"

"Three billy goats gruff," supplies Manny.

"Yes, yes," says Joseph.

"We were pretending you were the troll," reveals Manny. "Only we were five and had it reversed. You should've been under the bed."

Joseph laughs quietly at first, Manny joining in. They pause and Manny remains quiet.

"You're not small enough to fit under there anymore," says Joseph. "And while I'm getting used to things changing, to _you_ changing, this came up so suddenly."

Man, is that the truth. One minute, they were attending variety shows and wishing her well as she left for camp. The next minute, they're boosting security and riding in cop cars. Manny touches the edge of his elbow.

"And it's not anybody's fault," says Joseph. "It's definitely not Toby's fault. Please don't think that I think that."

"Okay," says Manny.

"I...I don't want certain things to change," admits Joseph, nodding to her hands.

Manny holds the necklace, lets the star slip in between her fingers.

"Dad, I'm Catholic," laughs Manny. "That's sticking, alright?"

Joseph lets out a sigh of relief.

"But I'm in love, too," adds Manny. "I'm in love with him."

"There's a part of every father that would like to lock their daughters up forever," says Joseph, the lines near his eyes softening. "No one can tell me different. You were my little princess before you were their Miss Degrassi."

She smiles and lets her head rest on his shoulder. Her dad could be gruff, but he was never a troll.

"In a few months, it'll be a year since we started talking again," notes Manny aloud.

"Christmas," remarks Joseph. "Toby came to service with us. And now you've been to his synagogue."

Right, thinks Manny dismally. She wouldn't be going there again. Manny blows a couple tendrils of hair out of her eyes.

"Would you like to go there tomorrow?" says Joseph, easing into a smile.

"Uh-uh!" cries Manny. "Like for real, for real?"

Joseph chuckles. "Even I am tired of sitting at home."

"Thank you!" exclaims Manny, wrapping her arms around him.

"It has to be early, Manuella, and only for a bit," says Joseph. "That's the arrangement we made with Officer Patton."

"Oh, I don't care!" promises Manny, separating from him. "I'm just glad to go!"

This is the best news. Toby would definitely appreciate her being there, and she'd have to thank her mom, too, because she's fairly certain he didn't come to this decision on his own. She would get to be a part of Toby's mural...finally.

"I love you, Dad," says Manny. "That won't change either."

"I love you, too," says Joseph.

He stands, helping Manny to her feet. Joseph stares longingly at the lock, though he gives her a wave and starts to the door.

"Dad, if it helps, all those days when you were wondering what I was doing?" says Manny. "I was probably just sleeping."

"Yes," says Joseph, grinning. "That's nice to hear."

IV.

Drying his hair with a towel, Toby locates his glasses next to his eyeglasses cleaner. He also found his cologne, good pair of white socks, and breath freshener. His wet, floppy hair sinks to his brow and he groans. This was not a time for his hair to act like this. He puts some cologne into his palm and lightly douses his neck.

J.T. yawns and his sleeping bag scrunches as he wakes up.

"Ugh," murmurs J.T., scratching his stomach.

"Morning to you, too," says Toby.

"My audition's today," remembers J.T., then flopping down.

"But the mural's first," says Toby, maybe too happily. "That's why you came, so...."

"Yeah, I knew I wouldn't wake up early without you bugging me," moans J.T. "When did you...."

"Six a.m.," says Toby quickly.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're really odd?" says J.T., standing. "And cologne? What, you want to impress the Spirit Squad or something?"

"More like a former member of the Spirit Squad," sighs Toby.

"Paige?" guesses J.T.

Toby laughs and smiles at the mirror. "You'll see."

"I can hardly contain my excitement," dead-pans J.T. "I'm assuming the shower's free?"

"Go ahead," replies Toby.

J.T. grabs his bookbag and walks to the bathroom. Toby slides open his closet and finds his tennis shoes. While paint is involved, hence the casual shoes, he at least wanted to give off an aura of being fresh and clean. That's how he feels-- revitalized. Manny's coming today. He'd bet every one of his computer games on it. He could tell by Maria's smile and the look in Manny's eyes. When the mural was completed, he'd pull her to the side and present her with the ring, tucked safely in his pocket. Manny would have it on the return flight to California.

"Toby!" calls Jeff.

"Yes?" says Toby.

"Are you...decent?" says Jeff, the pause making Toby's eyebrows rise.

"Yeah," says Toby.

He hears multiple footsteps coming to his bedroom. Why are there multiple footsteps? Not unless J.T. has joined his dad. No, realizes Toby as Jeff and Sergeant Blanchett appear. Toby sets the cologne on his bureau, the single sound in the room.

"Should I?" says Jeff, turning to Sergeant Blanchett.

"No, I can tell him," says Sergeant Blanchett. "We need you to come to the station, son. To answer a few questions."

"What kind of questions?" says Toby.

"Run-of-the-mill questions," answers Sergeant Blanchett. "The unit is narrowing down where the group's headquarters might be. And we're really close."

Though that is news that is more than welcome, the timing of this is pretty bad.

"The mural," says Toby.

"It will take twenty minutes, tops," assures Sergeant Blanchett. "You won't miss most of it."

"This is important, Toby," adds Jeff.

The mural's important too! They told Maria and Manny eight o' clock. His clock reads seven forty-five now. Sure, he wants them to find Justin, end this madness. Yet, this is cutting his time with Manny. His shoulders slump. Suddenly, he's not lively.

"J.T. can take Kate, maybe?" offers Jeff, looking at Toby.

Toby unfolds his eyeglasses, putting them on. "Fine."

V.

"Manny!" greets Darcy, throwing her arms around her friend.

Giggling, Manny manages to pry Darcy from her body. The whole Squad gathered around her, in addition to Liberty, J.T., Jimmy, and Nate. Most of the people who had been there yesterday came to finish what they'd started. Taking them all in, she feels much better knowing they were there for Toby and the mural yesterday. But where is he?

"Guys, we should probably get started," suggests Snake, putting an arm around Manny. "Half of our crew needs to get to work at a certain time."

A few of Mr. Campanelli's workers and Mr. Campanelli himself were pouring different colors of paint into small, grey rectangular trays. Angie, and another young girl Manny doesn't recognize, watch in fascination as Chante's cousin pours the pink paint inside. Manny rolls up her sleeve in anticipation.

"Didn't see you yesterday," greets Anne Marie as she hugs Manny.

"I was being held captive by the rents," whispers Manny, glancing over her shoulder at Joseph and Maria staring peacefully at the white canvass.

"Better late than never," says Anne Marie.

"Speaking of...um, is Toby late?" asks Manny.

"Haven't seen him yet," shares Anne Marie. "I'm going to the airport after this. It's only eight fifteen, though. He'll be here."

"Well, have a good flight if I don't get to talk to you," says Manny.

"Thank you," says Anne Marie, smiling. "And make sure to call me when you're back in L.A. We can go out to lunch or something."

After a parting hug, Anne Marie goes to converse with J.T. and Liberty. Hmmm, if anybody else knew where Toby was, J.T. would. Manny's inches from him, yet is halted by a shout from Hazel.

"Manny!" calls Hazel. "Jimmy and Ellie finally agree on something. That you should do the first handprint."

Everyone whoops their agreement as a wide grin spreads across Manny's lips. That is a sweet idea. She checks her watch. Her parents said they'd have to leave in thirty minutes. Ugh, maybe doing the handprint will bide enough time for Toby to show. She walks to the tray with the pink paint and puts her hand inside. It's squelchy like mud and cool like water. Her palm and fingers are covered in hot pink.

Her hand open, she gazes at the wall, trying to choose a good spot for her handprint. She definitely wanted everyone to see hers, and identification wouldn't be a problem seeing as after it dried, Nate had procured special labels for their markings. She just had to put it in the right place. It would be a spot that would make Toby happy, years later, after they've been through all of this pain and confusion. He would look at it and remember the pageant or California or the program, and above everything else, what he meant to her.

Manny approaches the wall. Center stage. She selects a spot in the center of the bright white wall and presses her hand against it. The indelible mark stares back at her like the handprints they saw at Grauman's. Manny claps after she's through, forgetting that her other hand was dry and clean. Everybody laughs warmly.

"Bleh," says Manny as J.T. tosses her a towel.

After wiping her fingers diligently, she stares at her parents, who were standing off to the side watching her.

"Mom?" says Manny, hopefully. "Dad?"

"Oh, we couldn't," demurs Maria.

"There's plenty of paint," encourages Rabbi Miller.

With a defeated smile, Maria chooses the blue tray, which Nate holds up for her. Joseph beams at Manny and goes for the green. They press their hands against the wall together, two hands just under Manny's.

"Woo!" shouts Clara, leading the group's applause.

It's too bad Toby isn't there to view this moment. He asked her to come with his own lips. She overhead J.T. telling Anne Marie that he drove Kate to the synagogue. Toby didn't hitch a ride with them? Something didn't happen to him, did it?

Maria's cellphone starts to buzz. No. That is the sign that Officer Patton was ready to take them home. It is eight thirty, the exact instant Manny had agreed on with the three of them. Maria answers and hangs up, all within the span of a couple minutes. Toby didn't arrive in those couple of minutes. Her mother stares at her with every ounce of pity she can muster.

"It's...it's time, Manny," says Maria.

She glances at her friends and community members, going about happily as they make their own impressions with care and dedication. What would Toby think if she ditched this so early? She isn't granted a second thought. An arm waves from a cop car coming down the street.

"We can't keep him waiting, Manuella," says Joseph.

The strong stench of paint, irritating to her nose, follows her as they duck inside the car.

VI.

Toby rests his head against the car seat, the vinyl warm against his elbows. His father stops at a red light and sighs.

"That was a whole lot of nothing," says Jeff.

"I don't get why I had to go," groans Toby. "I don't know where Justin and his group hang out."

"They were hoping the addresses they traced to the e-mails would point them in the right direction, I suppose," muses Jeff.

Well, they were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Toby looked at each photograph of each house and drew a blank. It wasn't one set location, but several. Most of them were in the vicinity of Justin's house, a block away or a few houses steps away from Justin's stoop. Toby remembers the decayed neighborhood and the scared kid, but not much else since that was weeks ago. They were discussing taking him with the unit on an outing, which ate the moments he could've spent with Manny. Luckily, after thirty minutes, they decided on talking some more tomorrow and letting him leave.

Jeff pulls to the curb, Toby speedily exiting the car. He could spy J.T., Jimmy, Mr. Reyes, and Lucie from there. There is no sign of Manny. Toby jogs to them.

"Did Manny show?" asks Toby.

"Yeah, you missed her," replies J.T. "Left five minutes ago. Sorry, man."

Toby lets his head fall. He'd envisioned them sharing in this together and the circumstances that lead to the wall drove them from meeting at the wall. He inwardly berates the Degrassi Police force for keeping him there longer than he and his father anticipated.

"We have blue paint left," offers Lucie, sympathetically.

"I told her to save it," boasts J.T.

"But who remembered?" returns Lucie.

"Go ahead, Tobes," says J.T.

He smiles at them both, inwardly still disappointed as he coats his hand in blue paint. This would mean so much more if Manny was there to watch, or even put hers on alongside his. Greeting a few of his classmates, his eyes scan the wall. There was a pretty big chunk of white space, save for three handprints. Toby grins as their names find his sight. Manny, Joseph, Maria. They weren't there, but they were showing their support and he definitely appreciates it.

He hopes that no one notices, and though he might get teased for it, he places his print next to Manny's pink hand. His thumb is next to her pinkie, and the closer you look, the more they look like they're touching.

Toby lets his body go backwards, assessing the whole effect of the mural, his mural. Everybody's line of sight goes upward as Nate, hovering above them on a ladder, finishes his last painted letter, an "r". **Love Has No Colour**. Jimmy made the suggestion and the wall, every inch of it, is something he loves. Justin's words were washed away and replaced by his friends' commitment, their patience, and their creativity. He couldn't ask to live anywhere else.

"Why does it have to be all Canadian and have the 'u' in colour?" asks Heather. "The u looks ugly."

"Shut up, Heather!" yell half of the girls.

"I guess I'll get used to it," shrugs off Heather.

Most people laugh as Heather's cheeks grow more red. Toby's mind goes past Heather's nitpicking and a new vision of Manny breaks through. She is walking down an airport terminal, bags in hand, unable to say good-bye to him. Toby's heart quickens as the image begins to fade.

"Is Manny home?" asks Toby, stopping J.T. in his tracks as he walks to clean off his hand.

"Have no idea," says J.T. "Want me to call her?"

"No," says Toby, trying to determine a way to reach her that would be more personal.

Mr. Campanelli pours the contents of the tray with pink paint into a bucket that Lucie holds. When Manny was at Mr. Campanelli's, she did anything to reach him before the computer camp bus left the lot. She could've let him go, but she didn't. She reached him to tell him how she felt, that she wanted a second chance. Then, why is he just standing here? Manny's waited for him on how many different days? No day is more fresh in his mind than when she came to find him, days after Christmas, with her rosy cheeks and heavy coat.

"I need a lift home," says Toby to J.T.

"Sure," says J.T.

"Gotta do something first," says Toby.

He meets Mr. Campanelli eye to eye, Lucie looking on in interest.

"You said if I ever needed anything?" reminds Toby. "Does that still stand?"

"Standing like I am," assures Mr. Campanelli.

VII.

It has to be the unmarked door. He's been there enough. The hum of the florescent bulbs in the stairwell, in addition to the tiny sounds coming from each apartment, fill his ears. The hood makes his face itchy and hot, but it's a small price to pay if this works.

Toby knocks the door thrice, twice so they can hear and one for good measure. Many locks turn behind it and the chain is still attached when she opens it.

"Hello?" says Manny, wearily. "What the...."

"Who is it?" asks Joseph, ushering Manny to the side.

Joseph peers through the small slit, wonder written on his face.

"I think you have the wrong house," insists Joseph. "We have an officer in here!"

"What's going on?" asks Maria, her face appearing next to Joseph's.

"Wait," says Joseph, his tone softening a bit.

The door swings to reveal the three Santoses, first staring at him with confusion, then smiles slowly replacing their mistrust.

"Toby!" cries Manny, then covering her mouth.

Toby lowers his hoodie and grins. It took him awhile to find clothing that would mask his face and body really well.

"A disguise," says Toby. "I couldn't risk anybody finding out. Sorry."

His eyes rest on Manny, smiling from cheek to cheek behind Joseph. Every reason he had not to do this vanished when he considered how doing this might make her feel. He set everything in motion, borrowing the hope that she's always had. All they need, what they need the most during days like this, is time.

"I'll leave if you want me to," starts Toby, nervously. "But I had to tell you something."

Joseph nods for him to continue.

"I want to fight to be with your daughter," says Toby with confidence, relying on his feet to keep him up. "As her friend or as her boyfriend or whatever we're going to be. Because I have never felt like this about anyone else before."

Out of instinct, he looks at Manny. Her eyes are sort of misty, and she's smiling. That's good. Maria's smiling. That's also good. Joseph appears skeptical. Okay, maybe he should go on.

"If you'll let me, I'd like to take Manny on a date," says Toby, then swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Like...now?" asks Joseph.

"Yeah, pretty much," answers Toby, speedily.

"Where?" says Joseph.

"The place is public," guarantees Toby. "Officer Wheaton would be with us. His car has tinted windows, and I'd make sure she's okay too."

Manny's brow is wrinkled, clearly puzzled. Joseph releases a heavy breath and glances at his wife.

"Maria, get the phone," says Joseph.

They go to talk in a corner, Toby briefly peering inside. Manny stands by him.

"Toby, I'm in my sweats," whispers Manny, blushing. "My travelling sweats, which aren't even my cute sweats."

She grins after saying this, though, so she can't be that mad at him.

"You can change," whispers Toby. "I can wait."

Manny beams and her eyes drop as her parents return to the two of them. Toby tries to read whether they're calling his father, which would be pretty bad, or the station to inform them of what he's doing. He thought his speech was pretty good. Manny and Maria appeared to be touched.

"Get your suitcase, Manny," instructs Joseph.

Toby puts his hands in his pockets and shakes his head.

"But...," begins Manny.

"Do it," says Joseph, softly as he starts to dial.

Maria takes Manny's arm and gently steers her to her bedroom. Toby moves to leave, but Joseph closes the door before he can go. Toby stares at him.

"Hello?" says Joseph, grinning at Toby. "I'm calling to reschedule. For a later flight."

VIII.

"I feel like Little Red Riding Hood," admits Manny as Toby holds the door for her.

That would be an accurate description for what she looks like. Maria let her borrow a black, wool coat with a wider hood and long sleeves so she could hide her face as Officer Wheaton and Toby waited in the car near her complex. Her parents volunteered to meet them at the airport, and Manny ended up being happy that she packed earlier.

The ride allowed them to catch up, something else that made her happy. They exchanged stories about the mural, how much privacy they have and haven't found over the past few days, what their parents were saying. Some of it was pretty disconcerting. Some of it they had just gotten used to and some of it they didn't want to get used to.

Today is for them, though. Toby actually stepped up, came to talk to her parents and said that he would fight to be with her. Who does that? Suddenly, those moments where she believed him to be Degrassi's worthy president-elect or the best Kytel intern flood her memory. Man, this guy...sometimes he'd knock her heart right out of the park.

That's why it is no surprise that they're at the venue where their love started to grow. Degrassi Mall. They came here routinely, but it always made her think of their first date as if it were yesterday. There were the surprising feelings, the discovery of new parts of themselves, the shy, romantic gestures. She'd come to this mall a million days in a row if it meant being with him.

"Hmmm, we're passing all the main events," notes Manny.

They were. They went by the Mexican restaurant and the movie theater where they had their first date. They went by Gizmo and Things and Pretty Pretty, their usual stops.

Toby slides off his hoodie and reveals a nice, white sweater and black slacks. Manny's glad she changed. This must mean she can lower her hood, so she at least does that.

"You won't budge on the no telling policy?" asks Manny.

"I gave you a word," reminds Toby.

"Christmas?" says Manny. "What's that about?"

"It's like I said," replies Toby.

He pulls her to a store that she's more than familiar with. Manny gasps when Toby steers her inside.

"Christmas," says Manny, stepping forward as her eyes grow wet.

Strings of Christmas lights were lit and hung from the tops of cupboards, vanities, and on a plastic evergreen tree in the corner. Poinsettas were set on the linen of white tablecloths. Silver and gold tinsel were draped on the tree's branches, where a few red and white bulbs and candy canes were placed. In the middle of Campanelli's Hardware stands a table with two plates, two glasses, and a solitary gold box.

"Toby," whispers Manny, wiping her eyes.

"I have to thank Mr. Campanelli a trillion times before the year is over," sighs Toby. "But it's worth it."

Toby takes her hand and leads her to the table. Manny unbuttons her coat and smooths her white minidress, adjusts the two straps so they're neat-looking. Toby helps her out of her coat and rests it on a hatstand. Manny giggles and lets him pull out her chair.

The bulk of the store has remained the same. Manny got the impression Mr. Campanelli has closed the shop for them, which is sweet. You can still spy the housing goods, carpeting tools, and pieces of handmade furniture, though, among the holiday spirit.

"How long do we have?" asks Manny as Toby takes his seat.

"Ninety minutes," supplies Toby.

"That's ninety minutes more than we would've had," sighs Manny as she reaches for his hand.

"That's how I look at it, too," says Toby.

"So no menorah? No dreidels?" says Manny with a smile. "A total yuletide affair."

"Christmas was a little better than Hanukkah...for us," muses Toby.

"True," says Manny, kissing his hand. "Your first Christmas with me."

"You're my first everything," says Toby, looking into her eyes.

"Don't make this conversation dirty, Toby," teases Manny.

"That's _not_ what I meant," laughs Toby. "Okay. Maybe like twenty percent..."

Manny smiles triumphantly and stares at the tree. In a certain light, it almost looks real. In a way, this is real. She can touch the tree or the poinsettas or the tablecloth. But, in the back of her mind, she knows they have more real things that aren't so lovely to look at.

"I've been meaning to give this to you for awhile," says Toby, interrupting her thoughts.

He presents her with the gold box , tiny foreign letters across the top. She traces the letters with her finger.

"My grandfather gave that to Bubbe during the final days of the Holocaust," shares Toby. "The letters there are Hebrew for Rebecca."

"Oh," breathes Manny. "Can I?"

"Yes," encourages Toby.

Manny takes off the lid and stares at a silver ring that shines more brilliantly than the Christmas lights. A glittering black garnet stone has traces of the light red bulbs reflecting on it. It is exquisite.

"Try it on," says Toby.

"If this is Bubbe's...," begins Manny.

"No, it's mine and I'm giving it to you," insists Toby.

Sliding the ring on her right hand, the piece of jewelry is snug and warm against her skin. The ring hugs her finger like it is meant to be on there.

"Perfect," notes Toby as well.

"You have to thank her for me," says Manny.

"There's a lot behind that," says Toby. "But the basic thing is that my grandfather thought it would get them through anything. He didn't make it out alive, which is sad. Though, when it comes to us, maybe things will turn out okay."

"Better than okay," says Manny, leaning in to kiss him for a few seconds.

"I have non-airport food," informs Toby when their mouths part.

"Oh my gosh, thank you!" cries Manny earnestly.

"I swung by the Dot while Mr. Campanelli and Lucie were doing the finishing touches on the tree," says Toby. "I got you..."

"A cheeseburger with relish and very salty curly fries?" guesses Manny, excitement making her stomach gurgle. "Sorry."

Toby disappears behind a vanity and reappears with two cartons of food. Manny thanks him and accepts her carton.

"Forgot the relish," says Toby.

Manny lifts the carton's lid and checks.

"Liar," accuses Manny playfully.

Toby grins. "Okay, maybe not."

He looks at his watch, Manny sadly staring at him afterwards. She can't believe they're on a limit. She could deal with curfews, isn't so sure she can deal with the reality of tomorrow.

"You're hungry, right?" encourages Toby.

"Yeah," says Manny, biting into her burger.

She would chew slowly, so slowly.

IX.

They just kind of drifted there. While evaluating the ornaments, admiring the life-like branches, and sharing their mutual memories of holidays where they were younger, Manny confessed that her feet were tired. So they sat on the store floor and she laid her head on the tree skirt, Toby doing likewise. It wasn't a movement he regretted.

Her head a few inches from his, their eyes meeting under the multi-colored glare of the lights, they're as close as possible. Manny's hand rests on the cotton tree skirt. The ring sparkles like how a dropped jewel would on top of a snowy path.

"You have tinsel in your hair," observes Toby.

A couple pieces of silver tinsel had made their way onto the middle part of Manny's hair.

"Ugh, take it out," moans Manny, smiling.

"It's actually really pretty," chuckles Toby.

"Fine," says Manny good-naturedly. "Let it stay."

He'd rather her stay than the tinsel.

"I can't believe you came to my apartment like that," compliments Manny. "You are a constant surprise, Toby Isaacs."

"As long as the surprises are good," says Toby, stroking her dark hair, soaked in red and green hues.

"People always say this is the most wonderful time of the year," says Manny, softly. "Today, it doesn't feel wonderful, not all the way, you know?"

"I know," says Toby after a long sigh.

The seconds were slipping away. Nothing was promised to them, between them anymore. That's because they couldn't make promises. They had no idea what lay ahead.

"Ask me to wait," whispers Manny.

Eventually, he'd suspected that she would say this or something like it. He decided on a response during the car ride to the mall. He cast glances at her smooth skin and her worried face's reflection in the tinted window. There was a lot of weight present in the few silences. He's seen her get hurt before, waiting for a guy, in the shadows like she didn't matter or was second best. During the summer, he almost was that guy until he'd figured out what he would lose. Manny matters and he wouldn't place that pressure on her or them.

"Manny," says Toby, shaking his head against the tree skirt.

"I would," says Manny, smiling as tears form. "You know I would."

Toby places his hand over hers.

"Tobes," whispers Manny.

"That's too much for me to ask," replies Toby.

"What do we do then?" questions Manny.

"You conquer California," says Toby, as simply as he can.

Manny starts to laugh, Toby grinning. It is a nice break in the sadness. A not so nice break comes from his watch, beeping harshly in his ears. That means they have to go.

He starts to rise, Manny tugging his shirt gently.

"It was the nightingale, and not the lark," says Manny fondly. "Believe me, love; it was the nightingale."

"What's...what's that mean?" stammers Toby.

"From _Romeo and Juliet_," explains Manny. "She says it so he'll stay and they won't be apart."

Toby sort of remembers that party of the play, sort of doesn't, though he doesn't want Manny to know he's somewhat lost.

"Right," says Toby.

"I always wanted to say that to someone," confesses Manny, blushing.

The sentiment is definitely not lost with that statement, Toby placing a hand on her shoulder and bringing his lips to hers. Their mouths move to a matchless rhythm, Toby too swept up in it to notice the lights flickering. He moves his head slightly and hits a branch. Manny makes the same mistake, although she releases a soft "oh" when the branch meets her forehead.

"I have terrible timing," says Lucie, flushing red. "So, so sorry. I..."

"Hey...hey, Lucie," says Toby, hurrying to help Manny to her feet.

"We were going," assures Manny. "Thanks, for everything."

"Thanks a lot," adds Toby. "We cleaned up everything."

"Good. Well, have a good flight, eh?" calls Lucie, then walking to the cash register.

The store remains slightly dark, Lucie not turning on the lights just yet. Toby is glad for it, as he and Manny walk to the entrance, both of them spying Officer Wheaton seated at a bench opposite the store.

"Come with me to the airport," whispers Manny.

"You don't have to ask," replies Toby.

They hold hands as they move past the remnants of their own holiday. Manny glances back at the tree, then lets Toby put an arm around her, bringing her to his chest. The colorful lights dim, section by section, bulb by bulb, until they fade completely.


	70. Everytime We Say Goodbye

**LXX. Everytime We Say Goodbye**

_Oh, everytime we say goodbye I die a little  
Everytime we say goodbye I wonder why a little  
Why the gods above me who must be in the know  
Think so little of me  
They allow you to go_

_And when you're near  
There's such an air of spring about it  
I can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about it  
There's no love song finer  
But how strange the change from major to minor  
Everytime we say goodbye_

_Everytime we say goodbye I die a little  
Everytime we say goodbye I wonder why a little  
Why the gods above me who must be in the know  
Think so little of me  
They allow you to go_

_When you're near  
There's such an air of spring about it  
I can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about it  
There's no love song finer  
But how strange the change from major to minor  
Everytime we say goodbye_

_Everyime we say goodbye_

**Everytime We Say Good-bye is the property of Ray Charles and appears in the film _The Parent Trap_**.  
**AN: Alright, so it's the return of Spemma...yay! Okay, we last left them when Emma convinced Spinner to stay the night at the Andrews'. This is the same day where Manny meets with Colleen, so if I mention her, she's in L.A. at the time. She won't be present in any scenes, which should help to make it less confusing. Also, remember that Emma promised to phone Snake in "Singin' in the Rain".  
The Sellie takes place on the same night as Ellie coming to warn Sean about the warrant. That happens a day earlier than the Tobanny stuff, which closes the chapter.**

His nose itches, really itches. Spinner rubs the bridge of it and grumbles. His brown eyes slowly open and his gaze is overshadowed by brown fur. What if it's some weird creature that climbed next to him on the couch? Spinner shouts and sends the teddy bear to the floor. Teddy bear? Hannah, her name instantly springing to his mind.

"You and Merlin didn't get along?" asks Hannah, bouncing into the room.

She's already dressed, in cute tan overalls and a white and brown-striped shirt, clean white tennis shoes touching the carpet. He doesn't think he's seen a kid with cleaner sneakers.

"He likes strangers, even though Lia says strangers are bad," says Hannah.

"Oh," says Spinner, bending to pick up Merlin. "I...I just didn't expect to have a sleeping partner or whatever."

"I'll find a new sleeping partner for him then," says Hannah, taking the bear.

"Um, where's Emma?" asks Spinner.

"She said to leave you alone so you could get some rest," answers Hannah. "She went to get the mail."

Spinner figures he should be getting dressed too. It was nice to have a warm place to sleep but he didn't want to get Emma or Lia in trouble. He'd shower, thank them, and drive back to Santa Clara. He glances at the clock on the mantelpiece.

"Ten thirty!" cries Spinner. "Dude, that is not good."

"You're not...you're not staying 'til five?" questions Hannah. "Daddy will be gone until five."

"I'd like to, but......"

Spinner's response is interrupted by a low, light noise coming from a stomach. Hannah's stomach. She pats her belly and blushes.

"You haven't eaten?" says Spinner.

"Early," says Hannah. "And not that much. I eat lunch early too so......"

He can't let a sweet kid go hungry. Running it past Emma would save him some trouble too, taking note of any of Hannah's allergies or food preferences. This vaguely reminds him of Kelsey asking if she could help at the Dot. Her father, his boss, gave her the smallest tasks, though you could see she got a real satisfaction of contributing to her father's job. It was mainly napkin folding and setting packets of ketchup on the table, but she loved it. Hannah would probably like similar tasks, too.

"I'm making you ladies lunch," decides Spinner.

Hannah grins widely. "Just a reminder. Emma doesn't eat meat."

"I knew, but thanks for reminding me," says Spinner, guiding Hannah to the kitchen.

They hear a door close as they travel. Emma sets the mail on the living room coffee table before catching sight of them. She stares at them in confusion.

"Promised Hannah I'd whip you guys up something," explains Spinner.

"Spin, you're a guest...," begins Emma.

"Who's not paying or doing chores or anything," says Spinner. "Small price to pay for two great girls."

Emma sighs loudly, clearly giving in as she's smiling. She adjusts her thin white blouse and denim skirt, walks to see Spinner's preparation. Hmmm, he thought the only audience he'd be having is Hannah. Pat was always so cool under pressure at the Dot. He better fake it. There were a few simple dishes he can do.

"Ah," says Spinner, nodding to himself. "Grilled cheese."

"I love grilled cheese!" exclaims Hannah, peering her small head over the counter.

"Watch your nose, Hannah," says Emma as Spinner removes a few utensils from a container.

He selects a spatula and knife, and retrieves a frying pan from above. There probably would be butter and cheese in the fridge, and bread somewhere in the same area.

"Bread?" says Spinner.

"Breadbox," informs Emma, reaching for the box handle, the box above the refrigerator.

Man, he keeps forgetting how tall she really is. Whenever she stands next to Manny, she doesn't look her height, but when she's by herself, the length of her body is different, longer, more graceful. Spinner smiles as he accepts the bread.

"What can I do?" speaks up Hannah.

"Well, after I get the sandwich all situated, you can watch the oven clock and tell me when two minutes have gone by," answers Spinner.

"Cool. That's like what a real cook would do," boasts Hannah.

"Definitely," says Spinner.

Emma stands peacefully to the side as Spinner preps the pan, lays the bread inside, and adds the cheese on top. He almost expects her to tell him that he's doing something wrong. She could be right. He's only made grilled cheese for his youngest cousins, but they ate everything.

"Alright, Chef Andrews," says Spinner, turning the temperature of what may be the fanciest oven he's ever used. "Two minutes exactly."

"Exactly," repeats Hannah.

He begins to grin at Emma, though she beckons him to her. They go in a corner as the pan simmers and the bread becomes brown. It must be important if it calls for a private conference.

"Lia didn't like us taking her to Cavalier," whispers Emma, sadly. "Even if she did want to go, I doubt her dad would let her."

"Have you tried talking to him?" says Spinner.

"He's totally unreachable, and not just because of his business trip," says Emma.

"You'd think he'd make some time for her," sighs Spinner.

"There's some family drama," says Emma. "But that's so not an excuse."

Spinner and Emma glance at the empty archway of the kitchen door, as if Kel Andrews were in town, was around. He doesn't understand. If he had a daughter like Hannah, and the mother was gone, he'd be there for her. He'd be there for her more, actually.

"Eeeep!" shrieks Hannah.

He turns to her in time to see her small hand drop the pan, the simmering contents of the sandwich flop onto the floor. Hannah holds her aching hand as Emma rushes to her. Spinner retrieves a towel, makes an icy compress for the crying girl.

"Hannah, you don't touch what's on the oven," says Emma, holding the compress tight against her injured finger.

"I was going to move it to the other side so I could see better," whimpers Hannah.

Spinner runs his hands through his hair. This is all his fault. He shouldn't have turned his back to her. She's seven. He got her burned. Crouching down with her, Spinner checks her finger. The finger is red, though the compress has made it cold.

"Hannah, I'm so, so sorry," says Spinner.

"It's okay," sniffles Hannah. "Lia told me not to do it. I touch stuff I'm not supposed to touch...sometimes."

"It's a rule you should follow," reprimands Emma gently. "Keep the compress on for another minute, okay?"

Hannah nods and goes to sit in a chair, her blonde ponytail brushing the back of the chair.

"So much for grilled cheese," whispers Emma to Spinner. "It looked really good, though."

"Well, if everything's safe next time, maybe I can make you one when you come home to Toronto," suggests Spinner.

"Toronto," breathes Emma, leaning on the counter.

She goes to console Hannah, a distracted expression on her face.

Yes, Toronto. He's leaving the day after tomorrow. The Dot needed him, yet Kendra needs him in a way too. Emma doesn't need him, but he needs to find a way not to miss her. They could talk on the phone. Still, they were never big on the phone when they were dating post-pagaent. School allowed them to see each other regularly. Then, he would go to her house and hang with the Simpsons. He didn't really email, to girlfriends anyway. There has to be a way to keep tabs on Kendra and interact with Emma after all this California craziness.

"What are we going to do for lunch?" he hears Hannah ask Emma.

"Well, I still owe you guys," says Spinner. "Let's...let's go out, get something."

Hannah's face brightens up considerably. Emma smiles her agreement.

"I...I know where I want to go!" cries Hannah, excitedly.

"Wherever it is," says Spinner. "We'll go."

II.

"Do you know when the junkyard closes?" asks Sean into the receiver.

He glances hesitantly past the glass of the phone booth, checks the other side. Several cars stand serenely in their parking spaces, his car one of the closer ones to the complex. His plan is to speed away, and dump it. The spindle would be buried in mounds of trash and hopefully so would the memories of him being involved with Dale's shop. A bigger reminder that he isn't quite through with Dale is upstairs, but he'd deal with that in a different way.

"Hold please," says the operator.

"Come on, come on, come on," whispers Sean as light-hearted music plays at the other end.

How much time does he have? Were the cops discussing him right now? Ellie said they were going to interview Jay first, with hopes that he'd spill. He knows Jay won't sell him out so he's got a window. He's got a window. Sean stares out the window again and nearly jumps.

Tracker stares at him curiously. Sean reposition the phone on the hook. Should he leave? Man, he's out of quarters. Sean exits.

"Bro, do you ever stay in bed or what?" chastises Tracker. "I come to your apartment. You don't answer the door or my calls."

"Got to take care of some business," says Sean, avoiding eye contact.

"What's the big secret?" says Tracker, lowering his voice. "Why are you sneaking around, huh?"

"Can't...can't tell you," says Sean.

He fishes out his car keys, momentarily looking at the bike he bought not so long ago. He'd never get a chance to ride it with things shaping up they way they are, and who knows? He might have to sell that or his car at this rate, to make rent. Sean walks to the car.

"Don't make me call Mom and Dad," says Tracker to Sean's back.

Sean halts, tosses and catches his keys. His parents were happily ignorant and would no doubt want him in Wasaga if they weren't. He proved his independence and managed to lose it in a matter of months. They'd be ashamed, and he'd be ashamed for them.

"Tracker?" says Sean, reluctantly going to him.

"What?" says Tracker, obviously exasperated.

"I'm...stealing again," says Sean as he drops his eyes.

"Woo," breathes Tracker. "I thought it was worse."

Sean's brow furrows. Worse?

"I thought it was gangs, or drug dealing, or...okay, what is it? Shoplifting?" continues Tracker.

He doesn't answer yet, instead choosing to go with Tracker to his car. Unlocking the car and popping the trunk, both of their eyes fall to the spindle in the center.

"Oh no," groans Tracker, pulling at his hair. "That's..."

"What is missing from Hill's," fills in Sean. "I was...in a stolen car parts ring. It's the same spindle in the news. Police are getting a search warrant."

Tracker breathes deeply, so deeply he can hear every noise coming from his chest and throat. It was one giant wheeze. Tracker bends down to evaluate the part. Sean can barely look at him looking at it. His brother had come a long distance to see him screw up.

"Put it in my car," says Tracker finally.

"What?" cries Sean. "No, Track. This is something I have to handle."

"I said put it in my car," commands Tracker, crossing his arms. "You want me to do it myself?"

Shaking his head, Sean collects the part and briskly walks to Tracker's truck. He drops it in, the metal clang sounding around the lot's pavement, through his ears. He shouldn't have done it. If he didn't want Ellie involved, he certainly didn't want his family to be. Sean goes to retrieve it.

"We're going home," says Tracker, going to Sean's side. "Pack a bag. We're leaving."

"I can't just go!" cries Sean. "That will make them more suspicious."

"It's for a day or two," insists Tracker. "You want to sit here and wait for the cops to come?"

"I..I have a guest," informs Sean.

"Ellie?" guesses Tracker.

"No, kid who was in the ring with me," answers Sean. "I'm kind of responsible for him."

"I really hope you know what you're doing, cause I don't," says Tracker.

Tracker brushes past Sean and gets into the driver's seat. A stoic frown has remained, even while he was talking. It might be good to get away. If he's been with the spindle this long, he feels obligated to see where it ultimately ends up. Then, he could clear his head, and Ty would somewhere not in Dale's reach. The whole concept seems too appealing, too good to be an option.

"I'll...I'll get a bag," says Sean to his brother, still fuming in the front seat.

He looks at Tracker from the rear. This time, his brother doesn't look back.

III.

Today has to be the hottest day yet. Snake used to call them "the dog days of August", though August is still a little over a week away. California must be getting a head start. Still, Hannah was becoming a "mini-Emma", according to Spinner, and said that the best form of transportation would be the "bus". She also cutely said that Spinner's car needed to rest before he went home.

Her place of choice is almost too interesting to describe. Chinatown was like a hidden gem in the great L.A. metropolis. Emma had never considered going there. The grand sign, with two golden dragons flashing their teeths and tails, hung above the entrance. Hannah oohed and ahhed at the dragons while Spinner tried desperately to read some of the Chinese words in the district.

It's a little odd to see palm trees along the sidewalks next to the dominance of Chinese architecture. The Golden Pagoda stands ominously in the spaces between the fronds. She spots a sign for a fortune teller, which would make Manny do a double take. Children, older than Hannah, play in a nearby courtyard, putting paper mini-sailboats into the water of fountains. Pieces of beautiful art are in shop windows, promoting gallery talks and tours. Thankfully, most of the businesses have English words somewhere near the shop so Spinner stops trying to figure it out.

"Dude, this is where they filmed _Rush Hour_!" notes Spinner. "I recognize that big building."

"That's why I knew about it," announces Hannah.

"Who let you watch that?" asks Emma incredulously.

"Colin and Lia," replies Hannah shyly.

Eh. Personally she wouldn't have let her, but Lia _is_ her sister so what's done is done.

"Kendra would love something like this," says Spinner as they pass a bubble tea shop.

They breeze through a colorful bazaar, Emma admiring several silk shirts and woven fabrics. A silk purple shirt with a floral design on the sides catches her attention the most. Manny liked to tease her about being attracted to anything colorful or floral, but hey, Manny loved those things, too. Besides, this shirt was a lot more subdued than her childhood rainbow knapsack or her dolphin pants.

"What kind of food do you have in mind, Hannah?" asks Emma, touching her shoulders from behind.

"Anything with a very different name," answers Hannah.

Such a Hannah answer. That doesn't really help, though. Emma would be amazed if she was able to say the names of the dishes in some cases. Spinner nods at a nearby restaurant.

"Those look different enough," says Spinner.

Yep. Emma can't pronounce the dishes on the signs either.

"Okay!" says Hannah enthusiastically.

Too bad they have to pass a display of roast duck in the window. Their plump brown bodies hang, each line on their formerly alive bodies visible to her. Emma grimaces while Spinner licks his lips. Hannah's already inside, too enthralled to notice the ducks.

"They have a little waterfall in here!" gushes Hannah.

A trickling waterfall is along the side of the restaurant, spewing the water into a tiny moat, with greenery on the edges. It fit in right with the decor. The inlaid furniture, mostly red and black, provides the restaurant with a warm, oriental vibe. Emma is more than impressed.

"Three?" says a friendly waitress, her black hair done up in a bun.

"Yes," answers Emma quickly.

She leads them to a table and puts three menus near each of the plates. Spinner pulls out Hannah's chair and goes to do the same for Emma.

"I can do it," says Emma, giving him a gracious smile.

"Alright," says Spinner, sitting himself.

Emma sits and opens the menu. Foreign words seem to jump from the page into her eyes. There were some English words, though they were words that didn't make her want to eat-- pork, duck, beef. She releases a sigh of relief once she comes upon the word rice. You can't go wrong with rice.

"Dim sum," reads Hannah. "I'll have that."

"Excellent choice, miss," says the waitress, writing it down. "Though it's quite a meal for someone your age."

"Oh," says Hannah with disappointment.

"We'll take home what she doesn't eat," offers Emma. "Can I have the vegetable bowl? And a bowl of rice please?"

Spinner scans the menu, mouthing the words as the three females look at him. He obviously no longer wanted duck.

"Ummm...," says Spinner, clutching the menu.

"Get dim sum too, Spinner!" advises Hannah, happily.

"Make it two, then," says Spinner, handing the waitress his menu.

"Boy, are you guys in for a treat," praises the waitress before she departs.

Hannah reaches for a packet of sugar as the waitress returns with a jar of water to pour into their glasses. The little girl's small hands don't go that far so Emma pushes it in her direction. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed Hannah in other departments. Some kids do fine with home schooling and perhaps Hannah wouldn't be ready until she hit junior high or high school. That said, Hannah fit right in with Ms. Haskell's class. It was the happiest Emma has seen her since they met. The day they met at Frederick's is still fresh in her mind. Hannah was unsure about her. She had to get used to Emma, but she did it speedily. Kids are funny like that, less judgemental and more willing to give second chances. They have grown so close so when the day does come, and it's coming soon, that she will go to Toronto, it's going to hurt. It would hurt her more than she can express.

"Some steamed dumplings to start you off," says the waitress, setting a small white bowl in front of Hannah.

"Thank you,' says Hannah, then blowing on it as smoke rises. "I learned my lesson. Don't touch hot stuff."

The small bandage on her finger is proof of that. Lia or someone had put the first aid kit in a good spot, easy for her to find. Spinner distracted her with a couple knock-knock jokes while Emma put the bandage on Hannah's finger.

"Try your chopsticks," suggests Spinner.

Hannah clumsily uses the chopsticks for a few seconds, manages to get a dumpling in between them. She raises it to her mouth and does a fleeting, tight squeeze. The squeeze is enough to send the food skyward, the dumpling landing on Emma's chest. It slides to the center to her lap.

"Oops!" cries Hannah.

"What happens when you wear white," sighs Emma, undoing her napkin.

She tries to wipe the smear, only making it worse. A brown trail stretched all the way down to the bottom of her blouse.

"That looks pretty bad, Em," says Spinner.

"I ruined your shirt," moans Hannah.

"I'll wash it when we get home," waves off Emma.

"It might be good to get another shirt," says Spinner. "Kinda looks like you..."

"Threw up," inserts Hannah. "I mean...sorry."

Emma can't argue. She'd rather be clean than messy. She could put her smeared shirt into her bag, but she didn't have a change of clothes.

"After lunch," negotiates Emma. "For now, let's eat."

IV.

Ty smudges out a number, still diligent as he reaches the end of the chapter. Ellie had tucked her knees under her, and threw him the occasional stare. They both said "hi" and remained silent after that. Ellie plays with the edge of her boot, not sure whether to say anything else.

She is a journalist, however. Journalists should be able to talk to anyone, under pressure, and especially when things are calm. Are things calm? What does this boy being here mean? Is there a connection to Dale? Sean said so, she realizes. So why does Sean have him in his apartment? Sean told her he was done with Dale. She believed him. Please let it be true.

Maybe if she nicely digs, just a tiny bit, Ty would crack and tell her what's going on. She hates to pry it out of a kid, but she's pretty desperate, especially with the presence of a police invesigation.

Ty finishes the last problem, closes the textbook. Okay, if there's a time to talk, the time is now.

"I'm Ellie," she says. "I don't know if you remember me from the Dot."

"Ty," says Ty. "Yeah, I remember."

"What's that short for?" inquires Ellie, which she thinks is a pretty polite question to begin with.

"Tyrone," he provides. "I was named after my mom's favorite actor. Tyrone Power. She thought the name sounded black."

Ellie laughs a bit, Ty doing the same.

"I love film, too," says Ellie. "Mostly the behind the scenes stuff. I like to see how it comes together."

"Like Sean with cars," offers Ty.

"Right," says Ellie.

This could be the connection she needs to launch into the tougher questions. It may be prove fruitless. Ty doesn't know her well enough. He might not even know Sean well enough. The whole situation is cloudy.

"How...how do you know Dale?" asks Ellie, cautiously.

"He was my teacher, or uh...teaching assistant," replies Ty. "My brother's best friend."

"I don't have any brothers or sisters," shares Ellie.

"No?" says Ty.

"Sometimes I think I might want one, though," admits Ellie.

"Be careful what you wish for," mutters Ty, Ellie still able to hear him.

Ellie nods and lets her legs meet the ground. If she was going to hear anything she didn't like, she wanted to brace herself. Ellie tries to meet Ty's gaze, as he stares at her with interest.

"You want to know what goes on at Dale's," says Ty.

Ugh. She suspected that he was on to her by that unwavering stare.

"If you....could tell me anything, really?" says Ellie.

"Most of the kids there are nice, like Sean," offers Ty. "They just come from not so good homes. Their dads aren't around, or they're fishing for money, or they're just trying to live. I don't think you have to worry."

"And Dale? Should I worry about him?" probes Ellie.

"I don't know," says Ty. "Not anymore."

He flips open the textbook again, choosing not to continue. What he told her is promising. It is like she thought. Sean was trying to make ends meet like these guys and not really thinking of the consequences that would come. At least Ty gave her something. She'd leave him alone concerning that.

"What do you like to read?" asks Ellie gently. "I'm a total book junkie."

A small grin appears on Ty's lips and she's thankful to view it.

"Sean's books that I borrowed," says Ty. "So far, I like _Treasure Island_, _Swiss Family Robinson_, _The Jungle Book_...."

"So adventure-type stuff," notes Ellie.

"Does he have any others?" says Ty.

"Sean doesn't exactly take them out enough for me to know," answers Ellie. "He's not big on books. At least, when we were studying. Ever read _Lord of the Flies_? I know Sean has that laying somewhere around here."

"No," replies Ty.

"I'll try to find it," says Ellie, standing.

"Thanks," says Ty, smiling. "I have to go to the bathroom, but I'll only be a couple minutes."

Ellie begins her book search, lifting some old magazines on the table in front of the TV. She accidentally makes the textbook fall to the floor. Returning it, she spies the sheet with the problems Ty did. Going over the first few, she sees a lot of formulas, the answers neatly written under them. All of the smudges on the paper were in the formula sections and not for the answers. One particular problem stoops her and she tries the locate the answer key in the text. There is no answer key. That's right. Armstrong was a stickler for buying textbooks without them. He wanted them to do it before they went over the answers together. Wow. This kid really knew his stuff. He could probably outdo Armstrong with enough schooling. Is he in school? Well, it is summer, and he definitely didn't need summer school, so chances are he's on break like Sean.

She lays the sheet on the table when she hears a doorknob turn. However, the front door swings open, not the bathroom door. Sean closes the door behind him.

"Hi," says Sean.

"Did you get rid of the part?" whispers Ellie, coming closer.

"Um...I'm leaving...Toronto," says Sean, wearily.

"Sean!" cries Ellie. "What...where are you going?"

"Tracker's idea, until the dust settles," says Sean. "A couple days max."

A couple days? The last instance where he'd gone home, he stayed there for a year! This can't be happening. She can't take a sequel. Their relationship grew after that first separation, and now things should be different. They're too close. _Too close_.

"Sean," says Ellie, tears at the edges of her eyes.

"El, I'm coming back," reassures Sean, hugging her to him.

Ellie starts to cry more fiercely. She knows she should be the strong one, that it's his life that's growing more bumpy, but she isn't prepared for this. How could she be prepared to relive what happened months ago? When he left her? They were planning to leave Toronto, to leave together for the trip. He's going it alone.

Of course, she says nothing of this. If Sean knows her as well as she thinks, he'd be able to figure it out. Thankfully, he does.

"Ellie, my stuff's here," says Sean, pulling away to stare into her eyes. "You're here."

Ellie weeps, nodding at his chest.

"I won't have to pack you up?" says Ellie weakly, her head remaining down.

"You won't have to pack me up," insists Sean.

"Taking Ty with you?" says Ellie.

"Yeah, it'd be for the best," sighs Sean. "I hate dragging him into this but I'm not putting it past Dale to find him while I'm gone."

"Dale was his teacher," says Ellie, raising her head. "And his brother's best friend. Did you know that?"

"The teacher thing, yeah. Not the brother part," replies Sean.

"Well, he's a nice kid," says Ellie. "So what's he doing with Dale?"

Sean stares at the open window, where night is beginning to take shape, with a dark sky and no hint of the moon. Ellie joins him in looking.

"El, I wish I knew."

V.

"Are you done, Emma?" calls a faint sweet voice.

It's Hannah. Hannah and Spinner are on the other side of the drawn curtain. If Manny has to change quickly every night for her performances, thinks Emma, I don't envy her. She hasn't changed outdoors in the longest, but that's what the bazaar calls for. The changing booths were located beyond the tables of jewelry and scarves. There aren't too many people wandering in this particular part of the bazaar, but there were plenty near the front. Emma tugs at the plain lime-green T-shirt and reveals herself to them.

"It makes your hair look nice," judges Hannah.

"Um, the shirt's tight," says Spinner, starting to smile. "Not that I mind...I mean..."

He glances at Hannah, who didn't catch onto what he said. Spinner stares shyly at the rest of their dim sum, packed in a plastic white bag. Emma bites her lip to keep from smiling.

"Everything okay?" asks a woman in a lovely, green silk dress.

She owned the goods and has been really helpful so far. The woman told her to call her Jun and did a slight clicking of the tongue when she saw Emma's shirt. Apparently, she was of the same mind as Hannah and Spinner.

"Oh no, that won't do at all," remarks Jun as she appraises Emma. "You deserve something much prettier, if I can be so bold."

"Whatever works," demurs Emma.

She leads Emma to the female clothing section, Hannah and Spinner following them. Emma spies the same shirt she saw earlier, wonders if the price matches how wonderful it is.

"I see your eyes going to this one," notes Jun happily.

"Not a practical baby-sitting outfit," shrugs Emma.

"Awww, come on, Emma," encourages Spinner. "I think it would look good on you."

"So do I," says Jun. "You don't like it?"

"Oh, I like it," says Emma. "I just don't know if I could afford it."

"Because it's silk?" laughs Jun. "No, the price is more than reasonable if you'll allow me to say that."

"See?" says Spinner. "Perfect place...uh, perfect shirt."

"That's the sort of thing a princess would wear," appreciates Hannah.

"Okay, okay," gives in Emma. "I'll try it on."

"Good," remarks Jun.

She goes with Jun, holding the shirt's hanger, to the changing booths again. Jun hands it to her through the curtain. As soon as it's on, she's totally sold. It's soft and clutches her chest in a classy way. The sewn flowers make her form appear skinnier and the collar is smooth against her neck. Emma slowly parts the curtain to get their opinions.

"That's more like it!" cries Jun.

"Emma, you're soooo pretty," cries Hannah.

"Spin?" encourages Emma.

Spinner shakes his head with a grin. "Awesome."

He's complimented her clothes before, but today seems just as sweet as the first. Emma's cheeks turn pink, possibly the most revealing color she's worn today.

"I guess this will do," says Emma. "Thanks, Jun."

"Oh, no problem," assures Jun.

Emma purchases the shirt as Spinner shows off the jewelry to Hannah. The price isn't that bad, fifteen dollars. It i_s_ a bargain. Even her mother would say so, and Spike loved to shop so she knew the best bargains. Emma wonders how her mother and Jack are doing as Jun puts her damaged blouse into a bag with the receipt. She hasn't checked on them this week, and she promised to call Snake too.

"I think your friend thought you looked breath-taking," says Jun with a giggle. "I see good things in store for you and him."

"I hope so," says Emma, taking the bag. "Thank you."

"You know, if you're not in a rush, there's a wishing well in the plaza," says Jun. "A little luck could never hurt."

"Maybe," says Emma, waving at her and joining Spinner and Hannah as they leave.

"What's next?" asks Spinner as they stand in the square.

"Emma's choice," speaks up Hannah. "I picked the bus. Spinner picked the restaurant. So Emma's turn."

"Makes sense to me," agrees Spinner.

"Hmmm, Jun told me about a wishing well," shares Emma. "Never saw one in person before."

"Ooooh," breathes Hannah.

The activity might be too girly for Spinner as she notices his first frown today forming on his otherwise cheerful face. He scratches his head.

"I don't have any coins," he says.

Oh, so that's the problem? Emma beams.

"I do," says Emma. "Ready?"

"Ready," reply Spinner and Hannah at the same time, Emma laughing.

VI.

"I'm starting to fall in love with this place," confesses Emma.

Hannah is already peeping past the black gates of the elaborate wishing well. Its full name is the Seven Star Cavern Wishing Well, a colorful well with miniature houses along its many dips and curves. A curled tree stump shades the rippling water. There were so many touches of artistry, so many holes to toss a coin inside. Emma retrieves three dimes and presents one to Hannah and Spinner.

"Ladies first," says Spinner.

They glance at Hannah, who finally realizes that she's being watched.

"Oh," says Hannah.

She walks to the front of the gate with her dime, considering where to throw it. Her nose wrinkles in concentration. She was probably searching for the best possible place, if there is one.

"I wish that Emma, Spinner, and I will be friends forever," wishes Hannah, tossing her dime in a hole near the smallest house.

"Awww," says Emma, then joining Hannah. "Hmmm, what to wish for?"

"I want to hear it," pleads Hannah.

Emma truly doesn't want for much. School's going well, her friends are healthy, and now she can say that she has a terrific boyfriend. Hannah had already taken care of their bond with her wish. She supposes...the one thing that could be better is...

"I wish that my family was happier," says Emma, tossing it squarely in the middle.

"That's a good wish," says Spinner, exchanging a smile with Emma. "Hmm, I guess I'd like the same thing."

"And me too?" says Hannah chirpily.

"Fine," laughs Spinner. "I wish for all of our families to be happy."

He tosses in the dime, creating the largest splash of them, Hannah clapping afterwards. Emma's not a huge believer in luck. She's more of a doer, but she lets herself get swept up in the belief. Sometimes it's nice to think someone's watching over you, even if it is only luck, or whoever shapes luck.

Emma stares at her watch and frowns. She also spots Hannah doing a couple consecutive yawns.

"We should go," she says.

"Our day with Spinner is over," realizes Hannah, laying her head on Spinner's waist.

"Not quite, man," says Spinner.

"What do you mean?" says Hannah, standing straight.

"You can decide how we go home," offers Spinner.

That seems to change Hannah's attitude, at least for the present. They start toward the Chinatown exit, stop talking when they hear a loud, persisent ring. The ring is louder than the school bells at Degrassi. Emma, Spinner, and Hannah stare open-mouthed at a golden trolley pausing in front of them.

The old-fashioned vehicle is sleek and long, with gold panelling and black letters across the right. The seats were wooden, a few rows on each side. The two front rows are nearly vacant.

"We are lucky!" exclaims Hannah.

"That was bizarre, man," mumbles Spinner.

"Trolley?" says Emma.

"Trolley," says Spinner and Hannah in unison.

Whoa, they were getting good at that whole together thing.

"It's my choice, " reminds Hannah.

"So it is," gives in Spinner.

There's a boy seated at the far end, Hannah appearing to be hesitant about sliding in next to him, despite the boy's father waving at them cheerily. Emma slides in and says "hi" instead.

"It's okay," comforts Emma, motioning for Hannah to come.

Spinner helps boost her up, and slides in after Hannah's securely in place.

"Welcome aboard the Gold Line Trolley," greets the driver over a microphone. "We're proud to be servicing you today. Here's hoping you had a lovely time in Chinatown. Enjoy the ride."

Spinner plants the food on his lap and puts a protective arm around Hannah. Emma smiles to herself. Snake used to do that with Jack, even if they were just at home, viewing a DVD. She'd call Snake tonight. She would.

Hannah yawns again, the golden sunlight playing against her hair. Emma believes it's gotten blonder since the beginning of the month. Another blonde woman would be taking care of her in less than two weeks-- Edwina. She shouldn't feel replaced, but that's partly how it felt, like she was an interim caretaker who's being pushed aside. The whole thing's depressing so she lowers her head.

"Anything wrong?" questions Spinner.

They both view Hannah, her eyes closed, head nestled against Spinner's chest.

"Everybody's leaving," sighs Emma. "I mean, Manny's staying for auditions, but she's headed to the Santoses' in August. After today, I won't see you for a bit. Not too long after, I won't see Hannah..."

"You aren't saying goodbye to her today," comforts Spinner.

"But I am, with you," reminds Emma.

"That's right," says Spinner. "You are _with me_. So there really won't be like goodbyes."

"Guess not," says Emma, smiling as she leans in to kiss Spinner.

The kiss is a short peck, but more than worth it when their lips meet. Hannah raises her head to watch.

"Are you spying?" cries Emma incredulously.

"Noooo," lies Hannah, then shrugging. "Yeah."

They tickle her, Hannah's laughter carrying throughout the trolley. The trolley hits a bump, then goes along the smooth road.

VII.

Hannah skips along the walk leading to the door. She slept all the way on the trolley and received a second wind. Emma and Spinner were more exhausted, dragging their feet to the stoop. In fact, Emma's so tired she missed the light in the top middle window of the house. The light wasn't usually on. She figures Colin might be staying in the master bedroom. Lia told her he slept there a couple times.

"I'm going to get my stuff and head out," says Spinner. "It's four-thirty."

"Okay," says Emma, rubbing her eyes and unlocking the door.

"Lia!" yells Hannah as soon as they enter.

There's a rush of footsteps from the living room, a delicate pair and a thumping pair. Emma straightens her silk shirt. She doesn't understand why there would be a rush. Maybe Colin and Lia were expecting Kel. No, he wouldn't be here until five.

Or now, realizes Emma, her mouth dropping as Kel Andrews heads towards them. Lia stops at his side. Hannah positions herself behind Emma's body.

"He came home early," sighs Lia.

"Mr...Mr. Andrews," stammers Emma.

"Who's this boy?" demands Kel.

"Dad, I explained, alright?" says Lia.

"You shouldn't have to explain!" exclaims Kel. "I don't want any strangers in my house! What kind of irresponsible caregiver lets her boyfriend stay over?"

Emma, her shoulders starting to shake, begins to speak.

"I..."

"Huh?" interrupts Kel. "I knew I should've asked for more references. But no, I went by my daughter's word."

"Mr. Andrews, please don't blame Emma," speaks up Spinner.

"Who should I blame?" roars Kel. "Ms. Nelson, you take my daughter out with a perfect stranger, don't inform me or Lia where you're going, and I come home to a message about tuition payments should I let my daughter go to a public school?"

Cavalier called again? This was a bigger mess, growing bigger by the second. Emma closes her eyes and tries to breathe, her heart quickening.

"I told Spinner he could stay!" says Lia.

"And who gave you that authority?" returns Kel.

"Someone should have some authority around here," snaps Lia. "It'd be nice for once."

"Do not talk that way to me, young lady," says Kel. "Take your sister to her room."

"Yeah, don't say hi to her or anything," reprimands Lia.

"Take her to her room!" shouts Kel. "And...."

Kel glances behind Emma, Emma opening her eyes. Hannah is quivering slightly, a couple tears on her cheek. She tries to put her hand into the pocket of her overalls. It's too late. The bandage was seen by all of them.

"My child's hurt," says Kel, shaking his head at Emma. "Inexcusable. Totally inexcusable."

Lia throws Emma a sympathetic stare and takes Hannah by the hand. Hannah sobs, but lets Lia gently guide her to her room. After the last step, Emma hears the door close upstairs and shudders. Why didn't she do anything differently? Usually, her judgement is so good. Even Lia admired it.

"Ms. Nelson, you are not a parent, not a trained professional, and you could've endangered my child with your company," rattles off Kel.

"She didn't do anything, man!" cries Spinner.

"You stay out of this," says Kel. "I suggest you leave my house, young man."

Emma massages her throat, growing dry and becoming more painful.

"Spin, could you...could you please?" chokes out Emma.

"Only cause you said so," replies Spinner, grabbing his pack and leaving the house.

What can she possibly say to show Kel that she didn't mean any harm? But he's right. She isn't professional. A professional would've totally handled this better. Such an idiot, she scolds herself. Emma lets the tears slide without wiping them away.

"So this is your date outfit?" asks Kel, smirking.

She doesn't say yes or no.

"Ms. Nelson, I want you to go," says Kel. "I want Hannah with someone who respects me and who I can respect. You don't fit the bill."

"Mr. Andrews," sobs Emma. "I'm so sorry. I really did feel like I was doing my best...."

"What's best for you or what's best for her?" interjects Kel. "I'll call you a cab first thing in the morning. Lia will mail your last check."

A cold gust of wind flies past her when Kel goes out of the room. Her whole body shaking, Emma lowers herself to the couch, cries into the cushions. The silk of her shirt wrinkles as her shoulders heave in painful movements. The cushions collect her tears.

VIII.

Four knocks would do. She didn't open for the first three, maybe afraid of who might be right outside her castle. Emma no longer knocks, sets her palm against the cool front of the door. It took all that energy for her to climb the steps and knock. She feels like she's been knocked around.

Lia parts the door, her red hair shining as much as the door jamb. Emma manages a weak smile.

"I tried," sighs Lia.

"I know," says Emma. "Thanks."

"I'll hang here in case he stops by," suggests Lia.

"Thanks," whispers Emma.

The castle has gone dark, as Emma enters. There's no signs of her magical wands. The drapes of her canopy bed have been drawn. She didn't want to be disturbed, but Emma didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.

"Hannah?" says Emma, the little girl's name seeming to echo throughout the room.

"If Merlin likes Spinner, why can't Daddy?" asks Hannah, her blonde head peeking through the drapes.

"Everyone's entitled to their own opinions," says Emma.

It's a weak answer for a strange question. Emma couldn't think of a better one.

"Maybe Spinner can make grilled cheese for him, and he'd like him," suggests Hannah.

"Spinner won't be here tomorrow," informs Emma.

"Right," says Hannah, getting out of bed. "Then...then, you can take him Merlin to cheer him up."

Hannah retrieves the bear from her closet and sets it in Emma's lap. Merlin's eyes are as black as coals, though they twinkle because of the shiny fabric of the knight and princess' costumes glinting from afar. It almost looks like his eyes are dancing. He may be the happiest thing in this room.

"Sit," encourages Emma.

They both take a seat on her bed. She hasn't prepared anything. All she can tell her is the truth, as horrible as the truth is for her to deliver.

"I won't be here tomorrow either, Hannah," says Emma, sniffling.

Hannah's mouth starts to waver, her eyes growing wet. The expression kills her.

"You're lying," sobs Hannah. "We've got two weeks left."

"Lia can take care of you those weeks," says Emma.

"She doesn't act like my sister most days," cries Hannah. "You do."

Emma throws a glance at the crack in the door. Lia must've heard that. It would be hard to miss it...and hard for her to hear. Emma winces when the door is closed forcefully.

"You don't care about me anymore," moans Hannah, her voice getting thin. "You think I'm weird. You don't like me."

"No," assures Emma. "I love you, Hannah."

"If you love me, you wouldn't go!" exclaims Hannah, standing. "Lia gets in trouble sometimes, and Daddy lets her stay in the house."

"That's different, sweetie," says Emma.

"I...I don't understand," cries Hannah, starting to heave uncontrollably.

"Hannah!" cries Emma, patting her back in a panic.

Hannah takes a few steady breaths, and is able to calm down. Emma watches her closely.

"I _am_ cursed," moans Hannah.

"Don't say that," pleads Emma weakly.

"Is this because I didn't say yes to going to school?" says Hannah.

"No!" insists Emma. "Hannah, you may not believe this, but you are so special to me. This is hurting me too."

"You're right," says Hannah, throwing Merlin at the closet door. "I don't believe it."

"Hannah...," begins Emma, rising from the bed.

"My heart hurts," says Hannah, tearfully staring at her.

Emma drops her head and covers her eyes. Her heart hurts, too. This had gone from being a job she loved to a failure she hated. She has to leave. She just has to leave. She opens the door and throws a glance back at Hannah, now curled in her bed. Emma pulls the door to close it when she's in the hall. It takes forever for her to move. It takes forever for her to let the knob go.

IX.

"I still don't understand the whole stomping on the glass thing," admits Joseph as he makes a cautious right.

Manny plays with her seatbelt, adding up all the "sorrys" she would dispense to Toby once they reached the airport. With the whole reveal of the Star of David necklace being done with, she now has to deal with Joseph's many questions about Jewish customs. She doesn't know which is worse, his cluelessness or his talkative excitement. She loves that her father is becoming more interested and everything, but he's been talking to Toby more than she has since they left the mall. He'd be in Toronto tomorrow. She wouldn't.

"Why?" sings Manny under her breath, the air conditioning covering her voice from Joseph.

It didn't pass Toby, him holding her wrist in the backseat.

"Goes back to the destruction of a Jewish temple," shares Toby. "It reminds everyone how serious that was, and how serious we should take a marriage."

"Oh, marriages are very serious," says Joseph.

Yes, Dad, everybody knows that, thinks Manny as they arrive at the airport. Okay, maybe not everyone. Officer Wheaton is in this car's passenger seat, while Officer Patton and Maria were in a cop car behind them. Add a few more cars and they'd make a motorcade, Manny joked. Nobody thought it was particularly funny, especially Joseph. But hey, Toby gave her a small grin.

"We're still hoping you'll come to J.J.'s ceremony," brings up Joseph, the one thing Manny loves him for saying during the drive.

"Mom mentioned the spring," adds Manny.

"Hopefully," says Toby earnestly.

"It'd be unwise to make plans so soon," says Joseph. "Not yet, then."

Joseph parks the car smoothly and goes to fetch Manny's baggage. Officer Wheaton leaves the car as well.

"Alone at last," sighs Manny, leaning into Toby.

"Your dad and my rabbi should talk," kids Toby.

Manny laughs. "They can discuss circumcisions and communion."

"They could," insists Toby.

"Aw, man, I'm sorry, Tobes," says Manny. "Maybe we should cross our fingers that all these restrictions and rules will disappear, right?"

Toby doesn't reply, making her nervous. It wouldn't be like this forever. He has to know that. She's still puzzled why he won't ask her to wait. Yes, it bothered her that she waited for him in California while he handled the issues in their relationship, but she'd wait now, especially under these circumstances. These circumstances are like perfect opportunities for when a girlfriend should be waiting to be with her boyfriend. They day would come and they'd be public and be more in love than ever.

"Your dad's beckoning," says Toby, gesturing to Joseph waving at them through the windshield.

Manny groans and unbuckles the seatbelt. She joins Joseph, her father hugging her from the side. Toby and Maria were chatting and walking in the background, the officers flanking them.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" asks Joseph.

"The best," answers Manny. "Any time with him is the best."

"Good," says Joseph, kissing her forehead.

"And I have more faith than ever," adds Manny, smiling widely.

"Well, that's better than good," says Joseph as the automatic doors open for their group.

Garbled announcements cross the lobby. Sleeping infants and drowsy kids attach themselves to their moms and dads. Teenagers wheel their suitcases to the long lines. They walk to Manny's check-in point. Her parents go off in a corner with the officers, Manny taking advantage of the separation.

"Have you asked about calling or e-mailing?" she asks Toby. "I can."

"No, not yet," admits Toby.

"I can," repeats Manny, stepping closer.

"What happens if they say no?" asks Toby weakly.

"I still would," whispers Manny, shrugging.

Toby grins.

"I've...I've been in hidden relationships before, Toby," says Manny. "But this would be different. This type of different, I could get used to."

"But I don't want to hide anything," says Toby, putting his arms around her waist.

Manny fails to say anything, enjoying how close he's gotten.

"I'm just kind of hoping things will iron out by themselves," sighs Toby. "I mean, disguises don't fix everything."

"Yeah," says Manny, lowering her eyes to his chest.

"Manny, I don't want to disappoint you anymore," says Toby. "Or keep saying bye for bad reasons. I don't want to put pressure on you or your parents. That's why I'm not asking what you want me to ask."

She hates that he's making so much sense, especially tonight of all nights. These past two days have made her hate people saying "no". They've made her aware of what Toby's going through. They've annoyed her with saying how much time she gets to spend here, or there, or anywhere with Toby. She's sixteen and they're asking a lot. Manny wipes away a few fallen tears.

"Toby, I love you, though," whispers Manny. "I mean, you're right, but I..I love you."

His eyes are growing watery, too, under his glasses.

"Don't cry," pleads Manny.

"I can't," admits Toby. "Cause I love you, too."

He casts a few cautionary glances at her parents, and wonderfully, they're not paying attention. Manny sobs right before Toby kisses her, tears trickling on both their cheeks. His lips move slowly like she isn't leaving, like a plane isn't waiting. She moves her head to the side, letting it grow deeper and longer. They stop, Toby hugging her. Manny releases a breath into his shoulder.

"Manuella, you're checked in," calls over Joseph.

Toby and Manny separate. Officer Wheaton has apparently talked to a flight attendant, perhaps to get her earlier, easier access. Toby puts his hands together and smiles.

"No plans?" chokes out Manny. "At least, not yet?"

"Not yet," whispers Toby, nodding.

"Okay," says Manny, retrieving her ticket from her purse.

She takes Toby's hand, pulling him forward with her.

"We'll call you, everyday," says Joseph, hugging her. "And we'll be praying."

Maria kisses the top of her head and dots her eyes with a handkerchief. Officer Wheaton and Officer Patton give her awkward hugs. She didn't know how really big they were until they did that. She turns to Toby.

"I'll be praying too," says Toby, staring into her eyes.

"I hear it works," jokes Manny, wiping her last tears away.

They all chuckle warmly, watching her go to a door that's held open by the flight attendant. She looks back. They're waiting. With the last look, her parents and the officers are on their way to the exit. Toby's there. He is there until she retreats into the darkness beyond the door.


	71. Heal Me, I'm Heartsick

**LXXI. Heal Me, I'm Heartsick**

_Heal me, I'm heartsick  
I'm hungry and i'm broken  
I'm haunted, and weeping  
The blood of heaven flowing like a river tonite, tears I can't fight on my own  
I'm haunted, heaving, i'm hung and barely breathing  
The drowning ocean, snuff the sun in motion.  
Theres a pill on my tongue, a shot from a gun , the bottles bottom  
I'm lonely as a star_

_So heal me, I'm heart sick  
Hungry, but I can survive on you  
Heal my heartsick hungry cries  
I'm heartsick_

_Father, free me. mama , woman, feed me.  
Child of fury, lost his way but don't worry.  
I won't stop til the dawn,  
Though i'm in too long on the run I grow strong and restless as a dog_

_Heal me  
I'm heart sick  
I'm hungry and i'm broken  
I'm haunted, and weeping  
The blood of heaven flowing like a river tonite  
Tears i can't fight on my own_

**Heal Me, I'm Heartsick is the property of No Vacancy and appears in the film **_**School of Rock**. _

**California Dreamin' is the property of the Mamas and Papas.**

The letter for Lia lies on top of her suitcase. Manny had mentioned that she wanted her to hand it to Lia in confidence, Emma promising to deliver it to her. She was flying to meet Toby for some unknown reason. Emma wishes her reasoning were more sound. As much as she would like to place the blame on Kel, she was the one who invited Spinner to stay, and she was the one who decided to take Hannah to Cavalier. It squarely rested on her shoulders. Sure, at the time, she did what she thought was for the best. Hannah deserved friends and she didn't like the idea of a tired Spinner driving home. The intentions were good, but not very parent-friendly.

This is bad, though. Both Kel and Hannah hate her now. Man, Joey wasn't even that mad when she let Craig take Angie to the park during the whole Jeremiah-Manning feud. In fact, he kept her on as a baby-sitter until he and Caitlin started to date. But that was Joey, who would've at least heard her out. She got the impression that Kel didn't want to hear a word she had to say.

An adult said that he didn't trust her. Ruined trust has done so much damage in her life. She and her mom can't trust Snake. Spike didn't trust Emma with any information about her other dad Shane. Her parents almost didn't get married because her mother didn't tell Snake about Jack. Mistrust has led to things being unravelled time and time again. The worst is Hannah, though. Hannah is so delicate and hasn't done anything mean-spirited to her. Hannah can't trust her word anymore. Leaving Hannah's room was the most difficult part. It wasn't a sweet parting, or a bittersweet parting. It was just bitter and by the end, Hannah had emotionally checked out, not bothering to look at Emma again. Her chest aching, Emma folds a couple shirts and places them in the case.

"Nelson?" cries a voice from the other end.

Hmmm, after all those days here, only one person regularly called her that.

"Come in," says Emma.

Lia opens the door and leans against the table, where most of Edwina's belongings remained in tact. Emma left her bottles of perfume, framed pictures, and backup make-up alone. Most of her own personal items were on the nightstand. She'd already cleared those and was concentrating on her clothes.

"Did you get sacked?" asks Lia.

Emma searches for a trace of a frown or a haughty glare and finds nothing. She almost appears concerned.

"I got sacked," says Emma, nodding. "Looks like the life of the party is leaving."

"Just so you know, you became substantially less boring in the past two weeks," says Lia.

That was a strange compliment, but Emma, grateful for anything positive, takes it.

"So I didn't know you had to pay tuition for public school here?" brings up Emma.

"Cavalier is a non-charter school," explains Lia. "Which means they need money. That's why they're campaigning harder for her. Do your research, Nelson."

They trade sly smiles as Emma retrieves the letter.

"I hope you see where my dad's coming from, about keeping our...family issues private," says Lia.

"Yeah," sighs Emma.

"Though I do have to say, I'm not really against the idea of it anymore," continues Lia.

Emma raises her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah. She won't have a nanny forever, so I think having some friends her own age would be nice for her," says Lia.

"Something we agree on," says Emma. "And I wasn't meant to stay here forever either."

She hands the letter to Lia. Lia stares at it quizzically.

"From Manny," explains Emma. "Toby's in some sort of trouble. I'm guessing she goes into detail in there."

"Awww, I hope he's okay," says Lia.

Emma zips her suitcase in reply. Being in this room is suffocating. There were so many reminders of lighter days with Hannah in this house. She taught her how to waltz, read to her, colored with her, made meals for her. It was the closest thing she's ever had to a younger sister, what with Manny being in the same age range as Emma. She loves Jack, but she's pretty sure he wouldn't be into wearing tiaras or letting Emma braid his hair. Hannah's wish wouldn't be coming true. They wouldn't be friends forever. In fact, I cut the wish in two with my own actions, thinks Emma. She ruined it for both of them.

"When's your flight to Toronto?" questions Lia.

"Don't...don't worry about it," answers Emma with no eye contact.

"I'm not sure Hannah's going to say good-bye tomorrow," confesses Lia. "She won't leave her room."

"That might be better," says Emma, softly. "Cause I'm not sure I could say good-bye twice."

"So you're leaving tonight?" cries Lia.

"I don't want to bother your dad anymore," says Emma.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" asks Lia.

Going through the phone book, she located the number and address of a place to stay. She didn't want to tell anybody, though.

"Colin's parents are on a cruise to Baja if you're looking," shares Lia.

"No, I'll be okay," assures Emma.

That's what she's hoping for, anyway. She has no urge to draw this conversation out any further, knowing that just down the hall is a girl she's disappointed to the point of tears. Maybe she'll write to Hannah later, when Edwina has returned and she isn't resenting her as much. Half of her would like to stay and fight. But there have been way too many fights in this house and her gut tells her that it's too late to turn things around.

"I heard what she said...when she said that you were more like a sister," brings up Lia, turning her back to Emma.

"She was...upset," says Emma gently.

"Well, she was right, too," admits Lia.

Emma walks to her and manages to make her face her without any force.

"I still think you guys should talk," says Emma. "I kind of think she needs you more than me."

"Tell her that," says Lia, shaking her head.

Emma smiles. "I don't have to."

Lia says nothing, allowing a slow-growing grin to cross her face.

II.

"Beep beep beep beep," says Alex, glancing behind her.

"Lexi, last time I checked you weren't a teenage doctor," speaks up Jay. "You know, like Doogie Howser?"

"All the other doctors were too tied up to come," says Alex.

Alex shrugs and cautiously inches the wheelchair back a couple steps. There were a couple orderlies and interns in the halls, but there weren't any surgeons or nurses in sight. Ellie tried to help Alex find one, but working together, they managed to get Jay inside the chair. What Ellie would really like to do is manage to spend some time alone with him, to try and better understand why Sean ran off. When Sean left after the shooting, there were moments when she could feel them disconnecting. It lead to a public outcry on the beach and some distance. But she tried her best. She likes to believe she tried her best. Now, with this stolen car parts ring, she's desperate to discover a loophole where Sean could walk off relatively safe and free. To her, running to Wasaga wasn't going to solve much. It may help, though it certainly won't get Sean out of hot water when he has to answer to the police.

Things were less serious for her two friends, Alex pushing the wheelchair faster and faster as they go down the hallway. Jay laughs as two nurses yelp. Ellie trashes the cup she was drinking, the water cooler gurgling.

"Bad kids," mutters the nurse who goes past Ellie. "Have no sense of respect."

The nurse turns a corner as Jay and Alex laugh louder.

"I think Nash is tired of our wheelchair games," notes Jay as Alex pauses near her.

"How long are you supposed to be in there?" asks Ellie.

"Until the therapy's done," groans Jay. "The chick said I'd be walking by September."

"Don't call her the chick," says Alex, leaning against the chair. "She's your therapist."

"I was expecting something completely different," says Jay. "Like....Ellie, when you hear the word physical, don't you think of like...I don't know, Schwarzenegger?"

Ellie and Alex smirk at each other.

"I think of a person who can do their job," answers Ellie. "Male or female."

"That's cause you're a chick," mutters Jay.

"Jay, they're building up the muscle in your leg to condition it, not making you a six-pack," says Alex.

"Some guys don't need a six-pack," boasts Jay.

"Some guys do need to go to their rooms," says Alex, steering him in that direction.

The three of them return to the hospital room, Ellie fiddling with her bag. Thankfully, her assignment with Bridget was done and Bridget would be handing it in tomorrow. Once she leaves them, she plans on going to the library and sifting through the archives until she finds a decent topic for her final project. She had considered doing something on the mural, but Matthew sort of hinted that he wanted to do a piece on it, and since it was his synagogue also, Ellie was easily swayed to let him do it.

"Movie theater's calling," moans Alex, checking her watch.

"Can you bring me some Mallomars?" asks Jay.

"Your dad said the therapist recommended a nutritious diet," says Alex.

"Diet Mallomars then?" jokes Jay.

"I'm not bringing you jack," replies Alex.

She pats Ellie on the shoulder and retrieves her sunglasses.

"You're still bringing me my mail, right?" asks Jay. "I'm expecting something."

"If it has three X's on it, and girls in pasties, I'm tossing it," says Alex, putting on her sunglasses.

"Lexi, you're the only girl I want to look at," says Jay with a smile.

Alex kisses him on the cheek and grabs her backpack.

"No candy," she says before leaving.

"Man," mutters Jay, then turning to the other person in the room.

"Ellie...."

"I don't want Alex coming after me," says Ellie, wearily.

Frowning, Jay moves to a table near the right, Ellie sitting in the opposite chair. She hasn't seen Mr. Hogart or Cindy this evening, but they had been there for most of the day, according to Alex. Ellie was hesitant to ask about the police questioning him. She has to, though, for Sean's sake.

"Are...are the police getting any closer to finding the person who shot you?" whispers Ellie.

Jay gives her a long, appraising look and taps his fingers against the tabletop. Ellie clears her throat. Hopefully, he wouldn't catch onto her as quick as Ty did.

"Ellie, I know you know _something_," says Jay. "But I have no idea what it is."

Great. First Ty is able to see through her, and now Jay.

"Am I...transparent?" asks Ellie genuinely.

Jay laughs. "You don't have a good poker face."

If that's the case, she might as well just launch into her many questions for him. He trusted her with the fact that he was entering the mechanics class, and this would be more information he could trust her with.

"Ty is staying at Sean's," informs Ellie. "And they both left for Wasaga...today."

Jay's jaw drops.

"Why'd he take Ty with him?" whispers Jay fiercely. "Dale is going to....I mean...."

"What?" encourages Ellie.

"Look, I bought him some time," says Jay. "I told the cops that I was jumped, and that Sean wasn't there. I'm pretty sure they're going to interview Dale soon, though. It was his key that went missing that night. If Dale finds out that Ty's with Sean...well, that'll tick him off and who knows what he'll say or do or...I don't even want to think about it."

"Who shot you?" prods Ellie.

"Ellie, do you really have to ask that?" says Jay, raising an eyebrow.

There really isn't any doubt as the facts run through her mind. If it's Dale's key that was missing, then chances are that Dale was along for the job. But his father's shop? How low could you go? Then, to shoot Jay during the botched robbery? So Sean is still paying for Dale's mistakes. The cycle never ends.

"I guess what I'm wondering most is...what's going to happen to you guys?" sighs Ellie.

"Well, I got the impression that my job at Hill's is gone," says Jay. "He's taking me to court, after all. We're hoping for community service, but my lawyer says I'll get that and some time in lock up most likely."

"But you're injured," says Ellie.

"I won't always be in a wheelchair, Ellie," reminds Jay.

Ellie nods and lowers her gaze.

"But I won't always be in jail either," adds Jay, grinning. "Getting my license no matter what, though. No matter what."

She's not sure what she would do in his shoes. She can't even imagine facing jail, being behind bars and having no freedom. Jay's the type that craves freedom. It'd be torture for him. And Sean? She couldn't picture him in prison either, not for the life of her.

"How about Sean?" says Ellie, the words barely leaving her mouth.

"I can't say," admits Jay. "But..."

"But?" encourages Ellie, hopefully.

"Nobody's kept Sean down before," continues Jay. "I can't imagine them keeping him down now."

"Especially...not Dale," wishes Ellie aloud.

"Especially not Dale," says Jay, more firmly.

"That makes me feel better," says Ellie.

It truthfully did. Sean has dealt with people not fully believing in him and what he could do, started believing those things about himself, but he did come through. That's his strength and this would lend her strength.

"Know what would make me feel better?" speaks up Jay. "Candy."

"Like I said, siding with Alex," says Ellie.

Jay smiles widely. "Come on. Sean would do it."

"Psh," says Ellie. "Do I look like Sean to you?"

III.

_All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey_

_I went for a walk on a winter's day_

_I'd be safe and warm if I was in L.A.........._

Spinner taps the hanging car air freshener, the pine-scented tree twirling as the stereo plays. The lit windows of the Andrews house throw speckles of light onto it. He doesn't know where Emma's room is, can't determine if she's asleep yet or not. Hannah would be asleep, probably. But he wasn't leaving until he found out what happened.

He should've gone home, should've seen this coming. His own mother is mad that he hasn't come home or returned the car to his grandmother. Grandma Mason didn't seem to mind, thankful for being free of "the nuisance of that car". But they both expected him to come home tonight. The car's clock reads eight-thirty. He saw Manny and a lady with red hair hop into a cab and go down the road, which was really odd. Spying her luggage, he guessed that the woman was her agent and they were heading for an out of town audition. The lady looked professional enough.

His phone rings and Spinner grimaces at his mother's flashing number.

"Gavin Mason, where are you?" cries Ms. Mason as soon as his cell is to his ear.

"Mom, I can't leave yet," says Spinner. "Some like...really dramatic stuff is going on here."

"Well, your sister's going in for treatment tomorrow," reminds Ms. Mason. "Not to mention, _you _leave tomorrow."

"So you want me to drive when I'm tired?" asks Spinner.

He's fairly confident this would make him more sympathetic in his mother's eyes. She wouldn't want him to drive this late. Ms. Mason had a tendency to baby her kids, and even bought his "illness" that one time he skipped school with Paige and Ashley.

"Gavin...," starts Ms. Mason, Spinner already hearing her annoyance disappear a bit.

"Kendra's appointment is at twelve-thirty, right?" asks Spinner. "I'll be there by eleven."

"You better be," says Ms. Mason, clicking off afterwards.

Spinner smiles to himself, as he hears the Andrews door open with Emma dragging a suitcase under the darkening sky. He immediately leaves the car.

"Em!" cries Spinner.

Emma releases the handle of her suitcase, the large item toppling.

"Spin?" says Emma, staring at the outline of his face. "You...you stayed?"

"Of course," says Spinner.

A faint smile crosses her lips, Spinner grinning.

"Where are you going?" asks Spinner.

"Fired," shrugs Emma, her eyes straying to the lawn. "From my first job."

"Nah, dude!" says Spinner.

He's seen Emma with Hannah, maybe more than Manny. She was wonderful with her. He can't be the reason that got her fired. Spinner starts to advance to the Andrews'.

"No, Spin," says Emma, tugging at his arm.

"That's way harsh, Em," argues Spinner. "It was my idea to go out. She got injured because it was my idea to cook. I...."

"Nobody's fault but mine, Spin," interrupts Emma.

She rights her suitcase, struggling a bit. Spinner gets it steady in one short moment. Emma gives him a thankful look.

"Have you called your mom?" asks Spinner.

Emma massages her forehead, her eyes growing teary in the process. Spinner delicately puts an arm around her.

"I can't tell her I got fired," chokes out Emma. "Either of them. Snake paid for this trip. Mom would be so disappointed. I don't want to tell them that I failed."

"Failed how?" says Spinner. "You've done a lot for Hannah."

"It's no use, Spin," insists Emma.

Rather than continue to talk, she drags her suitcase along the sidewalk, steering towards the bus stop. Spinner does his best to keep up as she's moving fast. What kind of jerk kicks her out of his house the same night he fires her? What, he couldn't give her until morning so at least she'd be less emotional?

"Do you have enough for a hotel room?" questions Spinner.

"Yeah," says Emma.

"Then, we can share a room," suggests Spinner. "I'm staying, too."

"Spin, don't stay," says Emma, pausing at the bus stop.

"But I want to," says Spinner.

"Spin...don't!" cries Emma, her voice rising.

"Why not?" says Spinner. "You're...you're my girlfriend."

Emma seems to soften at the mention of the last word, and he sighs. He doesn't want her to be alone tonight.

"I'll give you the number where I'm staying," says Emma. "But you really should go, Spin. I don't want your mom upset with me too."

"Um...okay," says Spinner.

Removing a pen from the outer pocket of her suitcase, Emma takes Spinner's hand and hurriedly writes a phone number. He recognizes the zip code and the first three digits. Emma would still be in Los Angeles. That's good. He could stop by early in the morning and check on her before heading to Santa Clara for Kendra.

"Emma, I'm really sorry," confesses Spinner as they hear a roar in the distance.

The bus lazily moves to the bus stop, opening the door wide for Emma.

"Tell me you'll be okay," breathes Spinner.

He tries to read her expression, comes up short. There's a definite sadness there, though he has no idea how deep it is and when it's going to disappear. Emma finally provides an anxious smile.

"You know me," says Emma with a shrug. "Be careful on the road, okay?"

She lifts her suitcase, and manages to get it on by herself, collapsing in a front seat. Spinner blinks as the door cuts his view of her. The driver makes a deliberate turn and Spin watches as the vehicle veers to the other side of the city. Her answer repeating in his head, he takes out his cell and instinctively dials. A cheery voice is on the other end.

"Evening!" greets the woman. "You've reached the YMCA of Metropolitan Los Angeles. How may I help you?"

The Y? Emma's going to the Y? Why not a hotel? Spinner scratches his head furiously. He may not know this city, but that didn't seem like the safest place for her to be spending the night.

"Hello?" calls the woman. "Hello?"

Spinner hangs up, having no words ready for her.

"Em," he groans to himself, eyes cast on his car.

IV.

It's almost like Heathrow was hushed just for them. Their flight arrived at five in the morning, London time. Craig can't say that he doesn't welcome the quiet. They're in baggage claim, small wheels turning, carts squeaking, nothing big. The intercom announces the occasional incoming or departing flight, whereas the sound of luggage hitting the floor is louder. Ashley yanks her black bag from the carousel and calls Craig's name.

"Oh!" says Craig, spying his duffel bag with the Ramones sticker near the bottom.

"I should do that," notes Ashley, staring at his sticker.

"What I really want to do is ride the carousel," admits Craig. "Lay on it and let it whisk me away to the plane. Wanted to since I was seven."

"Are you sure you're not influenced by a certain U2 video?" kids Ashley.

"Thought of it before Bono," defends Craig.

He pretends to try and sit on the conveyer belt, two bags hitting his butt. Ashley chuckles and pulls him upright.

"I say we really do it next time," says Craig.

"It's five a.m. You're tired," insists Ashley, grabbing hold of his guitar case.

"No, I'll make sure to remember this," says Craig, taking his luggage in one hand and Ashley's in the other.

Ashley smiles, follows Craig and the two bags as they start through Heathrow. They have to go through customs, which shouldn't take too long. The Brits were really polite to him last time. Ashley rubs her eyes. She really was exhausted. That's sort of why he grabbed her stuff and wasn't surprised that she didn't protest. On the plane, she went over her music. _Her_ music. Craig was ecstatic that she was doing her own thing and not Mark's. He hates what Toby had to go through, but one good thing that came out of it, for them, was Ashley being in her home environment and away from the tour craziness. She was going to where her roots were and returning as someone who's true to herself. He's amped for her next performance. It would knock them dead.

They pause at the customs checkpoint, Ashley locating her ID.

"Aaaaah!" screams a shrill voice to their right.

Then, the voice grows into multiple voices, very loud shouting entering Craig's ears. Ashley stares at Craig, then past him. Several girls their age were racing in their direction. What was going on?

"Ashley!" yells the smallest of the girls.

Ashley's brow furrows in confusion.

"Mark!" yells another.

Finally, the girls reach them, assessing Ashley and Craig carefully.

"Oh...it's not Mark," says the first girl.

Craig rolls his eyes. He didn't want to be Mark or be recognized at Mark. It's wonderful that he isn't Mark. He's excited for Ashley, though. This is an ego boost for her shaky confidence, that's for certain.

"Can I have your autograph, Ashley?" begs the second girl. "I hope we're not bothering you..."

Ashley's face becomes flustered and she nods graciously.

"Sure, I'll...I'll sign," says Ashley. "Did you guys see the show at the Hammersmith?"

"No...on BBC, after the interview with Kate Winslet," replies the first girl. "And I think you're soooo much prettier than her."

"Let's not get carried away there," demurs Ashley.

"I'd love to have your eyes," says the second girl. "They're not contacts, are they?"

"They're natural," inserts Craig.

"Wow," breathes the first girl. "You and Mark are the best couple ever. The way you perform...it's a perfect match."

Unintentionally, Craig drops the bags. Perfect match? Yeah, right. Ashley had to be someone else to be the perfect match for Mark. If they really knew what was going on behind the scenes, they wouldn't think they were so perfect.

Ashley finishes scrawling her name for the first two girls and moves to the third. She gasps when the girl presents her with a newspaper.

"Craig, it's the _Tart _interview," says Ashley.

"It's out?" cries Craig, peering over her shoulder.

Yes. There is a black and white picture of Ashley, face slightly covered by a hat, and Mark seated at a table. Their shoulders are practically touching. Craig shivers, not because of the image, but because of the text. Most of the answers were Mark's. He explained what was behind the song choice, the rituals they did prior to the show, and where they were most anticipating playing. Every answer read like they were a _they_. Why is Mark horning in, on everything?

"You and Mark should do a duet on your debut album," says the third girl as Ashley signs.

"Maybe," says Ashley brightly.

"I only have a napkin," admits the fourth girl, flailing it around.

"That's okay," says Ashley.

"Hey, if your assistant can bend down, you'd have a decent writing surface," says the girl as she motions to Craig.

Craig closes his eyes, his teeth gritting on their own accord. Assistant? That's how they saw him? Ashley's cheeks are red when his eyes open.

"I'll...um, use my leg," options Ashley.

Please do it so they can leave, thinks Craig. Ashley does so quickly and with a few parting words, the girls are off, giddily sharing their autographs. Ashley rubs her neck.

"Craig, I....," begins Ashley.

"Ash, let's just go through customs," sighs Craig.

Thank goodness she doesn't press it any further as they go through customs without any problems. They were supposed to wait for a car that was coming for them, ferrying them to Croydon, Aja's hometown. Aja was staying with her brother and offered them better accommodations. Actually sleeping in a bed would be an awesome difference. The tour bus bunks weren't uncomfortable, but Aja's beds wouldn't move when the bus moved.

Alone again, Craig glances at Ashley whenever her head is to the right, hoping to initiate some conversation. He's curious how she felt about the interview. The reporter could've done a way more thorough piece on only her. Her story is pretty amazing. He thought so. She scored a spot on the tour after the director heard her demo during her BBC internship. So why is it being replaced with Mark dictating who they are as artists?

"What's that term in English Kwan used?" speaks up Craig. "You'd know. That was your best class."

"Huh?" says Ashley, meeting his gaze.

"Exposition," recalls Craig. "You know, the background information...didn't see a lot of that in the interview."

"Craig," moans Ashley.

"It's weird, Ash," says Craig. "You didn't give them enough quotes that they could've used to tell _your _story?"

"Actually, no," says Ashley, calmly. "I was nervous. Mark covered for me."

Craig stares past the white columns at the empty lot. That's how he feels every time Mark is mentioned, like he has to stare past all these little blips that keep coming up. He has to be okay with him choosing her songs or telling her how to perform or saving her in an interview.

"I don't like him," says Craig.

Boy did it feel good to say it. Craig turns to her.

"Okay, maybe the interview should've been handled differently," sighs Ashley. "But I didn't write it. Okay?"

"Just don't want you to get the short end of the stick," insists Craig.

Maybe that concern wasn't valid, their conversation being interrupted by a loud honk. They stare in awe at a black, stretch limo rolling to where they stand with their things. Ashley and Craig exchange a look and step back as Julian jumps out from the back.

"Tour stars have to travel in style!" greets Julian.

"Ummmm," blanks Ashley.

"Get in, get in!" encourages Julian jovially. "I'll explain on the way to Croydon."

Craig and Ashley enter the limo, Julian on the other side with someone else. Ugh. Mark beams at Ashley as soon as she closes the door. What's he doing here? He could understand Julian since he's the tour director but shouldn't Mark be sleeping?

"Don't worry," says Julian as the limo moves. "You guys are going to be last tonight."

"The main event," adds Mark.

"Can you stop and explain all of this?" says Ashley, gesturing around the limo.

"You tell her, Julian," urges Mark with a grin.

"Well, when you left, we aired your broadcast and the interview came out, and suddenly the phones started ringing, the ticket sales went up," says Julian, all in one excited rush. "I haven't seen anything like it. People were camped out at the ticket booth in the wee hours this morning."

"The fans really connect with you, Ashley," praises Mark.

"But...and I don't mean this in a bad way," says Ashley, glancing at Craig. "The interview didn't say much about me."

Good. He was waiting to hear the reason for that being the case.

"A little mystery never hurts," shrugs Julian.

"I can attest to that," says Mark. "Anyways, I was thinking we could do Summertime again, since we were interrupted...last time."

Mark glances at Craig speedily, Ashley unable to catch it because it was so brief. Craig glares at him.

"Ashley's doing original songs," says Craig.

"Who are you now?" says Mark, rolling his eyes. "Her manager?"

"And you are?" returns Craig.

"Guys!" snaps Julian. "But I side with Mark. There's no use in learning a new arrangement and not performing it."

"I'll even sacrifice my other spot so Ashley can perform two original songs," promises Mark. "That fine with you, Craig?"

Ashley puts her hand over his, Craig's temperature growing hotter and hotter. Between the interaction with the airport girls, the strange interview, and Mark revving him up, he'd have to try extra hard to stay cool. He wouldn't ruin another performance for her. Julian stares at him, as if to dare Craig to do anything, like he _could _do anything.

"As long as Ashley's happy," says Craig.

Laying her head on his shoulder, Ashley's gaze falls on the tinted window. Julian hums to himself. But the reaction Craig notices the most is when Mark clenches his fists and stares at the carpeted floor. Craig's more than happy with that.

V.

Her full hair falls on the material of the cot. The blanket beneath is blue. It was the only color she let enter her sight when her head met the bed. As her ears tried to deaden themselves from hearing anything, she hears things anyway. A mother tries to make her toddler stop crying. She reassures her that they'd be going home soon. The daughter manages to fall asleep then, while stroking the chesnut-colored hair of her baby doll. Then, a man was stuffing something into his shoes. It is newspaper, to dry the wet interior of his sneakers. He came in while it was raining, and Emma came in before. It was a summer storm.

The receptionist gave her a lot of looks. She must've been considering every part of her: her clothes, her skin, her nice luggage. She asked her age, and if she could call someone to pick her up in the morning. Emma said her family was far away, so far away they couldn't help. The receptionist apologized for being nosy and lead Emma to the main room.

The main room is similar to the Degrassi auditorium, if it had beds, water bottles, boxes of food, and toiletries inside. It resembles an indoor camping trip with an absence of tents. Emma clung to her belongings until she got to the middle. She chose the bed next to the mother. Maybe the choice was innate, like a belief of how strange mothers try to protect kids they don't even know. Emma sat on the cot, hearing the rain pelt the roof. Then, she lay there. She lay there for hours.

She's still laying there. Emma blinks at the painted white wall, counting the cracks. Two years ago, she might have been that receptionist. Helping others came naturally to her and she would've loved to contribute to a community like this. The YMCA did various activities for the underprivileged and the homeless. She never pictured herself as one of the homeless. Technically, she can't claim to be homeless. It's just that she feels less.

The "less" is making her body hurt. She turns side to side, the area near her heart throbbing. She steadies her body, breathes to relax. After five breaths, her lids go down and she sleeps. There is no dream, though her body grows cold. It's weird for late July. Her body grows so cold that it's almost like her limbs are shaking, as if they're buzzing. Emma's teeth chatter. She has to get up. She tries. She can't.

"Uhhhh," moans Emma, turning to her side once more.

Her eyes groggily register Spinner, seated on a stool, sleeping with his back up against the wall. Emma looks away and back at him again. Is he really there? She lifts her arm to check the hour. The time is seven, early.

"Spin," she says weakly, clutching her stomach.

Spinner shifts a bit and his eyes open. He stands and bends by the cot.

"Are you sick?" says Spinner nervously. "Do you want me to get someone?"

Emma shakes her head. She reaches for her suitcase, Spinner laying it flat for her. The cold is overpowering her. She rubs her hands together.

"What do you want?" asks Spinner, unzipping her suitcase.

"A...a sweatshirt," breathes Emma. "I'm freezing."

"Really?" says Spinner as he stares at his own T-shirt.

"Please," says Emma.

He nods and retrieves a gray sweatshirt that she slips over her head. The cloth makes her skin burn. Emma breathes in and out.

"Why are you staying at the Y?" asks Spinner.

"It's free," replies Emma with a strained smile.

She rocks her body back and forth. Spinner joins her on the cot.

"For real, Em," encourages Spinner.

Emma didn't want Spinner to view her, here at her lowest low. But he did follow her and it showed that he cared. He deserves some honesty.

"I can't face anybody," says Emma. "Manny got me this job, and I botched it. She's with Toby anyways. Snake was proud of me. Mom wanted me to have a good time. No matter who, I'm disappointing them. I should be alone."

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself," says Spinner. "They'll understand."

"This trip....I was hoping it'd make me happy, and now..."

Her hands find her mouth, warming them. She can't even fathom what she's going to say to her mother. Yes, the girl you thought was a fortress is really a failure, a crumbling tower that's inches away from destruction. Beads of sweat seem to sprint against Emma's skin.

"So cold," murmurs Emma. "But I'm sweating."

"Let's walk around," says Spinner.

"My limbs are aching," says Emma.

"They're probably just stiff from you being on the cot," guesses Spinner. "If you don't feel better, we'll go to a doctor. Come on."

He gently raises her arm and Emma manages to make her body stand, though her muscles feel heavy. The mother and her toddler are sleeping while the man with the newspaper shoes stares at the ceiling. Other men, women, and children mill around the room fetching water, fruit cups, and boxes of cereal. Volunteers were good-natured, dispensing them with good will. Emma smiles and follows Spinner outside.

They go past a couple doors and Spinner peeks inside the room. He disappears inside and then motions for her to come with him with his hand appearing in the doorway. Emma stares at every corner of the gym. Her shoes squeak against the floor as she tugs at her sweatshirt. Spinner flips on the light, giving them a better view. Basketball hoops were on either side, just like at Degrassi, but there were no bleachers. There were a couple benches. Emma walks to the center.

She hears a thud and glances at Spinner. He bounces a ball towards her.

"Ever play Horse?" questions Spinner.

"I'm sports challenged," confesses Emma. "You'd know that if we had gym class together."

She bounces the ball to him.

"Remember you being on both the floor hockey and gymnastics team," says Spinner, bouncing the ball to her.

They fluidly trade it back and forth as they talk. Her arms were becoming more limber and heated, with no more cold sweats.

"You noticed?" says Emma.

"Well, you kinda have to when your sister's on both those teams, too," points out Spinner.

Right. She forgot.

"I wasn't a star athlete like Kendra, though," demurs Emma.

"For Horse, you don't have to be," says Spinner. "I make a shot, and you try to make it."

Her bones still feel stiff, but maybe this will help loosen them up. Plus, it's better than me crying over what I can't change, moans Emma inwardly. She passes him the ball. Spinner straightens his legs, shoots, and scores.

"What are the rules?" asks Emma. "I think I know them."

"Uhhhh," says Spinner, then spinning the ball on his finger. "The new rule is that if you don't make it, you have to tell me one thing that's bothering you."

"What?" cries Emma.

"You better play well, Nelson," says Spinner. "Unless you want to tell me outright."

No, she'd rather play.

"Pass the ball," instructs Emma.

She walks to Spinner's spot, takes a deep breath, and shoots. It misses the net completely, whirring across the floor. Spinner stares at her with Emma scratching her neck. Oh boy.

"Hannah being upset with me," provides Emma. "I wish I got to tell her good-bye at least."

"Okay," says Spinner.

He jogs and fetches the ball. Shooting from the side this time, the ball whirs in a circle and then squeezes into the net. Emma reluctantly goes to the spot and catches the ball when Spinner throws it. She's way off the mark for the second shot. It almost goes over the glass background.

"And?" nudges Spinner.

"If I'm going home, I want things to be different," sighs Emma. "I want to visit Snake."

Visit Snake? Whoa, she can't believe she said that to anyone but Snake. It's just with the plans they were discussing when she was in the phone booth, and the decreased animosity during the conversation, she could see herself actually doing it. But what if that falls apart too, like things were falling apart here?

"I'm scared to visit Snake," adds Emma.

"Because you're afraid he might slip up again?" asks Spinner, then making another shot easily.

"Yeah," says Emma, caressing the ball when he throws it. "I've seen how bad it is for the Andrews, Spin. I don't want to go home to another family that's unraveling."

"What would make you get on a plane?" says Spinner.

Emma glances at the ball and at the hoop. The spot Spinner has selected isn't that far from the basket. She can score, if she really, really tries. Emma bounces the ball one, two, three times. The ball soars and swishes when it goes through the basket.

"I don't know," says Emma with a pleased smile.

"My rules suck," laments Spinner.

They far from suck. His rules distracted her and it was nice to talk to somebody. This was something she didn't mind failing at, not at all.

"Nah," says Emma, putting the ball on the floor and hugging him. "They were good."

VI.

"I feel like I'm Manny."

Maria's pronouncement elicts laughs from the three guys in the stairwell-- Joseph, Officer Wheaton, and himself. Toby was walking beside her on the steps so he could see why she'd say that. Maria always seemed to exude warmth too, just like her daughter. While Officer Patton and Joseph conversed about how the Santoses would receive their mail with an unmarked apartment mailbox, she'd stare at him from the side and grin a bit. Officer Wheaton agreed to escort them home, which Toby talked him into. He didn't want to take any chances.

"This has been a long day," sighs Joseph, inserting the key into the first lock.

Toby watches him unlock another lock, and then another. He recalls when there was only one. As much as he knows that the Santoses don't want him to feel guilty, he can't help but wish there was one lock. He'd almost like to sigh with relief when Joseph finally swings the door open.

"Come in," suggests Maria. "For some coffee?"

"I didn't eat tonight," says Officer Wheaton, clearly fishing for a food offer.

Joseph leads him inside. Toby has basically figured out that Wheaton is the comedian whereas Patton is the worrywart. It's not bad that their personalities are bubbling to the surface. However, it is strange that they are, because it hammers in that they've been around for awhile now.

"Toby?" says Maria.

"Oh, no thanks," says Toby. "I ate."

"Well, I have something non-edible for you," admits Maria.

He goes into the apartment. Should he be here any longer, around them? It's well after dark. He stares at the window, secretly hoping for a plane. Most likely, the plane wouldn't be Manny's, but he could pretend that it was, that she was still in their neck of the woods. Toby hangs by the window while Joseph and the officers walk around the kitchen. Joseph spoons out two helpings of pasta for Officer Wheaton and Patton's plates.

Under the window sill, Toby spies an unfamiliar picture. Maybe he never looked long and hard at this part of the living room. Set in between J.J.'s graduation photo and a picture of Maria in a pretty white dress is a photograph of Manny, as young as five, and two other girls. Behind them are the red rock crevices of a mountain, a mix of purple and gold sky beyond them. Her hair full and free, Manny wears a light blue top and white overalls, pink sneakers on her small feet. Her smile is the widest.

"Mount Kabuyao," informs Maria as she joins him.

Startled, Toby turns to her. Maria picks up the photograph and points to the right.

"There's strawberry farms on this side," says Maria. "Manny and I went there with her cousins. My sister snapped this picture. It's beautiful this time of year."

"I'm sure it is," says Toby.

"Did you notice Manuella's smile is the biggest?" asks Maria.

"Yeah," laughs Toby.

"That's me during my Confirmation," shares Maria, nodding to the other picture.

"You don't look any older," says Toby.

"You definitely know what to say to your girlfriend's mother," says Maria, turning red.

The statement's true. Maria had the same kind eyes and smooth face, with a little less dimples than Manny. She stands at the front of the altar, white dress with lace sleeves on her slim body. But the partwhere she called Manny his girlfriend isn't totally true. He's hoping for it to be true in time.

"My church was attacked, too," whispers Maria.

Wow. He wasn't expecting to hear that. He isn't the only person this has happened to? Well, he's aware that this has happened to others before, but Manny's mom? They each stare at Joseph, chuckling with the officers, who have their forks raised to their lips.

"When you were my age?" says Toby.

"Younger," replies Maria. "But I kept going."

"You weren't scared?" says Toby.

"I was, but I did my best not to let it show," says Maria. "That's what you have to do sometimes. Some people don't think quiet people are strong, but I think...we are."

By including herself in the group, Toby isn't offended by what she's saying. He wasn't nearly as outspoken as Manny, or as confident as his own mother, yet he wouldn't falter. He'd fight somehow. That's what he told her and Joseph, and Manny. He'd be as present as those mountains, watching her from afar, behind Manny, acting as her support. Toby grins at Maria, a silent agreement.

"I have three prayer candles left," says Maria. "We worship differently, I know. But we all want the same thing."

Yes, for the police to make some headway, for Justin to be apprehended. Toby watches her set the photo of Manny down.

"If you'd like, I can give you one," says Maria. "Or...you could come to Wednesday night prayer service with us. It'd probably be just us and a few others."

That might take a bit of work. He'd have to check with Officer Wheaton, and his father, and he'd probably have to leave a bit earlier from the Council meeting and...those excuses melt when he looks into Maria's hopeful eyes. They were _so_ Manny's eyes. Toby nods slowly.

"I'll come," says Toby.

Maria pats his shoulder. "I knew you would."


	72. You Can't Win

**LXXII. You Can't Win**

_You can't win  
You can't break even  
And you can't get out of the game  
People keep sayin'  
Things are gonna change  
But they look just like they're staying the same  
You get in  
Way over your head  
And you've only got yourself to blame_

_You can't win, chile  
You can't break even  
And you can't get out of the game_

_You can't win  
The world keeps movin'  
And you're standin' far behind  
People keep sayin'  
Things 'll get better  
Just to ease your state of mind  
So you lay back  
And you smoke that smoke  
And you drink your glass of wine_

_You can't win, chile  
You can't break even  
And you can't get out of the game_

_You can't win  
You can't win  
No way if your story stays the same  
You ain't winnin'  
But it's nice to see you  
I'm awfully glad you came  
Better cool it  
'Cause it ain't about losin'  
Then the world has got no shame_

_You can't win, child  
You can't break even  
And you can't get out of the game_

_You can't win  
You can't win  
You can't break even  
Ain't the way  
It's supposed to be  
You'll be spendin'  
Your little bit of money  
While someone else ride free  
Learn your lesson, refuel your mind  
Before some turkey blows out your flame_

**You Can't Win is the property of Michael Jackson and appears in the film _The Wiz_.**

"There's way too much syrup in this thing," remarks Emma.

She'd save the reusable plastic fork for later, when it's not covered in a sticky substance surrounding peach slices. Meanwhile, Spinner hurriedly wolfs down his fruit cup. Why do boys usually have the bigger appetites? Emma sticks the fork into a slice and continues to eat. She's eating, though she's not hungry. Spinner is keeping an eye on her and she doesn't want to appear the least bit rattled. They're in the room with the cots again. The light exercise did do wonders for her mood, but now the effects were wearing off.

The achiness has returned, and she's still cold. She is doing her best to hide it. She didn't want to drag down Spinner any further, have him leave California with any regrets or worries. Sending him off in good spirits is the least she can do.

"Done," remarks Spinner as he raises the cup proudly.

"I thought we were done with competing," returns Emma.

"You're just mad that I beat you in Horse, and the streak continues," kids Spinner. "Oh yeah."

"Instead of bragging, shouldn't you be getting ready?" reminds Emma, smiling. "Your flight is tonight."

Spinner glances at her luggage, as Emma polishes off her fruit cup. She lowers her head.

"I can't leave you like this," says Spinner.

"Knew you would say that," sighs Emma. "You have a whole other life in Toronto, with commitments. The Dot, friends you could be visiting before they go off to university, whatever you wanted to do this summer..."

"Um, I did...did what I wanted to do this summer," interjects Spinner. "Be with you."

Emma chews on the last slice as she smiles. Most of her other summers weren't as romantic. She went on a family trip instead of spending time with Chris. Last summer, she was single. That one summer with Sean was spent doing more juvenile stuff with him and Manny, and she spent the last two months conceptualizing SITE. This summer, however, was full of amazing memories with an amazing person. She certainly did take advantage of him being here and to think, if Kel or Lia had said no, nothing would've happened. So maybe life isn't as cruel as she thinks.

"I did promise I'd be home in time for Kendra's treatment," says Spinner.

"Spin, you should really head home," says Emma, looking at her watch.

He nods knowingly and stares at the door, then her. The looks continue until Spinner grips the handles of Emma's suitcases.

"What are you doing?" asks Emma softly.

"You can come to my grandmother's, until you call your folks," says Spinner. "If I'm leaving, I want you in good hands."

"I....I couldn't," insist Emma.

"My grandmother's basically like you, only old. Wait, that didn't come out good," says Spinner.

Emma laughs.

"You need somewhere free, right?" continues Spinner. "And Kendra could use a friend right about now."

She wouldn't exactly call herself and Kendra friends. Sure, they got along alright, but the blow-up with Kendra and Manny was weeks ago. That's not a lot of time for the wounds to have healed. Toby did say that they were on good terms. That didn't make it any less awkward, though. Then, she'd have to be with his mother and grandmother, who were basically strangers to her.

"You don't belong here, Em," says Spinner.

Glancing from one side of the room to the other, Emma takes in all the people, who may come here regularly. They're in need of rest, food, and shelter. They may have reached their breaking points. Emma might feel broken in some ways, but she has alternatives that would make her better. A mother in a yellow raincoat enters the auditorium, her daughter hugging a teddy bear to her small dripping frame, covered by an oversize jacket. The teddy bear is bigger than Merlin, Hannah's toy. It must be raining again.

"Mommy, I don't see any more beds," says the daughter.

"Shhh," shushes her mother. "If all else fails, we'll go somewhere else."

The mother attempts to pat down her daughter's rain-soaked hair and dismally scans the room.

"There's a cot over here!" calls over Emma.

Emma glances at the cot, with a new sheet she requested. It could fit two, uncomfortable as it would be. The mother beams at Emma as the girl runs forward.

"You sure?" says the mother, her eyes gleaming.

"Yeah," replies Emma. "I have somewhere else I can go."

"Thank you," sighs the mother.

The girl hops onto the coat, playing with her pink shoelaces. Emma grins at Spinner, who takes up his car keys and gives them a twirl.

II.

"My, aren't we the Copy Fairy," notes the librarian.

Ellie accepts the copy key from her and rolls her eyes when her back is turned. The archives proved to be a wonderful treasure room for any budding journalist. Most of the Toronto newspapers have backlogged all their contributions, and the university library had done a decent job of cataloging all their efforts. The only annoyance is the staff itself, full of cheeky librarians and apathetic graduate students. An MBA candidate half-heartedly tried to locate _The Toronto Times's _articles on students listing undeclared as their major, which Ellie found quickly, and he released a soft "huh" and returned to making notes for his thesis.

Yes, she's chosen to do a piece on undergraduates wrestling with what they want to do the rest of their lives. Perhaps discussing Jay's future, and Sean's future weeks ago, has finally gotten to her, in _this _way. Now, even Alex seems to be on a steady path in regards with what she plans to do. Ellie's not sure if she took her choice of major for granted. She always wanted to be a journalist, a print journalist with no leanings towards broadcast or radio journalism. From the beginning, she would write and write and write. It gave her thrills she couldn't describe. For others, it took awhile. When she met Sean, he was just starting to like cars and that blossomed. It wasn't immediate like her loving words. But a love of something can cause you to do some crazy things. If Sean didn't have Hill's, where would he have gone if there was no other place? Can she blame him for flocking to Dale's if he got to do what he loved? Maybe she should've asked him about his personal motivations instead of being so bewildered by it. Maybe they're on two different paths that might not meet. Or maybe she's imagining things that won't really be a problem for them in the end.

Inserting the copy card into the machine, Ellie presses the Start button, one last copy of an article on the statistics of incoming students' most sought after majors spilling out and sticks it in a manila folder. She puts the folder into her bag and walks to the main desk.

"Good luck on your paper, sweetie," says the librarian. "I've never seen a first-year make so many copies."

First-year? Hmm, that's actually not that annoying. Ellie pays her the five dollars and wishes her a good night.

She shoulders her bag and her boots go down the library's concrete steps. This would probably be the first of many nights, where she'd be burning the midnight oil and dealing with final projects or papers. The campus is beautiful, even in the dark. The glow of street lamps fall onto the benches. The marble of the school chapel shines in the distance. Subdued chatter crosses the quad. She starts across the quad, the bus stop near the book shop. Ellie sits on a bench near the shop, the light summer air going past her fishnet stockings and brushing her legs.

The one night sound growing closer is a low whistle, from someone's face she can't make out. Then, his face is clear as day, Ellie rising without hesitance. Dale quickens his pace.

"I'm not talking to you," says Ellie as she walks past the bench.

Dale manages to get her arm from behind.

"Listen then," whispers Dale as she turns around.

"If you don't let me go, I'll scream," whispers Ellie fiercely.

He drops her arm, smiling more fully.

"Why are you here?" asks Ellie.

"This was my old school," says Dale. "I have a right to be here. Let's just say I came to visit friends."

The response is delivered so smarmily she doubts that it's true.

"And the point of bothering me is?" says Ellie.

"I know your boy's got him, Ellie," says Dale, the smile disappearing in less than a second.

He must be talking about Ty, thinks Ellie. She won't say a word.

"If Ty comes home, I won't make any trouble for Sean," continues Dale. "And believe you me, I've come this close to breaking. Your boyfriend is causing me a lot of unnecessary strife."

"I think it's the other way around," throws back Ellie.

"Ah, a smart mouth," notes Dale with a condescending laugh. "Just like him."

"He's done with you," insists Ellie.

"Nobody's done with me," says Dale. "Especially not him."

Ellie releases a relieved sigh when she can spot the bus coming forward. Dale sees it, too, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning in towards her.

"So you don't find it odd that he's keeping this kid with him?" asks Dale. "Taking Ty places? To win him over? Lying to you? Keeping you at bay?"

"Sean likes him," says Ellie, shrugging.

'Yeah, I'll bet he does," says Dale with a wink.

The implications are made obvious with that gesture. Ellie shakes her head as the bus pauses at the bench.

"You're sick," says Ellie.

"I'm just concerned, Ellie," says Dale. "Like you should be. Like he should be, especially if he's doing what I think he's doing."

"Do us both a favor," says Ellie, throwing a glare at him as the bus door opens. "Don't talk to me...ever."

"Oh, I'll talk, but it won't be to you," whispers Dale as she boards.

Any reply she could've made is halted by the bus door slamming in Dale's face, the driver asking her to pay the fare. She does and sits in the middle. Dale is out of sight, as gone as speedily as he came. They pass the chapel, more streetlamps, the open space of the quad. Its beauty is hidden from her eyes.

III.

The limo went past Russell Square, Trafalgar, and Charing Cross, where she met Aja, and Ashley still can't believe she's inside it. Limos were for important people. Anyone knew that. So this makes her important, doesn't it? With Craig sitting next to her, and her tour director across from them, she definitely feels important. And the autographs? Her heart was shaking as she signed. People actually screamed when they saw her, and took the time to talk to her. This was something she didn't find in Toronto and she didn't think she'd find in London, especially after all of the drama that accompanied her on this tour.

The limo itself is fantastic. There are mirrors on top, a mini-bar in the space behind the driver, and cushy seats she could fall asleep on if she weren't running on excitement.

Is this what she paid her dues for? Did it all add up to this moment, where she's taken seriously as a musician? Okay, the flip side of the deal is that she'd like to be recognized as an artist too, a songwriter. Most of her heroes are songwriters and she did want people to take note of her original music. But now they would, wouldn't they? She's finally making headway.

"Croydon," says the driver's voice over the speaker.

Through tinted glass, Croydon appears to be covered in one massive shadow. The buildings are more modern than in other parts of London, with more grey and beige structures lining the streets. These buildings look expensive. With the limo doing a U-turn, that didn't seem to be the case anymore. Tiny brick townhouses stretch from one end to the next. Chimneys reach into the sky. There were less people walking about.

"Tour bus should be arriving in five," comments Julian.

The driver lowers his window.

"Thank you," says Ashley.

Mark and Julian stare at her pensively. What? You don't thank the driver?

"My pleasure, lass," says the driver, before exiting the limo.

"Aja's brother is already inside, I understand," shares Julian.

"Wanker," mumbles Mark.

"Aja assured me you guys would have complete privacy," says Julian, ignoring Mark.

"Privacy?" prods Craig.

"Well, you two have a following now, what with the broadcast that aired," says Julian, grinning.

Ashley raises her eyes and sighs at the ceiling. She knew the broadcast with Craig would go over, even if Gev and Julian were pushing her to change her mind to go with the one with her and Mark. Maybe in addition to her musical skills, they'd acknowledge her business savvy too. She totally called that one right.

Craig opens the door, helping Ashley out of it. The driver calmly takes their luggage from the trunk. He momentarily assesses the guitar case and releases an amused grunt. Craig smoothly retrieves his guitar. Ashley's tempted to laugh as the driver looks crestfallen. Craig's guitar is like his baby, and he only trusted it with the right people. There was no way he'd let it get damaged like Dashiel's did.

Her thoughts become more stilted as they hear a loud sound, a sound that resembles a massive cry. Ashley doesn't see any cop cars in the area or any criminal activity. Craig presses her to his side as the three men glance around cautiously.

"There,' says the driver, pointing to the left.

Ashley grips Craig's elbow. There are dozens of legs running, jogging, as people stare at the side of their tour bus heading to the limo. The black bus slows and inches to the outside of Aja's home.

"She's not on there!" yells a girl with shredded leggings. "She's there!"

It's like one huge turn of the neck, girls screaming as they stare at Ashley on the sidewalk. As they head towards her, they shriek, putting their hands against their faces. Mark and Julian exchange smiles. Three girls are hopping up and down, Ashley noticing a familiar feature-- they have purple streaks in their hair like her. Another girl has lavender, which is pretty close. The tallest girl, able to peer above the other girls' heads, is wearing a red leather dress, similar to the outfit Ashley swore she'd never wear again.

"Ashley!" screams what looks to be the youngest of the girls.

Two girls throw their arms around Ashley's waist and shoulders. Craig is shoved to the side, his butt meeting the pavement. Ashley can hardly move, their hair touching her nose and cheeks.

"Girls...girls," says Julian with amusement.

This fails to work, other girls clamoring for her attention. She feels a tug, a scratch, a yank. She has no idea where her limbs are, covered in the limbs of others.

"Craig!" shouts Ashley from a clearing she can just make out.

"This isn't safe," she can hear Mark mutter to Julian.

"You're right," says Julian.

Craig reaches over the heads of the girls and manages to locate her arm, dragging her from the throng. Thankfully, they part for a couple seconds, trying to figure out what's going on. She wishes she knew what was going on, too.

"In!" commands Julian, looking straight at her.

Ashley ducks inside the limo, Julian shielding her from the enthusiastic girls.

"Mark!" squeals the girl in the leather dress. "I...I love you."

The girl is hysterically crying now, swaying as she sobs. Her friends are anxious to get his attention too, grabbing for his shirt. A small ripping sound enters Ashley's ears, her jaw dropping as Mark reenters the limo with a torn shirt. Ashley reaches over Mark to try to find Craig in the madness. He's standing, so that's good.

"Aja!" calls Julian.

Ashley looks left and spies Aja walking hurriedly.

"Move, ya loons!" shouts Aja as she strongarms her way to Julian.

"What's going on?" yells Julian.

"They flippin' found out where our bus would stop!" exclaims Aja. "Guess somebody leaked some info. They've been nutters, standing a block away all morning, trying to get a look at them two."

Aja nods at Mark and Ashley, waves at Ashley happily. Them two? What two? Ashley gives her a confused grin.

"I've gotta set Mark and Ashley up somewhere that's safe, at least for tonight," sighs Julian.

"Ay, that'd be wise," says Aja. "I'll get Craig settled in then."

"Man, this is a panic," says Mark, smiling proudly at Ashley.

She waves him off and calls Craig's name from the window.

"Come with us!" yells Ashley.

"It's fine, Ash," returns Craig. "Meet you at the concert, okay?"

"It's for security purposes, Ashley," says Julian, hurriedly slamming the limo door.

Ashley reaches for the door handle again, Mark taking her hand away.

"Craig will be alright," assures Mark.

Before she can answer, the driver has reentered the vehicle and started the car. The tires screech as he peels down the road. Did that really happen? Ashley stares at Mark's ripped shirt for confirmation, blushes when he catches her peeking. Ashley clears her throat and fixes her denim jacket.

"We could use a bit of calm after that, huh?" says Mark.

"No kidding," sighs Ashley. "That was...."

"How a star should make their entrance?" poses Mark.

Ashley throws up her hands and smiles.

"Yeah...yeah!" says Ashley. "It was scary, but amazing."

"What's amazing is that I'm going to an industry party tonight, and I think you should come with me," says Mark.

It seems to come out of the blue. Wow, an authentic industry party. She wouldn't have any idea what to say, or wear. For a "star", that's pretty pathetic. Ashley digs her Converse shoe into the limo's floor.

"Wouldn't you want to go with someone who's actually signed?" says Ashley.

"That's how you _get_ signed, Kerwin," teases Mark. "Right people, right connection, right moment. Add a glass of wine and you have a good time."

Ashley begins to speak, Mark putting a finger to her mouth. She stares at the single finger as if it's an equation she can't quite figure out. Mark crawls to the mini-bar and opens the door. He fetches two chilled beers and hands one to her.

"Cheers to the rock star," congratulates Mark, raising his beer.

She swishes the beer in the bottle.

"Don't make me celebrate alone," pouts Mark playfully. "One beer won't do you in."

"After what happened with my last performance?" says Ashley. "Avoiding alcohol is fine by me."

"They'll be passing around champagne by the bucketloads at the party," laughs Mark. "Come on. This will be a head start."

"We have a show tonight," reminds Ashley.

"So sober up between now and then," shrugs Mark.

"Um....I'll drink half," options Ashley.

"You're a demure doll, aren't ya?" says Mark with a laugh. "Fine, Miss Kerwin."

She taps her bottle with his, drinking the first drops of it. She winces and rubs her chest. The taste isn't unfamiliar to her. No, it leads her to stretch her legs and rest her head against the carseat. Mark does the same.

"Could you get used to this?" questions Mark.

Ashley raises the beer to her lips, drinks some more, and sighs.

"Yeah, I could."

IV.

"So what should I call her?" asks Emma. "Grandma Mason? Is there another last name? Obviously can't say Mrs. Mason, since that's your mom."

Spinner consider this as they head to the main entrance of the hospital. He guesses she can call her Grandma, but she wasn't her grandchild so that'd be weird. He'd never run into a problem like that before, except for that one time where Paige called her "Granny Bacon" by accident. They were cooking Spinner a surprise breakfast and it slipped from Paige's mouth as soon as they sat down to eat. He doesn't want Emma to go through any mistakes.

"Uh, don't call her anything," answers Spinner.

He grabs her hand, rushing a bit to get to the second floor. Driving to Santa Clara took a little longer, what with them leaving so late. Spinner checked in as much as he could and from what he could tell, Kendra was holding up just fine. If he made it towards the end of her appointment, he might be in the clear. Emma does a good job of keeping up with him as they climb the steps. He pauses, viewing his grandmother.

"Gavin," greets Grandma Mason.

"How is she?" asks Spinner immediately.

"Where are your manners, dear?" asks Grandma Mason. "I believe we have a friend I haven't met."

"Oh, my bad," says Spinner.

Emma puts on a huge smile, Spinner able to pick up her discomfort.

"So uh, this is Emma....Emma Kelson...I mean, Nelson!" says Spinner.

He could punch himself in the gut. All that worrying about what to call his grandma and he botches his girlfriend's name.

"Hi," says Emma, extending her hand.

Instead, Grandma Mason collects her wiry frame in a hug, Emma's eyes widening.

"This is the girl that gets my grandson to abuse his car privileges, hmmm?" teases Grandma Mason.

"Grandma," groans Spinner.

"You certainly like blondes, don't you?" continues Grandma Mason, releasing a laughing Emma.

He's going to bash his head against the wall, like literally bash it if this playful torment continues. Spinner smiles weakly at Emma.

"What was the other girl's name?" says Grandma Mason, tapping her chin. "Penny? Petunia?"

"Paige, Grandma," sighs Spinner.

A side door opens, and Spinner's grateful for it.

"I can do it myself!" affirms Kendra, wheeling outside into the hall.

Spinner bites his lip. Her right arm in a cast, Kendra wrestles to use the chair with her one bandanged hand, the chair moving in inch. She was struggling much the same way Jimmy used to. Spinner did his best to aid his best friend, because of an alarming sense of guilt. A different kind of guilt hits him now. He should've been at the hospital earlier. Kendra murmurs as she tries to aim the chair in their direction. Spinner jogs to her.

"Stop," insists Kendra as Spinner starts to push her.

"Kendra, go easy," cautions their mother, exiting the room.

"You'll be walking in no time, Kendra," says the doctor who leaves after her.

"Yeah, right," says Kendra.

"Don't take that tone, young lady," cautions their mother. "Thank you, Dr. Fields."

"Anytime," says Dr. Fields. "Night, Doris."

Grandma Mason waves at Dr. Fields, and the three of them join Kendra and his mom. She defeatedly places her hands in her lap, frowning at the elevator. Spinner gets behind her and starts to push. Emma walks alongside them, smiling.

"What are you doing here?" asks Kendra.

Emma bristles and stares wordlessly at Spinner. He halts the chair.

"I...I have an announcement," begins Spinner.

As they drove to Santa Clara, he weighed his commitments. Being with Emma is a new commitment, but it's a commitment that he wants to work. Work is a commitment, and he loves his job. His boss has been so understanding for this whole trip. The third commitment didn't hit him until they pulled into the parking lot. He was so late meeting Kendra and he'd like to show his commitment, to her. He has enough clothes and enough patience. This feels right in his heart.

"I'm staying," says Spinner. "Until Kendra gets better."

"Spin...," says Kendra, her voice trailing off.

He's not sure what to think, until Kendra grins subtlely.

"You have a job, Gavin," remarks Mrs. Mason. "Pat is a good person, but...he's counting on you."

"Kendra's counting on me," says Spinner. "And so is....Emma."

"Your mom's right, Spin," says Emma, then turning to her. "Oh....hi, I'm Emma."

His mother stares at her in confusion, gingerly taking her hand.

"I'd rather be a good brother than a good waiter," says Spinner, nodding at both of them.

"What a gentleman," compliments Grandma Mason.

"Mom?" says Spinner.

His mother ruffles her head thoughtfully. She always did this when she was seriously considering something. This is a good sign. It at least shows she values his opinion, and he has been making some decent decisons after the shooting. Emma raises her eyebrows up at him.

"You are eighteen, which is old enough to make your own decisions," says Mrs. Mason. "But make sure to call Pat."

Spinner beams. "Oh, sure nuff."

Everyone laughs, including his grandmother, though her laugh sounds confused.

"And uh, Emma needs somewhere to stay?" brings up Spinner.

The hesitance is obvious, his mother casting a wary look at Emma.

"It's not my house....," begins his mother, Spinner sensing there's a "but" coming.

"No, it's mine," says Grandma Mason. "And I won't have a lovely young lady walking the streets. They drove all this way."

"Mom!" whispers Mrs. Mason.

"Emma did let me stay with her when I was in L.A.," speaks up Kendra. "When I was injured."

"That settles that," says Grandma Mason, nodding confidently.

His mother stares from Grandma Mason to Emma to Kendra, and sighs heavily. Spinner can tell there are going to be a lot of rules, but it was worth it to keep an eye on Emma.

"I'm going to go call," says Spinner.

As much as he loves his family, he can't wait until he's out of earshot. He locates his phone and punches in Pat's phone number. The sounds of the Dot echo in the background, like the voices of waiters, utensils moving, and the milkshake machine running. Spinner pictures a frosty vanilla milkshake, then is brought back to reality by Pat's voice.

"Hey Pat!" says Spinner.

"Oh, thank God, Gavin," sighs Pat. "Traffic is picking up, what with the school year weeks away."

Yes, he can remember last summer being particularly vicious for the staff. That made sense, what with kids hanging out at a happier place with the memory of the shooting still fresh. Spinner appreciated the place too. He wasn't judged there, except once, and Jimmy didn't come in much to heckle him after he ribbed Spinner in front of Darcy. It was sort of like a fresh start. Well, this is sort of a fresh start, too, with Emma.

"Uh, Pat," sighs Spinner. "I'm not coming home tonight. I know I'm bailing on you...."

"Gavin!" interrupts Pat, obviously heated. "You are not honestly telling me you're ditching this place!"

"I'm disappointing you," says Spinner. "Believe me, if I had it in my power to change...."

"Spin?" says a voice that isn't Pat on the other end.

"Jim...Jimmy!" exclaims Spinner. "Dude, where's Pat?"

"I'm at the Dot," explains Jimmy. "With Haze."

"Hi Spin!" cries a cheery voice.

"Uh, hi?" says Spinner, his forehead wrinkling.

"You're quitting?" asks Jimmy.

"Not really," says Spinner. "Emma needs me, though. Kendra too."

"Couldn't you get a temp?" asks Jimmy.

"I don't have that cash, man," moans Spinner.

"No...just...look, let me fill in," says Jimmy.

"What?" cries Spinner.

"You love this job," says Jimmy. "Haze and I can help."

"You guys have no experience," remarks Spinner.

"And you did?" chuckles Jimmy. "It's for what? A couple weeks."

"Yeah," says Spinner. "Pat wouldn't mind?"

He hears the phone shift, and a low groan.

"Gavin, you drive me up the wall!" exclaims Pat. "Fine! Fine!"

"I think that answers your question," says Jimmy, once he receives the phone.

"The Dot is in our capable hands," adds Hazel.

"Man, you guys...well, you guys rule," says Spinner.

"Bring me back a souvenir, chump," laughs Jimmy before clicking off.

Spinner smiles at his cell. Yesterday was so sour for him, with the mess with Kel and Hannah. Today's almost too good, things panning out for him, Emma, and Pat. He might not have many days like this so he's going to run with it. Watching his mother stroke Emma's shoulder, and his grandmother hugging Kendra, he nods. He's lucky. He really is.

V.

_Mount Kabuyao_. Toby types it in without delay. He receives two different spellings, Kabuyao and Cabuyao. A Wikipedia link is the second link, which he clicks. There isn't much information, except for what Maria told him tonight. He goes back and clicks another link. Majestic mountains spring up, golds and purples coloring the sky. Toby grins. They weren't quite the snow-capped mountains of Red Rose, where his lips met Manny's for the first time, but they were beautiful. He leaves the page up as he locates his pajamas.

Officer Wheaton is probably already snoring, his alarm clock reading eleven. Surprisingly, Toby became less tired during the drive. He was thinking of the houses he'd seen at the station. There was a brown one, a green one, and a blue one. He remembers those three for some strange reason. In the backseat, he added rooms inside of the houses in his mind, his brain going from room to room searching for Justin. There was no doubt in those internal journeys, not like at the station where he was so lost and frustrated. Justin is cowering in a room, dark and empty. What room is it? What house is it? Toby didn't like not knowing so he decided to occupy himself with his computer.

He logs in and sees her name in his buddy list. Manny is inactive, though. Perhaps he should've asked if it would've been okay to contact her. He's sure he can find some computer pigeonhole for them to talk, especially since nobody can find anything in this hate crime case. Toby sighs and falls onto his bed, lays on his side and stares at his closet. A pigeonhole would be perfect, he thinks as his eyes close. He misses talking with her, in any form.

_"I can't find my sash!" groaned Manny._

_Bending on her knees, her head went under the linen tablecloth of the table, her body halfway underneath. This was the first sight Toby saw as he entered the grand ballroom of the country club-- his girlfriend hiding her head like an ostrich. It was cute, sad but cute. Toby got on his knees on the other side, the cloth touching his neck as he went under._

_"Hey," greeted Toby._

_"Hey!" cried Manny, rising slightly and bumping her skull. "Owww. Shoot."_

_"Are you okay?" asked Toby._

_"Yeah," muttered Manny. "And this is how I wanted you to see me, the picture of elegance and grace."_

_"We're the only ones in here so far," reassured Toby._

_"Mrs. Tellman is going to kill me if I don't find that freakin' piece of fabric," moaned Manny. "I bet Hazel wouldn't have lost hers."_

_Toby stared upwards, raised his arms and started patting around on the table's surface. He felt forks, spoons, a plate, and something soft. He grinned._

_"Found it," said Toby, yanking it down with him._

_"Toby, that's a napkin," said Manny._

_She was correct, and he was wrong. Toby undid the napkin and frowned at it, surprised when Manny started to laugh. _

_"Maybe they won't know the difference?" sighed Toby._

_The two removed themselves from under the table, Toby getting his first real look at the room. Everything was so fancy. There were nametags in front of each chair, an ice sculpture with a T, R, and a C ("Toronto Rotary Club"), flower arrangements in front of the stage, and servers with black ties. He was glad he dressed up for this. Manny was presenting a check to the Rotary Club from the Degrassi Arts Association, an association Ms. Hatzilakos co-founded after the success of J.T. and Liberty's play. There were no students involved, but the adults from the association met at the school. They met Manny since she was chair of the drama club and thought she would be the best person to present the check. She said she'd do it, if Toby was her plus one._

_"I'm such a spaz for losing it," said Manny._

_"Have a seat," urged Toby, pulling out her chair. "Relax."_

_"Ahhh!" squealed Manny._

_Her sash was right on the chair._

_"Oh yeah," remembered Manny. "It was too tight against my bra. Still haven't figured how to deal with that part yet."_

_Manny blushed after saying "bra", and she'd said bra plenty of times in front of him....well, as a friend. Toby pulled at his tie without looking at her._

_"Yeah," said Manny, sitting._

_The clothes that were visible were gorgeous, Manny wearing a silver gown with spaghetti straps, silver heels on her feet. It was late January, so a heavier coat was on the back of her chair. Toby took his seat._

_"This is the closest thing we've had to a post-computer camp date," said Toby, his cheeks changing color._

_"It is," sighed Manny._

_The restaurant is where they said "I love you", and they'd had a date before that, but no dates as an official couple. Manny's Miss Degrassi schedule was starting to pick up and he kept checking the calendar. He could've waited until Valentines, but he didn't want to wait that long. _

_"So...when are you going to ask me out?" teased Toby._

_"What?" cried Manny, smiling. "Um, I'll let you go through the planning anxieties, the primping, and the goosebumpy feelings this time around, thank you very much."_

_"Well, I was hoping we could share in the goosebumpy thing," said Toby, folding his hands together._

_"Slick, Toby," commented Manny. "Really slick."_

_"I'm a really cheap date, for the record," said Toby._

_"Shut up," laughed Manny._

_"Now's the time," continued Toby. "There's no time like the present. Go for it. Live as if you'll die tomorrow."_

_"Stop throwing cliches at me," said Manny, giggling. "And ask me out."_

_"There's a certain way to do these things," sighed Toby._

_"Sure," said Manny, wrinkling her nose in amusement. "It takes a bunch of effort to pick up the phone and say hey, Manny, let's go to the Dot and get some chicken wings. How's about it?"_

_Toby chuckled. "You like chicken wings?"_

_"I'm not telling you until you ask me out," returned Manny._

_He enjoyed messing with her about this, more than he probably should. Manny put her chin against the palm of her hand and stared at him intensely._

_"Nah, I can't do it on a whim," said Toby._

_"Ugh," said Manny, letting her face fall into the table._

_Toby stood, settled back her shoulders, and kissed her, thumb going across her cheek. Manny held his hand and moved her lips in unison. Their noses touched for a brief second and Manny sighed. He resisted the urge to do so, too. Toby parted from her._

_"That was nice," whispered Toby._

_"I was supposed to give a speech, but the words are gone," whispered Manny, touching his chin._

_"Manuella Santos!" cried an agitated voice from afar._

_"Oh, no," moaned Manny._

_"Save the hanky panky for another time," said Mrs. Tellman, nodding at Toby._

_"Hanky panky?" remarked Manny. "We weren't doing hanky panky. He was...um, checking my breath."_

_"I know what hanky panky looks like, Ms. Santos," sighed Mrs. Tellman. "I won't have another ribbon cutting ceremony fiasco. Practice your speech. Do you have your index cards?"_

_Manny removed several pink index cards from her purse and Mrs. Tellman left them with a pleased smile. Glancing momentarily at Toby, she put on her sash._

_"I thought I won because I'm funny," whispered Manny to him. "Apparently not."_

_"Well, you won for other things, too," reassured Toby._

_"Did you fall for me because I'm funny?" asked Manny._

_"That and other things," answered Toby._

_She grinned and flipped through her cards. They appeared to be written with care, a bit of yellow covering some of the words._

_"Oh, Emma's taken the liberty of highlighting the main points," said Manny, showing Toby a card._

_Toby laughed._

_"That girl," murmured Manny._

_Toby could tell she was appreciative though, reading Emma's chosen words before the rest. He watched her fingers inch across the corners of the card, saw the shimmer of her sash. Her smile grew as she mouthed sentences. She was focused and beautiful and perfect. He would've asked her anything she wanted._

_Throughout the dinner, with dishes neither one of them could pronounce, he kept his eye on her. She checked which fork the country club members were using, and had cute conversations with them, about why their teen daughters did this or why they did that. Toby chimed in when it was appropriate, but Manny stayed in the center of their table's attention, which should've been the case. Mrs. Tellman clinked her glass and said Manny's name into the microphone. They all cheered on the newly selected Miss Degrassi, including him._

_Her speech was sweet and engaging, listing all the accomplisments of the fledgling arts association and how the Rotary Club was kind to be a part of the pageant and other community center activities. She took a picture with the white-haired president, who looked proud to be standing next to the prettiest girl in the room. Well, he thought she was the prettiest in the room. He always did._

_He drove her to the Simpson-Nelson residence afterwards. She traded the sash for the seatbelt, the sash held in her hands. Manny frowned at the house and smiled at him._

_"I never like saying good-bye to you," said Toby._

_"You need to stop saying stuff that makes me want to stay in the car," sighed Manny._

_"Then, I wouldn't win," said Toby, smiling._

_"No, I won," insisted Manny._

_Toby gave her a confused stare._

_"I won you over," clarified Manny._

_"Okay," said Toby. "I admit defeat."_

_"Are you going to be on IM later?" asked Manny, putting her hands together as if she's praying._

_"Yes," replied Toby, lowering her hands._

_"Mmmkay. Hopefully, Emma's not researching bush babies," remarked Manny. "She saw them on the news, and she's become obsessed."_

_"They're endangered?" guessed Toby._

_"No, but close," said Manny, undoing her seatbelt. "Emma Nelson is on the case."_

_"You can't say she's not passionate," said Toby._

_He left the car, took his time getting to the other car door. He'd have loved to be with her in the flesh, but IM would have to do. It was kind of like continued time, kind of. Toby opened the door and escorted her to the stoop. Snake's light came on ceremoniously. It was really just their porch light, but they started calling it Snake's light because they knew their teacher was behind it._

_"I'm coming!" yelled Manny brightly._

_"Manny, I want to ask you something," said Toby. "Do you want to...."_

_Toby swallowed his words as Manny kissed him, tugging on his suit jacket at the same time. He felt his hands drop, the porch light shining on his forehead. Manny stepped back._

_"You were the perfect plus one," complimented Manny._

_"Mmmm," sighed Toby, trying to kiss her one more time._

_"I love you," said Manny, her hand on the knob._

_She turned it quickly and went inside as Toby stared dumbfounded at the door. He was going to ask her out. Her leaving happened so fast. He drove home, entered his room, shut on his computer, still debating why it didn't happen. Manny was online when his computer was completely done setting up. Toby rushed to look up some movie they could see, perhaps at the drive-in. He found the listings. **Love Story.** What a great title for a first date. There were no time for "hello"s, Toby typing it in immediately._

_"Do you want to go see Love Story on our first date?" _

_"Hey, Tobes. Want to go to the Dot and get some chicken wings? How's about it? Manny," typed Manny at the same time._

_Toby laughed. He technically did ask first, his message appearing before hers._

_"Yes!" typed Manny with about a hundred exclamation points. _

_"My date or yours?" typed Toby._

_"Both," replied Manny. "Wanted to ask you first, but you beat me to it."_

_"We both won," typed Toby._

Toby's eyes flutter open as a knock interrupts his memory. He moans, wishing it hadn't ended. That's the problem with memories. They like to pop up, usually when you're sad. The knock gets louder the second time.

"Wait," says Toby.

He rises and opens the door, almost expecting to see Manny because the memory was so vivid. Instead, he sees a gold badge and a man as old as the Rotary Club president. Manny isn't beside him, only his father.

"How you been, Toby?" asks Sergeant Blanchett.

"Okay," mutters Toby, trying to read his father's face.

"Tobes, I hate asking this, but...they're going to need your computer," says Jeff.

Toby grips the doorknob tight, his eyes falling to the floor. They're taking everything away from him, aren't they? Manny's out of contact. He can't go anywhere without Officer Wheaton, meaning the loss of his freedom. Now, it's his computer. Toby clenches his teeth.

"You know what a hub is?" starts Sergeant Blanchett.

"It's a connection point," offers Toby reluctantly.

"Exactly," says Sergeant Blanchett. "My team's on to something, and studying your PC would really give us that extra information."

"Toby, he assured me you'd get it back," says Jeff. "And soon. Right, Sergeant?"

"Very soon," promises Sergeant Blanchett.

His team doesn't seem to be successful in any fashion, or maybe he's wrong. Toby breathes heavily and opens the door wide. He stares as Sergeant Blanchett shuts it off, pulls out the various plugs, and holds the monitor to his chest. Jeff fetches the additional pieces, tucking them protectively in his arms. They were removing something special, a special way he had of contacting her. Toby turns around.

"We'll have it back in one piece," says Sergeant Blanchett as they leave. "Thanks, son."

He stares at the empty desk, a hole in the center of his computer desk. He almost wishes he could fall into a hole. There's no more Mount Kabuyao or Manny on the screen, just a desk with grey dust.


	73. My Prerogative

**LXXIII. My Prerogative**

_Some messy questions_

_Why am I so real?_

_But they don't understand me_

_I really don't know the deal about her brother_

_Trying hard to make it right_

_Not long ago_

_Before I win this fight, sing_

_Everybody's talking all this stuff about me_

_Why don't they just let me live?_

_Tell me why I don't need commission_

_Make my own decisions_

_That's my prerogative_

_It's my prerogative (it's my prerogative)_

_It's the way that I wanna live (it's my prerogative)_

_I can do just what I feel (it's my prerogative)_

_No one can tell me what to do (it's my prerogative)_

_'Cause what I'm doing I'm doing for you_

_Don't get me wrong_

_I'm really not souped_

_Ego trips is not my thing_

_All these strange relationships really gets me down_

_I see nothing wrong in spreading myself around_

_Everybody's talking all this stuff about me_

_Why don't they just let me live?_

_Tell me why I don't need commission_

_Make my own decisions_

_That's my prerogative_

_It's my prerogative (it's my prerogative)_

_I can do what I wanna do (it's my prerogative)_

_I can live my life (it's my prerogative)_

_And I'm doing it just for you (it's my prerogative)_

_Tell me, tell me why can't I live my life_

_Live my life without all of the things_

_That people say, oh_

_Yo, teddy kick it like this_

_Oh no no I can do what I wanna do_

_Me and you together together together together together_

_Everybody's talking all this stuff about me_

_Why don't they just let me live?_

_I don't need commission_

_Make my own decisions_

_That's my prerogative_

_Everybody's talking all this stuff about me_

_Why don't they just let me live?_

_I don't need commission_

_Make my own decisions_

_That's my prerogative_

_It's my prerogative_

**My Prerogative is the property of Bobby Brown and appears in the film _Wild Hogs_.**

**Scratch is the property of Kendall Payne.**

Craig sets his guitar on the floor, the cheers dying down. It took awhile to funnel through the eager fans, handling his things and Ashley's things, Julian and the driver desperately trying to keep some amount of calm on this Croydon street. Craig wouldn't exactly call it it a Beatles-level spectacle, but his girlfriend has definitely made an impression. Wow. Luckily, they were inside now, Aja leading him into the foyer.

Their townhouse would cause Craig to gush as much as the manic fans, if he wasn't so tired. The outside of the building is pretty plain, but the interior isn't. The furniture is a mix of modern and classic, with wooden tables, black angular chairs, a gleaming keyboard near a makeshift stage, medium-sized black lamps, and a hardwood floor that didn't look too polished. Aja rolls Ashley's suitcases to the couch, where she collapses. Her purple mohawk is as shiny as the keys of the keyboard.

"Some place," compliments Craig.

"Eh, I came home before you guys to clean it," remarks Aja. "You're getting the good view of it."

"Where's your brother?" asks Craig.

"Knowing him, hiding from us," says Aja breezily. "Want me to flip on the coolybox?"

"Coolybox?" questions Craig.

"What do you guys call it...the air conditioning?" says Aja.

"Oh!" realizes Craig. "No, I'm fine."

"One day, you'll catch onto me quicker than lightning," wagers Aja. "That is, if you're in London long enough."

"Well, we'll be gone in two weeks," shrugs Craig.

"You..._and _Ashley?" says Aja, raising her eyebrows.

"That's when the tour ends," says Craig.

Although, judging by Aja's stare, she's not quite convinced they're leaving at the same time. Ashley has to leave with him. They're both bound for university. In fact, she was in a better place than he was, because Kate Kerwin insisted on paying for the coming semester in full and in advance. Joey was going to send Craig's final tuition payment to U of T early next month. Of course, this was all before the tour. People weren't running to Ashley in airports or waiting on street corners for her bus to arrive. No, Craig reassures himself. Ashley's very committed to school. They'd be going home together and she'd most likely continue touring during school breaks or during the summer.

"Want to know a secret?" says Aja, grinning. "I heard that they're going to have reps at the industry party tonight. I heard they're itching to sign your girl."

"Yeah?" says Craig, beaming.

"Mhmm, and you should've seen them eyes rolling when Mark told everybody on the bus," continues Aja. "Sarah Lincoln went mental."

"Ashley can't help it if she's talented," says Craig.

"I told that cow to bugger off," shares Aja. "Sarah thinks she's a hot little..."

"Who's a hot little?" speaks up a voice behind them, though it's more like a growl.

A young man, brown beard covering his cheeks, comes into the room, wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and black jeans. He takes in Craig for a minute with deep blue eyes and then glances at the floor. He doesn't look too impressed. What's more distressing to Craig is that his eyes are very familiar, like he's seen them before.

"Don't leave your junk on the floor," says the man.

"It's...it's not junk," stammers Craig, picking up the case anyway.

"A hot little minx," finishes Aja. "And be nice to our guest. He got okayed by Dad."

"That makes me feel more at ease," says the young man, smirking.

"Ugh," sighs Aja. "Craig, this is Nolan. Nolan, Craig."

"Nice to meet you," says Craig.

Nolan raises his arms, and starts fixing his cuffs. Craig watches him fidget as Nolan releases a deep heavy breath.

"Show him where my room is, and tell him to stay away from it," says Nolan.

He shakes his head at Craig and walks from the room, opening and slamming a wooden door to a room right next to the stage. Craig throws a look at Aja.

"It's for two days, you git!" yells Aja after him. "Eh, he ain't listening."

"Did I do something?" wonders Craig aloud.

"No, he's a twenty-six year old who's disillusioned with the world," waves off Aja.

"Okay?" says Craig cluelessly.

"Heh," laughs Aja. "I forget you're really young sometimes. Let me go put Ashley's things upstairs."

Aja clomps up the stairs in her boots with the suitcases, another sound streaming out from under the room Nolan just entered. It's some type of music, Craig inching closer. There's a heavy drum beat and some trills from a woodwind. Whatever is being played, he likes it. Then, the tempo really gets going, and he hears something like fingers snapping. The snapping is covered by a consistent ringing. Craig views the phone rattling in its hook on a nearby desk. Should he get it? He should get it and take a message probably.

"Hello?" says Craig.

"Nolan?" says a soft voice on the other end. "That you? It's Dad."

"No, I'm...uh, staying with Aja and Nolan," says Craig. "Um..."

"Oh, yes, yes," says Aja's father. "Is everything okay for you guys?"

"Sure," replies Craig quickly. "Can I take a message for you?"

"Maybe...maybe I'll try back tomorrow," sighs their father. "I'm certain Nolan's preoccupied...as always. Don't...don't tell them I called. I'll speak to them later."

"Alright," says Craig.

"Take care," says their father. "Bye."

That may've been the strangest phone conversation he's had in awhile, without even knowing the guy's name. The door to the room opens before Craig can formulate another thought. No more music is playing. Nolan narrows his eyes at Craig.

"Who was that?" barks Nolan.

"Wrong number," says Craig, shifting his gaze.

"So...you're on tour?" asks Nolan.

This is the one statement that doesn't have a trace of an attitude. Craig smiles and pats his guitar case.

"Someday, hopefully," replies Craig.

"Someday, he says," remarks Nolan to himself.

He might as well have laughed in his face, with that type of utter disdain. Craig closes his eyes and counts to ten. How bad would it be if he completely spat on the feet of one of his hosts? Nolan laughs as he closes the door. If Ashley were here, he'd be a lot calmer, cooler, and he wouldn't need a coolybox.

"Two days," he says, knowingly. "It's only for...two days."

II.

"Gah!" moans Ashley.

Her wrist is starting to hurt. The cellphone has been positioned against her ear since they left Aja's townhouse, Julian ringing her every five minutes. Her other hand held the beer, and she drank the whole thing, which may've contributed to her moodiness. She didn't even realize she was near the bottom of the bottle. Julian kept telling them that he had gotten them booked somewhere near the concert venue. He hopped in a cab after he ushered them into the limo. Being cooped up in the limo has become way less romantic because they've been in it for way too long. Mark appears to be agitated as well, winding down his window to stare at the grey sky above.

"Okay, I called the driver and gave him directions," says Julian.

He clicks off without hearing her response. Ashley frowns at the phone.

"He must be getting some type of joy out of this," says Ashley.

"You know he is," chuckles Mark. "I wasn't staying at Aja's, anyways."

"I don't want to leave Craig there alone," says Ashley.

"Don't worry," says Mark. "The worse thing there is her brother, who's a real blighter."

The limo stops, Mark and Ashley stepping out of it. She can't fathom any "worse" things that might be here, as she scans the hotel. It's a large, gold building with many floors, so high she can't see the top of it because of the awnings. A bellhop, with a uniform full of brass buttons, comes to collect their luggage and stares at them, puzzled as to why they have none. Ashley hugs her purse protectively. He leads them in anyway. The lobby is just as nice, with potted pants, walls of gold panelling, and a rich red carpet with marble statues near the check-in desk.

"Four stars," guesses Mark, slipping on his sunglasses.

"I am never leaving London," sighs Ashley as they approach the desk.

Mark laughs. "I could get behind that."

What's that supposed to mean? Ashley tries to keep her expression as blank as possible, focusing on the employee behind the desk.

"Welcome," greets the employee, wearing a velvet red jacket. "Your names please?"

"Ashley Kerwin," says Ashley, presenting her ID.

"Mark...," starts Mark.

"Kennick," fills in the employee. "Yes, we've been expecting you. Rooms 642 and 644. Damon, the keys."

Before Ashley can blink, Damon hands her and Mark two keys each. Ashley stares incredulously at the 642 card keys.

"We pride ourselves on our service, and are very pleased to have BBC artists staying with us," says the employee. "Should you need anything, anything at all, please ring us immediately and we'll be happy to help."

"Thank you," says Ashley.

"Would you like an escort to your rooms?" says the employee.

"Nah, we can find it," assures Mark.

Ashley nods and follows Mark to the elevator. She resists the urge to squeal, but does once the elevator doors are shut and they're making their way up. Mark grins.

"If I had to go through all that letdown to get to here, I am totally not sorry!" cries Ashley.

"I love the way you Canadians say sorry," says Mark.

"Sorry," says Ashley. "I mean..."

Mark laughs. "Okay, now you say that you love the way us Brits say _anything_."

"Shut up," says Ashley, pushing him playfully.

"Or you could say you'll come with me to my room," says Mark as they reach the sixth floor.

She crosses her arms. Okay, she's been getting a weird vibe from him on more than one occasion, but he's never been this skeevy before. No wonder Craig doesn't like him.

"No," says Ashley, strongly. "I can't believe you! You..."

"Relax," interrupts Mark. "Got something to show you. In fact, this'll help you relax."

Mark steers her to 644, and slides the card key into the door. He kicks the door open and Ashley walks in first. The room is what she thinks befits a rock star, that's for sure. There's a single, queen-sized bed, with silk pillows and cotton blankets. A large television set sits opposite the bed, a mini-bar to its right. What she loves most is the mirrored wall, which appears to slide open for the person to enter the bathroom. Ashley stares at herself in the wall. Meanwhile, Mark is practically hopping on the bed and digging in his pants. She throws a curious look at him.

"Never thought we'd get up here," mutters Mark.

He pulls a small black square from his pocket, unwraps it delicately. Then, he fetches a pocketknife from the side of his jacket. Ashley moves her mouth wordlessly as she spies the drugs on the square when Mark puts it next to the phone.

"Ever had this?" asks Mark, grinning at her.

Ashley's face falls as she turns away. She shouldn't have come into this room, and should've gone to hers to take a nap. Now, she'd have to say no to it and reveal how young she is to him, again. Ashley looks to her left, and Mark is doing his own looking, at her.

"It's coke," says Mark.

"Yeah, no duh," says Ashley.

"There's worse stuff, Ash," defends Mark. "I..."

"I don't want to," interrupts Ashley. "I'm already on thin ice with Julian."

This is all she can offer, yet it's not the most stupid of reasons.

"And?" says Mark.

Alright, he obviously detected there was something more. Ashley sits on the bed with him and brushes the purple locks from her forehead.

"Um, I did Ecstasy once," says Ashley. "It screwed my entire life up."

Boy did it. She can remember everybody being so disappointed by her actions, and how her mother and Jeff would look at her when they drove her to counselling that summer. Kate wouldn't even go with her into the office the second visit. It was just too much for her to stomach, that her otherwise responsible daughter felt so unhappy with herself that she popped the X as soon as Paige left the room. She wasn't the same girl she is now, though, and she isn't prepared to lose anything, not the way she lost it last time.

"So you do have some demons," says Mark, stroking his chin. "You're edgier than I thought."

Ashley shrugs and grins a little. "I wouldn't say....demons...."

"Your parents nailed you?" says Mark.

"A summer of counselling," says Ashley. "I did X once. I wasn't even an addict. That's family for you."

"Family is overrated. That's why I don't talk to mine," says Mark, going back to his knife.

"Why...why do you say that?" asks Ashley.

"Like Aja's, for example," sighs Mark. "Now, their dad is an addict. A faded musician. They put that man in rehab three times, and that's where he is today. It didn't do a thing for him. Their family got ripped apart. Brother's a recluse, and Aja's got daddy issues."

"So you think going to rehab is a waste?" says Ashley.

Mark sets his knife against the table and frowns at her. Oh no. He's offended. Ashley rises from his bed.

"I don't have a problem, Ashley," says Mark. "It's recreation. And you don't have to watch."

"Mark!" says Ashley. "I wasn't judging...you."

His features appear to soften and he rubs his hands together. She truly isn't trying to lay into him. Okay, yes, the coke use is a little troubling to see, and she hasn't seen it up close like this. He has to cut her a little slack. This is different from the drinking.

"Rehab's for freaks who don't have self-control," says Mark. "I do."

"Okay," says Ashley.

"But, like I said, you don't have to stay," says Mark.

He stares at her, almost hopefully. Ashley bites her lip and leaves the room, shaking her head as she closes the door.

III.

"Finally," breathes Jay, his head falling back onto the pillow.

He sniffs the Reese's Cup and bites hard into the oval-sized treat. Ellie pretends not to notice, playing with the white curtain of the hospital room's window. She has to be on Jay's good side today. She shouldn't say anything to Alex. That's what she should've said last night-- nothing. Dale basically did work his way into her mind and she failed to deny that Ty was with Sean. Why didn't she keep walking?

"Thanks, El," says Jay, beaming at her.

You could see the chocolate on his teeth. Ellie grins weakly.

"Well, consider it payment...upfront," says Ellie as she walks to him.

"I'm not sure I like where this is going," says Jay, propping himself up by his elbows.

Ellie drops her backpack near Jay's bed and sighs loudly.

"Dale knows Ty is with Sean," admits Ellie. "It's not like I came out and said it, but if you have any info on what I should do..."

"He probably knew, anyway," says Jay. "Dale likes to keep track of us. Like some weird parental kick. And trust me, when it comes to weird parents, I would know..."

"Parental kick!" cries Alex, storming into the room. "I'll kick you!"

Jay gently sets the peanut butter cup on the desk. "Lexi..."

Alex hits him squarely on the head with a large envelope she has. Jay's mail flutters onto the bed.

"Ow!" cries Jay.

"Where'd you get that?" demands Alex.

He casts a subtle glance at Ellie. She should've locked the door.

"Flirted with a doctor's daughter?" shrugs Jay.

"I'm getting you some cheese cubes, and watching you eat them," says Alex.

"Ick, that's what my dad eats at his business parties," says Jay, touching his neck and grimacing. "Where they ask all these questions, like, _sir would you care for more brie, sir_?"

Alex puffs out her cheeks to keep from smiling while Ellie stuffs the peanut butter cup wrapper in her backpack. Then, Alex reaches to collect and straighten his mail.

"Wait," says Alex, looking at the largest envelope. "What'd I hit you with?"

"Uh, I'll take that," says Jay, patheticially reaching for it.

She grins while reading it, Ellie now curious. It has to be something good given her reaction. Ellie recognizes a logo at the top of the envelope, and reads the word "college".

"Jay," says Alex fondly.

"Don't make a fuss," waves off Jay.

"You're taking classes?" asks Alex.

"Might as well tell her," urges Ellie, basically to put Jay back into Alex's good graces after sneaking him the candy.

Jay lowers his blanket a hair and stares at Alex.

"I'm going to try for a mechanics license," explains Jay. "I know what you're thinking. That I never tried to get a high school degree or that I'm not going off to university like you or Paige or Marco, or that I might end up not doing it because I spent more time in the ravine than in class..."

"Hey," says Alex, silencing him by putting her hand in his face and letting it fall. "You don't know what I'm thinking."

"But...," begins Jay.

"You don't," insists Alex. "I'm..."

Alex doesn't finish, but it's clear she doesn't need to. She massages Jay's shoulder and pats him on the back.

Jay grins. "Okay."

"Maybe you'll get your license before Ellie gets her driver's license," kids Alex.

"Why are you being mean to me?" cries Ellie.

"Well, don't sneak him in candy," says Alex, sticking out her tongue at her.

The three of them laugh. Ellie didn't want to squash the good mood, and she definitely doesn't want Alex to be involved in the Dale mess. She'd try to call Sean later and try to get a read on what Dale is going to do next. He hasn't done anything, not yet.

"This is tuition information," shares Jay. "It should be, at least."

Alex hands Jay the envelope, Jay opening it. He's in the process of reading the documents when another knock sounds on the door. They turn to view Mr. Hogart and Cindy standing in the doorway. Jay's father is in a blue suit while Cindy is in a clingy green dress. You could smell her perfume from there, a peach scent.

"That official hospital business?" inquires Mr. Hogart. "If it is, I need to take a look at it."

"It's...it's nothing," stammers Jay.

"No, it's something," speaks up Alex. "Something you can help with."

"Lexi!" whispers Jay.

"Jason, I think there's been enough secrets between us this summer, haven't there?" says Mr. Hogart.

"That better not be another thing your father has to deal with," sighs Cindy, putting a hand on her hip.

"As a matter of fact, Cindy, it's not," returns Jay. "This is something I'm doing on my own, for me. I'm getting my mechanics license, okay? It won't cost you...or _him _a dime."

Jay frowns and continues reading. Wow, it took guts to blurt that out to his father and rather than leave, both of them were staying. Mr. Hogart steps forward and holds his hand out for the paper. Jay doesn't let go of it.

"I've always promised to pay for your education," says Mr. Hogart. "No matter where you go."

"Yeah, but would he stay in school this time?" asks Cindy.

"I'd...try," says Jay. "Look, you may not believe it, but I'm sick of being lazy and sick of seeing my friends do stuff I want to do. So yeah, I'd really try."

Cindy purses her lips. Mr. Hogart, on the other hand, looks his son up and down. He clears his throat.

"Been a businessman for twenty years," says Mr. Hogart. "I've met some of the best self-made men during those years. And I would like to see my son become one."

Grinning slightly, Jay stares at his father and surrenders the paper.

"Money's no object," says Mr. Hogart, grinning as he accepts the document.

IV.

She wonders how alone he really is, to be doing that. The black square, the knife, and the helpless look consistently come into her mind, sharp small images that won't leave her. Should she have left him? She knocked on his hotel room and there wasn't an answer. Ashley lays her forehead against the cab window. The sky is dark and the concert's in an hour. She attempts to concentrate on her song, a beautiful ballad that she's praying her new fans love. The lyrics were pain-staking to write, and like all of her songs, totally tied to her life. Craig's heard pieces of it, but never the whole thing. Actually, her mother may've heard more since their rooms weren't too far apart.

As much as her mother bugged her, she's glad their rooms aren't too far apart. She didn't crave being alone like Mark. During the drama in her life, she loved having someone there. Her mother did stand by her, when they got along, when they didn't get along. Her father, Jeff, Chris, and Toby were also great in that regard. To have families who weren't there, like Mark's, Aja's, and Craig's (somewhat), seems kind of scary. Should eighteen-year olds have those feelings? She said she wanted her freedom. Ashley unbuckles her seatbelt as the bus comes into view.

"Thanks," says Ashley, slipping the driver the fare.

Jogging across the street, she's honestly looking forward to catching up with her tourmates. They were a fun bunch, more fun to be around when they were excited. Tonight, they were playing a gig in the hotel she just left. Ashley realized that when she went to her room and read the hotel name on the stationary. There was a grand ballroom, and the industry party would be on the top floor, a party Julian insisted she attend.

"Ash!" calls Craig, sticking his head out of the bus door.

She meets him halfway as Craig runs to her and whirls her around. Craig kisses her as he sets her on the ground.

"You would not believe that hotel," praises Ashley, parting from him.

"I'm just glad to see you in one piece," says Craig. "You barely made it out of that fangirl frenzy."

"Julian told me he wants to get a bodyguard," shares Ashley.

She told him she didn't feel it was necessary, but she wouldn't be surprised if he ignored that.

"They told me they put your keyboard on your bunk," says Craig as they board the bus.

The bus is more quiet than she remembers. People are silently reading their music or checking their instruments. Sarah Lincoln is drinking tea in the common area as Bianca and Dashiel murmur words to each other in the far corner. Ashley goes ahead of Craig, eager to say hi.

"Hey, gang," greets Ashley. "Ready to get the party started?"

Ashley detects some snickering and thrown glances among the musicians, particularly between Sarah and Bianca.

"How was the bus without me?" asks Ashley, cheerfully.

"Good, Ashley," says Bianca, grinning. "Reallllly good."

This elicits a lot more chuckles, Ashley's cheeks starting to burn. That was a new height of sarcasm. Maybe they're ribbing her. She can take it. She used to tease Ellie for being with Sean when she showed up late to practice with the Squatch a couple of times. They had no idea about Toby's problem with Justin being the cause for her absence, and that's something she wouldn't expose to them either. She'll take the gentle jabs.

"Ha ha, guys," says Ashley, heading to her bunk.

Craig sits on the floor to tie his shoelaces, Ashley yanking the curtain that shades her bunk from peeping eyes. Her own eyes stop, tears coming to her frozen orbs. Her keyboard is on the bunk alright, a taped white sign over the keys. The red words read **_Hack_. **Craig notices her silence, and peers over her shoulder.

"What?" cries Craig.

Ashley rips the sign off the keyboard, turns it over and over again. Whose handwriting is this? Who would tape this to her instrument? Who is that heartless? Her heart pounds in her chest, Ashley attempting to rush to the bathroom. Craig manages to make her stay still.

"Ashley, they're...they're just jealous," whispers Craig.

"A hack?" yells Ashley. "A...."

She holds up her hands and advances to the common room, throwing the sign on the table where Sarah Lincoln is sitting.

"What is this, Ashley?" asks Sarah, raising her teacup. "The word of the day?"

"You know what it is!" exclaims Ashley.

"Do I?" replies Sarah. "Quick. Somebody, get a dictionary. Look up....hack."

Sarah adds extra emphasis to the "k" of the world, Ashley sure her blood is boiling. Ashley winces as she hears the flipping of pages, Bianca lifting a book ceremoniously. Everybody on the bus turns to her. Bianca clears her throat.

"Hack," reads Bianca. "A person, or an artist, who exploits, for money, her creative ability or training in the production of dull, unimaginative, and trite work in the hope of gaining commercial success in the arts."

"Now, does it say i.e. Ashley Kerwin?" questions Sarah. "Only produces lackluster original material? Queen of rock covers?"

Ashley wipes a tear that's fallen on her cheek, a tear she was trying so hard not to make fall. A hack. It's the worst thing you can call an artist, any artist. Aren't these musicians adults? What kind of childish mess is this?

"That's enough," says Dashiel, standing. "We've got a show tonight."

"We're not going anywhere until somebody fesses up!" exclaims Ashley. "I mean, how unprofessional!"

"Don't talk about unprofessional, when Julian, out of the blue, gives you the pimp spot in the show, alright?" throws back Bianca.

"So this is how you all feel?" asks Ashley.

The same silence from before comes creeping back. It's like the silence when you go to the firing squad, thinks Ashley. And they're too "professional" to take any more shots, apparently. She catches a glimpse of Craig in the background, staring at her tear-covered cheek.

"Well, this is how I feel," says Ashley, taking the sign and ripping it to pieces.

Sarah slams her tea cup on the table. Ashley tosses the pieces on the floor. Craig grins.

"I'm going to give you a show you never forget," promises Ashley.

She leaves the bus, and Sarah with her mouth hanging open. Nobody would call her a hack, not after tonight. She'd play those keys with a power they weren't ready for.

V.

"Colleen, I swear if there's anything I have to do auditions-wise...," starts Manny.

"Oh, no," assures Colleen. "I'm just so sorry your boyfriend would have to go through that. How horrible."

What is horrible is that she can't technically call him her boyfriend. She did, when calling Colleen, out of habit. Only it's so easy to say, thinks Manny, her legs against the vinyl seat of the airport shuttle. Toby was only...Toby now. They were waiting for anything else.

Once she reached L.A., she immediately threw herself into gear. Perhaps, it's because Toby's words were ringing in her ear. _You conquer California_. He let her go so she could do this and she'd totally do this. Her heart is ready for something great and she left Toby in good hands.

"Your first audition's tomorrow so I want you to get plenty of sleep," says Colleen.

"I will," says Manny. "I'm glad it's at Majestic. Maybe the aura of Miranda will come back and boost my confidence."

Colleen chuckles. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. Call me when you get there. Bye."

The shuttle veers left and they're on the long street to the Andrews'. Manny had forgotten how long streets in L.A. were in this neighborhood. Gosh, it seems like ages ago that she'd been on this street. She repeatedly called Emma during the flight and there was no answer. She also considered phoning Lia, but talking to Lia and Colleen in the same time frame made her sort of squeamish. It reminded her of _Hearts for Sale_ and she'd get negative, and she couldn't be negative when she wants positivity in every aspect of her life.

They were going to find Justin, too. She wouldn't have left if she didn't believe that to be true. Manny touches Bubbe's ring, or should she call it her ring? The black garnet shines when her fingers come off.

"You into that new agey dealie?" asks the shuttle driver, whose shaggy hair falls to his shoulders.

Ehhhh, she didn't cherish the idea of being a part of a religious discussion with a complete stranger.

"Um, I like jewelry," says Manny.

"Garnets," says the driver. "Those have luck energy. Especially in love."

"Oh," says Manny, smiling slightly.

"Whoever gave you that must want to keep you around," says the driver.

"That's what I'm hoping," admits Manny.

"We're here," points out the driver.

Manny stares at the house as she exits the car, the driver going to fetch her bags. She pays him, with a hefty tip, and goes to the door. Her parents were very kind in resupplying her with funds. The drama at home probably made them more eager to keep her happy but maybe they were just being parents.

"Hello?" says Manny after she unlocks the door. "Santos back in the hiz-ouse!"

"A Manny greeting," says Lia as she comes down the stairs. "I missed those."

Honestly, she was hoping for Emma. Emma could explain why she isn't answering her phone and Manny could tell her what's going on with Toby.

"You're home?" says Manny.

"Practicing my lines," says Lia, cautiously. "Uh...so did Emma make it home okay?"

"Huh?" says Manny.

"You know, your blonde best friend," kids Lia. "She spent the summer with us?"

"I left her here," says Manny, doing a small laugh.

"No, she went home," says Lia. "Manny, joke's over. It's been days since she left."

Days? Emma hasn't been in this house for days?

"Are you serious?" cries Manny.

"As serious as Arissa during rehearsals," says Lia. "She got fired, Manny. My dad got on her for having Spinner over."

Manny stares at the banister, her mouth parted. Why didn't Emma say anything before she left California? If it was the day of Spinner being at the house, Manny was there. Then again, she and Emma haven't been exactly chatty this summer. Man, it might be the case that Emma talks more with Hannah than she does with her. Or that _was_ the case. Poor Emma. She'd never been fired and she and Hannah were so tight. Didn't Kel have any sense? How could he break a bond like that, a bond that would benefit his daughter?

"Where is she now?" questions Manny.

"I thought you knew!" cries Lia. "Okay, this is...bad. Do you have Spinner's number?"

"Yeah," says Manny, getting her cell.

She carefully dials Spinner's number and she's met with no answer again. Manny looks skyward as his voicemail comes on.

"Spinner, I'm spazzing!" sighs Manny. "Do you know where Em is? I come home to find her gone. She won't answer my calls. Please, please, please have her call me. If she's not there, call me. If you....you know what? Whatever is going on, call me, okay? Thanks."

Manny hangs up and looks at Lia.

"Emma's smart," says Lia. "She'll be okay. We'll find her."

"I was so selfish," says Manny, burying her face in her hands. "I didn't call her when I first got to L.A. I know how hard it was for her at home. I've been so focused on my own stuff...."

"It's called having a career, Manny," interjects Lia. "Acting calls for it."

Manny clutches her ring once more.

"But some things are more important," says Manny, nodding. "They just are."

VI.

"You...were...amazing...tonight!" praises Craig through several light kisses.

Ashley chuckles, accepts another club soda from a server with a black tie. The servers were certainly buzzing around her tonight, the party in the background. The ceiling glitters the most, and there are portraits of angels and warriors in the corners, making the whole decoration elaborate. She feels elaborate, wearing a slinky silver dress Aja let her borrow. Thank God for Aja, the one person on tour who doesn't completely loathe her. Craig got in the spirit too, Dashiel loaning him a dress shirt. Dashiel was the only other detractor in the I Hate Ashley union. He set up her keyboard on the stage personally.

And she had a very, very personal show. Sure, she did Summertime with Mark, who was glowering in the shadows during the whole performance. He was distracted and kept his eyes on his guitar the entire show. He lit up during his solo song, like always, but he was pretty melancholy for the most part. The fans didn't manage to get a smile out of him. But Ashley stayed focused, performed after Mark, and delivered "Pearl" and "Scratch" with new fervor. She pretended as if Sarah and Bianca were front row instead of backstage, and she was showing them a thing or two. She made sure each lyric was nuanced, each melody was harmonious, and each moment was Ashley. Tonight, Craig brought out the lighter and the fans screamed their approval of her. She could've danced on stage, in her long black skirt and flat dress shoes. Take that, Sarah Lincoln.

"Do you have any encore songs?" says Craig. "Because they're going to start asking for them, Ash."

"I'll consider it, if you leave the lighter at home," says Ashley.

"Hey, Joey gave it to me," defends Craig.

"He doesn't smoke?" says Ashley, wrinkling her brow.

"He found it in a used car," infoms Craig.

"Did you wash it?" asks Ashley, wearily.

"Only you would ask that," chuckles Craig.

"You don't know where it's been," insists Ashley.

"I hate to interrupt," says Julian, sliding up to the two of them.

"But you're going to," groans Ashley.

"Ashley, I have some people I'd like to introduce you to," says Julian.

"Alright," says Ashley, grabbing Craig's hand.

"Actually, this is more business than pleasure," informs Julian, apologetically. "You don't mind, Craig?"

"Uh, no, go ahead," says Craig.

She frowns as Craig releases her hand. Ashley finishes her soda and sets it on the table.

"Give me a sec," says Ashley to Julian.

"Don't keep them waiting," says Julian, heading across the room.

Ashley unzips her purse, locates the extra key to her room and grins. She places the card in Craig's palm.

"When I go up, you come up," whispers Ashley, rubbing his back.

"This is my kind of encore," teases Craig, pressing his nose against hers.

"You got a hotel for us almost two years ago," muses Ashley. "It's time I returned the favor."

Ashley shrugs and grins as she goes to the group, with Julian at the head. The composition of the group is interesting. Most of them were in snazzy silk shirts and dark pants, sunglasses tucked into their pockets and beepers near their waists. They sip champagne and cocktails, and Ashley eagerly listens to record business exec talk and discussions on digital download sales. Julian finally spots her.

"Ladies and gents, this is Ms. Kerwin," says Julian, taking her by the hand.

"Oh," says a pretty brunette woman. "Who Julian calls the next Joan Jett."

"Did you hear the cover?" praises Julian.

"I did, which is why I'm here," speaks up a blonde man with many freckles. "Think it's time you introduced us, Julian."

"Don't hassle me," laughs Julian. "Ashley Kerwin, this is Liam Nicholson, an A and R rep for Arista Records...."

"Arista!" exclaims Ashley, then covering her mouth.

"Yes, we like Canadians," kids Liam. "Avril, included. Our rock branch is small, but our acts always do well in Europe and the States."

"Which is why you got his attention," says Julian.

"We'd like to follow you a little more, but we're definitely intrigued," says Liam, raising his champagne glass.

"Get her a glass," orders Julian.

Wow, Arista. They had huge names under that label, and if their rock category is selective, she must've made an impression. She wishes she could shout it across the room at Craig, chatting happily with Dashiel at the moment. Sarah, Bianca, and quite a few other musicians weren't invited to the party. But who cares about them? Arista is intrigued! Ashley accepts the champagne and clinks glasses with Liam. She drinks it and smiles when the bubbles touch her nose.

"Why don't you perform for us, Ashley?" asks the woman who said Joan Jett's name initially.

"Yes," says Liam. "I didn't get a chance to attend the concert."

"Well, I feel naked without my keyboard," confesses Ashley.

"I had Dashiel bring it," informs Julian.

He whistles, getting Dashiel's attention. Ashley also sees Mark's guitar case lying near the buffet table. Odd. Julian clearly has something up his sleeve. Still, this night would be about her. She isn't some hack who stuck with covers. She is an artist.

"I'll do my original piece," says Ashley, handing her glass to Julian.

"Ashley, Mark and...," starts Julian.

"Whatever works," shrugs Liam.

Ashley smooths her dress and watches Dashiel set up her keyboard for the next few minutes. Craig waves, realizes he has the key card in his hand, and crams it in his pocket. She giggles, then rights herself and sits at her instrument.

"Make it good, Ash," she thinks.

Dashiel fixes the microphone stand and leaves the spot.

"Ashley Kerwin is going to honor us with an impromptu performance!" announces Julian.

Murmurs of interest and enthusiastic applause greet Julian's comment. Ashley plays the first bars of the song and smiles. She sings:

"_It's a big girl world now  
Full of big girl things  
And everyday I wish I was small  
I've been counting on nothing  
But he keeps giving me his word  
And I'm tired of hearing myself speak  
Do you get weary? do you ever get weak?  
How do you dream when you can't fall asleep?  
_

She views several heads nodding melodically to the music, to her rich vocals. From a distance, she spots Mark, leaning in the doorway of the room, drumming on his leg to the beat. At least, he appears to be less somber. Craig, by contrast, is grinning from ear to ear, his eyes shining as much as the keys her fingers touch. There's no lighter, but it's not like she needs it. People are listening to her and not bored, or jealous. This is what she could play like, for the rest of her life.

_I've been wondering what you're thinking  
And if you like my dress tonight  
Would you still say you love me under this ordinary moonlight?  
I'm so afraid of what you'd say  
I'd like to know if you'd be open to starting over from scratch  
I'd like to know if you'd be open to giving me a second chance  
_

Getting a second chance would make up for so much. She knows she didn't do well during other shows, and that she wasn't exactly true to herself. Those were growing pains that she needed perhaps. Every artist struggles. Let this be the day where everything changes. If she got signed for this, she'd be unable to say what it meant. Her dreams would stop crashing. Her dreams would start tonight.

_I'd like to know if you'd be open to starting over from scratch  
I'd like to know if you'd be open to giving me a second chance  
It's a big girl world now  
Full of big girl things  
And everyday I wish I was small_

Ashley closes the song with a few more flourishes, the keyboard sleeping when her hands leave it. She releases a pleased sigh. Ashley isn't the only one, met with a round of cheers after those sighs.

"Thank you," says Ashley into the microphone.

Standing, she leaves the corner of the room and receives a few congratulations as she makes her way to Julian and Liam. It becomes tough to get to them, a few partygoers in her direct line of sight. That's why she's not convinced that it's Julian and Liam talking, of what she hears when she's a couple people away from them.

"That was nice," says Liam.

"Just...nice?" says Julian.

"We sign rock artists, Jul," sighs Liam. "Not pretty girls who play elevator music. I'll keep my eye on her, but get her to play with a little more oomph."

Ashley lifts her eyes to the ceiling, views the warriors advancing to each other with their swords. She wouldn't mind if they pierced her. Elevator music? The elevator music-playing hack. Ashley dodges several people, trying to stay out of view. Where's her key? Her sight's too cloudy to find it. She breaks into a run, her shoes clomping against the carpet. Punching in the number 6, she hits the wall and yells when the elevator closes in front of her. She staggers to her room and barely manages to get inside.

They'd sign her right? Sign "her"? Yes, they'd sign "her", if she were someone else. Ashley slams the door and her vision is clearer. It's clearer because she knows where she's going. Ashley cracks open the mini-bar, grabs the first bottle her hand touches. She watches herself drink in the wall mirror, every last drop, until she can't taste it anymore.

VII.

Craig throws the card key into the air, whistles on his way to the room. Dashiel said he saw Ashley leave, and that she was in a hurry. She did say that when she left, he should leave. Craig beams at the door. Tonight was such a success for her, and now they'd get to share it.

"Ashley!" he calls, coming into the room.

He's elated that he doesn't have to go to Aja's. Nolan didn't want him there and Craig didn't want to go where he wasn't wanted. Being twenty-six is no excuse for being rude.

Craig hears running water coming from the bathroom, knocks loudly.

"Ash?" he says.

There's no reply. His shoes touch something, something small and brown. It's a shard. Craig bends and stares at it. His eyes stray to the mini bar, door propped open. The top shelf looks pretty empty. Craig walks hurriedly to the bathroom.

"Ashley?" he says.

The running water stops. There's a couple drips.

"Ashley," he says, more softly. "Let me in."

Craig views the knob turn, and almost steps on her feet as she's huddled in a corner. Her hair is askew, and there are a couple bottles near her body. Next to her right hand is a smashed bottle, a bit of gin on the floor. Her other hand holds a couple shards, with blood on her thumb and pinky.

"Ashley!" exclaims Craig, grabbing a towel and putting water on it.

"I couldn't clean it up," says Ashley, nearly rubbing her eyes with the hand full of shards. "I dropped the bottle..."

"What's wrong?" says Craig, kneeling next to her.

He empties her hand, the shards falling on the floor, then places the towel over her hand.

"They didn't want to sign me," chokes out Ashley. "Craig..they didn't want to sign..."

"Who?" asks Craig.

"It doesn't matter, " moans Ashley.

"Let's get you up," encourages Craig.

"No," says Ashley, pushing him away.

She stands at the same time as him, Craig hugging her as he helps her. Why isn't she telling him more? What brought her to this moment, drunk and bruised? She was upset earlier, sure, but she thought she proved herself beautifully. He cringes when he sees the blood going along her thumbnail, convinces himself that he has to be strong for her. He can't break either.

"I want to be alone," cries Ashley. "Go away. I feel...feel alone."

"Well, you're not," whispers Craig. "You're not."


	74. Love Story

**LXXIV. Love Story (Where Do I Begin?)**

_Where do I begin to tell the story  
Of how great a love can be  
The sweet love story that is older than the sea  
The simple truth about the love she brings to me  
Where do I start_

_With her first hello  
She gave a meaning to this empty world of mine  
There'd never be another love another time  
She came into my life and made the living fine  
She fills my heart_

_She fills my heart  
with very special things  
With angel songs, with wild imaginings  
She fills my soul with so much love  
That any where I go  
I'm never lonely  
With her along who could be lonely  
I reach for her hand. It's always there_

_How long does it last  
Can love be measured by the hours in a day  
I have no answers now but this much I can say  
I know I'll need her until the stars all burn away  
And she'll be there_

_How long does it last  
Can love be measured by the hours in a day  
I have no answers now but this much I can say  
I know I'll need her until the stars all burn away  
And she'll be there_

**Love Story is the property of Andy Williams and is the title theme to the movie of the same name.**

**AN: I don't remember the name of Sean's parents, but I've decided to call them Iris and Ike Cameron. They're mentioned here and are a large part of the next chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews! Nikki**

"Don't," warns Tracker.

The Yorkshire terrier, with two red bows on her ears, stares at his brother quizzically, lifts her leg. Sean wonders if this dog comes here every afternoon, comes here more often than him. Tracker frowns as the dog starts to go on a tree in his lawn. Her task complete, the dog runs off, Tracker shaking a newspaper at her as she goes.

"Shirley!" whispers Tracker with narrowed eyes.

Shirley barks in the distance.

"Stupid mutt," moans Tracker.

"She must really like you," jokes Sean.

For what seems like the thousandth time, what Sean says is met with silence. The three of them, including Ty, drove to Tracker's house with silence as their fourth passenger. It was disheartening. If they were going to talk to his parents, he wouldn't mind having his brother on his side. Tracker went to bat for him when Ike and Iris Cameron decided that Sean needed a change of scenery. He stepped in when Sean had nobody else. The move from Wasaga to Toronto was less of a bother because of him. He could talk to Tracker about almost anything when they were living together so why not now? When is this frostiness going to thaw?

"I'm heading in," says Tracker.

Well, at least he spoke directly to me this time, thinks Sean, following him inside.

Tracker's place is small, though it's a great deal larger than his apartment. There were two bedrooms, a living area, a kitchen, and a bathroom, with car magazines and tools strewn about everywhere. It was a bachelor pad for a guy who obviously came and went as he pleased. He could imagine his brother's girlfriends tripping over the odd axle laying near the coffee table, but doesn't want to, really. He'd rather imagine his brother trying to initiate a talk that would end in forgiveness. But shouldn't he forgive himself first?

If he was going to, Wasaga would be the place to do it. This is where he did do it, not too long ago. The day after he told Ellie, Jay, and Emma that he was staying, he went to the beach and stood in the tide. The waves raced across his calves. The sole of his foot touched the hard surface of several shells. He saw his reflection shaking in the water and realized he was still terrified. He was terrified that it was his fault that Rick was dead. Maybe he could've shirked the gun further to the side or kept up a dialogue that would've made some type of difference. At his parents', he continued to ask those questions of himself. That's when his parents told him to stop, that he'd bury himself in questions and never do anything else. They told him the truth- that he had to move on.

That's what he tried so hard to do, to move in a positive direction. What are they going to say when he tells them that that's no longer the case? He wasn't burying himself in questions anymore; he was burying himself deeper into a disaster.

Tracker opens his refrigerator and gets a beer. Sean is still holding a soda he retrieved earlier. He glances to his right, where Ty is quietly watching _The Price is Right_. Most of Tracker's channels were static-y, but somehow the Games and reality TV show channels were clear as day. Ty appears transfixed by the TV, Sean guessing he's not a regular viewer of it at Dale's.

However, like how it was when Sean was first at Dale's, Ty has gone back to not saying anything really. He said "hello" to Tracker, patiently waited for either Cameron brother to notice him, and stayed put unless he had to go to the bathroom. He only went to the bathroom once, probably to take his meds. Sean took his pain pills around the same time, as a small courtesy. The sole annoyance is that he's gotten used to the stitches, which were thankfully coming off in the next couple of days.

"Is he hungry?" asks Tracker, grabbing a bag of hotdog buns.

"Ty?" calls Sean. "Want a hot dog?"

Ty nods without looking at either of them.

"Ketchup?" calls Tracker. "Relish? You a mustard man?"

There's no reply, only Ty slouching further into the couch cushions.

"He's not a big talker," explains Sean.

"Are any of us?" says Tracker, throwing Sean a pointed stare.

Here it comes. Sean was considering sharing all the details with him, without any prompt actually. After his brother's constant expression of disappointment while coming up here, he thought telling Tracker would at least make him aware of where he's coming from.

"Where do you want me to start?" whispers Sean.

Tracker shakes his head. "I..."

"This is not where I thought I'd be," says Sean.

"Me either," says Tracker. "Or else I would've been around. I don't know. I feel...I feel like I let you down."

Tracker keeps his eyes on the bag of buns as he undoes the twisty tie. Screams of excitement and Bob Barker's voice fill the kitchen.

"To tell you the truth, you, Mom, and Dad were the last people I wanted to know about this," says Sean. "Well, you and Ellie."

"Who got you into this?" asks Tracker as he raises his head.

"Dale," says Sean, glancing momentarily at Ty.

"And this is what, a car ring?" says Tracker. "That's what the papers said they're investigating."

"Yeah," answers Sean. "Dale's not the head guy, though. That's the impression I get."

"What happens when you get arrested?" sighs Tracker. "You know what impression they'll get? That you're a crook instead of a good kid."

Sean sets his soda on the table and blinks at it.

"And you are a good kid, so this is really ticking me off," says Tracker.

"Tracker..."

"I'm a pinhead when it comes to lawyers or courts or whatever," admits Tracker. "That's why we have to go to Mom and Dad, cause I...I'm lost."

Lawyers? Courts? Call him crazy, but he can't see himself testying in front of a court, in a borrowed suit, in order to save his young life. There is another option.

"Why...why couldn't I just toss it?" whispers Sean.

At that moment, he wouldn't have minded if they _had_ stayed in their little quiet zone. Tracker's reaction isn't surprising, a mixture of a frown and his gaze widening in disbelief. What is surprising is how futile this option now seems, especially if Dale was miffed about Ty. Sean cracks his knuckles.

"So much for a good kid," mutters Tracker, flipping on the oven.

"Come on," whispers Sean. "If you were me, wouldn't you?"

"Try again," says Tracker. "If you were the old you, you wouldn't have minded getting away with it. You were twelve, angry, and you thought nobody was going to be there for you. Now, you're seventeen and you have people depending on you to be responsible. Times have changed, Sean. You have to...I thought."

"What is this, a guilt trip?" sighs Sean.

"No, it's a trip where you better get it together," replies Tracker.

Yeah, get it together. He'd like to be able to do that, thanks to some easy solution. Trouble is, it's not easy, and he doesn't have to hear it from somebody who he tried not to get involved in this. Ty's virtually his only ally. He's the sole person who he can view this from all angles.

"Ask the kid what he wants on his food," says Tracker. "I'm assuming he talks to you? Sometimes?"

"Yeah," says Sean.

"What's going on there?" questions Tracker.

"None of your business," says Sean, rolling his eyes.

"You can't randomly take a kid from somewhere," insists Tracker. "Where's his mom? His dad? His..."

"His dad's not in the picture, alright?" interrupts Sean, hotly.

"You ain't his dad either," says Tracker. "It's strange."

"Everything's fine," defends Sean, shaking his head. "It's not like...he's a kid so it's not...or, what? You don't trust me now?"

He begins to leave the kitchen, Tracker taking him by the arm and making him pause. Sean was hoping for a less stressful trip home, where the air would be clear after he got rid of the spindle, and where he didn't have to deal with any dirty insinuations flying around.

"Bud, I wasn't saying that," assures Tracker. "You're looking out for him. I get that. I, more than anyone else, would get that."

"Fine," says Sean, taking off Tracker's arm anyway.

"Maybe it's some kind of Cameron trait," says Tracker, smiling a little.

"Whatever," waves off Sean.

"But that doesn't mean there aren't laws and worries and other stuff," says Tracker. "He's somebody's kid. That's the last thing I'll tell you."

"I hear you," says Sean, the words coming out like more of a whine.

The fact of the matter is that he can't wait to get to Ty. There's way too much awkwardness in the kitchen. Plus, he can't offer Tracker anything when it comes to Ty's personal history. The boy is as tight-lipped as he was the first day they met. He's noticeably frightened too, as Sean sits next to him.

"Have they got to the showcases yet?" asks Sean.

"No," says Ty.

"We're going to my parents' tomorrow," says Sean. "That's what Tracker's hinting towards, basically."

Ty grabs the remote control and spins it in his hands.

"Where am I sleeping?" asks Ty.

"There's an extra room," informs Sean. "I'll take the couch."

"Is your brother's room next to the other room?" says Ty.

"Yeah," replies Sean.

"Does it have a lock?" says Ty.

"Pretty sure it does," answers Sean.

Ty breathes deeply. "Thanks."

After an older lady with grey pigtails won the showcase, the three of them sit down to eat, Ty independently adorning his hot dog with mustard and relish. Tracker did indeed suggest going to their parents bright and early tomorrow morning. It would be a twenty minute drive from here to there, and Sean didn't anticipate any silence in his head, thoughts streaming from ear to ear, worries circling everywhere in there. He showed Ty the room and laid on the couch, Tracker turning in around eleven. The drive had tuckered the three of them out, or that's what he believed. He only gets to sleep for a couple hours.

Sean awakes to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder.

"Hey," whispers Sean.

"The lock to the room next to your brother's is broken," says Ty.

His clothes haven't changed. He's wearing a brown T-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He wasn't hot in them? Sean glances at his own sweat-soaked wifebeater.

"I'll tell him in the morning," promises Sean.

Ty stares at him, not going anywhere. Sean sits up.

"It's almost morning," says Ty.

No, it's not, realizes Sean. The DVD time clock reads one-thirty.

"I guess," says Sean.

Staring at him harder, Sean views Ty's body tensing under the T-shirt. Ty says nothing. Yeah, he's obviously not moving. Sean fumbles for it, but manages to locate the remote control.

"Need someone to stay up with you?" asks Sean.

Ty nods and sits on the floor. Sean passes him the remote control, and watches him flip through the channels in a mad dash.

II.

Her legs alongside her folded clothes, bathroom items, scripts, and magazines, Manny pulls absent-mindedly at her pink blankets. Her cell hasn't rung yet. She kept checking for messages and formulating texts in her mind. These texts were for Emma, only Emma. She'd reply and tell her that everything is alright, and that their friendship is alright. The things that happened this summer? They were in the past. She and Manny were back to normal, thick as thieves, already discussing what they'd be wearing to prom this upcoming year.

Yeah, it's nice to pretend. Manny stands and opens the one suitcase she hasn't gone through. The scrapbook Emma gave her before she went to California is right next to the _Tempest _playbill Toby gave her. She wanted to give herself to them, in different ways. She never thought she would have to bounce between them like this or hurt either of them. By any stretch of the imaginiation, this should've been working out. Your best friend didn't always like your boyfriend, and she got lucky with that since Toby and Emma had been friends for as long as she herself and Toby had been friends. It was this nice simple trio until this summer. This summer of ups and downs, moans Manny inwardly. She closes the suitcase, the zipper hitting the garnet ring.

This is apparently a lucky ring? Manny stares beyond it, at the charm bracelet hugging her wrist, and she also recalls the mood ring somewhere in the drawer next to her bed. She'd like to keep these three things all together, so something would be all together. Why can't she have this nice order for other things, when she can pick and choose without anybody becoming emotional? You can't hurt a bracelet or a ring.

It's not like Toby was free of it, either. He made a choice to not make her go through any more hoops or hurdles, even though it might hurt them in the end. On their first date after his computer camp, they didn't have to choose at all. She can laugh about it today. It was a very strange night, and the unexpected turned out to be for the best.

_"Manny, stop shaking," instructed Emma, holding a tissue to her mouth. "Blot."_

_They turned the basement into a dressing room, without meaning to...well, without her meaning to make it that way. There was a lot of cotton, bright colors, and discarded shoes crossing her bed, Emma's bed, the vanity mirror, and the floor. There were hair clips, earrings, and bangles on the desk in front of her. There were two girls in front of her who couldn't possibly understand._

_"She can't control her adrenaline," teased Liberty. "Her neurotransmitters are in overdrive."_

_"I'm sooo nervous!" agreed Manny, smiling. "First official date!"_

_"You need to stay still so I can do this," sighed Emma._

_Manny giggled when the lipstick met her mouth. "It's Revlon. Fancy."_

_"You're hopeless," condemned Emma. "Here, you give it a go, Liberty."_

_Liberty and Emma exchanged spots, Emma straigtening the contents of Manny's purse. She made certain to put in cash, her keys, breathmints, emergency mascara and lip gloss, and her cellphone, which minutes ago flashed a text from Toby._

_"My mom saw Sophia Loren getting her make-up done once," informed Liberty. "But...I don't think that's going to help me help you."_

_"Hmm, pick a scent," suggested Manny. "I bet you have a really good nose."_

_"I do," said Liberty, happily._

_She started going through the bottles, the three of them hearing the door to Emma's basement swing open. There were light steps and a boy coming cautiously down. It wasn't Toby, but it was pretty cute._

_"Tickle time!" proclaimed Emma, making a grab for her brother._

_Jack ran to Manny and buried himself in her lap, effectively scrunching up her billowy lavender skirt. Manny frowned. He hadn't gotten a hold of her matching top, with long sleeves and a scooped neck. It was the outfit the three of them had selected, after much deliberation. Liberty came over to vent about preliminary variety show issues, but wound up staying._

_"Where you go?" questioned Jack, gazing up at Manny._

_"I'm going out...with my boyfriend," answered Manny, trying hard not to turn red._

_"Friend boy," murmured Jack._

_"Yes, Manny has a 'friend' now," said Emma, winking at Manny. "You remember him, right, Jack?"_

_Manny rolled her eyes and smiled._

_"Toy," said Jack._

_"No, it's Toby," corrected Emma. "Toby."_

_"If it means Jack likes him, he can call him something cute," said Manny._

_"Toby," said Jack. "Toby, Toby, Toby, Toby!"_

_He did it in a happy chant, fists raised in the air as he said it. The three girls laughed, Manny standing. She slipped on a pair of small light purple heels and assessed herself in the mirror. She wore her hair straight because it was a little bit windy and she didn't crave any of her curls slapping her in the face. Her ears held small silver hoops and she paired it with the movie camera necklace he got her, which she knew he'd notice. Going in, she promised herself she wouldn't wear black or pink. They'd already had a first date and a first "I love you" in those shades. Time for a change, like they were changing._

_The solid, crisp ring of the doorbell went through the basement door. The three of them squealed, and even though they were sixteen (or fifteen for Liberty), they didn't seem to care._

_"Enjoy Love Story," said Liberty. "The love affair between a Harvard student and a Radcliffe student. I'm sure it has a certain Ivy League incandescence."_

_"Liberty, it's just very, very romantic," said Manny, shrugging._

_"It gets really cold at the drive-in," noted Emma. "Keep your coat on. Toby too."_

_"I'll tell Spinner hi at the Dot for you," kidded Manny._

_"What?" cried Emma. "No...don't! I mean, if you did, don't make it sound like...obvious. Like casual, if it ever..."_

_"Emma, I'm playing," assured Manny. "Am I pretty enough to leave the house, Jack?"_

_"I leave, too," said Jack._

_"You stay here," disagreed Emma._

_"I'm pretty enough to leave the house," said Jack._

_"Goodness," said Emma, lifting her brother. "Have fun, Manny."_

_"Yeah, have fun," said Liberty._

_Manny grabbed her purse and charged up the stairs, her hand against the banister. On the top step, she peered around the corner and into the foyer. Snake's tall form was blocking her boyfriend from view. Great, let's begin the date with some grilling, thought Manny. She walked forward._

_"The Dot, and then the movies," said Toby, sharing their plans for the evening._

_"The same rules apply," said Snake. "At least you didn't honk. Sully and his friends came by for Manny once and honked. Not that I thought you would...since you're like my top student..."_

_Snake grinned widely._

_"Can I have my turn to salivate over him now?" asked Manny, pushing her way past Snake._

_"Oh, didn't you see you there," apologized Snake. "Okay...going."_

_He left them, not a moment too soon. She wasn't the sole significant other who dressed to impress. Toby wore a blue button down shirt, a white cotton shirt underneath, and ironed black slacks. His wool black coat was crisp, glasses gleaming. Manny beamed._

_"Daaang, Isaacs," praised Manny._

_"Yeah, it's new," said Toby, staring at his coat. "Well, the shirt isn't."_

_"Emma and Liberty helped me with this outfit," confessed Manny. "And there were no fights."_

_"Why would you fight when you know the outcome's going to be good no matter what?" posed Toby._

_Manny blushed and grabbed her backpack._

_"What's in there?" asked Toby._

_"You'll see...later," said Manny. "If **you're** good."_

_"I'm always good," said Toby, holding the door open for her._

_They went to Toby's car, Bubbe's formerly unreliable car, but a lot of nice things had occured in this vehicle so she'd never hate it. She dropped her backpack in the back and got into her seat, Toby doing the same. They drove through the dark streets of Toronto, being fairly quiet. It was the type of quiet she liked, though, her shoulders raised in anticipation. Toby slowed at a stop light._

_"You're wearing the necklace," said Toby, grinning over the wheel._

_"Yep," sighed Manny. "Is that giving you the goosebumpy feelings we talked about?"_

_"I've been having them all day," answered Toby._

_Manny busied herself with buttoning her coat and taking in what he just said. She had similar reactions all day. Their eyes caught each other during Media Immersion, which resulted in Toby confirming the time when he should be at the Simpson-Nelsons'. During lunch, Manny texted him the time again, just to have an excuse to have him text back. Instant goosebumps both times._

_"First stop," said Toby, parking the car on the street._

_Technically, they've been to the Dot as a couple, to get some carry-out or check in on each other before Toby went to work or Manny had to do a pageant commitment. Those weren't dates, though. Unfortunately, they weren't a good indication of what a Friday night would be like, either. No, those were on weekdays. Manny gasped as they entered the crowded Friday night hang-out spot, Spinner buzzing by them with a quick hello._

_"You might be waiting a bit," said Spinner, practically jogging to Ellie and Marco in a booth._

_"Manny!" yelled someone. "Toby!"_

_She turned to view Darcy, enthusiastically waving her hands, with Nate nearby. Jimmy and Hazel were also at their table, with two empty chairs to their left._

_"When in Rome," sighed Manny. "You okay with that?"_

_"I don't want us to miss the movie," said Toby, nodding._

_He allowed her to go ahead, and they took their seats. Loud music flowed through the restaurant speakers, and a group of niners were throwing straw wrappers and sugar packets at one another. Ellie was thumbing through a copy of The Bell Jar and Marco was trying to get her attention. Jimmy pounded the table authoritatively._

_"Then, Coach Armstrong said it was a done deal," said Jimmy, smiling. "Assistant coach to the lady's b-ball team for next year."_

_"Really?" said Manny. "Congratulations."_

_"Yeah, congrats," said Toby._

_"We really lucked out ladies," praised Darcy. "We've got the three nicest guys with promising futures at Degrassi sitting with us at this table."_

_"And the three prettiest girls," said Nate, putting an arm around Darcy._

_"It's like a coalition of Degrassi's finest," laughed Manny. "Drama Club, Spirit Squad, basketball, Student Council..."_

_She paused at the last one, elbowing Toby. Toby smiled and hung his head._

_"Nobody in the choir," pointed out Darcy._

_"I can sing!" proclaimed Manny, straightening herself. "Ahem..."_

_Carefully listening to what's playing, Manny joined in as soon as the song got to a part that she knew._

_"__How can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad  
Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad  
I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral  
Can't understand what I mean?  
Well, you soon will  
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve  
I have a history of taking off my shirt..."_

_Manny covered her mouth with her hand, looking at each of their faces. A few of their jaws dropped, Toby glancing at her nervously. She shrugged and laughed, which got the rest of them laughing, too._

_"Stupid Barenaked Ladies," moaned Manny, playfully._

_"We're all friends here," assured Hazel._

_"Actually," said Manny, grabbing Toby's hand and looping it with hers. "We're...not."_

_"You're official!" yelped Darcy. "I mean, I see you two at school and kinda suspected and...sweet!"_

_"So when did it start?" inquired Hazel._

_"The dating?" said Toby. "Tonight, pretty much."_

_"This is you guys' first date?" exclaimed Nate. "Well, we can like...move."_

_"I know!" cried Hazel. "Some of us have been dating for two years now."_

_"Yeah," said Jimmy, shrugging. "Let's move."_

_Manny opened her mouth to speak, their four friends already going to different tables or chatting with others. Did that just happen? She stared at the chair opposite Toby's. Manny began to rise._

_"No...stay," encouraged Toby, holding her hand tighter._

_"See?" teased Manny. "You're not being good at all."_

_Toby chuckled as Manny leaned in and let her Revlon-soaked lips meet his, releasing his hand to press her hand on his shirt. The kiss didn't end until Spinner asked for them to order. _

_"What'll you have?" asked Spinner._

_"Toby," said Manny._

_Toby started to bring her face in closer for another kiss._

_"Dude!" protested Spinner, putting the notepad in front of their mouths._

_"Okay, okay," said Manny, then grinning at Toby. "Chicken wings and a vanilla smoothie, please."_

_"Same," said Toby quickly._

_"Got it," said Spinner, writing the orders. "Um...so, how's..."_

_"Emma says hi, Spin," said Manny, barely looking at him as she scoots closer to Toby._

_"Awesome," whispered Spinner to himself._

_Spinner left them, appearing less panicked. You wouldn't have known she was less panicked, by the speed of her heart. It thumped, the loudest noise on that Friday night. There were kids she went to school everyday with who couldn't have gotten her attention. There was the pleasant smell of the food Spinner set on their table and she didn't dig in immediately. She would've waited to do anything, if it meant being with him._

_"What are you thinking?" asked Toby._

_"That this is sort of new for me," said Manny. "This is a normal date within the beginning of a normal relationship, but it feels so much more than normal."_

_"I'd have to co-sign that," said Toby. "But abormal can be amazing. If it's with the right person."_

_"Hello, right person," said Manny, kissing him as their food cooled._

_They ate their wings and Manny didn't share hers with him. Toby did, though. He kept his word, and was good all night._

"With all that jewelry, I'm surprised Toby hasn't gotten you a jewelry box yet," says a voice, floating into her thoughts.

Manny ruffles her hair and glances at Lia in her doorway before heading to her window. The recollection of their date made her misty and she didn't enjoy the thought of Lia viewing it.

"He doesn't have to give me anything anymore," says Manny, sniffling.

Unless it's good news, supposes Manny silently. She'd like the good news tomorrow, if possible. It occurs to her that she could ask her parents what's going on, though it may be too early to tell.

"Manny, I kind of need to ask a favor," says Lia shyly. "And...with Emma gone, you're probably the best person I could ask."

She looks away from the window, truly curious as to what Lia would need her specifically for.

"It doesn't involve acting?" says Manny.

"No," says Lia. "It involves...my sister."

Manny's sight strays to the scrapbook, and her memory returns to Emma helping her prep for her first date with Toby. Emma is her sister, and she said that on stage when they gifted her with an award. She'd hate to see their sisterhood diminished, and can't bare to see that happen to anyone else. What if there's a way she can help both Hannah and Emma, set those relationships back in order? It could be less chaotic, not for her, but for somebody. Manny smiles.

"What do I have to do?" asks Manny.

III.

The brown glass lays against the white trash bag, its edges scraping the plastic. He swept the pieces on the floor into a heap near the door of the mini-bar, after collecting the shards that lay on the bathroom tiles for most of the night. Ashley's hair is sprawled across the pillowcase, sweat on her brow. She tossed and turned for most of the night, while Craig didn't sleep a wink. He borrowed the broom from a maid walking by and he has to rest. Sitting on the bed, he strokes his forehead, trying desperately to keep his eyes from drooping.

"Ugh," breathes Ashley, as she forces herself to rise feebly.

"Get enough sleep?" asks Craig, his back still turned.

"You're mad?" says Ashley.

"No, I'm freaked," replies Craig, facing her. "I don't know what to say to you."

Ashley touches each of her cheeks and reaches to clutch the pillow.

"I come in...and you're on the floor," moans Craig, the words coming out in a rush. "You're bleeding...maybe I should've called..."

"You shouldn't have," interjects Ashley. "I...was having a moment."

"That wasn't a moment!" exclaims Craig.

He didn't mean to raise his voice, or maybe he did. She can't put him through something like that. He's lost people in situations he couldn't control, and he can't lose her. Craig wipes his eyes.

"Craig, it was a rough night," says Ashley. "A rough day...a rough week."

"So your first thought is to reach for the supply of booze?" asks Craig.

"It was...a gut reaction," says Ashley, shrugging.

"When did that exactly become a gut reaction?" cries Craig.

"Only last night," says Ashley. "Arista said they wouldn't sign me so...I felt like drowning my sorrows."

"You said you wouldn't drink anymore," reminds Craig. "You don't remember saying that?"

"What, don't you understand?" says Ashley, throwing off the covers.

Her stockings are torn and her dress strap is hanging off her shoulder. Craig can barely look at the sight. It just serves as a reminder of her being in the bathroom, totally helpless and him feeling equally as helpless. And wasn't it something that alcohol always manages to work itself into her weakened state? It's got to stop. She said it would stop.

"Here's what I don't understand," says Craig, trying his best to stay calm. "I don't understand how a smart, talented girl can go from no more than a drop of champagne last month, to suddenly going through half a mini-bar on a whim?"

"So I drink as much as Mark, as Aja?" returns Ashley.

"This isn't a competition, Ashley," says Craig.

Standing, he bangs the door of the mini-bar hard, the door clattering while closing. She struggles to leave the bed, wavering a bit.

"You're wrong," says Ashley, going to him. "If this wasn't a competition, they wouldn't have called me a pretty girl who plays...who plays elevator music. I would be looking at a contract right now."

Craig releases a sigh. Yeah, that is pretty brutal. Add that to the whole hack controversy, and he gets the frustration. But to drink it away?

"I couldn't even look you in the eye after that," says Ashley, tearfully.

He encourages her to put her head under his chin, softly rubbing her shoulders in a circular motion.

"I've been on this crazy ride with you," says Craig. "You can always look me in the eye."

"I felt like looking at the end of the bottle last night," chokes out Ashley. "I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional...it wasn't."

He glances at the closed mini-bar and counts how many times where she's said that it wasn't a big deal or that she was celebrating or anything that would comfort him. The number is alarming.

"What I said is true," whispers Ashley, her blue eyes shaking as they meet his own.

"What?" says Craig.

"That I have no one," continues Ashley. "I need you to be on my team. I need somebody to believe in me."

"Ash," groans Craig.

"Remember when we first met," says Ashley, smiling. "How I stood out to you. I want to stand out...to a lot more people. But only if you're going to be with me. We can take in all of the good things to come...the two of us."

Craig lets his eyelids fall and his lips brush her brow, still wet and hot. He was instantly attracted to her, trying to drudge up information on her from Sean or Spinner or any of the guys he thought were interested in her. Then, they connected so seamlessly when doing Kwan's _Shrew_ project, when they were in the Squatch together. She did stand out, in every way he wanted. She took the stage alone and that failed to disappear. He's seen her suffer so much on this tour and if supporting her means they won't have to go through another night like last night, he can do it...with one condition.

"Not if you're drinking," says Craig, opening his eyes.

"Craig," says Ashley, smirking. "Come on. I apologized."

Steering her to the side, Craig wipes a tear away and takes up the trashcan.

"Why are you being like this?" asks Ashley, following him to the door.

"Get some sleep," says Craig. "I don't think you're thinking straight."

"Fine!" says Ashley, throwing open the door. "Be that way. Don't...stick around."

He hears the cold slam of the door once he exits. His plan was to empty the trashcan and mill around until Ashley's hangover went away. She was driving him up the wall, but he wasn't leaving. Craig kneels on the carpet of the hall, his neck against the wall. The knob to her room turns, as slowly as it did last night when he found her. Ashley leaves the room and sits next to him.

"Stay," whispers Ashley, letting her hand graze his.

Craig draws her to him, Ashley hunched across his frame. The room might be spinning for her, but he's just as dizzy.

IV.

The numbers stretch across the sheet as if they're endless. It's hard to decide the fate of the school when your mind is on other things. Okay, maybe not the fate, but they're definitely difficult decisions. With school funding not as high as it was across the district, the budget wasn't as secure as he would like. He can recall doing the budget for the video store and cruising through it, but Degrassi's budget would be something he'd have to contend with all year. They might have to slash a couple things, with the trade off being a better prom and graduation. He'd have to consult his vice president, if she ever returned to Canada.

Toby taps the clipboard and jumps up from the floor. He sat with his back against his bed, the closet in his line of sight. This was the best position for him to not notice that his computer is missing. You figured out the schematics of the room really fast when you really didn't want to see something in it. In this case, it's his very vacant desk. J.T. visited him this morning, and tried to get him to go see _Clown Academy 6, _the one with the clowns in the mental institution. He didn't feel like watching clowns go crazy, though. Man, he doesn't feel like laughing period. He hopes he's not in this mood when he visits the Santoses' church tomorrow.

Technically, he still has to tell his dad where he's going. His father is incredibly understanding, but as far as Toby knew, he'd never stepped foot into a Christian church and has his own beliefs about their beliefs. This is a man who organized Passover events like they were as important as the first man walking on the moon. Jeff is extremely proud of their heritage. Since Manny wasn't too religious, it didn't come up in any conversations, but he has no idea what Jeff thinks about that part of Manny's life.

His fingers find the figures for the Drama Club, and they appear to be pretty solid. Too bad nothing else is solid. Going to put the clipboard in his briefcase, he hears the familiar jangle of the coins and smiles. Then, something flows across his forehead and he grabs at a blue shirt, delicately touching the buttons. The cloth is soft and clean. He wore it on their first official date. That night was so exciting for them. The plans were supposed to be solid, but it didn't quite work out.

_The pearl-white buttons of his shirt clink the hood of his car when he banged it for the fourth time. Things were going so smoothly, and suddenly there was sputtering as Toby turned right on Elm. Then, the car got slower and slower and slower. They were almost there! Practically there. The movie was starting in less than fifteen minutes and they hadn't bought tickets. _

_"It would have to happen on my half of the date," groaned Toby._

_Luckily, Manny didn't hear him, staring sadly at him through the windshield. His shoulders fell as he reentered the car._

_"I love that I got this car for free, but sometimes...," sighed Toby. "Manny, I just got her tuned up."_

_"It's okay," said Manny, putting her hand over his on the steering wheel._

_"But now you're sad," noted Toby._

_"I'm only sad because you are," insisted Manny. "Did you call the auto shop?"_

_"Yeah, they're coming, but said it'd be awhile," replied Toby._

_Toby straightened his glasses and popped open his glove compartment. He put his wallet in there after they left the Dot. Manny caught the wallet as it thundered out._

_"Can I see your license?" asked Manny._

_"The picture sucks," said Toby, presenting it to her._

_"This picture does not suck," said Manny, grinning. "Your middle name is Benjamin?"_

_"My mom's idea," said Toby._

_"I like it," said Manny. "It's cute. Tobias Benjamin Isaacs."_

_He wasn't sure why looking at his license was making her smile. They should be looking at the movie, from a parking space, on one of the best nights of their life. This car is screwing things up for them more than Heather Sinclair. Okay, maybe not._

_"Prescription for Tobias Benjamin Isaacs," said Manny, handing him the license. "Take a chill pill."_

_"But...this evening started off so well...," began Toby._

_"And it'll still go well, if we get going," said Manny._

_She opened her car door and retrieved her backpack from the rear. Toby scratched his head and left the car._

_"What's that saying?" said Manny. "Oh yes. We'll carry on, on foot."_

_"It's freezing," said Toby._

_"You have blankets in the trunk, right?" questioned Manny._

_"They're kind of ugly, and old," admitted Toby._

_"As long as they do the trick," said Manny._

_Toby shrugged and went to the trunk. His father was anal about Toby having certain things in his car, in case he ever got stranded. So there were flashlights, blankets, batteries, and a first aid kit in there. His mother would've simply told him to call a cab. _

_"This isn't going to be a Lawrence of Arabia type trek," promised Manny. "We'll come back to the car after the credits. Follow me."_

_The words seemingly removed from his brain, he locked the car and threw a few more glances at it as Manny dragged him forward. He wasn't so much worried about the car as he was that he had no idea where they were headed. It was an apartment complex, though it wasn't hers. They went inside with Manny leading him to the stairs. _

_"Where are we?" asked Toby._

_"It's a little treasure I discovered, not too long ago," answered Manny._

_That wasn't much to go on, but her spirits were boosted so he faithfully followed her floor after floor. They reached the door to the roof of the building, Manny removing a hair pin from her purse and playing with the lock. It clicked and the door creaked open. She went onto the roof, humming. Toby leaned in the doorway._

_"You can't see the screen from there!" called over Manny._

_"We're...we're not going to get in trouble?" said Toby._

_"Come over here and find out!" teased Manny._

_"I..I don't like heights...really," confessed Toby._

_It was an embarrassing admission, but what would've been more embarrassing was telling her how he acted when he went to the roof of Degrassi with Sean, Ellie, Jimmy, and Hazel. He could barely stand, crawling on the surface with his pants getting dirty. Somehow, he finally found the courage to conquer his fears, but he hadn't been on a roof since. _

_"I'll keep you safe," said Manny, advancing to him._

_"This is a weird way to face your fears," said Toby, staring hesitantly around the roof._

_"Yeah, but haven't we faced a few already?" reminded Manny._

_True. They faced the fears of losing their friendship, of being apart, of how they felt. Manny weaved from side to side, with an encouraging smile._

_"Show me the screen," sighed Toby._

_Manny kissed him on the cheek and took the blanket from him. Toby walked across the roof, confident that he shouldn't crawl or show any signs of cowardice in front of her. His car failed them, but he wouldn't. He let Manny sit on the blanket first and slowly joined her. _

_"Look," said Manny, nodding to the screen. "We didn't even miss the previews."_

_The screen of the drive-in is visible, the size of several parking lots. It towered over a few houses and there were no trees blocking the moving pictures. The cars below were lit and you could see other couples in them, though they resembled dots. The air was nippy, less so when Manny wrapped a blanket around him. Toby grinned as Manny buried her nose into his coat._

_"I'm not so mad about Bubbe's car breaking down anymore," whispered Toby._

_"Mmmm mmm," said Manny, kissing him on the shoulder._

_"How'd you know about this?" said Toby._

_"Alyssa, the girl at the center?" said Manny. "This is where she lived, and we came here once when I babysat her. The best things are free, Tobes."_

_"Like a private screening room," said Toby._

_"I want a real one when I get older, like in my house," shared Manny. "Total privacy, and less cold."_

_"Are you cold?" asked Toby._

_"No," said Manny. "Promise."_

_There was a preview running for a buddy cop movie. The two cops were sixty, and chasing a couple of thugs in a park. They stopped to catch their breath and Manny laughed, putting her own blanket around her. She retrieved her backpack and set it in between them._

_"I'm finally getting to see what's in the mystery bag?" urged Toby._

_"Yes, Mr. Impatience," said Manny, unzipping it. "Every true moviegoer must come prepared, and I wanted to make the night extra individual so I got..."_

_Toby peeked inside and chuckled._

_"Pixi Stix," said Manny, unveiling the contents. "Chocoloate-covered cherries, Animal crackers...anything you wouldn't ever, ever find at a normal movie showing. What's your weakness?"_

_"I'll take the Animal Crackers," replied Toby._

_"The elephants are all yours," said Manny, giving him the box._

_He opened the box and ate one, not paying much attention to what animal it was. He did remember eating an elephant the second time, though. There were other animals onscreen, 3-D ones who talked and sang over a fast-paced trailer. A bear and a lion raced through the jungle, complaining about how there were no luxury pools in Africa. It reminded him of Madagascar, a cheap knock-off of it._

_"That's what you want to do when you're older," observed Manny as she fixed her skirt._

_"Hoping I can do a little better than that," said Toby. "And if I did do an animated project, I'd want you to do a voice for it."_

_"Totally!" exclaimed Manny. "I'd be a ladybug, because then I could bug you at the studio everyday."_

_They laughed and the preview faded into black, the actual movie following it. Toby didn't know the plot too well. He suggested this film based on the name of it. Emma tried to explain it to him, and so did Kate. Heck, even Liberty had heard of it. That was when it dawned on him to ask the person he should've asked in the first place. _

_"You...you haven't... seen this before?" stammered Toby._

_"Um," said Manny, dropping her gaze._

_"The um is a yes?" cried Toby._

_"I don't mind seeing it again," said Manny, smiling apologetically._

_He should've suspected this was the case. The advertisement said it was voted one of the most romantic movies of all time and Manny was the most romantic girl he knew. Toby shook his head._

_"Correction," added Manny, laying her head against him. "I don't mind seeing you again."_

_That almost made him feel better. Toby shifted a little to kiss her, Manny sighing and giggling._

_"I can taste the elephant," whispered Manny._

_She didn't say anymore, Toby enveloping his own blanket around hers, so she'd feel like she had two. His coat was keeping him plenty warm. The onscreen couple were smiling, too. Oliver and Jenny were young college students who were constantly thwarted while trying to be together. He was more preppy than her and she was an artist who dreamed about playing in Paris. Her talent and his smarts were going to take them places, but they were arguing about their own future. Like them, Oliver and Jenny were on a roof, the scene ending in a sweet proposal._

_"When you're young, you shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that," said Manny, blinking at the screen._

_"Well, everybody has to graduate," remarked Toby._

_"Yeah," said Manny. "But...look at us. We have a little over a year left, and I don't know if I can claim the same for you, but I never thought that we wouldn't keep in touch."_

_"You can claim the same for me," assured Toby._

_"And now that it's deeper," said Manny, touching his neck. "We can love the little over a year."  
_

_He would certainly love it. That said, Manny was an artist like Jenny. What if they didn't work together like they'd said seconds ago? _

_"What if...what if our futures did take us somewhere different?" asked Toby, wearily. "To different places?"_

_"Then, I'll come find you," whispered Manny. "Would you do the same?"_

_"I'd come find you, with bells on so you'd know it was me coming," whispered Toby._

_"What if there were roofs in the way?" asked Manny._

_Manny squealed as Toby reached under the blanket and tickled her side through the lavender skirt. She playfully put her hands up in protest and Toby stopped tickling her to kiss her. Manny's hands went weak against his back and her lips slowed down to take in his lips further. The movie blared in the background, Toby's cheeks going red as he felt their closeness under the blanket. He accidentally bumped her knee with his knee._

_"Sorry," said Toby._

_"Love means never having to say you're sorry," sighed Manny._

_"Huh?" said Toby._

_"Toby, it's the most famous line in the movie," said Manny, grinning. "One of the most famous in all movies. I have to school you in cinema, Tobias Benjamin."_

_"So does this movie have a happy ending, instructor?" asked Toby._

_"Not this one," answered Manny. "But on this roof, the first lesson you'll learn is that we're going to have a happy ending."_

_"I'm thinking I'm going to need more film classes," said Toby, reaching for her. "Like this."_

_"Well, they're free, like this movie," laughed Manny, accidentally bumping into his chest. "Ooooh, sorry."_

_"Love means never having to say...," began Toby._

_"Hey, you stole that," interrupted Manny, and yes, he did steal it, and another kiss._

Toby shuts the closet on that shirt and walks out of his room. He let his feet lead him, down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where Kate was making coffee for his father. He came here to ask him, because right now he has bravery, and he's not sure how long it will last. Considering what he said to Manny, months ago, there is one place that he'd go to be with her, in a way she might not expect.

"Hey, Tobes," greets Jeff. "I've been meaning to ask, have you seen Sean lately?"

"He's waiting on a part," speaks up Kate.

"The part's certainly taking a long time to come," says Jeff, raising his eyebrows.

"Jeff, the police said Sean was just under consideration," mutters Kate.

The police? Toby looks at them, cluelessly, but there isn't anything after that.

"What's going on, Toby?" sighs Jeff.

"I have something to ask you," says Toby. "So?"

"Sit," encourages Jeff.

He takes a seat and folds his hands on the table.

"Mr. and Mrs. Santos invited me to a prayer service," says Toby. "Tomorrow. I'd really like to go."

"At...their church?" says Jeff, nervously. "Would this be a regular thing?"

"I've been before," shares Toby. "It's nice."

"When was this?" asks Jeff.

"Dad!" cries Toby.

"I have no problem with it. I'm...I'm just curious," defends Jeff.

Oh, that's not so bad. Toby shrugs.

"Last Christmas," says Toby.

"Interesting," says Jeff. "What was it like?"

"They...they like to sing a lot," recalls Toby.

Jeff and Toby stare at each other, and grin. His father drums his fingers on the table.

"Okay," says Jeff.

"That's a yes?" exclaims Toby.

"They were kind enough to visit our synagogue," points out Jeff.

"Thanks," says Toby. "Cool."

"Hey, I'm a cool dad," says Jeff, leaning back in his chair. "Like I told Manny."

"Oh, I beg to differ," remarks Kate.

"Kate!" cries Jeff as Toby chuckles.


	75. Tire Swing

**LXXV. Tire Swing**

_I took the Polaroid down in my room  
I'm pretty sure you have a new girlfriend  
It's not as if I don't like you  
It just makes me sad whenever I see it  
'cause I like to be gone most of the time  
And you like to be home most of the time  
If I stay in one place I lose my mind  
I'm a pretty impossible lady to be with_

_Joey never met a bike that he didn't wanna ride  
And I never met a Toby that I didn't like  
Scotty liked all of the books that I recommended  
Even if he didn't I wouldn't be offended_

_I had a dream that I had to drive to Madison  
To deliver a painting for some silly reason  
I took a wrong turn and ended up in Michigan  
Paul Baribeau took me to the giant tire swing  
Gave me a push and he started singing  
I sang along while I was swinging  
The sound of our voices made us forget everything  
That had ever hurt our feelings_

_Joey never met a bike that he didn't wanna ride  
And I never met a Toby that I didn't like  
Scotty liked all of the books that I recommended  
Even if he didn't I wouldn't be offended  
'€¦wouldn't be offended_

_Now I'm home for less than twenty-four hours  
That's hardly time to take a shower  
Hug my family and take your picture off the wall  
Check my email write a song and make a few phone calls  
Before it's time to leave again  
I've got one hand on the steering wheel  
One waving out the window  
If I'm a spinster for the rest of my life  
My arms will keep me warm on cold and lonely nights_

_Joey never met a bike that he didn't wanna ride  
And I never met a Toby that I didn't like  
Scotty liked all of the books that I recommended  
Even if he didn't I wouldn't be offended._

**Tire Swing is the property of Kimya Dawson and appears in the film _Juno._**

Spinner makes the plumber run to and fro against the black background, then jump up for a star. The game shows that he's completed a level. It brings him to the picture of the whole land as he passes the console to Emma, who nervously accepts it.

"I screwed up on the last one," reminds Emma.

"Dude, just leap onto the turtle thingies and squash the mushroom monsters," says Spinner.

Emma shrugs. "Maybe I'll luck out and get that flower that lets you shoot fireballs."

"That's the spirit," encourages Spinner.

Stretching his arms out, he hears Timbaland from the far corner of his room. Who could be calling this late? Spinner stands and walks to look at his cell. Manny's number flashes before his eyes. Hmmm, she hasn't called him for weeks now. He glances at Emma, sure of the reason. He does a "psst" sound, making Emma pause the game and turn to him.

"No," mouths Emma.

Spinner nods and lets the call roll to voicemail. Since they arrived at his grandmother's house, Emma's mood became a lot brighter. She was sort of the granddaughter his grandmother never had, the first to offer to do the dishes, and the single person who looked excited to chow down on his grandmother's healthy alternatives. Emma even suggested brands of the best soy milk to Grandma Nelson. The closest thing to that in the past was Paige dispensing eyeshadow advice. Still, Emma has maintained her belief that she can't talk to anybody about why she's in Santa Clara and not in L.A. Spinner got it, but he didn't want her best friend panicking.

"Em," says Spinner, rejoining her on the couch. "I bet she's worried."

Emma unfroze the game and kept playing, no words spilling from her mouth.

"Can I at least tell her you're not in any sort of trouble?" asks Spinner.

"Yeah," sighs Emma, staring hard at the screen. "You can do that."

He leaves her again and phones Manny, who picks up after the first ring.

"Emma?" says Manny.

"It's me, Manny," says Spinner. "Emma's here. She....uh, she's unavailable."

"Lia told me what happened," sighs Manny. "Is she alright? Is there any way I can talk to her? She won't pick up her cell."

"I think her cell might be off," says Spinner.

Well, he doesn't think. He knows it's off. He saw her play with it and bury it in her bag once they left the hospital.

"But she's alright," adds Spinner.

"I have an audition tomorrow," says Manny. "Can she call me in the evening maybe?"

"Ummmm, yeah, I'll tell her," replies Spinner.

"Thanks, Spin," says Manny, then hanging up.

A voice that's not Manny calls his name afterwards. He recognizes his grandmother's cheerful call and enters the kitchen. Grandma Mason is scooping something into two bowls, a box of cereal near the bowls. The cereal box has no cartoon characters, so he's guessing that...yeah, it's healthy. Spinner approaches the table, anyway.

"Has Emma tried gelato topped with cereal?" questions Grandma Mason. "I'm sure she'd love it."

"Why put cereal on ice cream?" says Spinner, frowning.

"I'll have you know that it's delicious, and there's less fat in gelato, not ice cream," counters Grandma Mason. "Plus cereal's packed with nutrients."

"Should've noticed," says Spinner as he reads the back of the cereal box.

"I've...noticed that Emma looks quite sad," says Grandma Mason, her voice lower.

"This has been a hard summer for her," admits Spinner.

"Seems like something else," says Grandma Mason. "I got up this morning, and she was up. That's not quite normal for a teen during summer vacation."

"Lots of people get up early," says Spinner.

"At five? I got the impression that she didn't get a good night's sleep," suggests Grandma Mason. "Or that she didn't sleep at all."

"She probably isn't used to the house yet," says Spinner.

"Perhaps," says Grandma Mason, taking the box from Spinner. "She's not having any mysterious pains, is she?"

At the center, he remembers Emma saying that she was achy, yet she didn't complain once she got her body moving. He's not sure why his grandmother is so interested. Yes, Emma is sad, but he sees her getting better and better. This Hannah situation is new, but he'd be there for her and they'd work it out.

"Why?" says Spinner.

"Oh, it's none of my never mind," sighs Grandma Mason, sprinkling the cereal over the pink gelato. "Bring this to her, will you dear?"

Spinner accepts the bowls as Grandma Mason finds two spoons and sets it in each helping of gelato. He can already see it starting to melt. Carrying them, he walks to the couch and hands one to Emma, who smiles and gestures towards the screen.

"I kind of...died," confesses Emma.

"Eh, I've got a bunch more lives," says Spinner, when in actuality he has three lives left. "I'm not sad."

Emma obviously knew it too and guiltily stares at the screen.

"Uh, are you?" says Spinner.

"Am I what?" says Emma. "Sad?"

"Yeah," replies Spinner.

"No," says Emma, brightly. "I mean, I was....but no."

"And you're not in any pain?" asks Spinner.

"Spin," says Emma, smoothing back his hair. "I'm fine."

Her brown eyes are sweet and free from tears, yet he does see a tightness in her throat as she eats. Maybe it's the hard bits of cereal. Emma smiles wider after the first bite.

"That's what I thought," says Spinner.

II.

The **Welcome Home **mat is exactly where it was last time. The sides of the trailer were white, newly washed, and in need of repair in some spots. Its windows have the screens parted. Ike Cameron did always like to hear what was going on outside. There isn't much going on, especially on the weekdays. Laundry flutters on the line of the Kapinski's, who were their talkative next door neighbors. If Ike had his ears open, he could get the news of the trailer park from Ms. Kapinski and the complaints of the community from her husband. Iris Cameron had no use for either of them, and liked going to town to meet people. She is the more social of his parents, and its her shadow he views when he, Ty and Tracker are inches away from the door.

When he returned home, after leaving Toronto, part of him had known that he was going to stay. As much as Degrassi had given him a fresh start, it had brought a lot of distress too because of the shooting. To walk the hallways, with the image of Rick laying cold stone dead fresh in his brain, and pretend like nothing was wrong was impossible. He needed his parents in Wasaga as much he needs to come clean to them now.

"You knock?" says Tracker, glancing at Sean.

Sean runs his hands through his hair and knocks twice on the door. A familiar squeak accompanies the opening of the door and Iris' warm eyes are seen behind the screen. He hates that this warmth might disappear soon.

"Sean!" cries Iris, rushing to get the door fully open.

"Hey, Mom," says Sean.

Iris envelops her son in her arms and rocks him from side to side. He can feel the bones in her back, and wonders when she got so skinny. Running about town must've made her lose some weight. If only he didn't have to share what he's done while running around Toronto. His mouth grows tight.

"Oh, both my boys," says Iris, indicating for Tracker to hug her, too.

Their hug is more relaxed, and Sean envies it. Ty produces an odd smile when Iris finally spots him.

"Now I know I don't have three kids," kids Iris with a slight chuckle.

"This is my friend, Ty," introduces Sean.

"Hi, ma'am," says Ty, softly.

"Don't call me, ma'am, sweetie," says Iris. "I look at how big my boys have gotten and already feel old."

"Is Dad here?" asks Tracker.

"Yes, he should be getting up from his nap," informs Iris, holding the door for them to go past her.

The living room is fairly spacious for a trailer, more than enough for their belongings. There was a color TV, made in the eighties, which they had before Sean was born, a coffee table, a side table with their phone, and a red-orange couch that folded out and served as Sean's bed for the months he spent there. On the largest desk sits a collection of family portraits, most pictures only having his parents. There were a couple of him when he was younger, but none of the pictures had the four of them as a family. He likes to think Iris packed those away because she missed him, because they were too painful to view. He can't say that for sure, though.

"Who's out there?" calls his father.

Ike comes into the living room, wearing a black tank top and grey sweat pants. He has less and less hair whenever Sean sees him, his mother's hair consistently combed into a flip. Ike grins when he reaches the middle of the room.

"What are you two punks doing here?" says Ike.

"Punk" had become somewhat of a term of endearment for them. He'd pass out the day his father ever called them "buddy" or "champ" or something else dorky that you'd hear on a family sitcom.

"They came to visit," answers Iris.

"Obviously, Iris," says Ike, rubbing her back momentarily. "No. It's been awhile."

"With no phone calls," reprimands Iris. "Especially you, Sean."

"He's probably busy working at that fancy garage," proposes Ike.

His parents trade proud looks and Sean's cheeks become hot. Yes, he hasn't set foot in Hill's since he stormed out. Tracker and Ty have unrevealing faces, and he wishes he could be as cool as them. Thankfully, Tracker sighs and gestures to the couch.

"Let's sit," suggests Tracker.

Iris ignores him at first, slipping an arm around Ty.

"Have you eaten?" she asks him.

"No," says Ty.

None of them said anything about breakfast, so Sean assumed he didn't want any. Ty slept on the way to his parents', a deep nap that Sean had to shake him out of, Ty not fighting to stay asleep.

"Oh, goodness," sighs Iris. "Let me feed this boy. You like pancakes?"

"Okay," says Ty.

Ty seemingly got along way better with his mother than with Tracker, who has left plenty of room for Sean to sit in the center of the couch. Sean slowly takes his seat and stares forward at the window. Ike groans in his seat as he shifts and turns to his sons.

"Your mother will be awhile," says Ike.

"Maybe it'll be easy for Sean to tell you alone," says Tracker, shrugging at his brother.

"About this term's report card?" brings up Ike, pounding Sean lightly on the back. "Last semester was B's and C's, wasn't it? Yeah, that...that was something."

What would it take to melt into the floor and slide out under the trailer door, never having to hear his father championing his accomplishments? This wasn't the way he wanted to visit them. This shouldn't have been the way. It is, thinks Sean, folding his hands together.

"Dad, I...I'm in trouble," says Sean.

Ike's brow wrinkles, showing a dozen lines criss-cross the upper half of his face.

"Somebody bothering you at school?" questions Ike.

"No," admits Sean. "I...made the trouble myself. I didn't have enough for rent because I was fired from Hill's."

His father shakes his head, stares at the palms of his hands before rubbing them against his knees. He stares at the window too.

"What'd you do?" says Ike.

Sean glances at Tracker for solace, his brother nodding for him to tell the rest of the story.

"Got involved with a stolen car parts ring," continues Sean. "An ex co-worker of mine said I could get money that way."

He, of course, conveniently left Ellie out of the mix. Honestly, she wasn't too involved in the situation until things got ugly.

"I did not raise you to steal," says Ike, then repeating it clearly with strong conviction. "I did _not_ raise you to steal."

"It's stupid, I know," offers Sean.

"You could've asked us for the money," insists Ike. "That cross your mind? Huh?"

"I....," begins Sean, his voice dropping.

"We've...we've got a stolen part with us," informs Tracker. "Sean left the ring. I was hoping we could talk about what he has to do next."

Ike rises, his tall frame looking taller in the sunlight beaming in through the window.

"How am I going to tell your mother?" says Ike, glancing at Sean. "This'll break her heart."

"I...I was going to tell her," assures Sean.

"No," says Ike, taking a deep breath. "I'll tell her. You stay here. Both of you."

He was going to stay, anyway. His feet feel glued to the floor, and his limbs don't want to move. His father's blue eyes are moving, shaking as he stares at Sean.

"I really thought we were over this, kid," says Ike.

Without another word, his father walks to the side table and props the phone against his ear. He speaks lowly when the conversation begins. Sean isn't able to detect what makes up the conversation, but his father's grim expression hasn't changed.

"Sean, come and eat!" yells Iris.

Ike points to the kitchen, an obvious instruction for Sean to do what his mother says. He keeps his eyes to the floor as he advances to the kitchen. Iris is over Ty's shoulder, squeezing out syrup onto two microwave golden pancakes.

"Now, this is the best syrup I've ever tasted," says Iris. "And I got it from a convenience store not too far from here."

"And it didn't cost a lot?" guesses Ty.

"Nope," replies Iris. "Found it next to a package of two dollar sugar. Sometimes the best things are right in front of you."

Iris grins widely at her son. Sean lets his gaze fall, as tears sting his eyes from behind.

III.

"Lia, are you really sure I'm the right person for this?"

Manny presses her hand against the wall opposite Hannah's room, Lia pressing a photo album against her chest.

"I can't talk to her alone," sighs Lia. "Not about this."

"Still...," starts Manny.

"Didn't you volunteer at the community center?" interrupts Lia. "You're good with kids. I bet you could talk to kids about anything."

She did her best at the community center is all that she can truly claim. Yet, this subject isn't familiar to her. In fact, this is more up Emma's alley. Her parents were straight-laced, strict but conventional. Emma's is more representative of Lia's and Hannah's. There's currently a separation between her and her father, and she can't very well talk to Jack about it like how Lia can't talk to Hannah.

"Let's try," gives in Manny. "No promises."

"Thanks," breathes Lia.

Manny parts the door, Hannah's whole castle lit solely by a dim lamp. The very first time Hannah invited her in she was confronted by so many colors and pretty designs . Today, it's definitely more somber and uninviting.

"It's been like this for two days," whispers Lia to Manny.

Even the costumes for the knight and princess appear to be drooping. Hannah's head pops out of the canopy curtains.

"Emma?" says Hannah.

The girl realizes that it's Manny and Lia, and her head goes right back inside. Manny figures this is the moment to start.

"Hannah, how about we talk?" says Manny, parting the canopy curtains.

Hannah lays flat on her bedspread, facing the wall instead of Manny. She bites her lip, refusing to reply. Suddenly, Manny comes up with something that's sure to make her speak.

"I'm sad Emma's gone, too," says Manny.

The child revolves her body and blinks at Manny. Lia looks on hopefully.

"Where'd she go?" asks Hannah.

"She's with Spinner," says Manny. "I'm one hundred percent sure she's coming back to see you."

"Me too," joins in Lia, though her answer sounds far from confident.

Hannah stares from Manny to Lia, and groans into her pillow. She didn't believe them. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought, thinks Manny. What she is one hundred percent sure about is that she'd like to hear from Emma as much as Hannah.

"Your sister wants to show you some photographs," says Manny.

"I probably should've shown them to you earlier," admits Lia, sitting on Hannah's bed which makes Hannah rise.

Lia turns to the central page of the album, Manny scanning its contents. There were pictures of Kel and Ursula on their wedding day, Ursula, in a sleeveless ivory gown with a silk train, waving to the photographer. Her red hair is in an elegant bun and Kel is next to her in an immaculate black suit. There are two other pictures with the couple in a nursery. Ursula's pregnant tummy is relatively small, Kel holding up number one. It's a nursery for Lia, Manny reading the name in wooden blocks attached to a space above the changing table.

"They remade the nursery into your room," explains Lia.

Hannah's fingers tenderly wrest the album from Lia and she looks at the pages with interest.

"You liked ducks?" says Hannah, pointing to the pattern of the nursery's wallpaper.

"Mom thought I would," laughs Lia. "I think I did, actually. It's hard for me to remember."

"I don't have any memories of her," says Hannah.

She glances at Lia, clearly expecting her to share other information. Lia stares at Manny helplessly.

"Would you like Lia to tell you her memories?" asks Manny.

"No," replies Hannah. "I want to know why my mom's dead."

It's said so bluntly Lia almost falls off the bed in surprise. Manny's surprised as well. Their plan was to gradually make Hannah aware of her mother, and to form a stronger connection for Lia and her sister. Viewing Lia's face as it tenses up, Manny mentally urges her not to break down. Lia holds her head steady.

"She was sick," says Lia.

"I know," sighs Hannah. "What did she have?"

"I..I can't...say," stammers Lia.

"But that's the most important thing!" cries Hannah.

Lia slams the book shut and massages her forehead. Her eyes were growing misty so Manny wagers this is where she should step in.

"When your mother was pregnant....," begins Manny.

"It's because of Dad, alright?" cries Lia, disrupting Manny. "He let her change herself. She was trying to find some stupid way to please him, so he wouldn't cheat!"

"Cheat on what?" cries Hannah.

"On...on her," reveals Lia.

"Lia!" sighs Manny loudly.

Hannah sniffles, starting to cry as her little feet pad out of the room. She roughly closes the door.

"I'm sorry, Manny," chokes out Lia. "I'm just so mad at him. He put us through all of this, and he's never around. When she asked that question...."

"And telling a seven-year old about an affair changes what exactly?" says Manny.

"Nothing," says Lia. "I...."

"Let me go check on her," sighs Manny.

She goes down the stairs to a chorus of crickets. The back door must be open, which means Hannah has left the house. Manny quickens her steps. Wow, this had to be a lot for the girl to ingest. The Andrews were already under such scrutiny, and a daughter hearing that her father is far from flawless does shatter any good image she had of him. Manny's had her share of conflict with Joseph, but not anything of this nature.

Hannah is seated on a smooth stone, a large rock that is part of a circle of rocks that section off the garden. It isn't particularly well-tended, with stray twigs and messy cut brambles, though it is a good place to think. Lightning bugs were flying above the stones, their tails casting light on the grey surfaces of the stones. Manny settles on another rock.

"Lia says mean stuff about everybody," says Hannah, playing with the bottom of her nightgown.

"Your daddy loves you, no matter what happened," assures Manny.

"He yelled at Emma and Spinner," shares Hannah. "He doesn't say hi to me unless we're on the phone. I don't see that he loves me."

Boy, did this tune sound familiar. She went months without physically seeing Joseph, and there were tons of ups and downs for them this past year. But this year, especially this summer, things changed, and she walked to the plane that brought her back here with the solid belief that Joseph did love her.

"There are times when people that care about you find it hard to show you that they love you," explains Manny. "Your daddy does love you, and so does Lia."

"When will it be easy for them?" asks Hannah.

Manny hugs her from the side. "When both of you are ready to show it."

"I shouldn't have asked Lia that question," sighs Hannah.

"She understands," comforts Manny.

"What I should do is make her happy since I made her sad," says Hannah, tapping her chin.

Glancing around the garden, Manny grins.

"I've got an idea," says Manny. "Do you have a jar anywhere?"

"Edwina has an old jar," replies Hannah. "We were going to get a fish when she got back."

"We'll return it to her after we're done," promises Manny.

A few minutes later, she and Hannah are crossing the tricky path of the garden, their hands reaching out into the air. Hannah's attempts are weaker as she's never done this. Manny's the more experienced, finally catching a lightning bug in her clutch. Hannah cheers and holds open the jar. Manny puts her hand over the opening. Once the bug is in the jar, Hannah frowns.

"Problem?" says Manny.

"Well, it's not very big," admits Hannah.

"We can find a bigger bug," assures Manny.

"What'll we do with her?" says Hannah, holding the jar up to Manny.

The bug bounces around, a feeble flight as it tries to escape.

"We set her free," says Manny, lifting her hand.

Hannah rests his ear against Manny's thigh as the bug floats higher and higher, clearly happy to go in any direction, its tail as well-lit as it pleases.

IV.

Several white towels blow in the wind as Iris takes the nearest one off the line. It's nearing two o' clock, with Tracker and Ty sitting in lawn chairs near the trailer. Sean looks at the other lawns. There were plastic flamingoes, makeshift white picket fences, and plastic toys dotting the different sections, which weren't that big to begin with.

"Ty, you're not getting bored, are you?" calls over Iris.

He shakes his head no, Sean wondering the same. After the home-cooked meal, Sean didn't think that there was much to offer Ty. He was just riding with them so they could run from the problem really.

"It's too nice a day for that boy to miss the beach," whispers Iris to Sean, who was helping her collect the towels.

"Yeah," says Sean. "Hey Track!"

Track appears to be antsy himself, hopping up willingly.

"Can you take Ty to the beach?" asks Sean. "He can walk around or something."

"Maybe he'd talk if I got him to jet ski," teases Tracker.

Tracker likes to lord it over him that he was the first to jet ski because Sean was too chicken. He was about Ty's age when he first tried it.

"Whatever," says Sean.

This was beneficial for him, too, because by some miracle, Ike hasn't told his wife what's truly going on. Ike mentioned that he had to make a few calls and that was it. Was he waiting until after they left? Is that the right thing to do? Sean can't explain himself properly if he's going home to Toronto. Tracker looks grateful not to be in the middle of the drama anymore and is quick to call out to Ty to follow him.

The lawn chair squeaks as Ty stands, his body moving inch by inch. He is slow to follow Tracker to his truck, casting many glances towards Sean. Sean waves and they hear the vehicle drive down the street.

"Something's bothering you, Sean," says Iris. "I can always tell."

His mother goes to the laundry basket and indicates that Sean should put in the towels. There's a lot bothering him, a line of worries he's holding inside.

"Is it you and Ellie?" asks Iris.

He smiles in spite of himself.

"No," says Sean. "That's actually...the best thing going on."

"So you and her are still together?" nudges Iris, happily. "Good. Maybe you'll go to the same university."

Sean releases a low moan. He might land in jail instead of college.

"If I graduate from Degrassi," mumbles Sean.

"What's this talk of if?" says Iris. "You didn't do so hot this semester?"

"It's not that," promises Sean. "There's....other stuff I have to grapple with, to make right."

"Like?" prompts Iris.

Does he want to tell her, after she spilled her hope for him? Iris straightens the edge of his shirt, which makes him feel younger. He wishes he were younger, when they didn't have all these expectations for him. No, he can't do it. He can't kill her hope.

"Like...Ellie's mom hates me," says Sean.

"That so?" says Iris. "Well, you just let that lady see what a fine man you are. You're going to win her mother over, Sean. And I'm not only saying that because I'm your mom."

Sean chuckles. "Alright."

"Yes, sirree," says Iris, transferring the basket to the lawn chair.

"You really think I'm a fine man?" says Sean.

Her hands leave the basket to hold his face.

"You're my pride and joy," says Iris.

He sluggishly follows her into the trailer, breathing a sigh of relief since Ike is nowhere to be found. His car is there so he must be visiting someone. Iris tells Sean that she's going to clean the dishes and he's welcome to do what he'd like. He stays by the window for a good twenty minutes, wondering when his dad is coming home. Until he was twelve, he wondered if his dad would come home drunk. His mother stayed in the trailer and got wasted. There were so many arguments and difficult days, and he doesn't want to bring those days back. He didn't want to come home with a burden.

The phone rings, the same phone that Ike was using. Is it a lawyer or the police station? Sean supposes he should get it instead of his mother.

"Hello?" says Sean.

"Sean!" says Tracker, sounding out of breath. "Ty...Ty took off."

"What?" cries Sean. "Where?"

"One...of my friends...was giving a free ski lesson," replies Tracker. "He offered Ty...a suit...held it up to him...and Ty yelled...and ran."

Huh? That's a strange reason to run. No matter.

"I'll borrow Dad's car, and meet you," says Sean.

"I'm...I'm near...the rental station," informs Tracker.

Sean hurriedly puts the phone in its hook and grabs his dad's keys, without telling his mother.

V.

His sneakers crush the raised sand of the beach, barely missing a sandcastle with red flags on the top. From the corner of his eyes, he sees the colorfully painted snack stand, kids with multi-colored swimming trunks and bathing suits on, a red bicycle tied to a rack, and a rolling ocean in the distance. He's not processing the images going by him, only scrolling down a mental list of where Ty could be. From the beginning of this trip, he'd had Ty by his side and in the first thirty minutes of them being separated, Ty bolts? What gives?

Luckily, his speed has taken him directly to the rental station, Tracker talking with his friend animatedly. His friend has a small beard like Tracker, but a bit of a heavier build.

"Sean!" yells Tracker.

"Man, you grew," remarks Tracker's friend.

"Uh, hi," greets Sean.

"Oh, my name's Langston," says Tracker's friend. "When I last saw you...you were maybe eight?"

He doesn't recall meeting him, but only wants them to recall one thing.

"When did you last see Ty?" questions Sean.

"We were going to split up," says Tracker. "Langston was going to check the stand...."

"I went by the concessions stand," waves off Sean. "He's not there."

"Okay, me and Lang will take the left, and you go right," says Tracker. "We got a lot of beach to cover. But I saw him go right."

"He went right," agrees Langston. "Man, I didn't mean to upset the kid. I wanted to see if the suit fit and he got to trembling. Most folks have fun their first time out there."

"I know," insists Sean. "Let's...let's just go."

"Right," says Langston.

He jogs with Tracker across the sand, Sean going in the opposite direction. A kid with a shovel and a bucket returns to the sandcastle Sean passed earlier.

"Have you seen a kid?" asks Sean. "Uhh, black, skinny, wearing dark colors."

"Did he have one of those thingamajiggies you stick in your mouth?" replies the kid.

The kid makes an L shape with his right hand and puts it in his mouth, breathing deeply.

"An inhaler?" guesses Sean, even if he hasn't seen it in use.

"Yeah, I saw him cross the main road," says the kid. "He stopped to use that inhaler thing, and went in one of the yards in that neighborhood."

Sunshine Estates. That's the closest neighborhood to the beach. Sean thanks the kid and flies across the parking lot, has to wait until the road clears, and goes. He pauses at every house, tempted to fall to his knees when he spots Ty in a yard, rocking in a tire swing, hanging from the tallest tree around. Sean catches his breath and walks to him.

"You...you can't run like that, man," gasps Sean, his heart slowing.

Ty propels his legs outward and the tire turns in a circle.

"If you didn't want to jet ski....," starts Sean.

"Do you like your parents?" interjects Ty.

Where did that come from? Sean sets his back against the tree.

"Um, not in the past," admits Sean. "They've gotten much better. Now I do."

"Would it be better if you moved back home?" questions Ty.

"I don't think so," shrugs Sean.

"Me either," whispers Ty, Sean barely hearing it.

"You mean, to Dale's?"

"No," answers Ty. "Not to Dale's."

Sean grabs hold of the rope that attaches the tire swing to the tree, stalling Ty's movement. He does it so he can get a better look at the boy's expression. He views the start of tears and a quivering pair of lips.

"I didn't want him to come near me," whispers Ty.

"Langston?" says Sean.

"Not Langston," says Ty, the tears falling. "But he looked like him. Tracker even looks like him."

"Like who?" urges Sean.

Ty takes the collar of his shirt and wipes his nose.

"Like who?" whispers Sean.

"Like the man who married my mom," confesses Ty. "She loved him more than me."

"Your dad?" says Sean.

"My dad's dead," shares Ty. "Emphysema. This guy wasn't my dad. Maybe that's why he thought it was okay."

"Okay to what? Hit you?" prods Sean.

It's gentle prodding, though. He knows that whatever it is is sensitive, but if he can help, whether it's the tiniest bit or in the grander sense, he'd try. They've known each other for several weeks, and Ty's been part of his life to the point where he could trust him. He could.

"He...he didn't hit me," says Ty, staring straight into Sean's eyes.

What else could send him flying from a suit? From being touched? Sean closes his eyes and shivers.

"Oh my God," whispers Sean.

"He'd come in and look at me," chokes out Ty. "My brother too. My brother...kind of lied a lot, and was into bad stuff. So my mother didn't believe him. He was just angry it was happening to us, you know? He used to be good, too. That's why my brother left. He said he'd come back for me."

Sean's hand leaves the rope and he'd like to put it against his stomach, because he feels slightly nauseous. Instead, he sets it on Ty's shoulder.

"I was in the room alone the last time," continues Ty, sniffling harder. "He told me that I was the good brother, that I was handsome. I can't sleep in a bed anymore. I can't sleep at all...most days."

"That's why you sleep on a floor, at Dale's," surmises Sean.

"It has a lock, too," adds Ty.

Yeah, he picked that lock, thinks Sean. He'd never pick such an awful life for Ty, though.

"Dale knows?" says Sean.

"He's the first person I told," says Ty, nodding. "At my school. He said I was too good of a kid to be in such a bad place, and that he'd find a space for me. My brother got Dale into drugs, and they fooled around with guns. I guess that's why I didn't mind him having a gun. But him shooting Jay...yeah, that isn't him."

Is it him? Sean still has no love for Dale, though he can see why Ty does.

"I feel like my brother brought Dale down," admits Ty. "Like my family's responsible for things other people don't like about him. Dale's responsible for me, but I'm kind of responsible for him, too, in a way."

This is so much information coming to him, so much that he's sure he missed something or other. Sean runs it through his mind forwards, backwards, and sideways. In all honesty, he's just left with a single question.

"Why are you telling me?" asks Sean.

Ty produces a faint smile and gets the tire to swing once more.

"You protected me when we did the first trade at the docks," acknowledges Ty. "And you have ever since."

The tire swing stops, and Sean can't think of anything more appropriate, that spoke more volumes, than to reach over the bumpy side of the tire and hug who's inside.

VI.

The chapel seems to rest in its own halo of light. Its steeple is tall and the doors are intimidating. Even the bricks look to be illuminated. Nobody's outside so that means everybody is inside. Toby checks his clothes. He wore dress shoes to the Council meeting, which may have made him stand out like a sore foot but really he didn't care. His black slacks are nicely pressed and he wears a short-sleeved white dress shirt under his black jacket. He assessed himself four times in his bedroom mirror, and three times in the Degrassi boys' washroom. Lucky seven. Did Catholics believe in luck? He knows Manny's parents don't believe in being late, so he hurries as Officer Wheaton opens one of the large white doors.

"Going to check for exits," says Officer Wheaton.

"Uh, do Catholics believe in luck?" whispers Toby.

"I do, but then I'm Irish," answers Officer Wheaton.

The echoes of his shoes are light as he enters the church lobby after Officer Wheaton. Last time, when he was with Manny during Holly Service, this place was buzzing, but it's a great deal quieter tonight. A marble angel has her hands in prayer in a corner to his right. An older woman wearing a flowery hat bends before it and walks to a basin of water, a gold-plated cross above the basin. She places one hand in the water and makes her own cross with her hand. She then walks into the sanctuary. The hand goes up, down, right, left. Did you have to do that before you went into the sanctuary?

He scratches his head and peers into the small pool of water.

"You look lost," says Joseph, coming out to greet him.

Maria's a couple steps after him.

"I am," admits Toby.

"That's a stoup," explains Joseph. "That's holy water. It's a reminder for those who've been baptized."

"Well, I know what baptism is," says Toby.

Joseph and Maria grin at him.

"We're glad you could come," says Joseph. "All we need is..."

The church door groans open as two others join their group. J.J.'s wearing a Maple Leafs jersey and jeans, whereas the woman accompanying him is wearing a pretty, white dress that goes to her ankles.

"Dad, sorry Rosa and I are late," apologizes J.J.

"It would've helped if you were ready when I came to get you," says Rosa, sternly looking at him.

"Well, Toby made it here on time," informs Joseph, his gaze as stern as Rosa's.

"Tobester!" greets J.J., raising his hand for a high-five. "Glad you could make it, man."

Toby high-fives him, though now feeling overdressed in his company. Joseph has on tan slacks, at least, and Maria is in a pretty pink summer dress.

"You're the only one that doesn't hate me right now," whispers J.J., bending down to Toby.

"I heard that," remarks Maria. "And we don't hate you. Know why?"

"Oh no," mutters J.J. as he raises his head.

"Because I'm going to have such beautiful grandbabies," compliments Maria, simultaneously patting J.J. and Rosa's cheeks.

They all laugh, except for a reddening J.J. Joseph gestures that they should enter, and they do. The sanctuary is mainly lit by tall candles in each corner of the room. Yet, the light shining on Toby are of different hues due to the stained glass windows. There were jewelled blue rivers, the brown hairs of the disciples, the purple and ruby red robes of angels and disciples. He couldn't tell which was supposed to be Jesus, mainly because he didn't know that much about him. But there is one baby in a window near the pulpit, with a gold crown hovering over his head, and that was probably him.

The pews are full of smiling men and women, a couple younger boys, and a single girl in a velvety green dress. She keeps pulling at her stockings. Most of the attendees are Filipino, and that made him stand out more than the dress shoes at Council. He notices a few women carrying a string of brown beads. They're rosaries. He's seen J.T.'s grandmother with one once. Yeah, thinks Toby, relaxing a little. He's been in this building before. This is okay.

"Consuella!" greets Joseph, a fiftysomething lady turning her head. "Come meet Manuella's friend!"

"Oh!" says Consuella, shaking her rosary with delight. "This is the boy."

Toby's more "uh-oh" than "oh!" He remains standing as the rest of the Santos, minus Joseph, take their seats.

"Girls," encourages Consuella.

About four more women stand, trailing Consuella on her trek to Toby. He'd best pretend they were younger Bubbes or else break a sweat. J.J. smiles sympathetically at him.

"We got to meet Rosa, and now we get to meet Toby," says Consuella warmly.

"He's got the sweetest eyes, just like you said, Maria," remarks the woman on Consuella's right.

"And he's so neat-looking," adds the woman to her left. "No baggy pants or tattooes."

"Ugh, my son just got a skull and crossbones tattoo," groans the second woman. "He tried to say it was religious because it technically is a cross."

"Boys make the most unbelievable excuses nowadays," waves off Consuella.

"He looks like he's smart," says a woman who hadn't spoken yet. "Can't go wrong with the smart ones."

"President of his entire school," shares Joseph.

"Ohhhh," squeal the woman with one giant noise.

Toby still has yet to figure out if they're talking with him, instead of about him. He hasn't been directly addressed. It must be rude not to say anything, though.

"Thanks for letting me come," offers Toby.

"Awww," say the women.

They were like...one giant, talking head with multiple faces. They were sweet faces at least.

"Now, you just enjoy your time here," says Consuella. "If we bugged you too much the first time, Manuella would never forgive us. You kids are adorable. Just adorable!"

Consuella hurries to a pew in the front, the rest of the women in tow.

"Us young folk call her Chatty Consuella," whispers J.J. to Toby.

Toby smiles as Rosa hits J.J.'s knee with a hymnal. Their actions stop as a side door opens and a man approaches the pulpit. Two altar boys, as serious as boys could be, flank him and stand in front of two chairs to the side of the pulpit. The golden organ with far-reaching pipes start to play.

The bishop is arrayed in white, as white as the most perfect set of teeth. His robes touch the top of his shoes and there is insignia on the cloth on both sides of his chest. He isn't Filipino, but appears very comfortable in his skin.

"Greetings, friends," says the bishop. "For our visitors, I am Bishop Sumter. And I'm blessed to be here for our informal Wednesday night prayer service. I know a lot rests on your hearts, as it does on mine. We use this day to reflect on those burdens, and lift them to the Lord. Please turn your hymnals to page one hundred and twelve, and recite this prayer of God's plan with me."

They immediately stand, Toby doing likewise. It becomes a common thing, the rising and sitting. Toby routinely looks at Maria and Joseph as they go through several prayers, scriptures, and songs. Most of the songs are hopeful, which he likes. Toby sang along and recited, to the best of his ability. The passages were interesting. They told of miracles he hadn't heard about, people who were healed whose names he hadn't seen, and stories he hadn't read. Meawhile, the candles burned brightly, a couple down to their wick. The altar boys were attentive to those, dousing and then relighting them.

"I ask that if you are so moved that we use the next few minutes to pray privately," says Bishop Sumter. "Though the world's ears may not always be receptive, the Lord's ears are always open. Be blessed."

"And you be blessed also," returns the crowd.

He sees a woman duck into an oak closet, the bishop noticing and entering the closet next to it. No, it can't be a closet. That's right. They're doing a confession. He saw that in _Superstar_, starring Molly Shannon, which wasn't the most pious movie.

"Toby," says Maria, tapping his shoulder and rising.

The rest of their group does the same, Toby getting up last. They were walking towards a small vestibule, with a marble statue of a woman demurely looking at the floor, her robes delicately sculpted by some artist. Joseph and Maria bow before the woman, Toby looking around anxiously. Maria retrieves three red candles from her purse, J.J. and Rosa lighting two others with an already lit candle in the mean time. They kneel too. He should kneel. Yeah, probably. Toby kneels on the floor, his arm brushing Maria's.

"Pray with us?" encourages Maria.

"Sure," says Toby. "But I don't know what to say."

"I do," reassures Maria.

Toby nods, staring at J.J., Rosa, and Maria on his left, and Joseph on his right. Joseph puts a firm arm around Toby while closing his eyes. Toby closes his eyes, too.

"Almighty God, father God, God of mercy," prays Maria. "You've given us many blessings, so many that we cannot come before you anything but humble. Yet, we ask this. Please protect our Manuella from harm, from enemies that we cannot see and do not know. Please protect Toby, who's become part of our family by your loving grace. We'd like nothing but happiness for them, dear Father. We know you are with us."

Five sets of eyes open, and four mouths blow out their candles. Toby is slower in doing so, as the tears pass his lips. He couldn't stop the tears after that marvelous prayer. He loved it. He loves them for it. Maria, J.J., and Rosa make the sign of the cross over their chests. Joseph's arm remains as firm as it was minutes ago.

"Amen," says Toby, blowing the bouncing flame of his candle out.


	76. Miss Misery

**LXXVI. Miss Misery**

_I'll fake it through the day  
With some help from Johnny Walker Red  
Send the poison rain down the drain  
To put bad thoughts in my head  
Two tickets torn in half  
And a lot of nothin' to do  
Do you miss me, Miss Misery  
Like you say you do_

_A man in the park  
Read the lines in my hand  
Told me I'm strong  
Hardly ever wrong I said  
"Man you mean--"_

_You had plans for both of us  
That involved a trip out of town  
To a place I've seen in a magazine  
That you'd left lyin' around_

_I don't have you with me  
But I keep a good attitude  
Do you miss me, Miss Misery  
Like you say you do_

_I know you'd rather see me gone  
Than to see me the way that I am  
But I am in your life any way_

_Next door the T.V.'s flashing  
Blue frames on the wall  
It's a comedy of errors you see  
It's about taking a fall_

_To vanish into oblivion  
It's easy to do  
And I tried to leave but you know me  
I come back when you want me to._

_Do you miss me, Miss Misery  
Like you say you do_

**_Miss Misery is the property of Elliott_ Smith and appears in the film _Good Will Hunting._**

"Thwack!" yells Alex, sending the rubber ball along the aisle with her new lacrosse stick.

It skirts by Ellie's legs as she takes a set of gel pens from a stand and reads the details on the back.

"Hey, writer, stop with the pens and toss the ball to me," calls Alex.

"Oh," says Ellie, returning the pens and stopping the ball with her foot.

She throws it weakly, so weakly that Alex has to come forward to get near it.

"Something tells me gym wasn't one of your best subjects," comments Alex, smirking.

"Whatever," mutters Ellie.

"Ellie!" yells Amanda Nash, from the next aisle over. "Come look at these nightstands. They're adorable."

Ugh. Ellie was hoping to distract herself by getting lost in the office supplies section of Home Depot, pretending that her mother was stuck in the bedroom section of Home Depot. The only reason she agreed to this little outing is because she promised her father that she would go with her. Luckily, the two bumped into Alex in the mall on the way there. She could talk to Alex when she didn't feel like talking to her mother, which currently is most of the time. Since her final project is due the day after tomorrow, she decided to hole up in her room last night. Ms. Nash came in once to remind her of their shopping trip and then disappeared. What was clear was that she respected the fact that Ellie had seminar commitments and that she didn't respect her commitment to Sean. Ellie started collecting papers to inspire her and Sean's name pops up on the pages pretty frequently these days. Of course, she wasn't going to show him those, and of course, Amanda Nash had seen it. The papers merely stated that a former employee at Hill's, Sean Cameron, was going to be interviewed concerning the investigation. There was no talk of a warrant or him being a possible suspect. That's a relief. Maybe it is possible that since Mr. Hill liked him and his work that he wasn't pushing for Sean to be the guilty party, and it's more than possible that Dale hasn't made good on his threat. Yet, whenever her mother throws her a suspicious look, Sean might as well have already confessed and been jailed.

Ellie sluggishly walks to her mother with Alex and folds her arms. There were nightstands, in sea foam green and marble pink. Amanda loves the idea of featuring these two colors in Ellie's dorm room. For Ellie, on the other hand, it'd be her own personal prison.

"We talked about pastels," moans Ellie.

"Ellie, I'm sure your roommate won't want black curtains and scarlet pillowcases," sighs Amanda. "She sounds so chipper on the phone."

Don't remind me, thinks Ellie. Amanda had to be the one to answer whenever Amberley called.

"Can I have a black wastebasket?" says Ellie sarcastically.

"I don't understand why you can't be a little more open," says Amanda. "I thought we'd have outgrown this phase by now. Moody and iconclastic."

"Well, now I know where your love of big words come from," whispers Alex to Ellie.

Amanda shrugs. "You can't wear combat boots to work. Who's going to take you seriously?"

"Dad did," reminds Ellie.

"Not the same thing. What about to journalism interviews at newspapers, magazines...."

"This is for my room, not some interview!" cries Ellie.

"But your room says a lot about you," insists Amanda.

"Exactly!" exclaims Ellie. "So no sea foam. It's like the ugliest green ever."

"Fine," groans Amanda. "Do you like earth colors?"

"Yeah," mutters Ellie.

She heads to a row of rocking chairs, and it starts again, like someone is tapping against her temples with a ruler. Ellie lays her brow against a flat cut-out of two smiley kids sitting on a hobbyhorse. She moans at the image of their perfect white teeth.

"Where do they find these kids?" assesses Alex, Ellie raising her head.

"What, you don't want little happy-go-lucky children with Jay?" asks Ellie.

"With Jay?" smirks Alex, turning red and in another direction.

Ellie lets her mouth drop, her brow feeling much better.

"Why are you hiding your face?" says Ellie, laughing a little.

"I'm embarrassed at your pathetic attempt at a joke," says Alex, rubbing her cheeks hurriedly.

"I guess you hit the ones you love, right?" teases Ellie.

"Shut up," says Alex, raising her lacrosse stick.

"Alright, I'll lay off," promises Ellie. "Though it does distract me from worrying about Sean. I tried him twice today with no luck."

"Sounds vaguely familiar," says a sharp voice from behind.

The pounding headache kicks into gear. She doesn't know what's with it. None of the medication she's tried has helped, and something tells her that her last statement about Sean wouldn't help her mother's opinions about him, if anything would.

"Mom, we have shopping to do," groans Ellie.

"We?" says Amanda. "I think I'm doing most of the shopping, and you're doing most of the complaining. Where's lover boy now? A new garage he hasn't told you about?"

Obviously, her father has filled her in on what happened at Hill's. She should've expected it. Her father's too nice to deny her mother crucial information if she prodded.

"Wasaga," says Ellie, looking away.

"And the same place," says Amanda, with a short laugh. "When is he due back?"

"Tonight," says Ellie.

She said it with all the confidence in the world. Sean told her he'd be coming back because she was there. He may've lied about other things, but not this. He wouldn't run from everything that's going on, despite how scary the circumstances.

"You said it, not me, Ellie," sighs Amanda. "No luck."

"Just cause he won't answer his phone...," begins Ellie.

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but the fact that he's even being mentioned in this robbery unsettles me," interrupts Amanda, curtly. "He always seems to do things with little regard to how you feel."

"And you don't?" returns Ellie.

"How dare you compare me spending my paycheck on buying you essential things to him skipping town a second time," says Amanda.

"He's coming back!" says Ellie. "I know he will."

"Don't blame me if he disappoints you," says Amanda, rolling her eyes. "Again."

Ellie massages her forehead, as fast as Alex was manipulating her cheeks. No matter how screwy things have gotten, Sean did care about how she felt. He tried to make money for her, for a trip that would've meant a lot to her. She doesn't remember clearly ever saying that to him. If he came home...no, he's coming home. Don't let her give you any doubts, thinks Ellie. The pounding grows more intense, yet her next words are sure and clear.

"Mom, when are we going to outgrow this phase?" says Ellie.

Her mother certainly wasn't expecting that, frowning in agitation. Alex gives her a nervous glance.

"Well, tell me when Sean does," says Amanda.

That's such a cold remark that she won't bother.

"I'm not coming home tonight," says Ellie.

"Yes," says Amanda, strongly. "You are."

"No, I'm not," says Ellie, more of a promise than anything else.

She walks past aisle after aisle, with no movement behind her. Her head may be throbbing. Still, she knows exactly where she's going.

II.

Toby settles back into the pew and stares ahead. Most of the members at Manny's church have gone home, the sanctuary dimmer than before. Content with her meeting with Toby, Consuella is now talking with J.J. and Rosa, and Maria is talking with Pastor Sumter. Officer Wheaton is flipping through a hymnal. Only Joseph has remained near Toby. He has yet to figure out why that is and chose to remain silent. It's more out of fear than from being in the church. Besides, Consuella is loud enough to challenge any notion he had about being quiet in church.

"No seeing her the day of the wedding," teases Consuella, tugging on J.J. ear.

J.J. winces. Joseph chuckles to himself and Toby smiles.

"Maria and I were discussing what to do in regards to the mail," says Joseph.

Toby stares at him in confusion. The mail? He wants to talk about mail? He remembers the number of their apartment being taken off the door, but that didn't really have to do with him. Or well, it did. Toby nervously plays with his tie.

"I...I'm sorry about that," says Toby. "I'm sorry for a lot of things I did this summer."

"Well, don't be," says Joseph, facing him. "I don't know how you two kids are getting through this. In all honesty, I think it'd break me."

Glancing at him warmly, Toby nods.

"But I have to be strong for Maria and Manuella," continues Joseph. "Do you know how I....hmmm, what's the word? Courted? Or wooed Maria?"

"No," says Toby.

"I wrote her letters," shares Joseph. "These awful little love letters that she'd keep in this book."

Toby grins, but tries to hide it.

"It was hard for me to get her to talk, and I never said the right thing," says Joseph. "But out of the blue, she came to me and used the book as a conversation starter. I wrote the most inane things. Told her about these action movies I'd seen that she should've seen. Complimented her clothes by saying they were groovy and something that my mother wouldn't wear. Tried to explain football to her though I never saw her at a game. Just very rough love letters. But she loved every single one of them."

Hearing this, it's kind of nice to hear that Joseph is as sentimental as the next guy and kept trying despite his imperfections. He imagines Manny's father pouring over each letter and finally putting whatever came to his mind, with Maria being delighted at his persistence.

"She had a P.O. box in college," says Joseph. "That's how we'll be getting our regular mail."

"That's a really good plan," compliments Toby.

"You have to be an adult to get one," sighs Joseph. "Toby."

The way he says his name is sort of quickly dropped, like a hint. A hint! Toby raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah?" says Toby, hopefully.

"We got two, just in case," says Joseph. "But I think a father should know these things before...."

Right. Well, if Jeff let him come to church with the Santoses, why wouldn't he agree?

"He'd go along with it," interjects Toby, anxiously. "I mean, that's what I think a father would do."

Joseph laughs and retrieves a white piece of paper from his pants pocket. He gives it to Toby.

"I don't think I have to tell you to use a different name," says Joseph. "That's what Officer Patton advised."

"No, sir," says Toby.

"Manny doesn't have to know it was our idea," says Joseph. "Or well, _my _idea. I know it's old-fashioned, not as current as e-mail, but..."

They trade smiles, Toby staring gleefully at the paper. Wow, finally, finally, a way to contact her. Manny wouldn't see this coming at all.

"Mr. Santos, I can't begin to thank you," says Toby.

"Manny said that you needed her, and that's all I needed to know," says Joseph, patting his back.

Toby rises and extends his hand. Joseph shakes it firmly. It looks as if Consuella has released J.J and Rosa from her verbal clutches with the two of them and Maria joining Toby and Joseph. Maria spies the piece of paper and grins at her husband.

"You are going to write her, yes?" asks Maria, nodding at Toby.

"I will," says Toby.

"I still have Joseph's letters," says Maria, putting a hand over her heart.

"Ewww," mumbles J.J.

"Why can't you write me something?" says Rosa, playfully.

"That's for romantics like Toby," waves off J.J. "You should appreciate that I keep myself looking good for you."

"Yeah, you're writing me something," says Rosa.

They laugh, J.J. sinking into the pew while sulking.

III.

His father is on the porch as soon as Sean pulls the car up to the trailer. The sun is setting, more and more of his neighbors crossing the park as they make their way home. Once Ty was found, and he'd apologized to Langston and Tracker, with Sean assuring them it was just nerves, he and Tracker debated about when to go home. Tracker wanted to stay another day. Sean said he couldn't. He'd been away from Toronto long enough, and now looking at his father, he'd relish starting the car right back up and driving home.

This was his home, or is, when really he can't decide. Would his parents want him to come home? He's not Tracker, who stops in on the occasion. He lives quite a distance away and calls when he gets the chance. But, of course, the last two times he's visited Ike and Iris he's been in trouble. Sean exits the car and holds the keys out to his father. Ike slowly takes them.

"Car runs good, doesn't it?" says Ike.

What? No very loud, public scolding? Sean sees Mrs. Kapinski in her yard, watering her sunflowers, which look extremely foreign.

"Yep," says Sean. "Ty went missing so I used it. Sorry."

"Come inside," says Ike, then going through the door.

Tracker and Ty are in his truck, and Ty should be okay for a few minutes. He was a lot more talkative once they left the beach. Tracker, still sort of rattled, mentioned _Price of Right_ and the two of them went to talking about how fair or unfair the game is, and how old you should be to play it. Ty's answers were short but he looked engaged in the discussion. When Ty learned that Tracker and Langston were looking for him, he must've lost his hesitations around them. It was nice seeing Ty so relaxed in the final moments of the trip.

Sean goes into the trailer, and wonders where Iris has gone. She isn't in the kitchen, and when she wasn't in the kitchen, she was usually outside the trailer or in the living room when one of her sons was visiting.

"Hank Fletcher's nephew is a lawyer," shares Ike. "I was talking with him this afternoon."

Hank Fletcher lives in the trailer three doors over, recalls Sean. He's famous for telling his neighbors what they should do.

"He lives in Toronto?" guesses Sean.

"Yes, and works at a very good law firm," says Ike. "I don't know what you're going to do with that part, but Fletcher's got a good record."

"Dad, thanks. I....," starts Sean.

"I don't want to have to call anybody again," interrupts Ike. "Got me?"

"I got it," says Sean, after swallowing a lump in his throat

"You do what you have to do," says Ike, meeting him eye to eye.

"Okay," says Sean.

"Go tell your mom good-bye," says Ike. "She knows."

Iris knows. He feels beaten to the ground, like he's down for the count even though he's standing. Man, he has to talk to her after she told him how proud she was of him today? What mother should have to hear two opposite versions of their son in one afternoon? Sean approaches her bedroom with his hands in his pockets.

Peeping into the room, Iris is staring out her window, which houses a view of the entire park, where every trailer shines under the sun's retreating rays. The bedroom light isn't on yet. Her hair has more of a luster because the rays shine on her face. Sean moves from the shadows of the room to the window.

"Mom, we're leaving," says Sean.

Iris puts her hand on the window sill and her lips move, the words not coming out. There didn't have to be any words. She's disappointed. She hates me. Sean lets the horrible thoughts race through his brain.

"I hope you can forgive me," says Sean, shrugging. "In fact, I'm trying to forgive myself."

She folds her hands together, her thumb playing with her wedding ring.

"But...I think you'd have to forgive me first for that to happen," continues Sean. "I wanted to be on my own. I made bad choices. I got stuck. But I'm going to try to do what I think you and Dad would want me to do."

Iris looks at him, barely, and goes out of the room.

The horn of Tracker's truck beeps and Sean goes to the living room, his dad the only person in the room with him.

"Give her some time," says Ike.

Tears wet his eyes as Ike moves to hug him. The hug is reassuring, but he'd rather have two, one from him and one from his mother. He'd just have to wait, if it was coming. Sean doesn't let Tracker wait, climbing into the truck. Tracker speeds away, his parents' trailer only in the horizon in no time flat.

Sean nods off into a nap, a very long nap. Many places trickle together into a dream with a single common theme. They were places he and Ellie discussed. There was the rushing Niagara Falls, high rise apartments in Vancouver, a sign announcing entrance into Halifax. They are riding on the bike Sean recently purchased, helmets on, on a road that seems to stretch on forever. The bike veers left and right. Ellie is grinning with her red hair flying. There's a light ahead. They blaze into it and disappear, Sean's eyes opening.

He opens them to an image of Ty in the rear view mirror, chatting on his cellphone. Is it Dale? Sean straightens himself in the car seat.

"Bye," says Ty, hanging up.

Sean glances at Ty cautiously.

"It's Becca," explains Ty. "Um, she's kind of upset. Can I...and you can say no, spend the night at her grandmother's?"

Though it takes him awhile, he remembers Becca and her guitar, and how she looked out for Ty. As long as it's not Dale, thinks Sean.

"Where does she live?" asks Sean.

Ty grins. "Thanks."

IV.

Ellie slides her apartment key to the side and places the paper in its original position. She's been circling facts for the last two hours, using the small desk in Sean's place. There were statistics that didn't stick to her memory bank; paragraphs she couldn't comprehend; bylines she didn't want to be bothered with. She can't focus. Maybe it's her fault. Maybe it's her mom fault. After ninety minutes in, she stopped caring. Why did her mother insist on infuriating her?

The fight drew her here. Seeing Sean's things, as he'd left them, continually nails in that he is living in Toronto and that he isn't packing things up. Then again, that's what she'd thought last time. Ellie puts down her pen.

Closing the newspaper, she plops down the pamphlets that have been in her bag since graduation. She almost forgot they were in there until she spilled the contents onto her bedroom floor last night. In addition to Marco making Sean copies, he made her a few copies. The whale watching in Vancouver is what she had been most excited about. Seeing the creatures in their natural surroundings would've been so peaceful. Ugh, she definitely could use some peace. There's Dale, there's Bridget at seminar, who has yet to stop annoying her despite no longer being her partner, and then there's her mother. These are things that won't be solved with medication. Ellie checks her bag for Advil anyway. She must've swallowed the last one.

The pain in her forehead hasn't ceased. Is it stress? Can stress cause this much agony? There wouldn't be any agony if Sean were here. Then, she'd know he was safe and that her mother was dead wrong. She'd have the greatest peace in the world, no matter how long it lasted. Ellie raises her pen to start circling again.

"I should be a broadcast journalist," mutters Ellie.

"Nah, I like print journalists better," says a voice, two arms encircling her shoulders.

Ellie turns around and grins, Sean's grin just as huge. Now, this is the kind of circling she likes.

"I didn't hear you come in!" cries Ellie, standing.

"The door wasn't locked, El," says Sean, playfully scolding her.

"I had a lot on my mind," says Ellie. "Sorry."

"That's alright," waves off Sean.

"Where's Ty?" asks Ellie.

"At a friend's," replies Sean. "The trip did him some good. Both of us some good, actually."

Sean sits on his bed, Ellie joining him. For some reason, being knee to knee, and body to body with him is sort of overwhelming. She had hope, but with her mother constantly chipping away at it, this is really affirming for her. Ellie's eyes grow misty and she smiles.

"I'm glad you're home," whispers Ellie.

"The next time I leave Toronto, you gotta come with me," encourages Sean. "Or else I'm not going. Okay?"

Ellie nods. "The road trip."

"Yeah," says Sean, sadly.

"About that?" says Ellie. "We've been dealing with a lot, but I did want you to know that...the fact that you were doing this for me, hasn't been lost on me. I love that you cared so much."

Sean lowers his head.

"I love you," adds Ellie.

"El, I just miss when it was easy with us," says Sean, looking at her. "You've wanted to trust me since Christmas. I want us to get back to easy."

"If it was easy before, then it's probably easy to get back," says Ellie.

Sean holds her hand and kisses it, scooting closer to her.

"I told my parents," shares Sean. "Ellie, my mom...my mom won't even talk to me."

"I don't think my mom's talking to me either," says Ellie. "Well, when I go home."

"Because of me?" inquires Sean.

"No, because of me," answers Ellie.

She doesn't want him to worry, especially after hearing how his mother received the news.

"What can I do?" asks Sean.

"You can hold me," says Ellie, softly. "That's all I really want, Sean."

Sean holds her close to him, and kisses her forehead, which feels free of sharp throbbing or clouded thoughts. It's light and soft as they lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. She wonders how many nights they'll have left if things don't go the way she'd like them to, or the way Sean would like. Then, those wonders disappear as Sean glances at her.

"Your side isn't hurting you? Or your stitches?" asks Ellie.

"Why?" laughs Sean. "You want to study?"

Study? Their code word. Ellie smiles.

"I do have my seminar manual," says Ellie, tapping her chin with a finger. "How about I ask you a question, and if you get it right, we'll study."

"Go on," encourages Sean.

"What is Ellie Nash wearing under this black blouse?" says Ellie.

"Is this multiple choice?" says Sean, momentarily staring at her blouse.

"Alright," says Ellie. "A. a white bra. B. a black bra. C. a green bra. Or D. none of the above."

"I'm going to say B, hoping that it was bought for me," replies Sean.

Ellie laughs and hits him on the side of the head with a pillow. Sean chuckles.

"I obviously got it right," says Sean.

"Just for future reference, this was not bought with you in mind," says Ellie. "But it might be unbuttoned with you in mind."

She casually undoes two buttons, Sean shaking his head and getting on top of her as Ellie laughs.

"I can deal with the pain," says Sean, lightly starting to kiss her.

"Mmmm," says Ellie, smiling as he kisses her. "I'm ready to study. And I don't mean journalism."

"We really should be studying geography, if anything," comments Sean.

Right, the road trip, supposes Ellie, beaming as Sean unbuttons her top all the way down to her belt.

"Where should we start?" says Ellie.

"Toronto," mumbles Sean, kissing the area above her breasts.

Ellie blushes.

"Vancouver," says Sean, his lips on her ribcage.

"Anywhere," sighs Ellie, putting her hands on his back and pulling his body closer.

V.

"Soooo, what work have you done?" asks a girl with wavy chesnut hair.

Manny fiddles with her purse strap before realizing that yes, this girl is talking to her. They're in the lobby of the Majestic. Their competition isn't too steep, with thirteen actresses going into the auditorium. Colleen confirmed that the director was extremely selective, but that they'd liked her resume. So Manny wasn't concerned about that. What she is concerned about is the panic-stricken faces that were on the actresses once they left the room. None of them came out smiling. Manny's stomach begins to twist as another actress leaves, her hands pressed to her cheeks. All color has left them.

"Uh, _Jay and Silent Bob Go Canadian, Eh_?" offers Manny.

"Oh, yeah," says the girl. "I saw that. It was cute."

The auditorium door parts, and a balding man in a tan shirt stares at them.

"Manuella Santos," says the man.

"Here," says Manny, rising.

"Good luck," says the girl.

"Actually, break a leg is better," says Manny.

"I know," says the girl, then singing. "_You went and saved the best for last..._"

Manny throws her a steely look and walks inside the auditorium. She doesn't have to be last to wow them. As soon as she gets a hold on the script, she can adapt, conjure any character they want, and wow them. She's ready. Manny searches for the director, finding him at the front. He's completely bald and dressed in all black. He appears to be very serious but that could be a good thing. This might be interesting since he's the complete opposite of Kevin. She walks to the stage and stands in the center.

"Good afternoon," says Manny brightly. "I'm Manny Santos, and I'm represented by Bluewave."

Here, she can get a closer view of the director. He has a soul patch and glasses on a chain, though he hasn't put the glasses on.

"Franz Holt!" shouts the director in one breath.

"That's his name," says the man in the tan shirt. "Cory. I'm his assistant."

"Hello," says Manny.

"We're doing a very artistic film about young women and their need to find themselves," informs Cory.

"Oh, that sounds great," says Manny. "Totally with that theme."

"How old are you?" says Franz, more of a shout.

"Sixteen...almost seventeen," replies Manny.

"You're too short!" yells Franz.

"What?" cries Manny. "I mean, there wasn't a height requirement on the auditions notice."

"Do noooooot be difficult!" chastises Franz, waving his finger at her.

"But this isn't fair," says Manny, trying her best to stay calm. "Can't I just audition anyway?"

"Name one of my films," says Franz, the softest things he says.

He scratches his chin. Manny glances at her knees. Yeah, she's never heard of him.

"Next!" yells Franz.

"For someone who wants to do a film about women finding themselves, you're certainly very rude to them," says Manny as she goes down the stage steps.

Franz seems to consider this for a moment, but unfortunately, only for a moment.

"Next!" repeats Franz.

Before she can go up the aisle, Cory thrusts her resume into her line of sight, and Manny sighs while taking it. This was awful. It's not like Colleen would've known but still. Why were all the directors she went to completely disappointing? This wasn't as bad as Pinecrest, yet it's the same schtick. People were so focused on the physicality of the person and not what they could bring to the table. Manny walks briskly to the lobby, the chesnut-hair actress passing her with a smirk. Yeah, she's taller so he'd probably let her read from the script and find something else wrong with her.

Manny pauses at the _Tempest _poster in the lobby. She thought auditioning in the same space would bring her confidence and good fortune. She shakes her head, turns right abruptedly, and sees a bunch of papers fall around her.

"Oh!" cries Manny. "I'm sorry."

"Blame me," chuckles the man in front of her. "I'm not very organized. Well, except, hopefully, for the play."

The man is quick to retrieve his papers. This is the guy she met the first day, who complimented her monologue. His thick, brown hair is a bit messy, and his shirt is a bit wrinkled, but it's the same Eric Hegel. She's surprised she remembered his name, though Colin was going to audition for his project. Manny couldn't forget the face, though. The thick brown hair and the cute glasses that would slide down every now and then? Very like a certain someone else.

"Hey!" says Eric. "It's you. Manny....Manny Santos."

"You remembered," says Manny.

"You won Best Actress in the whole camp," says Eric. "And well-deserved, I might add."

"Franz Holt didn't think so," sighs Manny.

"Franz Holt!" yells Eric, imitating him.

Manny laughs.

"He's a nice guy, but pretty picky," says Eric.

"I noticed," says Manny. "Well, my ride's waiting for me."

"Well...wait, wait!" says Eric, before she can move. "Are you hunting for work?"

She stares at him hesitantly. Didn't Lia say that he couldn't get his project off the ground? Then again, she's having a hard time getting her career off the ground. She can at least entertain the idea to spare his feelings.

"What did you have in mind?" asks Manny.

"It's a musical revue," says Eric. "Of the greatest song sequences of the theater. All you'd have to do is audition to be in the colony."

"More of an actress than a singer," admits Manny.

"We could work on whatever area you needed to work on," assures Eric. "That's what the New York Arts Academy does."

"I don't know....," shrugs Manny.

"Come on," encourages Eric. "You could be the next Lea Salonga."

"Uh, who?" says Manny.

"Lea...Lea Salonga," says Eric with appreciation. "You don't know her? She's won so many acting awards, and is one of the most brilliant singers in theater. She's Filipina like yourself. Umm....did the singing voice for Jasmine and Mulan?"

"Oh yeah!" exclaims Manny.

Eric chuckles. "Mention Disney and the memory begins to click in."

"My...um, friend got an offer for a Disney internship," shares Manny. "He's going to be an animator."

"That's incredible," compliments Eric.

"Yeah, it is," says Manny.

"So have I convinced you yet?" says Eric.

Hmmm, he is the nicest director she's met in California besides Arissa. He also doesn't seem to mind the fact that she's Filipina and petite. She does want to get her foot in the door, and if it interrupts any other good parts coming her way, she can politely decline.

"When are the auditions?" asks Manny.

"Friday," answers Eric.

Friday? Yeah, that's not a lot time to prepare for it. Manny releases a deep breath.

"You'll do fine," assures Eric.

That's what she's hoping for.

VI.

"I've heard Canadians are polite, but this?" sighs Lia.

Just as she was expecting, Lia isn't taking too kindly to Manny mulling over an audition with Eric Hegel. So what would she say when Colin's, who is sure to get a part, going off to New York to perform his play? Manny isn't nearly as committed to this as him.

Lia's Porsche stops at a red light, Hannah in the backseat. It's an interesting sight. Manny can think back to when you were more likely to see Emma and Hannah together than Lia and Hannah. But she did honestly believe that Lia would get a kick out of the lightning bug gift. She smiled when Hannah presented it to her and they spent the next morning trying to think up names for her. They settled on....

"Marilyn Monroe looks hungry, Lia," says Hannah, staring hard at the jar.

"What do those things eat?" says Lia. "Flowers?"

"I've never kept one as a pet," admits Manny.

"Is that some subtle dig to release her into the sky?" says Lia. "Fat chance. We're keeping her. Right, Hannah?"

"Right," says Hannah.

"We're keeping her and you're going to explain why you're even considering this project," says Lia. "Manny, the guy can't iron his clothes!"

"He seems....intelligent, and excited," defends Manny. "And hey, his last name isn't Timmons."

"Which is a small blessing, I suppose," says Lia, pulling into her driveway.

"Manny has something small," says Hannah.

Lia turns the key and shuts off the car. She reaches for something in the backseat.

"Don't worry, Manny," laughs Lia. "She's not talking about your double assets."

"Hardy har har," returns Manny.

Lia hands her an envelope, Manny reading the sender's address. **Benjamin Satchel. P.O. Box 5115, Toronto. **Who's that? The envelope has an authentic stamp and postage, and not many people know she's staying at Lia's.

"A scout?" poses Manny.

"I've never heard of him," shrugs Lia. "Whoever sent it wanted you to get it in a hurry. Overnighted it."

They leave the car, Hannah skipping alongside Lia to the door.

"Let's try and find something for Marilyn Monroe, Hannah," says Lia.

"I have some leftover peppermints," informs Hannah.

"Gremlin, I don't think that's going to work," says Lia, leading her sister to the garden.

Manny watches them go, and heads to her room. She closes the door, sitting on her bed. Colleen usually contacted her whenever a role was available. This better not be another audition notice that's going to disappoint her. She can only take so much in one day. Manny opens the envelope and unfolds the letter. She immediately smiles once the handwriting is revealed because she's seen his so many times before.

_Dear Manny,_

_This is the only communication we haven't tried, but I definitely had to try. I hope you are nailing all your auditions and have dozens of options to choose from in Los Angeles. Of course, that might mean you're out there a little longer, but it would also mean that you'd be happy. _

_Your family invited me to your church. I have to confess that I was very confused at the service, but they were nothing but amazing to me. Surrounded by your mother's faith and your father's strength, I feel like I have more faith and strength. They made writing to you possible for me and I appreciate that so much. Sorry for the weird alias. It was either this or T. I. Not the Rapper. The post office might've thought I was crazy, and I didn't want to lose the post office box._

_I remember the last days when we were together, and I wouldn't have spent them with anyone else. You were amazing and supportive, just like always. Walking into the synagogue with you, being at the wall with you that night, and our Christmas...I loved each and every second. You consistently inspire me and I know that's true for others. So keep doing what you're meant to do._

_Whatever happens, know that I am cheering for you one hundred percent. I'd love to hear from you soon, at this address. It's weird to do this, writing with a pen, since I'm so used to using computers and email, but it's to you and it reminds me of us making notes on our Hamlet scripts. I'm not as good of an actor as you, but thanks for feeding me lines during rehearsals those days. So, drop me a line, maybe? Yes. I know that was dorky._

_With sincerest love,_

_Benjamin_

"Tobes," whispers Manny, running her finger along the edges of the letter.

Manny dries her eyes with sleeve, sniffling and reading the letter once more. He found a way. He'd actually thought of something, or at least, got the ball rolling. Toby even overnighted the letter so she'd get it sooner. She honestly thought he wouldn't do anything and expected nothing until she got home. Benjamin, his middle name, and Satchel, the part he read for her when they were running lines for _Hearts for Sale_.

"Clever little non-rapper," sighs Manny, happily.

She hops up from her bed and finds some stationary. Manny uncaps her favorite pen and begins to write.


	77. Word Up

**LXXVII. Word Up**

_Yo pretty ladies around the world  
Got a weird thing to show you,  
So tell all the boys and girls.  
Tell your brother, your sister  
And mama too, cause they're  
About to go down  
And you'll know just what to do._

_Wave your hands in the air  
Like you don't care, glide by  
The People as they start to look and stare.  
Do your dance, do your dance quick  
Mama, come on baby, tell me what's  
The Word, ah – word up,  
Everybody say when you hear the call  
You got to get it underway,  
Word up, it's the code word,  
No matter where you say it,  
You'll know that you'll be heard._

_Now all you sucker. D.J.'s  
Who think you're fly  
There's got to be a reason  
And we know the reason why.  
You try to put on those airs  
And act real cool  
But you got to realise  
That you're acting like fools.  
If there's music we can use it  
We need to dance.  
We don't have that time  
For psychological romance  
No romance  
No romance  
No romance for me mama  
Come on baby tell me what's the word.  
Ah – word up,  
Everybody say when you hear the call  
You got to get it underway._

_Dial "L" for low...  
Come on, all you people say...  
Word up – word up_

**Word Up is the property of Cameo and appears in the film _Austin Powers 2._**

**Shake Your Pom Pom is the property of Missy Elliott.**

**Let It Go is the property of Ray J.**

In the darkness of the room, the waves on the poster almost appear to coming closer to her. The words _Blue Crush_ are near illegible with her blurry sight. Emma sniffles, and turns to her side so Kendra can only see her back if Kendra happened to wake up. With Boomer's help, Spinner managed to take apart his bed, move his bed into Kendra's room, and then move a cot into his room. He insisted on the cot. His sweetness made her feel worse. She's done a decent job fooling them. She talks during dinner, keeps busy by doing the occasional chores, and goes to bed at a believable enough time. Then, she stares, from eleven-thirty at night until four or five. She isn't really staring at anything. Something is just preventing her from letting her eyes close. Since her mother was into make-up, Emma had learned a thing or two to mask the lines under her eyes. Nobody noticed, and she didn't want them to notice.

Emma throws off her blanket and quietly goes into the bathroom adjoining Kendra's bedroom. She lightly closes the door and turns on the light. There's a hum that accompanies the light so she switches it off. She goes to sit on the toilet, slides to the back of it, putting her legs against her chest. The porcelain is so cool that the cold goes through the fabric of her sweatpants. Emma buries her nose in the area between her knees.

What is she going to tell everyone once she and Spinner leave his grandmother's home? Her mother was already worried about her before she came to L.A., and this would give her even more to worry about. Her mother has enough problems, problems Emma couldn't fix by being at home. Maybe she should call Manny, if Manny isn't too busy. She's pretty sure of the answer to that. Manny's dealing with her acting career, just like her parents are busy with their jobs and Jack. Plus, once they went back to Toronto, Spinner would be busy with the Dot. Emma thought that keeping busy herself would quiet any sadness, and it's what she told Hannah. Well, as it turns out, it isn't very good advice. There are moments that are so quiet that you have to listen to your emotions. She couldn't work them away or talk them away. They just flew in her face.

Her own grandmother suggested that Emma talk to someone. What good would talking do? Talking didn't help her parents reunite. No, she put all the pieces in motion and now Snake has bought his own apartment. Perhaps the cook-out was the final straw. Perhaps she inadvertently caused her parents' marriage to combust. She really did it this time. The last time she interfered, they patched things up by themselves. Emma tearfully watched them exchange vows in their T-shirts and jeans. She was almost certain there was no chance of the wedding happening what with her bad hair, the revealed secret, and Snake's anger. Yet somehow they wound up at the altar with Emma standing on the sidelines to view it. That night, she and Manny were talking about what they wanted for their own happiness in light of her parents' less than ordinary ceremony.

_"What do you think they're doing right now?" wondered Manny aloud._

_"I don't want to guess," said Emma._

_She pulled the blanket towards her, Manny murmuring her reluctance and getting a fair share of the blanket. Emma wasn't tried to be rude. She was simply used to having the whole bed to herself most days and Manny sleeping over was getting less frequent as they grew older. Still, she slept nearest the alarm so Manny wouldn't have frogs croaking for her to get up. She doesn't know why she accepted the alarm clock from J.T. on her birthday._

_"But honeymoons are sooooo romantic, Em," insisted Manny. "I'm picturing fruity drinks with flowers in them, or oooh, they're in coconuts. Slow dancing on the beach. Starry nights..."_

_"They went to to the Grand Canyon," interrupted Emma._

_"Oh," said Manny. "Okay, so no beaches, but fruity drinks for sure."_

_"What is it with you and fruity drinks?" asked Emma, grinning._

_"They're colorful and they look taste-tastic," shrugged Manny. "Where would you go on your honeymoon?"_

_"The Everglades, probably," answered Emma._

_"What?" said Manny. "Where is that?"_

_"Florida," answered Emma. "There's all matter of flora and fauna."_

_"Okay, Ranger Nelson," said Manny, wrinkling her nose. "More importantly, who are you going with?"_

_Manny knew the answer. She'd rather be interrogated about anything else and wouldn't have minded letting the kiss be a private fact between them for at least one night. _

_"Sean!" answered Manny herself, gleefully._

_"Craig!" returned Emma, sarcastically. _

_"Shhh, don't jinx it," said Manny. "Alright. What if there were no Sean?"_

_It's hard to imagine there not being a Sean. The other boys in their class were so...immature. Hmmm, actually there's one that's slightly mature, she thought. And I do mean slightly._

_"Toby," replied Emma. "He's sweet and you'd just have to loosen him up a little."_

_Manny pulled at her thumb and then at her nightshirt._

_"Yeah, but like you and Toby don't mesh," said Manny. "Like at all."_

_"Who knows what it'll be like when we're older?" said Emma._

_"He might be different when he's older," shrugged Manny. "You may not be his type anymore."_

_"You seem pretty protective of him, Santos," said Emma, smirking. "Like...very. Bordering on jealous."_

_"Not even!" cried Manny, pushing Emma gently._

_Emma laughed, Manny continuing to try to push her off the bed. There's a flash of light in the hallway and an accompanying voice. It was their baby-sitter who they really didn't need since they were thirteen._

_"Keep it quiet, girls!" yelled Grandma Nelson. "I don't want to have to come in there."_

_"If I'm protective of him, it's because I'm his friend," whispered Manny urgently._

_"So what? I don't meet your standards for Toby?" teased Emma. "I bet you meet them."_

_"You meet my standards for me pushing you to the floor," said Manny._

_They quietly resisted each other for a minute, Emma hearing a small clatter and a drop. It wasn't her alarm clock, her gaze sweeping her nightsand. Emma located the fallen item and held it in her hands. She grinned at the fresh picture she'd taken of her new family three days ago. Joey snapped her, Snake, and Spike in front of the wedding cake before the guests devoured it. Manny stared at it as well._

_"Looks nice, right?" said Emma._

_"Looks natural, too," said Manny. "Like Simpson belongs there."_

_Her best friend was telling the truth, or that's what Emma believed. At that moment, Spike hadn't told her anything about her natural father Shane, with Emma having to loop together faint memories of him. They weren't married, that's for sure. Spike shared that with her at least. But Snake was married to her mother and they would be having a child together. It would be the start of their new lives together once they returned from their honeymoon, with Emma included. _

_"If your mom has a boy, you guys would totally resemble those sitcom families," assessed Manny._

_"A brother?" said Emma. "That'd be nice. It would be like a little Snake running around, hopefully with Mom's coolness."_

_"Your mom is cool," agreed Manny. "Though Simpson's sort of geeky cool. He lets me do extra credit, unlike Kwan."_

_"What's with this recent Miss Kwan hate?" said Emma._

_"She didn't believe me when I told her I skipped her quiz because my period came," said Manny. "My first period."_

_"And?"_

_Manny scratched her nose. "She believed you when your period came."_

_"Manny," groaned Emma. "Let's go to bed."_

Emma lets her legs touch the floor, the image of her falling asleep that night crystal clear in her mind. She knew her parents would have a wonderful time at the Canyon, which they did. She knew they were coming home when they said they were coming home, which they did. Somewhere along the way, she must've fallen out of step with who they were and what they wanted because she didn't know the moments that filled this year were coming.

The bathroom door opens, a finger flicking on a light. Emma jumps up from the toilet, her heart beating maniacally.

"Oh, I didn't mean to startle you, dear," says Grandma Mason.

Grandma Mason sets some towels on the toilet, Emma ruffling her hair, hoping that it looks presentable.

"I have an early shift at the hospital," explains Grandma Mason. "I wasn't sure if you girls had enough towels."

"Thanks," says Emma.

"Can't sleep?" says Grandma Mason, softly. "You look tired."

"Umm, I usually get up with my brother Jack, and he's small so...my body's conditioned to it," provides Emma.

"Well, as long as you get some rest," says Grandma Mason.

Emma feels like she's being evaluated by the piercing stare Grandma Mason gives her. She smiles as much as she can.

"Perhaps you and Gavin can go to the beach," offers Grandma Mason. "My friend's driving me to the hospital."

"That...that would be great," says Emma.

She mainly agrees to stop Grandma Mason from staring anymore. It's one thing for her to stare blankly at a poster, and quite another to be assessed by her boyfriend's grandmother.

"I'll tell Gavin then," says Grandma Mason.

Emma follows her out of the bathroom and unzips her suitcase. She threw in that picture without remembering half the events the day of their wedding. She's surprised by the tear that hits the frame so fast. Her cellphone buzzes. The time reads six a.m. The person calling is Manny. That's right. Spinner told her Manny would be expecting a call last night. She conveniently forgot. Taking a deep breath, Emma answers.

"Hello?" she whispers.

"Emma!" cries Manny. "Babe, don't ever do that to me again. I so should've picked up something was wrong before I left."

"It...it happens," says Emma. "How's Toby?"

She spies Kendra moving in her bed, putting a pillow against her ear.

"Hanging in there, but it's something I can't talk about over the phone," sighs Manny.

"I can't talk long, Manny," whispers Emma.

"That sucks," sighs Manny. "Well, what's going on now? Are you okay? Spin's probably taking good care of you."

Holding the picture against her chest, Snake and Spike smiling so pleasantly, she takes a seat on her bed.

"Yeah," says Emma, wiping a tear with her pinkie. "Everything's good. I'm really happy."

II.

"Look what I got you for five bucks," says Craig.

Ashley raises her eyelids and mumbles incoherently. At least, she looks totally aware this afternoon, despite not sounding like it. Ashley apparently admits defeat and shrugs, her face against the mattress. The mattresses in Aja's home are nice and she was letting Ashley stay in the master bedroom. For some reason, Aja said she couldn't stay in there long. Craig couldn't figure out why. Alright, the colors in the room are a tad somber, what with the red velvet chairs, black and white curtains, and the burgundy bedspread. It is a mix of Gothic and retro, but he liked it. He could picture rock musicians of the sixties coming in here and laying on the bed to get into a dark mindset. Ashley appeared somewhat confused at the decorating, though she was too tired to debate and settled in for a nap.

The nap lasted a couple hours, which wasn't a problem since they weren't performing today. He doesn't think sleeping the day away will make her feel better, however. That's why he encouraged her to leave the hotel. Simply being in that environment would drag her mood down further, and his mood too. Besides, she wouldn't be near a mini-bar or room service or...he hopes his intentions weren't too obvious. When he tossed the remnants of the bottles into a trash bin, he heard a loud clink and it took him a few minutes to return to her. Clearly reading Craig's bothered expression, Ashley agreed to go with him to Aja's. They haven't told Julian and frankly Craig didn't care. Julian wasn't with her last night, viewing her downward spiral.

Ashley touches the top of the snowglobe. Her fingers cover the words he wanted to show her.

"There," says Craig, setting it next to her head.

Ashley chuckles. "Liverpool."

"Yep," says Craig. "There's a souvenir shop two blocks from here. I bought something for Ang and Joey."

"Um," says Ashley, delicately. "My dad already got me one of these."

"Huh?" cries Craig.

"He's a journalist and he travels a lot," sighs Ashley. "I like this better, though, because it shows you're not mad at me."

Her last statement is hopeful and searching. He's not so much mad as confused. He's confused by the amount of drinking and about the reasons for drinking. Craig clears his throat.

"They have a walking tour we could go to after your tour," shares Craig. "I was thinking we could go, see all the Beatles' stomping grounds."

"Why are you doing this for me?" asks Ashley.

Craig sighs and brings the blanket closer to her shoulders.

"I don't think this is the tour either of us had in mind," says Craig.

"Yeah," breathes Ashley.

She shakes the snowglobe, and their eyes follow the foil as it falls to the bottom. It sweeps across the letters and weaves around the miniscule buildings.

"Ash, I'm just trying to figure you out," says Craig.

"Craig, do you ever wish you could start over?" says Ashley.

"Sometimes," says Craig. "When my dad was alive, particularly."

"Know why I like these?" says Ashley, revolving the snowglobe. "Cause you can turn them upside down, the world upside down, and then turn it right back up again."

Ashley demonstrates with the globe and Craig nods.

"But everything around you is shaky in this world," continues Ashley. "Falling haphazardly. That's how I feel, like everything's shaky on this trip. Nothing is secure for me."

He lowers his head, his chin resting on his chest.

"Except you," says Ashley, Craig glancing at her.

There's little else to say. She told him constantly that he was her anchor in this maddening tour. But she had to know that he didn't mind it. What he minds is the drinking and the things that have come with it.

"You said you thought that your mother would be proud of you during graduation," says Ashley. "Well, I know that my mom would be proud of how you handled her shaken daughter. She'd be pretty impressed."

Craig can't be mad with her after that. He rests a hand firmly on her neck and puts his mouth against hers. Their lips move until they hear a set of clomping boots coming to the door.

"Aye, you're up!" says Aja excitedly, then realizing what they're doing. "Oh, no!"

The two of them separate, laughing.

"Hey, Aja," says Ashley. "What can we do for you?"

"It's what I can do for you, love," replies Aja. "We gotta get you ready to go to Ascension!"

"Ascension?" say Craig and Ashley at the same time.

"The hottest dance club in Croydon," says Aja.

"Why?" asks Ashley.

"Cause that blighter from Arista's going to be there," replies Aja. "That's what Mark said when he called me."

A club? That sounds like the last place Ashley should be going. There'd be temptation to drink at every turn and it'd be crowded so there's no guarantee that he could intercede if Ashley succumbed to that temptation. They should bag it, not go.

"This room gives me the heebie jeebies," mutters Aja, walking out of the room.

Craig starts to follow her until he's pulled to the side by Ashley. She seems more taken with the prospect than he is.

"Liam's still interested?" cries Ashley. "After that elevator music performance?"

"Ash, there was nothing wrong with that performance," says Craig.

"To him, there was, but...but that's okay!" sighs Ashley. "We'll go, schmooze, and maybe you can show him the song you wrote. Ascension. Even the name sounds promising."

Her statements come out in a rush, Ashley clearly no longer tired. She's prompting to wear him out with all her excitement. Flipping open her suitcase, she starts going through her clothes. Craig stoops down with her.

"This might not be the best idea, Ash," says Craig.

"Yeah, this skirt is more Stepford Wife than Steppenwolf," says Ashley, rolling her eyes. "Can I borrow your leather jacket? That's rock n' roll-ish, right?"

"No, Ash, I don't mean the clothes," sighs Craig.

"Craig, _this_ could potentially be a new start," insists Ashley.

So maybe if she does get this new start, she won't drink. She won't have her world falling apart.

"Do we have to meet him at a club?" says Craig.

"We'll talk and leave, okay?" suggests Ashley. "I..I won't drink. Then, you'll have me for the rest of the night."

He tries his best not to smile at that offer. Ashley sees it anyway and stands upright. He'd just have to keep an eye on her.

"I can deal with that," sighs Craig.

III.

The sand is gritty against her exposed calves, the legs of the bench touching her skin. None of the benches were spotless. One had an abandoned lime-green Frisbee. Another had two, wet, cast away T-shirts. A third had tattered, sand-covered sneakers. They were lucky to find just one with sand.

Emma glances at the sky, a spotless blue with two parasailers floating above the ocean, their purple and white parachutes streaming past her and Spinner sitting on the bench. They looked like large ants with colorful tails. It looked like fun, but she didn't have the guts. Actually, it's by sheer appreciation for her boyfriend that she has agreed to the activity they _are_ going to do.

"Let's see if you've been getting any practice in," says Spinner, spinning the wheels of his right skate.

"Define practice," murmurs Emma.

"Come on. At least once?" says Spinner, hopefully.

The answer would disappoint him greatly. She went on those couple of runs with Spinner, tried her best with the inline skating, and remained as uncoordinated as a tipsy Joey at her parents' wedding reception. This apparently took more than finding a rhythm. Emma sighs and begins to put on her kneepads.

"That answers my question," says Spinner. "Wrong way, Em."

Spinner's correct, of course. She turns the pad over.

"I'm officially embarrassed," moans Emma.

"Hey, we came to have fun today," says Spinner.

Rather than let her make any more mistakes, he bends to her legs and puts the pads on, Emma watching him wordlessly. The tips of his fingers were soft against her legs and he isn't rough at all. Emma smiles at his bent back, but puts on a straight face once he's done.

"My grandmother says you're not sleeping," shares Spinner, helping Emma rise to her feet.

She wobbles, her helmet-covered head going forward as he catches her.

"You're being very gallant today," compliments Emma.

"Is that French?" remarks Spinner. "But...back to the sleeping thing."

So Grandma Mason said something? Emma's certain that she told Spinner with the best intentions. Adults tend to worry about things like that, but two nights without sleep is not cause for alarm. There were those other nights in Toronto, yes. Those were weeks ago, though. Weeks.

"Maybe there's a pea under my bed," kids Emma. "Like in Hannah's..."

They look at each other and stay silent. It's the first time she's mentioned Hannah all day. Did the girl miss her, or hate her? Manny said she was doing okay. The "okay" was hesitant. That might just mean that she's washed her hands of me, thinks Emma. Hannah barely mentioned Edwina when Emma was her nanny. What's to stop her from barely mentioning Emma once a new nanny was hired?

"I'll get you a softer blanket," says Spinner. "Ready?"

"_I'll try_," sing-songs Emma.

"_That's fine by me_," returns Spinner.

"Are you mocking me?" laughs Emma. "Alright, fine. You know what? Let's do this."

"Sweet," says Spinner.

"Only...um, hold my hand?" pleads Emma.

Taking her hand, Spinner helps her up, Emma teetering back and forth until her back goes straight. The motion is somewhat of a relief, as it makes her body less tense. However, when she stretches her arms out, she has a twinge of pain near her neck. It's the same strange sort of ache that occured at the Y, but thankfully it only lasts a second. The ache disappears as she moves with Spinner. They slowly skate, the far away ocean seeming to roll beside them as the wheels of their skates whirr on the boardwalk. Emma goes past vendors selling sun visors; two teen girls getting henna tattooes; five kids arguing about who should use the foot faucet first.

"Bike!" exclaims Spinner, weaving a bit.

Sure enough, there is a tandem bicycle with a couple headed their way. Emma's heart drops and she releases Spinner's hand, flying to the left of the bike as Spinner goes to the right. She sails to a trashcan, and the surface of the can grazes her knee. The padding protects her skin, but that didn't mean it didn't sting. Emma grimaces and evaluates her knee as Spinner skates to her.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," groans Emma.

"Yeah," says Spinner, obviously disappointed. "Let's see how bad the damage is."

He removes the pad and holds her leg. The annoying pain isn't really felt anymore.

"I think the padding did its job," says Emma.

"My dad would always check, anyway," says Spinner. "You never know."

It's hard for her to imagine Spinner wounding himself while skating since he does it so well. Her brother Jack didn't skate, but he usually got himself in some kind of predicament every week. Snake would check for bruises too, while her mother fetched the first aid kit. They made a great team while calming her brother down. She wasn't a great daughter for not calling him. She did promise. Couldn't she call him without telling him she got fired?

"Hungry?" asked Spinner, Emma seeing that he's removed his skates.

"A little," admits Emma. "Anything that's not fried and that wasn't alive at some point?"

"You just described everything on the Dot menu," kids Spinner. "Uh, pizza?"

"Plain, please," says Emma.

Spinner gives her the thumbs up and starts down the boardwalk. She should probably stay where she is. Emma removes her skates and takes her phone out of her pocket. Snake doesn't pick up, however, his voicemail asking the caller to leave a message. How could he not answer? Wasn't he anticipating hearing from her? Okay, no, be calm, she tells herself. He might be at work or at a meeting. Snake has a habit of keeping his schedule full. She just thought she'd be part of it. Maybe once more?

"Hello?" says a vaguely familiar voice.

The voice is female and sort of controlled. Where has she heard it before?

"Hello, this is Emma," says Emma.

"Oh, Emma!" remarks the woman. "Oh, your father's in the washroom. We're in a conference with Ms. Kwan and Coach Armstrong. Let me leave the room."

Those two names were all she had to say. Emma would love to toss her cell into the ocean and hear Daphne Hatzilakos' voice get garbled as it sank to the bottom. What is she doing answering his phone?

"Why isn't he at the university?" cries Emma.

"I guess he took the day off," replies Ms. Hatzilakos. "We're reevaluating the school budget, and Michael and Archie were so helpful last year. So he volunteered to..."

"You're calling him Archie?" says Emma.

Ugh, the mere thought of them being in the same room makes her wish she slammed into the bike and went over the handlebars so she'd be unconscious and not have to hear it. That is where their nasty little affair started, while working together. Her calling him Archie is even worse, like it's personal.

"Emma, I really don't want to engage in a conversation like this," sighs Ms. Hatzilakos. "I'll tell him you called."

"He prefers Snake by the way," says Emma, clicking off.

She closes her eyes, and she can practically smell the perfume that hung in the air, when she went to the washroom the night of the premiere. Her father's hands were stroking the cheeks of another woman, his lips on the mouth of another woman. There was more hurt done to her than any bruise she could get while skating. He makes time for Hatzilakos, and not her? Emma kicks the trashcan and turns around.

"Pizza!" greets Spinner behind her.

"I'm not hungry," says Emma.

Emma tries to walk further, but Spinner gets in front of her, two slices of pizza on a single paper plate.

"What's wrong?" asks Spinner.

"Nothing!" cries Emma. "Something doesn't always have to be wrong with me. I'm just not hungry."

Watching Spinner's face fall, she's well aware she could've been nicer. Spinner did pay for the food and it's not like he had any idea about what was going on with her. She'd like to keep it that way, actually.

"I'm...I'm sorry. Let's...let's walk, okay?" stammers Emma.

"Alright," says Spinner in confusion. "Mind if I eat while we walk?"

"Eat away," encourages Emma.

If only she could make it that this situation wasn't eating away at her. That would fill her up quickly.

IV.

"Drinks are on me!" announces J.T., setting two milkshakes down. "Drinks are on me!'

Toby accepts it with a smile and then returns to typing numbers into a calculator.

"Hey!" says J.T. "The Degrassi budget isn't going to collapse in the next few minutes. Take a break."

J.T. snatches the calculator away from Toby and Toby is unsuccessful in trying to get it back. Maybe it's for the best. He wouldn't be so absorbed in something he can't change. Principal Hatzilakos called and alerted him that there is a problem with the funding, the problem being that the different clubs would be getting less than usual. Somehow, the information got leaked and had spread through the school, possibly via a summer school participant, possibly Chante. That's who told Clara. Of course, Clara, Darcy, Nate, and a few other club leaders came to his house and asked for him. The best he can do without all of the details is to refigure the budget and reassure them that they'd have some money.

Luckily, there are no club leaders at the Dot, J.T. confirming this when he called. That's also when J.T. confirmed that yes, Mr. Reyes told him that he would return to the station as P.J. J.T. When J.T. saw Toby, he hugged him so tight Toby thought he'd lose all of his circulation. It is nice to see his best friend so joyful, though. Somebody should have a non-dramatic summer.

"I'm already writing sketches," shares J.T., happily. "You're not mad I told Liberty first, are you?"

"No," assures Toby. "Officer Wheaton doesn't like me using my cell anyway."

"Because you might call Manny?" says J.T.

Toby grins widely and stirs the shake with his straw. J.T. gives him a puzzled smile.

"Fess up, Tobes," encourages J.T. "You've been smiling non-stop since you came in."

He's basically decided to keep the post office box secretive, only telling his father and Officer Wheaton because he felt like he had to tell them. Toby glances at Officer Wheaton, trying to eat his burrito neatly.

"What kind of sketches are you writing?" questions Toby.

""Ones where the kids tell their best friends everything," replies J.T., smirking.

Toby shakes his head and nods at the Dot's entrance.

"Liberty's here," notes Toby.

They watch Liberty struggle with the door and the folders in her hand momentarily, until Chris Sharpe opens it with ease. He also helps her divvy up the folders., setting half on her side of the table and half on his side. They take a seat.

"I should probably have Liberty look them over, for a writer's perspective," muses J.T. "Plus my grammar sucks."

"Computer takes care of that for me," admits Toby.

"She must be doing some type of debate thing now," guesses J.T.

If this is a debate thing, it sure looks weird. Liberty and Chris were leaning into each other, Liberty closing her eyes as Chris talks softly. Huh? J.T. apparently has a similar reaction, rising to get a closer look.

"What are they doing?" whispers J.T.

"Meditating?" says Toby.

Liberty opens her eyes and laughs.

"Meditation isn't funny," mumbles J.T. "I know funny."

"Hmmm, are you guys exclusive yet?" says Toby. "I thought you said you were going to talk to her."

"We are, but I've been so focused on the audition...," begins J.T.

Chris takes Liberty's hand while smiling.

"Wait a sec!" says J.T., scooting out of his chair and advancing to them.

Several diners turn to J.T., clearly so bored that they'd find this entertaining. Well, two of them, Danny and Derek, he can definitely tell are bored. Toby takes a deep breath. This could get pretty ugly, or most likely it's some misunderstanding. He...thinks.

"Don't you have some DJ groupies you can bother?" remarks J.T.

"What's up, J.T.?" greets Chris, letting go of Liberty's hand.

"J.T., we were visualizing the arguments of the opposition for our first mock debate," says Liberty. "Visualization is known to enhance performance."

"I do it in basketball!" calls out Derek.

"Why come your point average is so low then?" jokes Danny.

Derek hits Danny's leg with an empty water bottle.

"Since when did visualization mean holding your hand and whispering...what, sweet nothings?" says J.T.

"Or possible counterarguments," corrects Liberty, shaking her head. "I can't help it if rhetoric amuses me."

"I thought I amused you," sighs J.T., crossing his arms.

"I'm finding this sort of amusing," laughs Chris.

"Chris, not helping," says Liberty, tossing him a look.

"Hey, I just came to help her with the rebuttals," defends Chris.

"Well, why don't you butt out with your rebuttals!" exclaims J.T.

"Dude," says Chris, standing and patting J.T.'s back. "You need to chill. Later, Lib."

"Lib?" whispers J.T. to himself with disgust.

Chris shrugs and walks smoothly out of the Dot. Toby has to admit. He wouldn't mind walking like that.

"I'm not too fond of the nickname either," admits Liberty.

She matter-of-factly straightens her folders and stares at J.T.

"Since you've successfully gotten rid of my debate partner, I think you owe me an explanation," says Liberty.

"Uhhh," blanks J.T.

"J.T.! J.T.!" chant Danny and Derek, then whooping.

"Shut up, alright!" says J.T., looking at them.

"Make your argument and I'll counterargue if necessary," says Liberty, folding her hands together.

"Mmm, okay?" says J.T. "Number one, I sent you postcards and like...I don't write or keep a schedule well, not usually, so yeah. Point B, we've had a long break and umm, I think it's shown us how much we missed each other. And by association, I feel like I would be a better boyfriend than Chris. Or at least a funnier one."

The Dot customers laugh, including Toby, who, never mind the grammatical issues, enjoyed J.T.'s off-the-cuff speech. They clap earnestly for around thirty seconds and focus their eyes on Liberty.

"Your argument is valid and sweet," says Liberty, smiling. "I'm in agreement."

J.T. and Liberty hug to a chorus of "awww"s and two raspberries from Danny and Derek, who were clearly more interested in the skirmish between Chris and J.T. Toby can't begrudge his friend. J.T. was very faithful to her throughout the summer. But there's a small twist in his stomach when he sees them embrace, kiss, or talk without any trouble. Sending the letter was wonderful. He went into the post office and stared at the box that would carry his letter to Manny. During the writing of it, he went on and on, the words flowing more easily than he thought. He simply wrote as if he were talking to her, like it was normal. Whether he should overnight it or not wasn't a question. She had to hear something from him after discussing whether they should make plans or not. He didn't want her to wait so long when they left each other crying.

"Toby!" shouts someone from a distance.

Please don't let it be anybody with budget questions, thinks Toby. He's in luck. It's Matthew, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

He passes a smooching J.T. and Liberty, sits across from Toby.

"How's it going?" says Matthew.

"I'm hanging in there," says Toby. "You?"

"Stressed," admits Matthew. "This is the final week of sem."

"You're probably doing better than everyone else," guesses Toby.

"Ellie's giving me a run for my money," says Matthew. "That girl can word a sentence like no other. It's better to be with her than against her, I tell you that."

They both chuckle.

"But I'm pretty sure my project can be amazing...um, if you agree to do it," continues Matthew.

"Me?" cries Toby.

"Toby, I firmly believe you haven't gotten to tell your story yet," says Matthew.

"What...what story?" murmurs Toby, perfectly aware of where this is going.

"About you and Manny, you and Justin, you and your faith," lists Matthew in a rush. "Instead, you had to deal with people like Rachel Rhodes who has no trace of ethical reporting in her bones."

Did he hate interacting with Rachel Rhodes? Yes. Does he relish the idea of buddy journalists talking about the horrible events he's had to deal with? No. This may be his story, but it's not everyone else's to read. There has to be some degree of privacy. He glances at Officer Wheaton who is staring curiously at Matthew.

"Matthew, I like you, but...," begins Toby.

"That's why you should trust me," interrupts Matthew. "I won't do anything wrong because we're friends."

"This involves Manny too..."

"I'd respect her as well," insists Matthew. "Look, I've done my research. All you'd need to do is answer a few questions."

"Like now?" says Toby fearfully.

"Please," sighs Matthew, hesitantly unzipping his backpack.

Well, when he did speak in the synagogue, he somehow found what to say to the public. It's not like they don't know. What would Manny do? Wouldn't she be brave and encourage others not to fall victim to the thoughts of others? That's what she did in California for the other actress. He isn't clear on the particulars, but it's not like he needed them.

"I can stop this interview at any point?" says Toby.

"Swear," promises Matthew.

"Okay," says Toby.

Matthew eagerly retrieves his notebook and a pen, flipping the notebook to a blank page. He sets another smaller piece of paper with questions to the side. It isn't so bad. Toby can only see four questions.

"What would you tell another Jewish teenager or a teenager in general if they were going through the same thing?" asks Matthew.

Wow, start with the difficult question. However, it's sort of a question he's ready for. He wouldn't have been ready weeks ago. But the program and being with Manny's family and with the wall completed, he's ready.

"I'd tell him or her to have faith," says Toby. "Your family and friends will stand behind you. Those who matter most will be there at the end of it. There's light at the end of the tunnel, to use a common expression. That's what I'm clinging to, anyway."

Matthew nods and writes, his pen flying fast.

"How did your relationship with Manny evolve? Up to this point?" asks Matthew.

Toby sighs. What did he want, the happier things or the nitty gritty?

"We were friends in junior high and most of high school," answers Toby. "We became co-workers and got to know each other more, pretty much. Then, we went on a school-sponsored trip during the holidays and...I don't know. There was like this confusing spark. We kind of got lost in it. I definitely got lost in it."

"And you started dating around then?" says Matthew, smiling.

"Yeah," says Toby. "She...um, asked me out. Manny paid for my computer camp fees and I was pretty blown away."

He lowers his head so Matthew can't view his red cheeks, though Matthew is smirking as he turns a page to write Toby's last statement.

"You must like foreward women," remarks Matthew.

"Shut up," says Toby, repositioning his glasses.

Matthew laughs. "Alright. And this summer...what happened?"

"We grew up, I guess," says Toby.

Yes, that's how he can explain it best. They went from normal to doubtful to extreme to hopeful. He isn't sure how to otherwise describe it.

"We grew up and we're trying to figure it out," adds Toby.

"Last question," informs Matthew. "If Justin was here, what would you say?"

"Come on, Matt," says Toby, wearily.

"I just thought...," says Matthew, his voice dropping.

The other questions were about positive things, mainly Manny and also his fellow Jews. This? He'd be drudging up hateful thoughts he'd had about Justin in the past. Or would he? What Clara said during the program really stuck with him. He's tried to disregard it, to ultimately not care what shaped Justin's personality. But he's seen lonely, angry teenagers before. He's been lonely and when it came to this, he's very much been angry. Still, he's never gone into the ugly part of himself that Justin shows every time he's threatened him and Manny.

"If that'll be all," says Matthew, standing. "Thanks."

"Wait," says Toby.

Matthew slowly sits back down.

"I would tell Justin that he's hurt me and Manny, that these were horrible days, sometimes unbearable," says Toby. "But also, I realize that he was hurt too, and that maybe he wanted someone to share it. I just really wish it wasn't Manny or me that he chose. And nobody has to suffer. I'd like it to end and for him to stop. At the end of the day, I don't think it makes him feel any better. I know it doesn't. If it stops, that's when we'll all feel better, you know? I can't wait for that."

"You're turning into another Ellie on me, Toby," says Matthew with a warm smile.

"Huh?" says Toby.

"You always know just what to say."

V.

Spinner puts down his pack for a second to catch his breath. Emma wonders if she should take it up instead. She'd already burdened him with her poor attitude earlier. The skates were in there, plus a couple towels and their swimsuits. They didn't have a plan for the day so they sort of crammed everything in there. Emma reaches for the bag.

"No," breathes Spin. "I...got it. A little...winded. That's...it."

"We'll rest," says Emma.

"O...kay," says Spinner.

They grin at each other and drag the bag around the corner. A few feet away, they can hear pumping music and see a group of teenagers moving in the strangest ways. They're literally throwing themselves in the air, their legs and arms twisting in robotic motions to the rhythm. Then, one guy pounds his chest with his fists and throws his head forward, bobbing it repeatedly. It was almost hypnotizing. Emma steps a little bit closer.

"What are they doing?" asks Emma.

"Dancing?" says Spinner, shrugging.

The guy with the fists pauses and swings his whole body as if it were a rag being swirled above somebody's head. Another guy pauses the CD player, and they all clap whole-heartedly. Emma claps too, without really realizing it. Her hands freeze when five sets of eyes find her.

"Can we help you?" asks a girl with two long ponytails trailing to her waist.

She brushes the ponytails behind her. Emma clears her throat.

"This isn't a public show," says the girl.

"Ease up, Key," breathes the guy who just finished dancing. "They must've liked what they saw."

"Well, they're nobodies, aren't they?" huffs the girl.

"Exactly," says a girl in a wifebeater. "Last time I checked this wasn't _America's Best Dance Crew_. We're not dancing for people who don't matter."

The second girl reminds her of Alex, except for the fact that her hair is as blonde as Emma's.

"You're just mad 'cause she's a real blonde, Denise," laughs a guy near the CD player.

"Neecy," corrects the girl. "And this girl looks straight up busted."

"Excuse me?" says Spinner, stepping in front of Emma.

Busted? Emma's heard that word before, though she has no idea what it means. Spinner apparently does. Rather than be intimidated, Neecy walks to Spinner and gets in her face. Okay, definitely like Alex. She didn't want Spinner to have to deal with any more drama she created.

"Look, Neecy, is it?" says Emma. "We'll...we'll go."

"You don't have to be rude to her," says Spinner.

"It's not worth it, Spinner," insists Emma, taking his arm.

"Spinner!" cries out the guy next to the CD player.

The rest of the kids bust out into hysterical fits of laughter, none more than Neecy, clutching her sides. She looks at Spinner and laughs again.

"What, do you like spin records or something?" chuckles Neecy.

"No, I...I rap," says Spinner.

Emma and Spinner stare at each other cluelessly, Spinner snapping back into a confident look at Neecy. The rest of her friends are chuckling mercilessly.

"Since we entertained you, you entertain us," challenges Neecy. "Wise, give him a beat."

Wise, a guy with long black dredlocks, rubs his hands together and covers his mouth, beatboxing and rocking back and forth. Spinner a rapper? She knows he likes rap music, but a rapper? Isn't that more Jimmy's forte? Spinner awkwardly moves to the beat.

"_A homey is a player, and that is all_," raps Spinner. "_So why you have to go and kick his ball and chain_..."

"What?" cries Emma, then immediately covering her mouth.

"Bwahahaha!" cries the guy who spoke to them first.

Wise stops his beat-boxing to chuckle along.

"Me and Jimmy wrote it," explains Spinner.

"It's so chauvinist," says Emma, putting her hand on her hip. "Spin, really?"

"Yeah, Spin, _really_?" imitates Key, flipping her ponytails and rolling her eyes.

Emma tries to hide a smile. She takes a deep breath and faces Key.

"I didn't see you dancing, if you want to criticize," says Emma.

"I'm too good for anyone to criticize," insists Key. "And I know you're not talking, because you are not Julia Stiles in _Save the Last Dance_, okay?"

"Ohhhh!" call out her friends, Key high-fiving Neecy.

"Krumping, sweetie, but you wouldn't know anything about that," says Key.

"You guys are just being rude now," says the guy who did dance first.

He has the nicest smile out of the group and did sort of defend her earlier. Managing to work himself in between Key and Emma, he extends his hand to Emma and does a small bow.

"Rashad," he says, then pointing to his friends in turn. "Wise...Neecy...Key...and Ace is the guy by the CD player. We're krumpers. The other half of our group's down in L.A."

"We were in L.A.," says Emma.

"That's the spot," proclaims Rashad. "Man, we're doing auditions in a week. Tighten our skills and we'll be unstoppable."

"What's krumping?" asks Emma.

"Don't tell that girl anything," waves off Neecy.

"Stop being foul, Neecy," says Rashad. "She's cute."

Spinner frowns and has a puzzled look.

"I think dude is the boyfriend," points out Neecy.

"He's the boyfriend," says Emma.

"Awww," complains Rashad, throwing his arms up. "But krumping's a dance that started in L.A. It's like aggression. There's a purity to it. Total freedom."

"And you couldn't do it, sunshine," insists Key.

"Dude, Emma can _dance_," speaks up Spinner.

"Like you can rap?" says Key. "Heh."

"I...I can't," says Emma.

"Knew it," brags Key, then singing. "_Knew it_."

"Ace, flick the player on," commands Rashad. "I...I got a feeling about this one."

"I mean it," sighs Emma. "Just..."

"Ehhh ehhh ehhh," says Rashad, shaking his head.

He goes to her, positions her body in front of a smirking Key. Why did she clap? This could've all been avoided if she stayed out of their business. She wouldn't have to embarrass herself in front of people her age. It's not enough for her to carry around the stigma of her ravine experience at Degrassi.

"Emma, give me something you're angry about," encourages Rashad. "Anything."

The player releases the sound of thundering horns and an energetic drumbeat. Key starts shimmying to the beat, clearly trying to outdo Emma before she's even begun. Emma glances at Spinner, who smiles weakly at her.

Key does a similar movement to what Rashad did earlier, winding her whole body in a circle, her head as low as her waist as she bends. She is flexible and intimidating and good. Emma scratches her neck. There is one giant source of anger she can draw from if that's what it takes.

_I se you get low_

_And you got plenty more to show, (go)_

_Shake it like a pom pom,_

_Like a pom pom,_

_Shake it like a pom pom,_

_Like a pom pom, (go)_

_Like you tryna win a contest fa'sho,_

_Oh,_

_Show you how to shake it,_

_How the booty shakin',_

_Show you how to shake it,_

_See how the booty shakin'_

"My parents," mumbles Emma.

"What?" shouts Rashad.

"My parents!" yells Emma.

"Straight," agrees Rashad. "You know?"

"Straight," echo Neecy and Wise.

"I want you to just picture that, and let all the pent-up stuff you want to say to them jump around in your body, like you gotta explode," instructs Rashad.

"Yeah, little Miss Emma," says Key sarcastically. "Explode on us."

_See the booty shake,_

_Like an earthquake,_

_There is no escape,_

_When I shake it in your face,_

_Now don't you wanna tape my booty shakin' on your tape,_

_So show it to yours boys,_

_See the look on all they face_

Emma watches the intricate details of Key's dancing as if she were in Miss Prue's class again, learning demi-plies and pirouettes. That requires flexibility too. She had guts then, the tendency to impress whoever watched her. If she had the guts to insist that her parents work it out, to tell Snake that he's still hurting her, there wouldn't be this bubbling in her stomach and she wouldn't have a reason to tell Rashad. Emma lets her body go back, whirls her waist and stomps on the beat.

"Woah," notes Wise. "Somebody got some rhythm."

"Luck," waves off Key.

"Go on then, Key," says Rashad.

Key hunches her body as if she's in the driver's seat, swings her arm to the manic beats and glides with her feet. Her friends clap appreciatively.

"Okay, Emma, act like your parents are right in front of you," encourages Rashad. "Like you want to get up in their face."

_I move it to the left, move it to the right,_

_Double time, double time, iight,_

_Show 'em what they like,_

_Look at it, look at it,_

_Slow motion, freeze,_

_Stop for the camera,_

_Paparazzi wanna see,_

_Cheese_

Key and Snake are totally different complexions, but his features do come into sight. There's his red hair, his pale skin, the burst of freckles around his nose, his small ears. It's as if Snake is breathing and alive in California, and as if she's going to tell him that hanging out with Hatzilakos cost their family so much because he couldn't be faithful.

"Go Emma!" yells Rashad to the beat. "Go Emma!"

"Go Emma! Go Emma!" join in Spinner, Wise, and Ace.

She may not do it exactly like Rashad. Nevertheless, she throws her body upward, hands spread, legs parted, filling a joyful emptying of her mind, the sun against her nose. She swears she feels like she's flying for a second and her eyes grow misty only from the elation of crashing down and not caring.

"Yes!" shouts Rashad.

"Wooot!" yells Spinner, cupping his mouth with a fist. "Emma!"

"Wow," laughs Emma, fanning herself.

"What'd you think, Key?" asks Rashad. "Even you can't hate on that."

Key awkwardly plays with ponytails for a second, and moves her hips to the music.

_Hello, hey how you doin'?,_

_I shake it like this,_

_Let me see if you can do it,_

_Drop, drop, drop, drop, drop it on the one,_

_Shake, shake, shake, shake,_

_They face all stunned,_

_If you got it, got it, got it,_

_Move if kinda fast,_

_Boys all dance,_

_While they tryna make a pass_

She whistles and bumps Emma with her butt, Emma laughing.

"Come on," says Key. "If you can dance, then you can dance. Feel it."

"I can feel it," says Spinner, swinging his hips. "Oh yeah."

Wise, Ace, and Rashad are doing more fluid movements, Neecy trying to get Rashad's attention by doing what Emma just did. She smiles. It's nice to be out of competition mode and just have fun. The fun days weren't showing up as much as they used to. But with Spinner doing the robot, complete with beeps, she's willing to take what she can get.

"Girl, your boy needs some lessons," says Key. "And that's the truth."

VI.

"I can't believe you guys don't have Tex Mex in Canada," says Ace, as he and Key approach the bench.

After dancing, the loudest noise was the symphony playing in Emma's stomach. Rashad kindly invited her and Spinner to a "before dinner meal". The guy liked to eat a lot, which caused him and Spinner to bond. Emma agreed because it clearly made Spinner feel included. Rashad and Jimmy had a similar build. Perhaps Spinner was having a Jimmy movement vicariously through Rashad. Whatever it was, it was cute. Emma, meanwhile, was telling the others all about Canada. Neecy and Key wanted to know if she ever met Ryan Gosling or Rachel McAdams. Emma had to tell them no, sadly. Ace and Wise were more primed to hear about what Canada didn't have that they had in the States.

"It might be there," considers Emma. "I don't eat meat."

"I don't eat Leroy's greens," says Key.

"Don't knock these greens," says Rashad as he and Spinner walk to them with three plates between them.

"I had the black eyed peas, and ate them before we left," compliments Spinner.

"Got some soul food for you, Emma, that you gonna go tell your friends about," praises Rashad. "My brother's greens are dope."

"He makes dope, too," laughs Key.

"That was your ex-boyfriend, baby girl," return Rashad.

"Ya'll two should just date already," kids Wise. "You fight enough."

Key clicks her tongue as Neecy glares at her.

"Forgot the extra salt," notes Rashad.

"I'll get it," offers Spinner.

Rashad sets the plates on the table, Emma taking one for herself and Wise taking a second.

"What am I going to eat?" complains Rasahd. "The third is Spinner's."

"Get your bro to whip up more," shrugs Wise.

"I'll help you," says Emma. "I could use some water."

The two of them hop up and start down the boardwalk. With the sun setting over the ocean, the shadows of business and awnings graze the surface of the wooden planks. Neon lights start to brighten while more and more people walk by them. Three kids to their right aren't walking at all, dancing to a smooth jazzy song streaming from the radio. One boy stands in the center and does the Harlem shake. Emma remembers Manny doing it at the L.A. club not too long ago.

_Every now and then it invades my mind  
Some have missed a place through the hard times  
From the 9 to 5 or just a world they see  
But get your boogey shoes, there's a remedy_

I insist that you relax and let it go  
I insist that you believe it's gonna get better  
I insist you understand right now you can't do nothin' better  
So let it go

"Amateurs," says Rashad.

"Hey, I danced when I was small, too," says Emma.

"Oh, no wonder you learned so fast," remarks Rashad. "This is like second nature to you."

"I'm a good mimic," waves off Emma.

"You should keep doing it," insists Rashad. "I'd rather dance than do anything. You?"

"I don't really know yet," confesses Emma.

"You got time," says Rashad. "And about the parents thing? Mine are divorced too."

"Oh, mine aren't divorced," says Emma, which unfortunately is covered by the blasting radio.

"My dad couldn't keep it in his pants and they couldn't make it work," sighs Rashad.

_Everybody's out on the floor don't you know  
Can't do nothin better so let it go  
Set your troubles free  
Dance with me  
Loose control  
Let it go  
_

Emma touches her cheeks. They're warm in the cool beach breezes. Her back aches a bit or maybe that's from the dancing. Whatever it is, it's getting worse.

"Once a cheater always a cheater," says Rashad, frowning.

She stands still, her legs numb despite being free of padding and despite the movement she was able to throw her body into earlier. Her chest flutters, with no sound. Emma clutches the rail separating the beach from the boardwalk, her nails digging into the wood.

"There's my brother's restaurant," says Rashad.

"Go...go ahead," says Emma. "I'm going to make a call."

"Alright," says Rashad. "Meet you back here?"

Nodding, she watches him go and starts down the steps. She pauses at the last step and stares into the ocean. A phone call? She didn't have to make any phone call. Snake should be calling her or her mom. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Stupid Hatzilakos. She just couldn't butt out. It's not enough that she has to see her at school everyday. She has to call Snake during his day off and he comes running. Why? She doesn't have all the details, but who needs them. Who really needs them? Emma crouches to the sand, her heart feeling as though it will burst and explode past her ribcage. Her head meets the sand and it roughly coats her ear.

VII.

"Rashad!" greets Spinner.

Spinner jogs to him, packets of salt tucked safely in his hand. The businessmen on the boardwalk were sort of stingy with their salt. They asked him what he wanted to buy and he said nothing and they narrowed their eyes. He was sort of hoping they could mysteriously know he was a fellow servant in the food industry. No, instead they grumbled and sent him off. The man at the Greek restaurant was nice, though. He gave him some. Spinner could've kissed him after the trouble he had to deal with, or at least buy a gyro.

"You got salt," says Rashad.

"You got served," jokes Spinner.

"Uhhhh...," says Rashad.

"Not funny?" says Spinner. "Uh, okay. Like Emma said, I'm officially embarrassed."

"No prob, man," laughs Rashad. "Where's Emma anyway? It took my brother ten minutes to make more. A phone call to Canada doesn't take that long, does it?"

Emma hasn't been calling anyone, not to his knowledge. She was set on not talking to her mom, Mr. Simpson, or Manny. He better check. It's a bit out of the ordinary.

"Which way did she go?" asks Spinner.

"Near the steps," answers Rashad.

"Thanks," says Spinner.

He goes down the steps two at a time, his eyes cast toward the ocean. The water is a dark blue, its color deepening with the oncoming darkness. Seagulls fly above and squawk, an ugly noise that hurts his ears. Is Emma using her cell or a pay phone? Spinner grabs at his hair in frustration. The waves thunder, but he hears something more alarming than the gulls or the waves. He turns and peers through the shadows of the boardwalk. Blonde hair covers two thin legs, her body barely visible. Spinner hunches and sets his hands on her shoulders.

"Em," whispers Spinner. "Em, look at me."

She raises her head slightly, a piece of her hair sticking to her tear-stained cheek.

"Let me help you," says Spinner.

Emma raises her eyes to the people walking above them, the boards rattling.

She stares at him without flinching. "You can't."


	78. London Rain

**LXXVIII. London Rain (Nothing Heals Me Like You Do)**

_I'm coming, i'm coming home to you  
I'm Alive I'm a mess  
I can't wait to get home to you  
To get warm, warm and undressed_

_There've been changes beyond my dreams  
Everybody wants me to sing  
There've been changes beyond my grasp  
Things I'm sinking in_

_So keep me, keep me  
In your bed all day, all day  
Nothing heals me like you do  
Nothing heals me like you do_

_And when somebody knows you well  
Well there's no comfort like that  
And when somebody needs you  
Well there's no drug Iike that_

_So keep me, keep me  
In your bed all day, all day  
Nothing heals me like you do  
Keep me keep me  
In your bed all day, all day  
Nothing heals me like you do_

_And where l'm home, curled in your arms  
And I'm safe again  
I'll close my eyes and sleep, sleep  
To the sound of London Rain_

_So keep me, keep me  
In your bed all day, all day  
Nothing heals me like you do  
Keep me keep me  
In your bed all day, all day  
Nothing heals me like you do  
Nothing heals me like you do_

_Nothing falls like London Rain  
Nothing heals me like you do_

_Nothing falls like London Rain  
Nothing heals me like you do_

_Nothing falls like London Rain  
Nothing heals me like you do_

**London Rain is the property of Heather Nova and appears in the film _Murder by Numbers._**

**The Music Sounds Better With You is the property of Stardust.**

"Mission accomplished," says Ashley, opening the mailbox and putting in two glossy postcards.

They were fifty cents each, and held images she thought that they'd like. Ellie was receiving a picture of the _Daily Express_ newspaper building, a unique, futuristic structure Robert told her about. Meredith was receiving a photograph of the London Eye, a fanciful ferris wheel that is sure to boost her spirits. She's hated neglecting keeping in touch with them so much during the summer. Well, it's the thought that counts, no matter how late it is.

The dark clouds above make it seem later than nine o' clock. Lightning dotted the sky on the way to Ascension, but it stopped. The thunder sounds louder in London. It's probably because she's outside. The exterior to Ascension is way more understated than she expected. Aja informed her that most of the clubs were sort of hidden until you actually went down the steps and into the club. Ashley took her word for it because she doesn't see anything special just standing in front of it except for a line of excited young adults.

"Mark must already be in there," groans Aja, trying to peer over two tall men with hats on their heads.

"I'm more nervous about Liam being in there," whispers Ashley to Craig.

That's certainly what ran through her mind as she got dressed. Craig did let her borrow his leather jacket, which she paired with black boots, a denim skirt, and a white top with rhinestone designs on the front, the top coming courtesy of Aja. She left her hair straight and streaked. Ashley envied Craig's comfort. In a simple T-shirt and jeans, he acted as if they were out on any other night in the town.

"He wouldn't show if he wasn't interested," says Craig.

"Right," adds Aja. "I wouldn't drag you here for nothing."

They scoot ahead, the ordinary wooden door getting nearer. Ashley swallows a lump in her throat. She's good at convincing others that her talent should be taken seriously. How many times did she make suggestons to the Squatch that paid off, and didn't BB6 allow her music to be played across the airwaves? Just like Liam wouldn't have come if he didn't believe in her, she wouldn't have come if she didn't believe in herself.

"Oh, there's Julian!" shouts Aja.

Ashley barely spies Julian as he exits the door. His dark brown hair shines under the street lamps. He's not alone, however. Ashley's stomach starts to ache as Julian is immediately followed by Liam. She'd recognize that freckled face anywhere.

"Liam's leaving!" cries Ashley.

"That might not be a bad thing," says Aja, calmly. "Maybe they got together for some meeting."

"About me?" wonders Ashley aloud.

"I can go flag him down," suggests Craig.

"No, that's not very professional," sighs Ashley.

"Forget professional," dismisses Aja, then yelling. "Julian! Julian, over here!"

While Liam keeps walking, Julian stops dead in his tracks and walks to them with a smile. Alright, a smile is what she'd rather see right now.

"Surprised to see you lot here," says Julian.

"Mark told us," shares Aja.

"Well, I'll let Mark tell you the good news," says Julian, nodding at Ashley. "Have fun tonight, you guys. But you're performing tomorrow, so...."

He gives Ashley a pointed stare, which she doesn't mind taking. Good news? Julian spoke directly to her. Julian leaves them to climb into a cab, where Liam is waiting. Aja squeals and claps her hands.

"I want to hear it first!" cries Aja.

"No, I want to hear it first," says Craig, grinning.

"Guys, don't you think I should hear it first?" says Ashley.

"Oh," say Craig and Aja simultaneously.

Ashley laughs and the line inches forward. She can hardly keep from rushing to the beginning of the line and running down the stairs. The good news _has _to be that Liam wants to sign her. Mark had used whatever pull he had and Julian was totally endorsing her last night. They would probably discuss the details with her at a later time. That's fine. She wouldn't have been able to focus on the legal issues tonight.

"This is epic, Ash," compliments Craig, putting an arm around her.

"You can always remember this night, July...well, I forget the day," says Aja.

"After you guys, I'll probably call my dad and Chris," says Ashley, smiling. "Oh, that reminds me. The first broadcast tape was free, but do you think Julian would let us get the other broadcast for free. The one that aired with me and Craig?"

"There wasn't a broadcast with you and Craig," replies Aja, scratching her brow.

"Yeah, there was," insists Ashley.

"Oh, when we played in Piccadilly?" guesses Craig.

"Right,' says Ashley. "I told Julian and that guy Gev to play that one instead of me and Mark at the Hammersmith."

Aja wrinkles her nose. "BBC aired you and Mark at the Hammersmith when you were in Canada. Not so mental I don't remember that."

Craig frowns and lets his arm drop. She doesn't blame him. What? She specifically said that they should run the performance with Craig. It was his best chance of getting exposure in this whole thing. Ugh, she should beat herself up for not knowing sooner. No wonder the crowd in Croydon went crazy for her and Mark, the girl in the red leather dress blubbering over her and Mark. All the signs were there and she was too naive to consider Julian doing what he wanted.

"Julian," says Ashley, rolling her eyes. "He..."

"He got you signed, Ash," interrupts Craig. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I should have some say about my image," says Ashley.

"We'll worry about that tomorrow," soothes Aja. "This is a night to recognize how hard you've worked."

Craig's hand cups her waist and he kisses her cheek. If Craig can forgive Julian, then she can wait to hear Julian explain himself. Chances are she wouldn't accept it, though.

"Fine," mutters Ashley.

"Lemme text Mark's no good self," kids Aja, opening her cell.

"The music is what matters most, anyway," assures Craig. "You're going to make an album that's really you."

"An album," says Ashley, smiling. "Thirteen songs...by me...that people would actually pay for."

"You thanking me in the liner notes is better than any broadcast," says Craig. "Alright?"

"Alright," says Ashley, hugging him as they're steps away from the door.

II.

"I guess Emma must be alright," sighs Manny. "Told her to call me if she needed me."

Manny slumps over the piano, her elbows touching the smooth black surface. Her elbows are on the only empty space of the piano. The rest of the cover is littered with sheet music, from _South Pacific _to _A Chorus Line_, from _Gigi _to _Spring Awakening. _Colin, the closest thing she has to a musical theater authority, invited her to sit down with him and go over musical selections for her audition. They were practicing in the Majestic's auditorium since Eric Hegel agreed to do their auditions here. Colin was tickled that she was even considering it. Manny thinks it's because if he did get accepted, which is more likely than her getting accepted, he could bring up the fact that she auditioned when Lia got mad at him for auditioning. It makes more sense in the wording in her head than her saying it what with the similar words. Manny groans and stares at her fingernails.

"Tell me why I'm doing this again," says Manny.

"You'd know that better than me," says Colin. "I'm just glad you are doing it."

"The most I've ever sung onstage was as a tabby in the third grade play," shares Manny.

Colin chuckles. "Really?"

"This mean fourth grader called me Tabby Catos," recalls Manny.

"Clever," says Colin, moving his head from side to side.

"It loses its charm after three days," says Manny, sticking out her tongue.

"We need two songs for you," reminds Colin. "A ballad and an uptempo number."

"Thanks for agreeing to accompany me," says Manny.

"I'll be there, too," shrugs Colin. "I mean, I've been practicing for weeks, but if you do as well as you did during your first day monologue, you'll pass with flying colors."

Or I will fall flat on my face, moans Manny inwardly. While Camille, the best vocalist in their camp besides Colin, had declined, Manny knows that Jade is auditioning for Eric Hegel too. Her singing in the _Tempest_ was beautiful. You could tell her voice was trained. She probably would've known what song to sing, what key to sing it in, and how to perform it before Eric Hegel stopped talking to her. She might as well spare her vocal chords the trouble.

"Going to flop," says Manny.

"No, you are not," says Colin. "Don't get defeatist on me, Santos. You sang that final song in the _Tempest_."

"With the chorus!" remarks Manny.

"Musical theater is about the whole package," says Colin. "I mean, I love Jade, but you can act better than her any day of the week. I'd rather have an actor who can sing well than a singer who tries to act."

"But will Hegel?" asks Manny.

"Actually, I think so," answers Colin.

"He's very nice," says Manny. "It'd be good to have somebody like him guiding me through my first post-camp role."

"Helps that he looks like a grown-up Toby," says Colin with a short laugh. "Um....."

"He does not!" cries Manny, smiling a bit. "Okay, the glasses and maybe the hair. That's...that's it."

"Suuure, Tabby," says Colin.

Manny lightly punches him in the shoulder.

"How's he doing by the way?" questions Colin.

Except for Lia, who was up to speed thanks to Manny's note, nobody knew why she went home. Colleen had some idea, but she didn't know the extent of the police investigation. Manny resolved to tell her when she was physically in Toronto again. Lia must've told Colin that something was wrong. Out of the two, she's more willing to trust Colin. She may be forgiving Lia for her betrayal but she hasn't forgotten it. Colin, on the other hand, has been loyal to her since they met.

"Scooch," says Manny.

Colin slides down the piano bench to make room for her. Manny sits.

"Before we came out here this summer, this guy hated that Toby and I were a couple," divulges Manny. "He wasn't jealous or anything. It was the fact that we weren't the same race or religion. This group he belongs to has been bothering Toby ever since."

"Wow," whispers Colin. "Manny....Manny, I'm sorry about that."

"The police are involved," continues Manny. "Toby's basically under constant surveillance. And well, they're trying to hide me. I don't like it. I'd rather be with him."

"I can imagine," says Colin. "Well, maybe not because I've never been in love but... I mean like...wait, what do I mean?"

They look at each other and grin.

"Add that to the Pinecrest thing, and this hasn't been an easy few weeks for you," supposes Colin.

"It's overwhelming sometimes," admits Manny. "And...nice to have somebody to tell that to."

"Glad I'm the person then," says Colin.

Colin pulls Manny into a delicate hug and she blinks as she stares past his back. She's glad he's the person too. Of course, this won't help her do her audition, she realizes as she pulls away.

"You could...you could channel this into a song," offers Colin, hesitantly.

"But it's personal," says Manny, glancing at the wall to avoid his gaze.

"That's why it would work," explains Colin. "Look, Manny, when I sing, it's from my gut. There's stuff that wells up inside me and I need a release. You have to feel the lyrics and interpret them emotionally. Or else, you're screwed."

She can't fathom standing on a stage and releasing the emotions she's been harboring for so long. Half the time, she can't understand them. There's a little bit of everything and how can you wrap that up in a song under three minutes?

"I don't know if I'm ready for that," confesses Manny.

"Maybe you are, and you just don't know it," suggests Colin.

"This is...this is kind of deep," says Manny wearily. "Can't we do the uptempo song first?"

Colin releases a sigh. "We can. So what are you?"

"Filipino?" says Manny, arching her eyebrows.

"No," says Colin, chuckling. "Alto? Soprano?"

"Oh!" cries Manny. "Alto. I'm not some music buff, okay?"

"Just came to me!" cries Colin, heartily. "There's this song will be perfect for you."

"As long as I don't have to sing about mice? I'm cool," promises Manny.

III.

Revolving red, blue, and green lines criss-cross the room. Twentysomethings and teenagers are packed in tight, as frenetic beats thump in her ears. Ashley can see why this is the hottest club in Croydon. The music isn't terrible from a musician's point of view, albeit not a well-known musician's point of view. Well, at least not well-known yet. The DJ booth stands above all. A dark-skinned man in shades and a tight, black shirt controls the tunes, the grey metal of his headphones gleaming from there. The floor isn't at one set level, though. Every ten people, there was a raised space where people, particularly women, were dancing by themselves. It reminds her of those go-go dancers on those TV sketch programs her father used to show her. The Brits were still into the mod style so maybe that accounted for that innovation.

Aja is already on the floor. Ashley watches her working up a sweat from there, Craig by her side. They weren't exactly dance people. In fact, she has no plans on dancing. She has to find Mark, immediately.

"I'm debating whether I should leave you!" yells Ashley over the noise. "I don't want you to get buried in a sea of techno-loving bodies."

"Lead the way and I'll follow," suggests Craig.

"Here we go," says Ashley.

Ashley grabs his hand and moves through a few sections of people. The heat from the floor is already producing sweat on her neck. She can smell body odor, cologne, perfume, and beer. The scent of alcohol enters her nose as soon as she locates Mark. His glinting earrings confirm that it's him, talking loudly as he grips a champagne bottle in his hand.

"Mark!" greets Ashley.

"Ash, hey!" cries Mark, ushering into a hug.

She sees Craig frown from the corner of her eye and slinks out of the hug.

"Liam was here?" says Ashley.

"Was he?" teases Mark. "Nah, he was and...he's itching to sign us."

"Please tell me you're not kidding!" cries Ashley, placing her palm on her forehead in disbelief.

"I am _not_ kidding," guarantees Mark.

She screams, but the music's so loud she doubts anyone heard her besides Mark and Craig. Signed? She's going to be signed. This is what she's craved for more than ten years. She's pretty sure she's standing, but can't feel it. No, she feels like she's floating.

"Thought you were signed on another label," recalls Craig.

"There's nothing wrong with changing it up," says Mark. "Right, Ash?"

"This is Arista, Craig!" exclaims Ashley. "_Arista."_

"Exactly," says Mark, gesturing to Ashley.

"Why didn't Liam stick around?" questions Craig.

"He's a busy man," answers Mark. "Yet, not so busy that he's found the best unsigned talent on tour."

"Yeah, but he could at least tell Ashley himself," says Craig.

"Gee, Craig, would you like to give one of the best music execs in the biz the guide to proper decorum?" says Mark, smirking. "Relax."

Craig's lips begin to twist, and it's obvious he wants to say more. She hopes he doesn't as it would lead to another argument.

"Fine," says Craig.

"Don't worry, mate," says Mark, pounding Craig hard on the shoulder. "You'll get signed, too. Nothing wrong with being a late bloomer."

Ashley shoots him a sharp look. There's no need to rub it in.

"That time, I _was_ kidding," says Mark.

Craig isn't able to say anything else, Aja ushering her way to them. What a blessing in disguise. Ashley turns the attention on her.

"I'm going to be signed!" shares Ashley.

Aja thrusts a fist in the air and hugs Ashley, making them go in a circle. That causes Craig and Mark to smile so she's grateful for Aja's enthusiasm. Aja releases her. Craig tugs on the leather jacket gently.

"Mind if I tell Joey?" asks Craig.

"Yeah!" agrees Ashley. "After all, some of the first songs we wrote were in his garage."

"We'll dance in the mean time," affirms Aja, pushing Ashley forward.

"Be back in a few," says Craig.

As Craig disappears, Aja hops onto one of the raised platforms and urges Ashley to hop up as well. Ashley shakes her head and hugs herself. She isn't into strangers watching her shake it. Aja isn't the sole person goading her. Mark softly pushes her to the edge of the platform.

"No!" protests Ashley, laughing.

"Who wants to see new Arista artist Ashley Kerwin work the floor?" yells Aja loudly.

Most of the crowd turns to her and cheers. Then, they went back to dancing. Okay, they were obviously more preoccupied with their own fun times. Ashley flicks her hair away from her eyes and gets on the platform. Mark whistles as she starts to dance a bit. It's pretty cramped. There isn't a lot of space to move. At the same time, it's exhiliarating. Here she is, only eighteen, signed and moments from cutting her first album. No night in London has been better. She finally notices Mark has vanished long enough to reach the D.J. booth. He's whispering something to the D.J.

"Ugh, he's asking for that song again," waves off Aja.

"What song?" says Ashley.

"Let's just say, Brits have a love-hate relationship with American techno," says Aja, wiggling her hips.

She jumps off, Ashley attempting to join her.

"Stay," commands Aja good-naturedly. "Bask in it!"

"I don't...," starts Ashley.

"Do what they do in movies, love!" yells Aja. "You got it!"

The movies? She did watch _Studio 54 _clips in a documentary. How lame. She can't come up with a more modern point of reference. Most of her dancing was done at concerts and school dances, and she wasn't center stage in those instances. Maybe she can copy Aja. She works her hips from side to side, flipping her hair back and forth.

_Oooooh baby_

_I feel right_

_The music sounds better with you_

_Love might_

_Bring us both together_

_I feel so good_

"Ashley, the tigress!" yells Aja.

Aja's yell entices more people to look her way. The people are smiling so she's guessing they like what they see. Ashley laughs, shrugs, continues to move. Mark has returned, inching himself onto the platform.

"Some party music!" shouts Mark, dancing alongside her. "I told DJ A.J. who you were, and he saw the broadcast."

The consistent drumbeat is pretty fun. The deep bass notes hum under the platform and go through her boots. What is truly hypnotizing is the difference between where she stands and where the other clubgoers stand. Would this be what it's like? To be on a stage, be enjoyed by many, be a well-regarded artist on a prestigious label?

"_Ooooh, baby_," sings Mark. "_The music sounds better with you..."_

He twirls Ashley in a circle, the crowd clapping to the rhythm.

"_Love might bring us back together_," sings Ashley. "_I feel so good, baby..."_

The song is telling the truth. She finally has what she's been seeking all summer. She has it.

_I feel right_

_The music sounds better with you_

_Love might_

_Bring us both together_

Once the song ends, the DJ gives the thumbs up and switches tunes. The crowd applauds them and Ashley does a small bow.

"That was fun," says Ashley.

"The club wanted us to celebrate," says Mark, shrugging. "Champagne. Thirsty?"

She hadn't seen the bottle while they were dancing. Now it's clear as day, the gold foil near the cap shiny under the flowing green light. Ashley hears a very loud rumble. It's the thunder from earlier. You can hear what's going on outside. What's going on inside her brain? She told Craig she wouldn't. He'd been so sweet to her that afternoon and this evening. Then, why isn't she saying no? No. It's a simple word.

"Ashley, this is top of the line stuff," says Mark. "They really wanted us to have it."

Ashley touches the bottle, cold and smooth. If people want her to celebrate, why not? It's no more sinister than dancing and she'd cut herself off. She's good at control.

"Let me guess," says Mark. "A sip?"

"Nope," says Ashley, grabbing it to wrest it open. "I want a glass."

IV.

The windows are all blinking. He hopes the power doesn't go out. Craig crouches under an awning, as he peers through the rain hitting the sidewalks, red double decker bus, and stop sign. He made it to a store near the club before the rain really started to pour. Ugh, he could curse himself for not checking the battery on his cell. The power has run out for him. He was so busy relieving Ashley's anxieties that he forgot to charge it, not that he minded. Things worked out for the best. When your sole problem is not being able to call your father with the amazing news, you should count yourself lucky.

He'd even take Mark's jabs at his lack of a contract, too. Although, he is secretly hoping that Ashley's album crushes Mark's in sales. Craig grins and puts his T-shirt over his head, jogging to the club's entrance. The bouncer recognizes him but looks for the under-18 stamp on his hand anyway. It is sort of embarrassing but he'd gladly join in the no-drinking policy if it meant Ashley would stay sober too. Unfortunately, the rain had brought in more people. He can't find Ashley or Mark or Aja. He's cornered into a wall, using his arm to get away from two burly men chatting up two girls.

The only choice he has to go around the room, inch by inch, until he's near Ashley. Too bad it takes a good ten minutes. What, did the entire population of Croydon decide to meet here if it rained? Craig sneezes, which causes two girls to part from their conversation and gaze at him in disgust. Not his fault he got caught in the rain. The last place they could be is an open door in the back. There's a couple making out but he carefully passes them.

"Ashley!" he calls.

"Over here, Manning!" calls Mark.

Bleh. He would rather hear Ashley. Or, in this instance, he would rather not see Ashley. She has a champagne bottle pressed to her chest, a glass dangling in her grasp. Aja and Ashley are seated near a stone step of a supply closet. Two flasks, probably Aja's, are near Ashley's ankles. Mark is awkwardly going to and fro, managing to rest his body on an abandoned amp.

He never should've left. Never. Craig shakes his head at Ashley, who just now notices him.

"Craig!" greets Ashley.

She races to stand, having to find her balance as she walks to him.

"Give me the bottle," sighs Craig.

"This...was a gift," says Ashley, stubbornly. "It's mine. Oh....and his."

"Yo," says Mark, then laughing.

Aja guffaws.

"Oh my gosh!" whispers Ashley.

"What?" says Craig, going to her.

"You are so hot!" says Ashley.

She takes him by the shoulders and kisses him clumsily, Craig getting out of her hold. Ashley giggles.

"I leave for twenty minutes and you're plastered!" cries Craig.

"No, I'd say...I'm halfway to plastered," provides Ashley. "You want to do shots with us?"

"Body shots if we're fortunate, mate," says Mark, holding up a glass in Craig's direction.

"No, I don't want to do shots with you!" says Craig. "You said no drinking! You lied to me!"

"Mark made me do it," says Ashley, biting her lip.

"Ha, that's a good one!" laughs Aja, hitting Mark's knee.

"Owww," groans Mark. "Stop it."

"Don't be mad, Craig," says Ashley, squeezing his cheek. "I seem to remember you had a thing for drunken shenanigans? Preferably videotaped?"

Ashley laughs loudly and hits her knees, the glass tumbling from her hand to shatter on the ground. Drunken shenanigans? The Manny thing.

"You really shouldn't try and be logical when you're wasted, Ash," sighs Craig. "Let's go home."

He reaches for her hand, which she pulls away.

"No, my friends are here," whines Ashley. "Mark, Aja, that guy that told me to watch where I was going. It's good times, man. Good times."

"I think that guy was in love with you," chimes in Mark.

"Good times that make you look idiotic," argues Craig.

"Well, if I've got guys falling in love with me, it can't be that idiotic," says Ashley, then hiccuping.

"I can't believe you lied to me again!" exclaims Craig. "What is this? The third time?"

"That's cause you keep pestering me," says Ashley.

"You drink too much!" says Craig.

She stares at Aja and Mark, who return incredulous looks. Alright. Maybe she's finally getting it. They can go to Aja's and he won't spend any more time fighting with her. This is what he thinks before they all bust out laughing.

"Go on then!" remarks Aja.

"They're right," agrees Ashley. "You...you are definitely overestimating...or overimagining...or..."

"Overexaggerating," supplies Mark.

"What he said," says Ashley. "If you were so worried, you would've said something before tonight."

"I did!" insists Craig.

"Okay," says Ashley, sniffling. "I must've blocked it out. Did I tell you that you're really, really hot earlier?"

"Ash!" cries Craig.

"But is he good in bed?" asks Aja.

"He...is...the...best!" champions Ashley, raising her hands to the roof.

"That....that is it," stammers Craig. "I...I have to get out of here."

"But I'm happy," sighs Ashley. "Your boyfriend is supposed to be around when you're really, really happy."

"You really like the word really," notes Mark, chuckling.

"Duh," says Ashley, smacking her brow. "Owww."

Craig hurriedly digs in his pockets for cab fare for her. He can't take this anymore. This isn't healthy, and it's far from happy. She drank. She lied. He has to go or he's going to lose it.

"Cab," says Craig, coldly. "And I don't want to be your boyfriend if this is how you're acting."

"Craig, come on," says Ashley. "We won't do body shots, alright?"

He turns around, walks away. The same sentence repeats in his mind, though. He shouldn't have left her. He shouldn't have left her.

V.

"I don't understand why we can't mail the puppy to Grandma's," whines the little girl ahead of Toby.

"That wouldn't be safe for Pepper," says her mother. "It's safer to drive him there."

"I don't wanna go to Grandma's," whines the girl.

"And why not?" says her mother.

"The candy she gives me sucks," replies the girl.

"You hush now," orders her mother, staring apologetically at Toby as she goes over to have a word with her daughter.

Toby resists smiling and tries to remain composed. This would be his first time asking about the post office box and he didn't want to seem young. This is kind of a big deal. Before this, he'd only get checks from Anne Marie, or letters with money from his relatives for his birthdays, and maybe a few other things in the mailbox. Today, he might be getting his first authentic letter from someone outside his family for his eyes only. Yes. That's cool and adult-ish. Okay, don't be too friendly, he directs himself.

The clerk sighs and taps a couple keys on the computer. He feels like sighing too since his computer is still gone. Jeff hasn't dropped any hints as to when it would be returned either.

"What?" says the clerk, glancing at Toby.

She looked about twenty and was significantly taller than him.

"Um, I need to know where P.O. Box 5115 is," says Toby, more brightly than he wanted.

"The numbers are on the box," says the clerk as she rolls her eyes.

"I thought you had to ask since it's new," says Toby. "I've never had one."

"Yay for you," dead-pans the clerk.

"Yeah, yay for me," says Toby, smiling to himself. "So if there's a letter...."

"Ugh, it's too late for this. Follow me," groans the clerk.

She points to the right and Toby follows her, viewing her body in the glass of the P.O. boxes. Please have something in it, begs Toby inwardly. He overnighted his letter just so there might be a small chance that Manny could mail a letter to him sooner. She may too busy. Mmm, probably too busy. Toby takes a deep breath and locates the gold numbers of 5115. Nothing. Toby's eyes fall to the floor. The clerk must've went back to the desk since there was nothing. He might as well thank her for going, though he won't thank her for her attitude, that's for sure.

"Better luck next time," sighs Toby when he's at the desk.

"Kid, you got something," sighs the clerk.

"Really?" cries Toby. "It's just you went by so fast..."

"I'm paid to be fast," interjects the clerk. "Benjamin, is it? I need some I.D."

I.D.? No, he doesn't have I.D. Wait, thinks Toby. He's got something better than I.D. He jogs to the door.

"Officer Wheaton," says Toby.

Formerly occuping himself with reading the various Canadian zipcodes on the sign outside, Officer Wheaton enters.

"Got something," says Toby, beaming.

"That's swell," says Officer Wheaton with a wide grin.

"Cool, a cop," remarks the clerk, nodding.

"I can vouch for Benjamin Satchel here," says Officer Wheaton.

He display his badge and the clerk enters some information into the computer. She surrenders the letter to Toby. Manny's handwriting, addressed to Benjamin Satchel. The clerk isn't the only girl who was fast with the mail.

"Wanna read it here," says Toby.

"Go ahead," says Officer Wheaton.

"Is he like a politician's kid or what?" asks the clerk as soon as Toby reaches a table in the office.

Toby would let Officer Wheaton try and explain why he needed a cop with him. He has something else on his mind. She actually came through, not that he wasn't hopeful. It's just very different when he's holding the proof. Toby gently opens it and reads.

_Dear Benjamin,_

_I am seriously kvelling (there's some Yiddish for ya!) that you found a way for us to be together. First of all, letters are never outdated or unwelcome, especially coming from you. In fact, letters are part of the best romances, which includes ours. That you are willing to do something you're unaccustomed to for me is so awesome. I had to check the spelling of unaccustomed. I got that right, and awesome right too! Maybe because we're both awesome. That must be it._

_My auditions aren't panning out the way I want, but I'm very hopeful for this project someone told me about. It's for musical theater, and for membership in the New York Arts Academy. Needless to say, I'm slightly nervous. While I like to sing, I'm not sure others will like it, you know? I've decided to try, though. Colin believes in me, and after your letter, I know you do. _

_I can't wait to come home and see your wall, since I didn't get to see the finished project. Just think, Tobes. People will be so moved by a symbol of your strength through all of that. You may not feel that you're worthy of it because I know you question yourself, but you are. Folks at Degrassi and beyond have always had fantastic things to say about you so your wall is no fluke. I firmly believe it was destined to be there._

_You went to church with my parents?! Consuella didn't corner you, did she? Did she ask you if you wanted babies? If she did, a thousand apologies! She asked J.J. that when he was fourteen and told his then-girlfriend that she had good child-bearing hips. I mean, how could you tell? He wanted to die! I bet my parents were happy you came, though. You're definitely a parent pleaser, Satchel._

_This may be too soon but I'd really like to see you on my birthday. It's a little over a month away. Is that...possible? That's right before school starts. Like you forgot. :P It's hard to write the pfffft sound. _

_What are you doing in T.O.? Those Council members better not be bothering you, especially Nate. He's my co-chair, but I'd take him down for you, alright? I hope you're having some amount of fun. You deserve it. _

_I hate to end this, but I want to mail this off today. Please be safe and happy and hopeful, Benji. I'm in love you and I miss you and I am counting down the days 'til August._

_Your Claudia,_

_Manny Manny fo Fanny_

Toby's eyes begin to tear up. This is her. Every word is her. It takes a huge amount of resolve to fold it up and place it in his pocket. Not hearing her voice in his mind any longer makes him feel so alone. But it's a piece of her, and it's enough to make the rest of this be a burden he'll gladly bare.

VI.

Ashley teeters on the heels of her boots, clutching awkwardly for the nearest support she can find. Her sight blurry, she views the fuzzy fixture of a railing. The sky is drizzling now and has ever since Craig left. That's when Aja had the great idea to go to the roof of Ascension. She threw Ashley some line about ascending to the highest point in the whole club. Mark told them to go ahead and started barfing in an empty paint bucket. Ashley eagerly trailed Aja. She wanted to get away, from the noise, from the fact that Craig ditched her.

The cold air crosses her cheeks. She sighs with relief. Her body was so hot from dancing, from drinking. The mist from the rain is so nice in comparison.

"Keep walking, Kerwin!" instructs Aja, draping her body on the railing.

"Okay!" calls Ashley.

She's nearly there, stumbling on the pavement, with the railing digging into her stomach. There's no ground. Is there? Ashley screams. Where are her feet? She can't see her feet.

"Wotcha!" yells Aja, pushing her back.

Ashley's head goes up and the street is hazy from above. She rights herself and sits next to the railing. Aja is slow to join her, the two of them dangling their feet over the edge of the roof.

"You saved me," says Ashley. "Thank you!"

"I got you, babe," says Aja, laughing.

Ashley giggles.

"No, for real," says Ashley, more seriously. "You have been my best friend this summer. Like through all my changes."

"What, like your hair?" says Aja.

"And the clothes and the songs," adds Ashley. "Aja, what if...what if we're soulmates?"

"That's deep," comments Aja.

"Like on my spiritual quest to find myself," breathes Ashley. "The old Ashley, the new Ashley, the newer Ashley."

"Oooh, I got something deep!" cries Aja. "What if the old Ashley is the real Ashley?"

"Yeah," breathes Ashley.

"We'd have to dye your hair back," says Aja.

"The old Ashley didn't get signed, though," points out Ashley. "Plus she was pretty pathetic. Or pretty and pathetic."

"That's depressing," remarks Aja.

"Good riddance to her!" yells Ashley at the top of her lungs.

Aja raises an imaginary glass and pretends to drink it. Ashley does the same and focuses on the looming dark clouds. Didn't she view those clouds before she went into the club? Those were good clouds. They came with good things for her.

"Craig likes the old Ashley," she sighs. "It's like...I'm in this box. This tiny of box of purity and artistry meshed together. If I step outside it, he's ticked. That box got me nowhere."

"Right," says Aja.

"Then, there's Mark, who wants to me to do stuff that I'm not with, like coke," shares Ashley. "He tries to sexify me and won't let me talk. That...got me nowhere."

"Boxes bite," affirms Aja.

"Boy-made boxes especially bite," adds Ashley.

It didn't help that Mark and Craig were squaring off against each other regarding her career. This is her life. Maybe those boxes were too snug and lacked air. She'd rather be in no box.

"Do you love Craig, though?" asks Aja.

"I love him," answers Ashley. "He puts up with so much of my mess but he's way too protective."

"Good...you don't want to be with Mark," insists Aja.

"Thought you guys were friends," says Ashley.

"Friends that act like we haven't slept together is more like it," moans Aja.

"What?" cries Ashley.

"He's a serial slut," laughs Aja. "I just happen to be his slut last summer. He told me I was going to be the next big thing, and he showed me his big thing."

"Jerk," mumbles Ashley. "Why be friends with him?"

Her newly ordained soulmate stays quiet. Was it something she said? Perhaps she shouldn't be so nosy. Aja obviously is uncomfortable with this, or else she wouldn't have waited weeks to spill the details.

"The room you're sleeping in?" says Aja.

"Yeah?" says Ashley.

"My dad almost died in there," says Aja, her face growing hard. "He took a bunch of pills, and Mark stayed with him until the ambulance came."

"Whoa," whispers Ashley.

"Nolan hates him, but I don't," continues Aja. "Sometimes you can't say no when the demons are chasing ya."

"The demons?" says Ashley.

"Yeah, we all got 'em," replies Aja.

Drops of water tap against her neck, Ashley quick to stand. The rain is becoming more steady and she doesn't relish the thought of gettiing soaked. She extends her hand to Aja, who doesn't take it. Aja simply lets each drop hit all over.

VII.

His fingers tremble as they reach for the phone. They are slippery, but determined. He's done everything he can think to do, and things he wishes he hadn't ignored or done by himself. There were signs he couldn't stream together because of some undying faith. Who can blame him? He hasn't been through this. No, he still blames himself. Maybe that's natural when you love the person.

That's what he did with his dad. It took him quite awhile to remember that he hadn't caused any of those hits. At the graveyard with Joey in May, he was sure he should've been with his mom to notice the first symptoms of her cancer. With his sister, he told himself that he could've been a better brother, could've told his father that he deserved to be a brother no matter who is mother married. Then, there was last year. He could barely look at his reflection sometimes. Who is this guy trashing hotel rooms and running off to shelters? Who's this guy that goes to group regularly? That's what I thought, recalls Craig. This isn't me.

This isn't Ashley. This is what he tells himself, as he dials the number. Rain runs on the panes of the glass phone booth. He hasn't used a glass phone booth since he attempted to call Ashley after her dad's wedding. His own dad answers.

"Hello?" says Joey.

"Joey, it's...it's me," says Craig.

Craig's eyes grow as misty as the glass. He cried when he couldn't connect with Ashley in the booth, craved to be free of his busy mind. Why couldn't his mind not be busy tonight?

"Joey," whimpers Craig.

"What's wrong, son?" asks Joey, softly.

"Everything's wrong," replies Craig tearfully. "Ashley...she's...I don't know what to do."


	79. Everything I Do

**LXXIX. Everything I Do (I Do It For You)**

_Look into my eyes - you will see  
What you mean to me  
Search your heart - search your soul  
And when you find me there you'll search no more_

_Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for  
You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for  
You know it's true  
Everything I do - I do it for you_

_Look into your heart - you will find  
There's nothin' there to hide  
Take me as I am - take my life  
I would give it all - I would sacrifice_

_Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for  
I can't help it - there's nothin' I want more  
You know it's true  
Everything I do - I do it for you_

_There's no love - like your love  
And no other - could give more love  
There's nowhere - unless you're there  
All the time - all the way_

_Oh - you can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for  
I can't help it - there's nothin' I want more  
I would fight for you - I'd lie for you  
Walk the wire for you - yeah I'd die for you_

_You know it's true  
Everything I do - I do it for you_

**Everything I Do (I Do It For You) is the property of Bryan Adams and is featured in the film _Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves._**

"El, are you wearing my flip-flops?" questions Sean.

He laughs as he hears the bottom of the shoes slap against Ellie's heels. She is carrying a mug of hot water to the drawer and her hand goes in to search for a spoon. Ellie fails to look at him, busying herself with the utensils.

"It's hot out today," defends Ellie.

Sean can't argue. His mother used to have this expression-- "it's so hot outside, your crayons would melt." That's what they discovered when Tracker, who used to doodle everywhere when he was a kid, left his prize crayons out in the sun when they were on the beach. Those were fun days. Unfortunately, Sean was so young in those instances that he couldn't remember what else made up those days. He certainly remembers when things started getting rough for them. Were they as rough as they are now? Back then, he had the tendency to go looking for a fight or to lash out at people who had nothing to do with his parents' drinking problems. He'd rather do that than vocalize his feelings. But now, especially after hearing what Ty had gone through, his parents don't seem bad at all. They did help him through the shooting and encouraged his return to Toronto. Meanwhile, Ty's mother wouldn't believe the poor kid. Sean shakes his head.

"Ty should be back this afternoon," says Sean.

"Maybe I should go before then," says Ellie, shrugging.

"Why?" asks Sean.

"Cause...it's gonna get weird," replies Ellie. "Just...he'd start asking things or thinking things."

"I'm pretty sure he knows you're my girfriend," says Sean teasingly.

"Still...," says Ellie, her voice trailing off.

Ellie closes the drawer and sits across from Sean at the table. Sean raises his eyebrows and starts to sort through the mail. There were several envelopes that arrived during his absence.

"I thought you didn't care what people thought," says Sean with a smile.

"Well, I'm also very private," says Ellie.

"Not with me," kids Sean.

"I'm ignoring your innuendo and making coffee," says Ellie.

She goes about her task as Sean begins to open the envelopes. Ugh, bills. The numbers are all together jumbled in his mind as he reads each figure. There's the phone bill, the electricity bill, the water bill. They were due in August, the first month where he'd have no job and no source of income. While in Wasaga, he failed to ask anybody for money. He knows his parents would've given it to him, but he'd feel guilty taking it after he gave them bad news. Tracker needed the cash for his own living expenses. Plus, Tracker still had the part, which was already a huge weight on his shoulders. He'd have to come up with something...fast. Other garages had to be hiring by then. Maybe.

Then again, there is another option. He could sell his bike, the bike he'd worked to get at Hill's. Staring at it before he came in to meet Ellie, he looked it over. There was something less pure or less awe-inducing. He knew why. The bike was bought with dishonest cash even though it was sold with decent intentions, what with April wanting to settle down and everything. This bike was the huge weight on _his _shoulders.

"Don't forget your appointment to get your stitches out," reminds Ellie.

"I can eat regular food again," muses Sean.

"We should celebrate by getting whatever you want at the grocery store," says Ellie, returning to him with her coffee.

"My diet's going to be light either way, El," sighs Sean.

Ellie's gaze falls on the torn envelopes and she bites her lip. This is something he should've done in private. He didn't relish the idea of her seeing that he was struggling. She knows, of course, but she didn't have to see it.

"My treat," offers Ellie. "In fact, I have fifty bucks on me. Graduation present from my aunt in Fergus."

"I'm not taking your grad money," insists Sean. "Use it on books."

"Okay, I'll buy a book too, if it'll make you feel better," compromises Ellie. "Or a book for Ty."

"If Ty doesn't love you for that, I definitely do," says Sean, drawing her onto his lap.

"You offered me a roof," says Ellie, gesturing above. "It's the least I can do. You're _always _offering me a roof."

"You're cleaner than Jay, so it's really not that bad," says Sean.

Ellie laughs and smacks his knee.

II.

The blue half and the white half of her toothpaste barely squeaked out. She spent the last four minutes rolling the end of it until it covered most of the brand name. Her fingers ached from the pressure but she kept going. The far easier practice was letting Kendra go ahead of her. Since she'd been staring at the room for close to fifteen hours, she didn't mind an additional twenty minutes. Her legs were heavy anyway and she was cold when she left the bed.

She heard their whispers last night, Spinner and his mother behind the door. Spinner said, "she hasn't talked to me since". His mother said "maybe she will tomorrow." That's partly why she anchored herself to the bed. She doesn't owe them an explanation, or maybe she does? If they were kind to her, didn't they deserve an explanation? How can she tell them if she doesn't know why it started? She was on the boardwalk and there were these two little voices. They weren't childish voices, like Hannah's, or higher-pitched voices like Manny's. They were just very faint. Of course, they told her things that made her cry. She senses that's what their ultimate goal was, why they sought her more than anybody else on the beach. They saw an opportunity. _Give up_, one breathed. _Why do you think all of those bad things happened to you_? _He never cared_, insisted the other. _That's why you shouldn't have trusted him. There is nobody to trust._ As much as she wanted to yell at them to go away, they didn't because she was too exhausted to yell. She wouldn't know where to begin.

Any way you cut it, the truth would punch her right in the face afterwards. A cheater is a cheater is a cheater. Always a cheater, recalls Emma. She hated the less than sympathetic voices and she hated the thought of crying in public more. Emma located the darkest corner of the boardwalk shadows where they couldn't find her and where no one could find her. The voices left but she couldn't tell Spinner. What would he think of her? That she's crazy? Instead, she wouldn't talk to him on the drive to his grandmother's or eat the dinner Spinner scrounged up for her. She hopes it didn't come across as too rude.

Emma sets the toothpaste and her toothbrush on the back of the sink. She can't concentrate on what she's doing. Maybe a shower? Wouldn't it be nice to wash everything away?

Today, she has a better idea of where she could've begun and what she might've said to herself. She would've explained why she was hiding. It's mainly because when the fighting worsened, she searched for the darkest spot in her house and tried to block everything out.

_"I promised I would go!" shouted Snake, the timbre of his voice going through the den's walls._

_Emma's throat tightened as she rearranged the contents of the duffel bag she used for dance class. She listed the things she had to do before Tuesday's class in her mind: washing her leotard, printing the music for the piece she selected to perform for the showcase next month, and confirming that she'd be attending Manny's premiere with Spinner by calling Liberty, who was handling their group's tickets. It sounded like her father was confirming his attendance, too._

_"This isn't a school function!" cried Spike. "You don't think I'd like to see Manny's film? She's practically my second daughter. "_

_"Liz usually baby-sits," reminded Snake. "I assumed...."_

_"That's right, you assumed," pointed out Spike, then with sarcasm. "Just like me, Liz is actually happy to come running whenever you call."_

_"So Jack's not a priority?" shouted Snake._

_"Don't you dare twist my words!" cried Spike. _

_"Look, I didn't mean that," sighed Snake. "But the fact of the matter is, seats are limited and the faculty and students got first dibs. They made the movie at Degrassi so..."_

_"Manny's mother and father are going," pointed out Spike._

_"Manny probably cut a deal with Kevin Smith," said Snake. "Do you want my ticket or..."_

_"So you could hold that over me?" interrupted Spike._

_"Lately, you're the one holding stuff over me!" exclaimed Snake. "If I'm late, you remember it...three days later! If the car isn't full of gas, it's my fault!"_

_"Well, if you drove your bike other than on special occasions," said Spike. "I can't hitch a ride with Liz everyday. How practical is that bike, Snake?"_

_"We went over this weeks ago!" cried Snake._

_Emma stood up to turn off the light and crawl into the large plush chair next to a window. She caught the glint of the bike's handles from there. As far as she knew, her mother hadn't been on it, and in some show of solidarity, she didn't ride it or ask about it. Even Jack seemed disinterested with it, mainly because their mother frowned at it whenever they came to the driveway. It wasn't a good thing. You didn't have to be her age to become aware of that fact._

_"Sell it on Joey's lot," said Spike._

_"First, the bike," groaned Snake. "Then, Manny's premiere. Is it alright if I watch basketball, or is that too fun for you to handle?"_

_"And it's fun staying home, wondering where you are?" returned Spike._

_Hearing them fight wasn't fun. They would've realized this if they shut up. Emma took a book on digital design from the desk and opened it. This was how her dad used to have fun-- tinkering with fonts and software systems, making pixel art of the whole family, redoing the Degrassi logo. The last attempt spawned an idea. Degrassi would hold a logo contest with the winning student getting a new laptop and a taste of artistic glory. Even Toby thought it was a good idea and he was quick to say he'd enter. The efforts were very much Snake. She isn't sure when buying a motorcycle became a Snake thing._

_The door to the den clicked open and it creaked. His small yellow blanket tucked under his arm, Jack came into the room and shut the door. He must have travelled lightly because if their mother knew he was up, she would've immediately went to him and stayed with him until he fell asleep. It looked like they both couldn't get to sleep. Too bad. Emma was worn out from dance practice but she wanted to get things done and she didn't want to be tempted by her bed. She indicated for Jack to come to her._

_"My name said," recalled Jack, his small feet pattering to her. "Mommy mad?"_

_"She's not mad at you," assured Emma, settling him in her lap._

_"Mad at Manny?" said Jack._

_"No," said Emma, resisting the urge to laugh._

_"Mad at bike?" said Jack._

_"Yeah," said Emma wearily. "Mommy's mad at the bike. You're not sleepy?"_

_"Can't...loud," replied Jack, covering his ears._

_"Me too," said Emma, covering hers._

_They lowered their hands, with Jack tapping the cover of the book._

_"Read me," said Jack._

_"This isn't a book where you read. I mean, not like that," replied Emma._

_"Why you read in dark?" asked Jack._

_"Because it's quiet," answered Emma._

_Well, it was that, and she had gotten used to the routine of listening in on them. She didn't exactly read but she did listen. With the light out, they didn't have a clue that she listened either. Word was getting around that Snake and Principal Hotzilakos were getting chummy. At first, she didn't pay the rumors any mind. It was mostly boy talk, and she wagered it started in the locker room where that kind of talk usually starts. Spinner promised to report any really low comments and offered to take care of anyone who made them. Emma said no, to just let them have their stupid opinions because they weren't worth anything. She was ninety-five percent sure they were lies. But there was that pesky five percent. This was the longest block of days where her parents had fought. Would Snake find somewhere else to go, someone else to go to? Emma kissed the top of Jack's head._

_"Know what?" shouted Spike. "Go to the premiere. I'm so used to taking care of things around here, so why mess up the routine?"_

_"That's not true!" cried Snake._

_"It's not? Emma's basically the only person I can rely on," said Spike. "It's like when we weren't married , like it's us two girls. Your commitments are your job, your bike and..."_

_"And our son!" said Snake._

_"Our?" threw back Spike. "That would imply that you're spending time with him. You might as well live at Degrassi."_

_Jack pulled on Emma's shirt to get her to look at him._

_"Daddy live at Degrassi?" said Jack._

_He had been spending several evenings there during the past three weeks. Emma figured that it was because the school was preparing for Kevin Smith's arrival to screen the film. The cheerleaders were performing for him, the AV club had to tape everything, and the faculty took it upon themselves to set up his plane tickets and hotel accommodations. She knows the last detail is particularly true because Manny was at the same hotel, doing some press for the film. _

_"He still lives here with us," assured Emma. "Nobody's leaving. He loves us like we love him."_

_"Do you love me?" asked Jack._

_"Yes," said Emma. "Do you love me?"_

_"Have to go number two," indicated Jack._

_Emma laughed quietly and took his hand as she opened the door to the den. Jack scurried to the bathroom and shut the door. There was silence after he shut it. Snake's face appeared as he peeped out of her parents' bedroom. Emma let her eyes fall to the carpet. The carpet was picked out when Snake first moved in, once he and Spike agreed on a color scheme. She helped move the hall furniture to the den. Nobody probably knew how comforting it was to stare at the carpet at that exact moment except for her._

_"Em, I...I thought you...you were in the basement," stammered Snake._

_"Jack had to go to the bathroom," explained Emma, her eyes remaining down._

_"How...how was dance rehearsal?" asked Snake._

_"Good," replied Emma._

_"Your...your mom and I...both of us just had a really stessful day," said Snake._

_She glanced at him to see a strained smile cross his lips. Ugh, she detested that expression. He used it when he was handing out C and D papers, like a guilty grin that made you feel uncomfortable anyways. Did he have something to feel guilty about? _

_"I'll tuck Jack in," offered Emma._

_"I can," said Snake._

_"No...I can," said Emma, strongly._

_"Okay," said Snake. "Good....good night."_

_Emma failed to return it, hearing some very audible crying coming from her mother in the other room. That was when Snake's eyes met the carpet. His cheeks were the color of her first leotard that she discarded, a pink so pink that it hurt your eyes. When Jack came out of the bathroom, she led him to his room and shut the door before her father could say another word._

The robe she wears in front of Kendra's shower is pink. She borrowed it from her mother so she could have two robes handy. Packing for the trip was weird. Putting her mother's robe into a suitcase for a trip that her father paid for. Emma undoes the white belt of it and lets the soft fabric dangle from her waist. She turned on the shower, the spitting water hitting the sides and bottom of the stall. Condensation covers the glass windows and the odd trickle of water bounds from the bottom to the white slip she's wearing. Warm air rises to her cheeks and she closes her eyes. She almost feels weightless, her head growing hazy. It was like she was drifting in a dewy morning, or walking to an inviting dream.

To actually dream would be amazing. The lack of sleep for two days has made her muscles stiff and she'd like nothing better than to fall into the water. The rushing noise would drown everything out, would cover her in a cloud. No more voices, no more bad memories, no more dashed hopes. Emma steps inside. Her nightgown accepts the stream of water and the heat stretching from each corner. She sits as her whole body grows heavier. The water slides through her hair, along her skin, trailing down her as if she were a statue in a waterfall, welcoming the continual waves. The poster, she remembers. There is the poster of the waves she stared at when she couldn't sleep. She'll sleep now. She'll sleep.

III.

_Frankenstein, The Count of Monte Cristo, _and _The Prince_. They were all perfectly good volumes tossed by less than perfect people. Ellie could never understand why people parted with their books, especially when they're in top-notch shape. Most girls her age would find it hard to part with their clothes or their shoes, but not her. When she did let a book go, it was sort of like letting a friend go. They were there for her during good times and bad times. When her mother was far from sober, she'd go read her Edward Gorey, the book returning her to her childhood at a time when both her parents were home. If she felt like blocking everyone else out, she read _Bleak House _with Dickens helping her get caught up in his vivid story. When Sean went to Wasaga, she'd bury herself in leather-bound volumes of _Jane Eyre _and _Anna Karenina_, which were long enough to the point where she didn't have to think about him. Really, it's no wonder that she stumbled outside of the summer book fair near her old school.

What's more of a wonder is that Sean is actually digging through the books with her....happily. He didn't read often so she sort of relishes the image of him glancing at the summaries on the back of each book.

"This one has dragons," says Sean, holding a fantasy book with a ninety-nine cent price sticker.

"He likes adventure stuff, so okay," says Ellie.

Sean sets it in the carrying basket she holds and groans as he goes to her.

"What?" says Ellie.

"I hate seeing teachers over the summer," mumbles Sean. "Well...besides Simpson and Mr. Ehl, I mean."

Ellie follows his gaze and smiles pleasantly at Ms. Kwan, who has her own horde of books.

"Ms. Kwan is cool," whispers Ellie.

"It's still strange," says Sean. "When you see them on the street....it's like....it's like they have actual lives, you know? I feel like she's grading me all the time, wherever I come across her."

"Sean, you're going to see her this year, regardless," points out Ellie.

He blows a deep breath and provides a smile for Ms. Kwan as she spots them.

"Ellie! Sean!" greets Ms. Kwan. "How has your summer been?"

Boy, answering that question would last all day. Ellie shrugs.

"Busy," says Ellie.

"How is your seminar going?" says Ms. Kwan. "I'm so excited for you."

"So far, so good," replies Ellie. "Ummm, we're searching for books, for a thirteen-year old boy. Got any suggestions?"

"A thirteen-year old boy that likes to read?" says Ms. Kwan, jokingly. "Well, send him my way. I'd love a student like that."

Ellie attempts to hide a smile she didn't have to drudge up for the sake of her company. What if Ty could actually attend Degrassi? That would be amazing. Then, he wouldn't have to look for books or borrow them from Sean. They would be given to him for class. Ms. Kwan is already making selections and presenting them to Sean.

"_Red Badge of Courage_, _Ender's Game_, _Treasure Island_," lists Ms. Kwan, Sean dutifully accepting the copies.

"Thanks," says Sean.

"_Lord of the Flies_, of course," says Ms. Kwan. "Sean, you've read it."

"I still have it...somewhere," informs Sean.

By the tone of his voice, she can tell that while he had it, he hadn't read it. That was alright. She used to have a basketball, but she didn't go around playing with it. Some things were just understood.

"That should suffice," says Ms. Kwan, nodding with authority.

"We appreciate it," says Ellie.

Her former teacher leaves them to pay for her purchases.

"Sean, what if...what if we got Ty enrolled?" says Ellie softly.

"At Degrassi?" says Sean, his eyes widening.

"Don't you think he deserves to go to school?" continues Ellie. "I mean, he's doing high-level math and reading classics on his own. A really smart kid. He's not only book smart, either. He's...."

"Book smart and street smart," interjects Sean. "Kid's got a freakishly good memory and he's seen a lot of stuff go down."

"So why isn't he seeing the inside of a classroom?" asks Ellie.

Sighing, Sean glances at Ms. Kwan as she chats jovially with the cashier.

"He doesn't really have a home, Ellie," shares Sean.

"Ty must've run to Dale's from somewhere."

"It's complicated."

"How complicated?"

Sean isn't able to answer her question as her cellphone rings consistently. Ellie peers at the number. Great, it's someone at her home who is making things complicated. Ellie walks a few feet away from Sean and answers.

"Hello?" says Ellie.

"You really need to come home, Ellie," says her mother.

"Are you going to interrogate me anymore?" moans Ellie.

"Your father and I want to go over the scholarship information with you," says Amanda. "Surely, you think that's important."

The aggravation in her mother's voice sends her hand to a familiar place, resting it on her brow that's beginning to ache.

"Of course," says Ellie despite a desire to disagree with her on anything.

"We'll come to Sean's and pick you up?" suggests Amanda.

That was probably best. She insisted on leaving the apartment once Sean was settled and Ty had come back. She didn't want Sean to protest so she told him this as Doctor Southworth removed his stitches. Maybe her mother would be silent too, what with her father accompanying her. College is apparently the great unifier. They all want her to do well. Besides, her head's hurting too much for her to make a huge fuss about it.

"Okay," says Ellie, clicking off.

Ellie fetches ten bucks and returns to Sean. They'd obtained a pretty decent starting library for Ty. It's too bad she wouldn't get to view his first reaction when he received them.

"My parents...are coming," informs Ellie nervously. "To your place. At least, they're not as intimidating as Ms. Kwan, right?"

Sean rubs his own forehead like he's sharing in her headache. "Only in your world, El."

IV.

She chooses each colored pencil with care. They are arranged from brightest to darkest. For some odd reason, it's surprising to view her drawing. Kendra hasn't done it in so long. Her bandaged hand sits on the arm of her wheelchair as the other one goes to work. His sister was never one to lie still.

Emma, by contrast, has yet to get up. He thought he heard some movement earlier, but it was his mother going from room to room to assist Kendra in her daily regimen. It took Kendra awhile to do everything she needed to do-- to wash up, brush her teeth, get dressed. Spinner would've been relieved if that were the reason that Emma had stayed in bed. But it wasn't, because it's now one in the afternoon, and she hasn't come out of the bedroom.

What could've possibly happened to change her mood so drastically? He was with her yesterday. After skating, they were having fun with Rashad and his friends. Then, with the dancing, Emma looked joyful. Truth be told, he doesn't recall her ever being that joyful. The tide changed. He went into the shadows not knowing what he was doing and left the boardwalk completely confused. She didn't say a word to anybody, not even to him as he guided her to Kendra's room. Emma didn't move when he switched comforters for her or plumped up the new pillows he brought to her. She was...blank. He couldn't read her expressions before or after he turned off the light. Perhaps he pushed her too much. She did need a place that was free, but maybe she needed a place to relax more. Maybe they did too much yesterday.

Spinner slides open the glass door and comes out onto the deck. Kendra dutifully sketches a body, Spinner identifying superhero-size muscles.

"When's the last time you drew?" asks Spinner.

"I don't remember," answers Kendra. "Maybe when Toby and I dated."

"Sore subject?" says Spinner cautiously.

"Nah," says Kendra, throwing him a quick look. "Did you know he got offered an internship at Disney?"

"Cool," says Spinner.

"That might've been the only place where I fit in this summer," sighs Kendra. "I didn't feel any pain at all when I was at those offices."

"What if that's your second coming?" poses Spinner.

"You mean, second calling?" says Kendra, raising an eyebrow.

"Whatever," says Spinner.

"What if it is," muses Kendra, more to herself.

"Not to...beat a dead horse?" says Spinner.

"Hey, you got that right," congratulates Kendra.

Spinner smiles. "Oh. Well, uh...did you notice anything different about Emma when you woke up? I asked you before but..."

"She's kind of shut down, but that was similar to last night when you guys came in," replies Kendra.

"I don't get it," admits Spinner. "She isn't sleeping, and she won't eat, and she was fine at the beach yesterday."

"Umm......," says Kendra, her voice thinning out.

"Dude, tell me," says Spinner, sitting opposite his sister.

Kendra rolls her eyes and puts her pencil on her sketchpad. It seems like whatever she's going to say, she doesn't want to say. But it's better than nothing.

"What if something's wrong, Spinner?" says Kendra, then tapping her head. "Like up here."

"Huh!" cries Spinner. "Em...Em's not crazy!"

"She's mentally checked out, Spin," insists Kendra.

"Emma's healthy," says Spinner. "I mean...."

"Her actions? So not," interrupts Kendra. "Aren't Simpson and her mom getting divorced?"

"No," replies Spinner. "And even if they were, Emma can handle it. She's practically run that house since the spring ."

"She might've cracked from the pressure," shrugs Kendra.

"That's why she came out here, where there is no pressure," counters Spinner.

"Or something out here tweaked something in her head," guesses Kendra. "I don't know. She talks to you more than she talks to me."

"The...the only conversation that was sort of weird was...she said she thought she deserved Rick pointing a gun at her," admits Spinner. "That she thinks her life is falling apart."

"That's not normal, Spin," sighs Kendra. "Neither is tuning all of us out."

Spinner leans back in the white deck chair and stares at the ocean as it thunders towards the sand. How could someone go from happy to sad so speedily? Unless they were always sad to begin with, thinks Spinner. To keep Manny at bay, to keep him at bay? Perhaps Kendra's theories aren't totally off base. Spinner hops up and heads to Kendra's bedroom. Now's as good a time to talk as any...if Emma's willing.

He's grateful to hear the shower running. Emma has left her bed and is actively going about her business. Should he wait? He'll yell to her and tell her that he'd like to talk. Spinner knocks on the white door of the bathroom.

"Em, you alright?" calls Spinner.

There's no answer, only the steady hum of the shower. He knocks again.

"I was thinking we could talk!" he shouts.

Silence meets his ears once more. Cautiously, he parts the door a hair. He'd hate to make her more uncomfortable by walking in on her without anything on her body. Spinner closes his eyes.

"Emma?" he says loudly.

He opens his eyes and sees a hint of pink. It's not skin that he views...it's fabric. There's tons of wet pink fabric. Spinner thrusts the door open and parts the curtain. Emma's eyes are frozen on the white tiles of the bathroom wall, her nightgown a soggy shroud against her bust and waist, the robe stretched and sticking to the floor. Emma's limbs shake when he first touches her. She's sitting there as if nothing else is happening. Her butt is on the drain and water is collecting around her ankles, her legs.

"Em," breathes Spinner, taking her arm and putting it around his back.

He's got to lift her, doing so as he reaches clumsily and turns the shower off. The last drips sound louder as he carries Emma to an area near the toilet. He rubs her wet, red cheeks repeatedly as he situates himself on the floor mat.

"Talk," begs Spinner as his lips shake. "You gotta talk, Em!"

Emma's wet nose meets the center of his shirt and he sees her shoulders heave. Good, she's moving. She's crying as her face dries.

"I'll...I'll take you to the hospital," says Spinner, nodding. "As soon as my mom comes home."

"Don't...don't take me anywhere," breathes Emma.

She shuts her eyes.

"Emma, I can't...I can't...let you be like this," says Spinner.

The words aren't said confidently, which may've been a mistake. He can't be forceful, because he's crying too. He shouldn't be crying, he scolds himself. He has to listen to her as she's finally talking to him.

"Don't take me anywhere," sobs Emma. "Spinner...please."

Spinner rocks her against him, the water of the robe trickling to his shirt and his shorts. Emma continues to shiver in his hold.

"What do you want me to do?" cries Spinner. "I can't do...I can't do nothing."

"Don't," repeats Emma, sobbing intensely.

"Okay...okay," breathes Spinner.

Water streams to the drain. Emma grasps his shirt tightly. The heat fills the room as if they're in the thick of a tropical storm, lost and drenched.

V.

"My decision is...peach parfait," selects Hannah.

"Good choice," says Lia.

The two of them stretch their legs, cottonballs in the middle of their soon-to-be designed digits. Manny flips through a magazine and circles a couple items.

"You sure you don't want a mani-pedi, Manny?" asks Lia, gloriously gesturing to her feet.

"In lieu of a birthday present?" kids Manny.

"My mani-pedis are hot commodities," brags Lia. "They'd be the best present you ever got."

"Yeah, I'll bet," says Manny, pursing her lips. "I can't believe my dad agreed to get me a vanity. If I could get an exact replica of yours..."

"Slide it this way and let me see," offers Lia.

"The things are so actress-y," says Manny, clasping her hands together. "I'm so pretending it's my first dressing room."

"One thing's for sure," says Lia. "You'll have a better bathroom down the hall. The typical theater bathroom is not glamorous."

If possible, Joseph is more excited about the prospect than she is, and it had to be his idea because of his construction background. Both her parents were chipping in, it seems, because Maria asked her what she had to have in the drawers of the new piece. With weeks away, it would probably be done in time for her birthday. Her mother did tell her that everyone went easy on Toby when he visited their church, the tap on the phone in full working order. That was good because she would've gotten the names of anyone who teased him, including J.J. Neither mentioned the post office box, though that was okay with her. She likes that it's only between her and Toby. Manny grins and stares at Hannah.

Lia starts to do Hannah's pinkie, the strong smell of the nail polish surrounding them.

"Do you think Mom would've liked this color?" questions Hannah.

"Definitely," assures Lia.

After the whole lightning bug incident, Hannah and Lia were getting along great. Hannah came up with more sensitive questions, sometimes running them by Manny first, and Lia was providing her with sweeter answers too. Maybe studying for the role her mother originated had made things easier for Lia because she was in a better mood these days. Then again, perhaps Kel's absence was contributing to that, too.

"So what's Toby getting you?" says Lia bluntly.

"You say anything that comes to your mind, don't you?" cries Manny.

"So do you on occasion," says Lia. "Don't lie."

"We never discussed it," replies Manny.

"Ugh, Santos, you're so green," groans Lia. "Here's what you do. You call up Anne Marie, drop some hints, she delivers them to Toby, and whala! He gives you what you want. I call it Operation Subtle."

"What's subtle?" asks Hannah.

"Something your big sis isn't," replies Manny.

"I'm trying to get you a good present here!" defends Lia.

The present wouldn't really matter. She's not sure she's going to be able to be with him on her birthday, which is what she truly craves. Sure, she put it in her letter but there's no guarantee.

"This is...going to be a really different birthday," sighs Manny.

Lia gives her a sympathetic smile. "Yeah."

"You should get a magician," speaks up Hannah.

Lia and Manny look at her, and laugh.

"I'm serious," says Hannah with a grin.

The living room phone rings, Manny standing since she's the sole person without cottonballs on her feet. Manny twirls the chord with her fingers as she holds the phone against her face.

"Andrews residence," she says.

"Manny?" says Spinner. "Oh...thank God! I...I..."

"Slow down, Spinner," says Manny, lowering her voice a hair.

"Man, Emma would kill me if she knew I was calling you," says Spinner, still talking fast. "But I...there's too much going on."

Why didn't Emma say anything when she called? She made it seem like everything was fine. Manny's heart goes as fast as Spinner's words. Is she sick? Did something happen at home?

"Does she need me?" says Manny.

"You gotta come, Manny," replies Spinner. "You just gotta come."

VI.

Sean dutifully holds the door open for her as they reach the apartment. They were both pretty armed. He has a new bag of medication from the doctor, and a grocery bag, while she carried a box of books and her bookbag. It wouldn't be a relief when she put the materials on the floor. No, the only relief will come when Sean is far away from her parents. Sean's sole worry was that the place wasn't clean enough. They didn't have much time before her parents showed either.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairwell, Ellie set the box on the first step.

"I need to work out," says Ellie, hitting the top of the box.

"I'll come down for it," offers Sean.

Ellie reaches for the box anyway.

"Nope," says Ellie. "I'll deal."

Propping the box up with her knee, she manages to hold it securely as they ascend. There's some light noise, which doesn't come from the box. There's a voice, but it's not Sean. That isn't unusual for an apartment building, though. Sean freezes. Or is it?

"Your door's open," whispers Ellie, staring upward after Sean does.

"Wait," says Sean.

"Somebody forgot to lock the door," teases Ellie. "You can't get on me anymore for that."

"I locked the door," says Sean, then shushing her.

Suddenly, there's a few thumps, one after one. Ellie's entire back tenses, the ache in her forehead returning.

"Ellie, go," whispers Sean.

"Sean!" whispers Ellie after him.

He goes cautiously up the stairs, apparently not hearing her. Is he being robbed? Who could be in there? Ellie's cheeks flush as she surmises a pretty good guess as to who it could be. She lowers the box and jogs after Sean, who is already in the doorway.

"Police!" says Jerry, taking Sean roughly by the arm. "We have a search warrant and it's in your best interest that you comply."

"Uhhh," moans Sean as Jerry lowers his head to the top of his couch.

Sean doesn't struggle, his body going limply over the couch as Jerry presses his face into it.

"Don't move!" orders Jerry as he puts handcuffs on Sean's hands.

"You're hurting him!" cries Ellie.

Ellie's mouth trembles as the female officer she remembers from the hospital comes in her direction.

"Young lady, against the wall where I can see you," says Dee. "This is official police business. We have sufficient cause to believe a stolen item is in Mr. Cameron's possession."

"Ellie," groans Sean.

His ribs must be killing him. Do they have to be so rough with him?

"He's injured," says Ellie softly to Dee.

"This is procedure, sweetie," says Dee. "Is he armed?"

Jerry pats Sean's waist and legs. "No."

"Ease up, then," says Dee.

The instructions are said more mechanically than compassionately. Nevertheless, Ellie releases a sigh. This is when she gets a really good look at the place. Chairs were overturned, drawers were on the floor, the closet was a mess. Tracker has the part, she consoles herself. It's not here. If it were, Sean would be taken before he could blink. Dee topples another drawer, the mouse of Sean's computer falling to the floor.

"We're coming up empty, Jer," sighs Dee.

"Where's the part, kid?" asks Jerry, shaking the handcuffs.

"I...I don't have anything," replies Sean, wincing.

"That's not what we were told!" says Jerry. "Get up."

Jerry doesn't allow Sean to stand by himself, instead forcing him to do it by yanking on the handcuffs.

"Stop it!" cries Ellie.

"Ellie?" calls a voice from the stairwell.

Ellie hugs herself. Her father, she thinks, closing her eyes. This is so much worse than she could've ever imagined. John and Amanda appear in a matter of seconds.

"Are you okay?" asks John, going to her.

She covers her face, but nods. Tears trickle between the spaces of her fingers. Her forehead throbs unmercifully. There's so much drumming going on behind her fingers.

"What is going on here?" exclaims Amanda.

"We were informed that Mr. Cameron is guilty of theft by a reliable source," provides Dee.

"What source?" questions John.

"I'm not at liberty to....," starts Dee.

"John, I want Ellie out of here!" interrupts Amanda. "My daughter...is not involved, officer."

Ellie lets her hands fall to view Sean. Thankfully, Jerry is undoing the handcuffs. Will they stop this now? It's horrible. It's horrible to have to watch Sean go through this, her parents arguing about it. And the drumming? The drumming is worst of all. Ellie grabs the leg of an overturned chair for support, taking in deep steady breaths.

"Ellie," says John, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Everything hurts. Her eyes, her nose, and her cheeks. The room's spinning. Is that chair next to hrt mother untouched, or is it fallen? She can't tell. She can't...Ellie falls. Things are more fuzzy on the floor. Amanda releases an anguished cry, stroking Ellie's hair.

"El!" says Sean, starting towards her.

"Get away from my daughter!" exclaims Amanda.

John nudges Sean to the side as he joins his wife and Ellie on the floor.

"Ma'am, I'll call an ambulance," says Jerry.

Or is it Dee? All she knows is that every part of the room is fading. It's fading fast.

"Ellie."

She hears Sean say her name in the distance, when things finally go black for her.


	80. Daddy's Girl

**LXXX. Daddy's Girl**

_Do not go gentle into that goodnight  
My daddy said as he turned off the light  
In the early morning on a night in June  
I ran down the hall and peaked into his room_

_Through the darkness I could see his head  
He was sippin a bud and smokin again  
I climbed up beside him on that rare chance  
And together we watched the streetlights dance_

_I wanna be daddy's girl when everything's all right  
Throw me in the air hold me tight  
When I grow up I'll be just like you  
Daddy's little girl who loves you too_

_One day I saw him from behind his door  
Standing on his bed as the crowd begged for more  
He and Frankie flying to the moon  
And I knew one day I'd have to learn that too_

_I wanna be Daddy's girl when everything's all right  
Throw me in the air hold me tight  
When I grow up I'll be just like you  
Daddy's little girl who loves you too_

_But in the light of day  
The dancing stops, the music it fades  
When he went away I didn't cry  
I didn't' even say goodbye_

_Like moths to a flame  
Where the bright lights burn  
I'm stamped with a brand  
Each generation's turn  
Now I raise my glass to no one in the night  
Raging against the dying of the light_

_I wanna be daddy's girl when everything's all right  
Throw me in the air hold me tight  
When I grow up I'll be just like you  
Daddy's little girl  
I wanna be daddy's little girl_

_Yes I'm daddy's little girl through and through_

**Daddy's Girl is the property of Lisa Harlow Stalk and appears in the film _The Baby-sitter's Club._**

**Here Comes the Flood is the property of Peter Gabriel.**

The wheels cease on the street before his destination. If everything was okay, he could focus on the buildings he's passing, the dark grey windows to the side and in back of him in the midnight hour. He would even notice how Londoners drive on the left side of the road, making him feel a bit lop-sided. But his mind's too full for that.

After a few minutes, Craig told Joey everything. He told him how Ashley's newfound sense of freedom was translating into drunken nights and how her low self-esteem lead her straight to the bottle. He shared every disappointment and every setback. While chronicling them, the summer seemed longer than it actually was, a stretched out season where little made sense. Joey, like usual, listened patiently and offered him the best advice he could muster: tell her parents. Kate was far away and he'd promised her that he'd be there for Ashley so the more appealing option was to go to Robert and Chris. Her mother would fly off the handle. Robert and Chris? They'd be discreet, worried, and more able to get through to Ashley immediately. He certainly wasn't getting through to her.

"Right, then," says the cabbie as they edge towards the apartment complex.

Going to them tonight was for the best, he believed. He couldn't wait another day. That's mostly what he's been doing, waiting for Ashley to realize that she can't live like this. So he'd discuss it with her folks and bring her the next day before the concert.

"Happy trails," says the cabbie cheerfully.

Happy for who? That's near impossible.

"Thanks," says Craig, handing the cabbie his fare.

Craig exits the cab and approaches the stoop. He side-steps when an older lady comes out with her trash, and a meowing cat in her hold. She smiles politely and he's grateful for the warmth. He's not sure how this is going to go, but he knows he needs to go. Craig enters the complex and climbs the stairs until he reaches the fourth floor. His heart jumps wildly for a moment after he knocks on Robert and Chris' door. However, the steady walk of someone behind the door sets his heart into motor drive again.

"Who is it?" asks Robert on the other end.

"Craig, Mr. Kerwin," replies Craig.

"Craig?" says Robert, his voice raising on the tail end of his name. "One moment."

Just be cool, thinks Craig. You can do this. Ashley's in trouble, and you can't afford to let her slip through the cracks by not sharing this with them.

"It's pretty late, Craig," says Robert as he opens the door.

Robert has on a shirt and tie, though the tie is loose and the shirt is unbuttoned. He must've just gotten in from a day at the office. Craig spies Chris wandering around the living room, straightening up magazines on a coffee table. He hopes they're not going out of their way for him.

"Well, it's pretty important, Mr. Kerwin," assures Craig.

"Come in. Sit," urges Robert.

"Hi, Chris," greets Craig.

"Hey," says Chris. "On the couch, if you'd like."

Craig takes a seat, wishing he had his leather jacket. It would be something, a little thing, that would make him more comfortable. The air conditioning is on full blast, chilly pockets of air flowing throughout the apartment. Robert sits in a chair across from Craig, and Chris leans against a desk. Craig rubs his hands together, centered on an activity that wouldn't let him speak until they spoke to him.

"We saw the other broadcast," informs Robert, grinning. "A standing ovation!"

"I preferred the interview," speaks up Chris. "But I prefer reading, anyhow. That's why I taped it in my cubicle."

"Whatever," waves off Robert. "The point is we're proud of her."

"How about we get Craig to ask her to text us more?" says Chris.

"Yes, a text doesn't take much time," agrees Robert, throwing Craig a pointed look.

"She...she _is_ busy," says Craig.

"I bought her a new chord for her keyboard, and tested it this afternoon," shares Chris.

"Craig can give it to her," assures Robert.

"Be back in a jiff," says Chris.

After leaving the room, Robert rests his arms on the arms of the chair, a steady gaze aimed at Craig. Would telling one person be easier? Sure, Chris is a part of their family, but Robert is her father and he is there. How do you deliver something like this? Where to start? Craig clears his throat. He'll have to start from the beginning.

"Mr. Kerwin...."

"Robert," interjects Robert. "I like to think I'm less formal than Kate."

Craig provides a light laugh, which elicits more confusion than humor from Robert. No, cut the friendliness and the stalling. He has to know.

"Ashley is...going through some things," says Craig.

"Like?" says Robert.

Lowering his eyes, Craig releases a deep breath. Say it at once, he pushes himself. Things can only improve if he's involved, right?

"Drinking...heavy drinking." replies Craig. "It's like it's tied to all her emotions. If she's sad, she drinks to feel better. If she's happy, she drinks while partying. I thought the problem would go away, but it's getting...it's bad."

He raises his head to meet a steely look from Robert. That's not the look he expected or wanted. He expects questions and compassion and maybe calls to Ashley to bring her home.

"My daughter doesn't have a problem," says Robert coolly.

"That's what I thought...at first," says Craig. "I mean, an eighteen-year old having a few beers isn't that surprising. I hate saying that it's not just that. She gets drunk...nearly everyday now. No matter the time of day. She uses booze to escape what's going on in her head. She consistently lies..."

"No," interrupts Robert. "It's...it's not in Ashley's make-up. She's staggeringly responsible, intelligent, passionate about where she's going. She didn't even drink at our wedding!"

"Mr. Kerwin...," begins Craig.

"Who are you to come in here, huh?" says Robert, standing. "But then it's usual for you to lie, right?"

"This isn't a lie!" cries Craig, standing as well.

"You've cheated on my daughter," cries Robert, counting it off on his fingers. " You took my daughter to a hotel during the rehearsal. And I'm supposed to believe you when you sully my daughter's reputation? You even ruined my wedding reception..."

"This isn't about me, alright?" insists Craig. "It's about Ashley."

"Exactly, Ashley. My daughter who would never compromise her character and well-being for partying," says Robert.

"Look, if we don't do something, things will get out of control!" cries Craig. "It'll only get worse. I was thinking we could double-team her..."

Robert shakes his head fervently and goes down the hall. Why is her father being so stubborn? Sure, Ashley's stubborn when she chooses to be, but you'd think he wouldn't take the risk. Craig's made mistakes, true, but this isn't a mistake. This is right. This is the truth.

"Chris...," says Robert, standing in the doorway of Ashley's room.

Peering behind him, Craig views Chris on the bedroom floor, throwing Robert short glances. Robert enters, allowing Craig room to scurry inside too. From this spot, he can make out that Chris is holding something long and angular in his hands. The keyboard chord is out of the outlet, the plug trailing under Ashley's bed. Apparently, not the only thing under her bed.

"Rob, remember that bottle of Merlot we asked Ashley to put away?" says Chris, flashing the label at Robert. "Uhhh...."

Robert blinks at the black and white label, the letters forming the brand. His eyes glaze over. It wasn't the way Craig wanted it to be made concrete, not in the least. Did she start drinking here, under her dad's roof? Robert's lips turn in every direction they can turn. He takes the bottle, pats it a couple times. Maybe he thought it'd be full, despite the lack of a cork. The bottle clinks soundly. It's the emptiest noise the man might've heard. Craig runs a hand through his hair.

"We gave her some that night," says Robert, softly. "I was stupid and gave her some that..."

"Rob," interjects Chris. "Neither of us could've known. One night isn't going to kill her. She..."

"It...might not be one night, Chris," says Robert.

Chris strokes his brow, while Robert sighs. Robert slowly turns to Craig. Craig nods encouragingly.

"What's going on with my daughter?" sighs Robert. "I...I want to hear all of it."

II.

"Mmmm," mutters Manny, as the car takes a jarring turn.

Her earrings clatter against the scrapbook's cover, her neck a bit tense. Why is it only now that she hates the idea of getting up at six in the morning? Oh, she realizes, as she sluggishly rises. Emma. Emma's worth getting up early. She rubs her eyes and stares at the back of the driver's head. His name was Preston and he was very quiet. By contrast, Lia was very loud when dismissing Manny's idea to take a bus to Santa Clara, and boosting the idea of a private car. Manny has the sense that while Lia was the originator of the idea, Kel was really paying for it. Lia lied and said that it was for her and Hannah when it actuality she was going to use her own car in L.A. as Manny headed to Santa Clara. Manny's uncertain if this is still the result of guilt for the role Lia took from her or because she was genuinely concerned for Emma.

However, Manny is completely certain that she's concerned for her. She and Spinner both agreed that they'd get nowhere talking on the phone about it. Besides, Spinner was watching Emma like a hawk based on his desperate call. Manny wishes she was that attentive. Did she miss the signs where Emma was in distress? The summer's been crazy and all, but she must've truly missed the mark when it came to this. Emma came across as in control, happy in some cases like during the ball and on the tourist bus trip. Or was she hiding it from her due to her commitment to Toby?

There was a second passenger with her as she raked her mind. Manny couldn't decipher Hannah's feelings when the little girl handed her Merlin, but the gesture in itself was sweet. Because of the nature of Emma's dismissal, Manny quickly decided not to deliver Merlin until the right time. Hannah told Manny that she whispered something to Merlin to give to Emma, which though cute, was kind of useless since the bear couldn't talk. Manny humored her and stuffed Merlin in her large purse next to the scrapbook.

Manny flipped open the scrapbook to the first page. There, securely, was the photograph Emma gave her when she received the scrapbook. The two of them smile as Manny's eyes grow teary. She was never going to replace that picture, no matter what Emma thought. She may be making a lot of friends, wonderful friends, but Emma was her sister, heart and soul. Obviously, there's something wrong with Emma's heart and soul and she'd do her best to fix it. She has to fix it.

"I believe this is the house," says Preston.

She looks out the window and catches Spinner's mother ducking into a car. Wow, she hasn't seen Ms. Mason since parent-teacher night at Degrassi almost three years ago. Manny used to see her a bunch because she was a regular at the gymnastic meets. She won't be able to greet her, it looks like, as Ms. Mason pulls out and drives down the road.

"Thank you," says Manny.

"Take as much time as you need," says Preston. "Ms. Andrews paid for the whole day."

Tucking the scrapbook under her arm, Manny gets out and approaches the house. It's a modest house, made more modest by just having left Lia's home. The house is nice, though, and you can view the beach beyond the driveways and post fences of other houses. Manny rings the doorbell. She's hoping with as much hope as she can not to immediately bump into Kendra. That'd be awkward, despite the note she wrote to Manny.

"You're here," breathes Spinner, quickly ushering her inside.

Sweat pours from Spinner's forehead, though he's wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt with tan shorts. His eyes are wide and his mouth is firm. To view Spinner not smiling is disconcerting. Sometimes the guy was smiling even when he wasn't having fun.

"Where is she?" asks Manny.

"On the deck," says Spinner.

Manny passes Spinner and enters a pretty living room with many plants, delicate china in the cabinets, and natural sunlight hitting the carpet and odd pieces of furniture. The sun is also hitting the top of the person she didn't want to bump into, though Kendra seems perfectly calm in Manny's presence.

"Hi," says Kendra.

That's it as Kendra goes about digging in her backpack. Manny waves, without words for the moment. It's strange to see her in a wheelchair. Still, she's moving her arms and legs so Manny guesses it's not for long. She's too worried to dwell on it, anyway.

Manny stares at the glass doors of the deck. Emma's back is entirely straight against the white chair, not relaxed in the slightest. Her blonde hair whips around her face as Emma's sight is directed towards the beach. She blinks, the only movement she does for a full minute. Manny faces Spinner.

"No sleep last night...that's three straight nights, Manny," whispers Spinner. "She's not eating. Two days without food."

"What?" whispers Manny, urgently. "You couldn't have called sooner?"

"She didn't want me to," says Spinner, weakly. "I should've....I guess."

"No," says Manny. "I understand. We...we've been kind of up and down this summer."

"It's not only you. She wouldn't talk to anybody, and now she won't...won't talk to me."

Spinner's mouth becomes less firm, shaking as he lets out a deep breath. Manny puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Yesterday was awful," continues Spinner. "I...I found her fully clothed in a shower, Manny. Completely blank face. I had to drag her out."

"Em," sighs Manny, her eyes returning to the window.

That would've been heart-breaking to witness. She'd, of course, do what Spinner did and remove her from the shower. The most important thing, however, is what they'll do now. Hospital, thinks Manny. She has to go to a hospital and get professional help.

"Let's take her to someone," says Manny.

"Like...like a shrink?" speaks up Kendra from behind.

"Somebody," shrugs Manny, glancing at her quickly and then Spinner.

"Our grandmother works at a hospital," shares Kendra. "Um, I'll be in my room."

Spinner pulls Manny aside once Kendra's left, blocking Emma from their view, if she ever were to look at them. Manny hugs herself.

"I couldn't convince her to go...not without you," says Spinner.

"I'll try, Spin, but...Em's a tough cookie," sighs Manny. "I'm...I'm not letting her go under, though. This is best for her."

They walk side by side to the glass door, their feet creating light groans from the living room floor. Emma must've heard the groans because that's when she notices them. Manny smiles gently and gives her a small wave. Emma stands, maintaining her perfect posture. Spinner reaches for the latch of the glass door. Emma's movement is too quick for him, though. She locks the door and stares hard at each of them.

"Emma, open up," instructs Spinner, his voice low and patient.

"We want to help you, babe," adds Manny.

"Why?" demands Emma.

"Yesterday...got us nervous," replies Spinner.

"And...and we know you've been stressed," adds Manny. "That something's wrong."

"I am _not_ crazy!" exclaims Emma.

She pulls at her hair and Manny can see the start of tears on her face in the clear glass.

"Nobody said you were," insists Manny. "We don't know what's going on so let's figure it out."

"Why is she here?" demands Emma, looking at Spinner and pointing to Manny.

Great, thinks Manny, lowering her eyes. It's like she doesn't care that I'm here. I care that I'm here, though.

"I called her," admits Spinner.

"Spinner," says Emma, shaking her head.

"I didn't know how to handle this alone," says Spinner, putting his hand on the door.

"You handled it by lying!" cries Emma. "There's nothing the matter with me."

Emma grabs her hair again, pacing on the wooden deck floor, momentarily letting her sight meet Spinner's and not Manny's. Manny concentrates on not crying. She can't be weak, not when Emma's weak.

"The doctors might...might agree with you," says Spinner. "You...you could be right."

"I...I...I am right," stammers Emma, putting a hand on her hip as she continues to pace.

"Exact...exactly," says Manny wearily.

This is one instance that Emma's wrong, though. Manny hates that she's wrong. Emma hasn't acted like this since they were kids playing in the sandbox, since they first met. Something's going on.

"Can you unlock the door then?" asks Spinner.

The question is delivered so tenderly that Emma seems to be considering it. She puts her hands together and sets them on her chin. Come on, pleads Manny inwardly. Come on.

"I want a nap," says Emma.

Manny sighs. That's more than reasonable. The bargain isn't a bad one.

"Then we'll go to the hospital?" says Spinner, smiling hopefully.

Emma answers by slowly going to the door and unlocking it. Spinner embraces her once the door is parted, Emma drying her tears with her fingers. Manny strokes her back and she willingly lets her own tears fall.

"Do you want me to go with you?" asks Manny.

Releasing Spinner, Emma walks by Manny and straight down the hall. That must be a no.

"She's...she's tired," consoles Spinner.

"Yeah, tired of me," whispers Manny, settling herself on the couch. "We haven't been that close lately."

"Why?" says Spinner.

"Boyfriend slash friend tension," sighs Manny. "Haven't been doing much of the balance thing."

"You and Toby are still in early dating territory," says Spinner. "Balance is tough. Sure Emma will cut you some slack."

"From your lips to God's ears," says Manny, shrugging.

"Dude, I thought it was...dog's ears," confesses Spinner.

Manny laughs.

"Why did we date again?" kids Manny.

"Shut up, man," says Spinner, smiling.

Rather than laugh, Manny is surprised to hear a door slam. Spinner and Manny exchange looks and walk to the foyer.

"Mom went to the grocery," says Spinner.

"Spinner, your mom already left...I saw her," says Manny.

Spinner races to Kendra's bedroom, Manny joining him and also not anticipating what she'll find in there. Kendra is sharpening a pencil and Emma is nowhere in sight.

"Where's...where's Emma?" asks Spinner.

"She grabbed half her stuff, threw it in a duffel bag, and left," says Kendra. "I thought you guys were going somewhere with her."

Manny smacks her forehead.

"Kendra!" cries Spinner.

"What? That's what I honestly thought," defends Kendra.

"I know, I know," says Spinner. "Sorry."

"Where could she have gone?" asks Manny.

"Not far, I think," sighs Spinner. "The...beach. You don't need a car to get to the beach. We'll...we'll start there!"

"Right behind you," says Manny, following Spinner out of the room.

III.

Sean touches his knees, hunching forward. That's the only way he can gather up enough oxygen to breathe and then release it. A light rattle breaks his thoughts. Amanda Nash collects two aspirin in her hand and swallows both of them. Her husband is playing with his wedding ring and staring at the wall across from them. Sean's not technically in the waiting room of Lincoln with them. How ironic that Ellie was in the waiting room when things got too bad for him.

He asks himself what he's done, but already knows the answer. Soon, the police would. He joined Dale's illegal ring. He took Ty under his wing, when he wasn't his legal guardian. He helped rob Hill's and stood there when Jay got shot. He hid the part in his brother's truck. This is all on him and he wouldn't be surprised if he was the cause of Ellie fainting either. As his cheek was buried into the couch, he saw how upset she was, how terrified she was for him. He's terrified for her. The doctor was checking on her after checking on a couple car accident patients so he and the Nashes had to suffer the wait.

The ambulance came speedily. They put Ellie on a stretcher, her red hair bunched against her neck, Sean unable to see her eyes as they had been closed ever since Ellie fell to the floor. Jerry undid the handcuffs but Sean had to ride in the cop car with them as the Nashes hopped in the back of the ambulance. Neither Nash addressed him or noticed him once they got to Lincoln. He didn't want them to. They could've seen the unshakable red face that went with his shame.

"You're free to go where you please, son," says Dee as she touches Sean's arm.

"Yeah?" says Sean, going upright again.

"You have to come in for questioning Monday," says Dee. "I'm not going to mince words. There's a lot going against you, but without concrete evidence, we can't hold you."

"Thanks," says Sean.

"I wouldn't thank anybody as long as you're still a suspect," says Dee, raising her eyebrows.

She takes off in another direction. Sean groans and stands by the door. While he may not be welcome with the Nashes, he wasn't going to miss hearing about Ellie's health. A conversation is audible as Sean presses his ear to the door.

"Mr. and Ms. Nash?" says an upbeat female voice.

The small part in the door allows Sean enough width that he can make out a young female doctor carrying a clipboard, her blonde hair bound up in a neat bun.

"Dr. Rickards," she says, shaking hands with Ellie's parents.

"Is...is she okay?" says Amanda, looping her arm through John's.

"Oh, she's very alert now," assures Dr. Rickards. "I saw no physical problems while examining Ellie, so that's good. Her age and her general good health maxes out a lot of possibilities so...take it easy."

John and Amanda smile at one another, and Sean smiles from behind the door.

"Um, usually when someone's this young, stress...can be a factor," continues Dr. Rickards. "Tell me, is Ellie dealing with any personal or work-related issues where she's pressured?"

"She's doing a seminar at the University of Toronto," offers John.

"John!" cries Amanda. "Really, let's cut to the chase."

"Ma'am?" encourages Dr. Rickards.

"Ellie is in a highly, _highly_ complicated relationship where she's stressed and her boyfriend does whatever he wants to do, no matter how much it hurts her or us," says Amanda, clearly.

It's so clear that Sean swears his ears ache from the sharpness of her words. Hearing Ellie is okay is fantastic news, yet that's deflated after her mother's words.

"Believe me, I've tried to make her see reason," assures Amanda. "But she's so sensitive and adamant..."

"Amanda, we can't put all of this on him without being aware of the extent of the problem," interrupts John.

"The problem is that the police were in his apartment searching for a part he probably stole," says Amanda. "Why should I give Sean the benefit of the doubt? She wasn't passing out when she was at home, was she?"

"And you attacking Sean isn't adding to the stress?" counters John.

"My daughter ditching someone who's unreliable would relieve the stress," says Amanda. "Simple as that."

"Mr. and Mrs. Nash," says Dr. Rickards, obviously seeking some calm. "It may be one thing, or it may be several things. Look, I'd like to keep Ellie overnight. There's a couple tests I'd like to do to rule out any other illnesses or conditions. I like to be one hundred percent thorough."

"We appreciate it, Dr. Rickards," says John.

"We do," adds Amanda.

Dr. Rickards goes into a side door, Amanda instantly talking once she's left.

"Sean isn't good for her," says Amanda. "There was a time I thought he was, but not anymore. I'm telling you, John."

"Amanda, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?" says John. "Though, honestly, to tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind if they took some time apart while this investigation is going on. I don't want her fainting again."

"Well," says Amanda, crossing her arms. "That's a start, John."

He's tempted to close the door completely and walk home. Her father, his one ally in their marriage, even wants her to stop seeing him. It's not like Ellie couldn't use the rest. Her seminar is almost done and he knows the final project counts for quite a bit in the class. He'd already drawn Jay out of a class because of this stressful situation. Ellie didn't need a repeat of that.

A nurse with a white hat walks by, adjusting her nametag.

"Excuse me," says Sean. "Can you tell Mr. and Mrs. Nash that I left? That Sean Cameron left?"

"Certainly," replies the nurse cheerfully.

Far from cheerful, Sean walks away from her. His steps are heavy, his heart the same.

IV.

The dark blue duffel bag lands with a thud on the dock. Gentle splashes hit the beams supporting the wooden planks, but further out, you can see the rise and fall of the ocean. The water almost seems like it's marching to an inaudible cadence. There are voices, though, that play in her ears. Emma glances to her left to view the two people involved in the conversation. They're shadowy in her blurry sight. She wonders if they're really there.

"Will you take me fishing tomorrow, Daddy?" asks a small girl, her high ponytail bobbing as much as the waves.

Wind ruffles her father's hair, an identical strawberry blonde. They were wringing wet towels after a day of swimming. She spent the majority of yesterday not swimming, spent it skating and dancing and listening. Why did she listen? What Hatzilakos said, what Rashad said were things she didn't want to listen to. She also didn't want to listen to Spinner or Manny. How could he go behind her back and get Manny to come out here? He didn't check with her. She knows he cares, but he didn't check. Now, it'd only be a matter of time before they locked her in some padded cell. She doesn't need a cell.

"Depends on the weather," replies the father. "I heard it's supposed to storm."

"I'm not scared of storms," says the daughter bravely.

"I know," says the father, kissing her forehead. "You're a tough gal with nerves of steel."

"Nerves of steel?" says the girl.

"Just means you've got courage," explains the father. "But sometimes, Daddy knows best."

His daughter nods and they throw their towels over their shoulders, passing Emma. Emma stares after them. She notes how their elbows almost touch, how they have similar thin noses. You could easily see him in her and her in him. It only took a second to recognize this. Emma sniffles and takes up the bag. She had to do this before dark. There was no way she'd spend another evening on this beach. If bad luck is following her, let it follow her somewhere else. It probably would. There's yet to be a year where her family hasn't gone through something collosally bad-- Snake's cancer, the shooting, Hatzilakos. What would be next? She's not waiting for whatever's next.

Emma reaches the end of the pier and bends to unzip the bag. Her fingers touch the wooden frames, the glassy windows, the edges of the faces of her mother, Snake, and Jack. Her skin grows hot as she feverishly removes each photograph. There. Every lasting piece of the evidence, of the Simpson-Nelson household would disappear, sink to the ocean floor. She won't have to look at it anymore-- the fake hugs, the stupid smiles, the sense of comfort they were supposed to give off as they did both. If she won't have to view these pictures any longer, that would be a start. The last picture she removes is of the wedding party. Joey and Caitlin had their arms linked; Manny and Emma were holding hands; Snake and Spike were in the center, with his arm wound around her waist. Well, two of those relationships haven't stuck and she and Manny were...well, what to make of her and Manny? Forget it. Forget the complications. Toss it.

"Emma!" shouts someone.

It almost sounds like an echo, with the water rustling, with nothing at rest. Why won't her mind let her rest? She's trying to find some peace and nothing she is doing is ridiculous. That's why she won't turn to Manny as the voice repeats her name.

"Go away!" yells Emma, collecting the photographs in her arms.

There's feet thundering behind her as she goes forward itself. The ocean glimmers as she gets closer to it. It's the most beautiful sight, a sight she never anticipated. Emma releases a deep breath. What if she kept walking? She could drop and feel the cool water embrace her, and she wouldn't have to hear anything or answer to anyone.

"Em, stop!" calls Spinner.

She doesn't, the planks firm under her shoes. It's almost like the pier is making it easier for her. Something grabs her by the waist though and Emma cries out. Spinner tries to move her backwards.

"What...what are you doing?" exclaims Spinner. "You don't see the end of that?"

"I'm...I'm trying to end it!" protests Emma, attempting to push his arms away.

"You're walking off the pier!" cries Manny. "How does that end anything?"

Emma reluctantly glances at Manny, hating that she's finally giving her some longer eye contact. What would Manny know about it?

"Nobody asked you to come here," says Emma.

"I'm here because I want to be here," insists Manny, tears at the edge of her eyes.

"No, you're not," says Emma, violently shaking her head. "You're here because for once, my life's way more messed up than yours. You want to lord it over me. Well, the difference is that you screwed up yours and I didn't screw up anything."

"That's...that's not true, Em," sobs Manny. "You're hurt so you're lashing out."

"You have your family, you have a boyfriend, and you have a job you care about," continues Emma. "I've lost two of those in six months. What am I missing?"

Manny bites her lip and stares at one of the posts lining the pier.

"What am I missing?" repeats Emma loudly.

"Nothing, okay?" cries Manny. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"I have nothing! Nobody!" says Emma.

"Look at us," says Manny, gesturing to Spinner. "We're nobody?"

"Yeah, you're ganging up on me, which is worse than having nobody," replies Emma.

"We...we only want to talk, Em," says Manny.

"You don't want to talk to me," asserts Emma. "You've...you've moved out already, right? That's why you went to T.O.?"

"I did move out, but there's a lot you don't know, Emma."

"And Toby helped?"

"There were circumstances that...." begins Manny.

"Why am I not surprised?" says Emma to herself. "You couldn't wait to leave, just like Snake! I can't trust either of you!"

"Emma," whispers Spinner gently. "You...you need to calm down. Manny's just trying to help."

"She hasn't been here to help," says Emma. "All of her time is devoted to Toby or Lia or at the rate we're going, I guess it'll be Chante next."

Manny slowly puts her hands on Emma's shoulders, which is not the reaction she was hoping for. Why aren't they going? They have to go so she can do this. Emma jerks, Manny managing to keep a firm grip on her as Spinner moves to the side.

"I'm not leaving, Emma," says Manny.

The unwavering tone in her voice, the kind look in her eyes, and the lack of movement in any part of her body causes Emma to lower her arms. The corners of the frames dig into the palm of her hands and the small characteristics of the people in the photographs start to stick out. There's the overabundance of freckles on the brim of Snake's nose; the blonde highlights in Spike's hair; the undone shoelaces on Jack's left bootie. Emma looks from post to post, wondering where she is and why she's stopped. Why are they making this so hard?

"You should've just let me walk," chokes out Emma, her lips quivering.

She tosses all the pictures on the planks, letting traces of her family fall, the sun on her back as she runs to the largest shadow she can find.

V.

Walking into the dark circle, it's almost as if she's being swallowed by the building. A simple brown sign announces her whereabouts: the Santa Clara Aquatic Experience. Judging by the 3-D glasses, the moms carefully guiding their children through the exhibit, and the swirling motions of the ceiling overhead, Manny could tell it was the middle of the show. At first, she considered her behavior disrespectful, but the actors weren't live and the usher appeared to be as into the swirling whale and dolphin images as the audience. The only live animals advertised was the tropical fish tank near the rear of the Experience.

It took a few stressful minutes to convince Spinner to stay outside. Truth be told, Emma would probably be more welcoming to him if they found her. The things Emma said pierced her so badly, bludgeoned her heart so brutally that she's still crying now. After scolding Toby for stretching himself too thin, she wonders if she should've done it herself. It may've tired her out, but Emma wouldn't have been so upset. But before Spinner let her go, he told Manny that something else was probably at the root of her problem. He said he's seen her mood enough to know what is driving her actions. The something else was driving all of her actions. That lead Manny into the theatre, flattening her body against the wall so that she can smoothly move past the standing audience. Music is playing loudly as she moves.

_When the night shows  
the signals grow on radios  
All the strange things  
they come and go, as early warnings  
Stranded starfish have no place to hide  
still waiting for the swollen Easter tide  
There's no point in direction we can not even choose a side._

Manny lets her body go limp as she spies a familiar face pressed not against the wall, but against a full fish tank. Emma's blonde hair looks white against the glass, her skin translucent, her eyes pale. She looks like she's frozen in ice, the black shadows of the room framing her lank figure. Shiny, striped clownfish with gills glide past her. Two purple guppies swim near her cheeks. Maybe they're seeing her. Maybe they're scared for her, like me, thinks Manny. She approaches Emma and sits Indian-style on the floor with her.

_I took the old track  
the hollow shoulder, across the waters  
On the tall cliffs  
they were getting older, sons and daughters  
The jaded underworld was riding high  
Waves of steel hurled metal at the sky  
and as the nail sunk in the cloud,  
the rain was warm and soaked the crowd._

She scoots closer to Emma. Her knee is warmer than Manny's knee, and Emma continues to stare into the busy watery world as she sits stagnantly by its side.

"Em?" speaks up Manny.

Emma blinks as the largest fish, black with a narrow nose, blows bubbles in her direction.

_Lord, here comes the flood  
We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood  
If again the seas are silent  
and any still alive  
It'll be those who gave their island to survive  
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry._

"There's no little house for them," says Manny with a slight smile. "Or maybe these are the kind of fish that don't need houses."

_When the flood calls,  
You have no home, you have no walls  
In the thunder crash  
You're a thousand minds, within a flash  
Don't be afraid to cry at what you see  
The act is gone, there's only you and me  
And if we break before the dawn,  
they'll use up what we used to be.  
_

A visible lump appears in Emma's throat and disappears. Manny runs a hand along the glass, hoping that will get Emma's attention. It fails to do so. She came to talk regardless. That will be the only way to let Emma know, for real, that she's not leaving, even if she's not listening. Please be listening, begs Manny inwardly. She's known Emma longer than Spinner so if she can't break through, they're stepping into deeper depths that she didn't want to imagine.

"I know that this has been a busy summer," says Manny, moving her purse to her lap. "But I haven't forgotten you."

She places the scrapbook near Emma and flips it open to the first page. You could locate the reflection of the picture in the tank. Twelve-year old Emma and Manny beam in the park as the fish swim in direct lines. Will Emma notice?

"You were there for me when things got bad," continues Manny. "When I didn't have a home, when it felt like I didn't have a family."

Emma presses her forehead deeper into the pane of the tank. Manny wipes her eyes. Was this working? At all?

"So let me be your family now," sobs Manny. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you wanted me to be, and I'm even sorry I wasn't there when you thought I didn't need to be. What I said at the ball, that we were sisters? That's one of the most truthful things I've said this summer. I wouldn't lie when it comes to that."

Hunching her shoulders, Emma blinks once more.

"But you have to come back, Em," says Manny. "You have to tell me that you care enough to face it, that you'll come back to us. So wherever you have to go to, to let me in, please...please go."

Manny looks behind her as she hears a small moan, believing it to come from a new sea creature that suddenly appeared on the ceiling. The moan came from the other side and she puts her hands on her face as she looks at Emma looking at her. There's no flashes of red in her skin or accusatory stare. There's solely Emma, with wet cheeks, the imprint of the glass on her left one.

"Emma?" says Manny.

"I never wanted to be a burden," breathes Emma.

"You're not," soothes Manny.

"Or cry in...in front of people," says Emma.

"I understand," says Manny.

"I'm...I'm starting to hear voices," admits Emma, tearfully. "They scare me. I'm...I'm tired. Stuff hurts...sometimes it's like everything hurts. And..."

"Go ahead," encourages Manny. "You can say it. Whatever it is."

"Manny, I'm really, really sad," breathes Emma.

Collecting Emma's head into her chest, Manny rubs her hair and neck. Emma falls softly, practically weightless, into her. The children "ooh" and "aah" from afar, clearly blown away with wonder at what's transpiring above. But they're not where she is, hugging her best friend in the bottom of the darkness, encased in their own circle of relief.


	81. This Woman's Work

**LXXXI. This Woman's Work**

_Pray God you can cope.  
I stand outside this woman's work,  
This woman's world.  
Ooh, it's hard on the man,  
Now his part is over.  
Now starts the craft of the father._

_I know you have a little life in you yet.  
I know you have a lot of strength left.  
I know you have a little life in you yet.  
I know you have a lot of strength left._

_I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.  
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking_

_Of all the things I should've said,  
That I never said.  
All the things we should've done,  
That we never did.  
All the things I should've given,  
But I didn't._

_Oh, darling, make it go,  
Make it go away._

_Give me these moments back.  
Give them back to me.  
Give me that little kiss.  
Give me your hand._

_(I know you have a little life in you yet.  
I know you have a lot of strength left.  
I know you have a little life in you yet.  
I know you have a lot of strength left.)_

_I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.  
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking_

_Of all the things we should've said,  
That were never said.  
All the things we should've done,  
That we never did.  
All the things that you needed from me.  
All the things that you wanted for me.  
All the things that I should've given,  
But I didn't._

_Oh, darling, make it go away.  
Just make it go away now._

**This Woman's Work is the property of Kate Bush and is featured in the film _She's Having A Baby._**

"Surely, you have what is a seasonal confectionary in stock," argues Liberty, holding her clipboard to her chest. "Halloween is only, what? Three months away?"

"It doesn't work like that, love," defends the baker.

His name is Leland, the namesake and proprietor of Leland's Bakery. He keeps throwing pitiful glances Toby's way while Liberty grills him. She's grilling him for a worthy reason, however. Liberty insisted on throwing J.T. a small celebration since he'd gotten the station job and they'd all be too busy come fall, especially the two of them. They'd already asked Mr. Reyes about having it at the studio, secured some decorations from the studio storage room, and contacted Clara to tape the whole thing. Liberty was going to get everything done as quickly as possible. You couldn't tell that to Leland though.

"But...but it's candy corn!" cries Leland, his British accent more noticeable as his voice goes up.

"The celebrant's favorite candy," insists Liberty. "I don't get its tri-color appeal either, yet it's his sugary Achilles' heel."

"And you want me to put it on the icing?" remarks Leland. "Spell out J.T. Yorke? I don't like the sound of that. That wouldn't be a proper cake at all!"

"I'm not paying you for a proper cake....I'm paying you for specifics," returns Liberty.

"Ughhh," moans Leland. "Fine. Explain the design you want again."

Liberty nods with a smirk, and proceeds to read her clipboard. Toby glances at the cookie-shaped clock behind Leland. Officer Wheaton should be showing up in a couple minutes. Nope, already there, notes Toby as he spies the glint of a gold badge behind the glass door. He'd been sitting outside the bakery for the past ten minutes.

"Gotta go," says Toby.

"Thanks for all your help, Tobes," says Liberty sweetly, before going into business mode once more. "I require a red velvet cake with...."

Walking to Officer Wheaton, Toby has no doubt that the exact cake Liberty requested will be at the studio on Monday. She'd give Leland a hard time today, and send him a thank-you card when it was all over.

"I really like this mall," compliments Officer Wheaton, then staring longingly at a smoothie stand.

They look at each other and the officer's eyes travel to the stand a second time.

"Go for it," encourages Toby.

"Well, now that you mention it...," sighs Officer Wheaton. "Would you like anything? After that, we should be getting home."

"No thanks," replies Toby.

Toby sits on a bench and goes through the messages on his cellphone. He'd relished the chance to turn it off as the number of complaints about the budget had risen steadily in the last couple days. The arts groups were the most concerned because over the years, the athletes and the academic clubs were given the most money. Toby couldn't change the past, but he could reassure them that he believed in equal opportunities for everybody. This didn't halt the worried calls from the chairs of the drama club, the band, and the choir. It's a lot to deal with. However, this is what he signed up for. There were people counting on him. No matter how troubled his summer was, they were counting on him. They believed in him so they voted for him. Manny believed in him.

_"Thank you, thank you," said Sully, taking the microphone from the stand as a smattering of applause crossed the room. "You really are too kind."_

_Toby played with his cufflinks, the smooth edges touching his skin. Once in a while, he looked out from the wings and into the large crowd in the auditorium. He could've sworn everyone in school came to the assembly instead of the future seniors, the AV club, and a select few teachers. His speech would be recorded and played for the other classes during study halls. There's no way it would be as flashy as Sully's, he thought. He worked on it all week but he didn't have the charm to deliver it like Sully. Not by a long shot. Hey, there was still time to catch the Computer Club bus taking the grade sevens to the Toronto Mathlete finals. He could be their chaperone or something._

_"Need I remind you that my father, Wayne Danielson, is a lucrative executive at a nationally ranked automobile company with personal stock in casinos all over the continent," continued Sully, after taking off his sunglasses. "That strongly indicates that...well, that I come from the best."_

_"The best showing of egotism," mumbled Manny as she came to stand by Toby._

_"At least he has confidence," said Toby, turning to stare at her. "I was sweating everytime I practiced this."_

_"I read it," said Manny. "Liberty proofread it. Trust me. It's good."_

_"My spelling was horrible," lamented Toby. "I mean, Liberty said it in a nice way. But...it was horrible."_

_"It's fixed," said Manny. "And even if it wasn't perfect, they're listening to you, not reading."_

_"What can I offer you that my opponent can't?" posed Sully. "Let's get real. I've got the...resources to make Degrassi a much more tolerable place. Meat that actually tastes like meat? No prob. First-rate equipment? Easily taken care of. Local talent at the dances? Just takes a call from my dad."_

_"A speech with substance? Impossible," muttered Liberty as she passed Toby and Manny._

_Toby and Manny beamed at each other, Manny getting in front of him._

_"Here's your final look at your good luck ensemble," asserted Manny._

_She'd decided to wear a completely blue outfit-- a blue T-shirt with a **Vote Toby** button (consisting of an image of his face in the **o)**, blue jeans, and light blue Sketchers. He could do nothing but smile when he first saw her, and the smile returned in full force seconds before he had to speak._

_"The best use of blue I've ever seen," said Toby._

_"Save the flattery for the voters, el Presidente," said Manny, rubbing the arms of his jacket. "Breathe, be yourself, and remember, spelling does not a president make."_

_He laughed. Looking into her beautiful brown eyes, he knew he'd have at least one pair of eyes that would be encouraging and not fall asleep. Toby leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Her **Vote** button briefly stung his chest and Toby immediately backed away as Manny chuckled. J.T. selected a suitable picture for the buttons and Manny distributed them, as well as hanging the posters in the halls._

_"Thank you, Sully, for that...interesting speech," said Liberty. "Next we have a speech from presidential candidate Toby Isaacs."_

_Good-natured applause and a few whoops from J.T. sounded throughout the auditorium. Toby nodded at Manny._

_"Go get 'em, Isaacs," said Manny, slapping him gently on the butt._

_"Manny!" cried Toby, though he smiled at her before reaching the podium._

_Bright lights, colorful streamers, and flashing cellphones all competed for his attention when he was behind the microphone. There were so many faces on him that he could scarcely recognize half of his classmates. He glanced quickly at Manny who gave him a thumbs up. Right, okay. Breathe. Be Yourself. He was doing it because he wanted what was best for his school, and while he couldn't buy what Sully could, he could work hard. _

_"Greetings fellow students and faculty," said Toby. "I've been witness to some of Degrassi's finest moments and some of its darker moments. Though the finest moments have gotten us the attention and admiration of the community, it's the darkest moments that have shown how truly strong we are. But I don't want the legacy of the school to be associated with dark times or tragedy, but rather the togetherness and renewed sense of purpose that came with it. If elected your president, I promise to hear the voice of every student who walks through these halls. To those who feel they're invisible, you're not. To those who feel they've been handed the short stick, take comfort. To those who've spoken loudly and regularly, your desires will continued to be heard along with the others. After serving on committees with you, and as treasurer and vice president, I will use my experience to enforce important rules, argue for things that students are passionate about, and maintain the success Degrassi Community School is known for. Together, we can do it. All I ask for is the chance. Thank you."_

_He said his speech without too many pauses and with enough eye contact, he believed. In the rear of his mind, he kept asking how it was going over. He saw a lot of frozen faces. The faces fell once he was done and enthusiastic shouts and cheers met his ears. J.T. kept whistling with his fingers in his mouth. Manny hopped up and down in the wings, clapping her hands. Toby left the podium, Manny running to hug him as soon as he was off the stage._

_"Thank you, Toby," said Liberty, warmly, at the podium. "Please place your ballots in the box outside the main office before two-thirty."_

_"They liked it," said Toby in shock._

_"You were so Jimmy Stewart-ish under the lights," praised Manny. "Political and passionate."_

_Toby had no idea who Jimmy Stewart was, but he could tell the film reference was a compliment._

_"Okay," said Toby, shrugging. "And now....we wait for the results."_

_Yep, the end of the assembly was clear as the crowd started to disperse. Liberty and Mr. Armstrong would be counting the ballots during her free period. That was five periods away, half a day. Manny guided Toby down the stairs, Toby wishing the time would fly by._

_"Where's that Nash chick?" called out Sully, putting on his sunglasses. "Might not be available for interviews later."_

_"Interviews?" said J.T. as he joined Toby and Manny._

_"The president always gives an interview to the Grapevine after he's elected," said Sully. _

_"Or she," reasoned Manny._

_"Yeah, yeah," waved off Sully. "Too bad you picked the losing ticket, babe. Toby, you can be my treasurer if you really want."_

_"I....," started Toby._

_"Oh, hold that thought," interrupted Sully, removing his Sidekick. "Gotta check on my The Fray tickets. Girlfriend's dying to see them."_

_Sully walked out of the auditorium, Toby thankful for the reprieve. He probably wouldn't get president and would have to take the treasurer position for a second year. He'd heard that Sully had already promised the vice president position to Peter, who thought it would land him more opportunites to score with grade twelves. Considering the idea of Sully and Peter running the school together made him shiver. He knew Manny had a similar view as she shook her head continually._

_"There's no way he's winning after that speech," asserted Manny._

_"I second that," said J.T._

_He wasn't as at ease. As he went from class to class, he became more and more worried. The vow to have actual meat hadn't made any waves, but the local talent at dances was swaying the vote. Toby heard as much in the halls. Sure, he got compliments on his speech, too. Would it translate to votes, however? He was relieved to be in Simpson's class for the results. Being in his favorite teacher's class would be a more comforting setting than anywhere else at Degrassi. Plus, Manny and J.T. were there to share in his loss. As soon as the speaker came on for the announcement, everyone stopped listening to Simpson explaining the values of online resumes and perked up. Manny even stood up and put a hand on his chair. J.T. stared hopefully at his button and Simpson sat on his desk._

_"The votes have been tabulated," said Liberty._

_Toby held his breath, and the whole room grew quiet._

_"In one of the closest elections in recent history, I am pleased to announce that Toby Isaacs will be Student Council president for the upcoming year!" said Liberty._

_"Yes!" squealed Manny, hugging Toby from behind._

_"Ohhhh yeah!" cried J.T. "Hey, you! Pay up!"_

_A groaning boy with red hair fished out five dollars and slid it to J.T. from across the table._

_"I'll be taking that," said Snake, intercepting the five. "And congratulations, Toby. We're all very proud of you."_

_The Media Immersion class applauded, except for the red-haired boy, still grumbling. Wow, he actually won? He won? He was ready to fall out of his chair. People actually wanted him to lead the school and present for them and protect its reputation and...it was so much to digest. _

_"School's smartest decision, by far," commented J.T._

_"That's enough politics," said Snake. "Let's continue talking about the benefits of Monster in locating employment..."_

_Their teacher went on, most of the students tuning him out since they were discussing the election and what it would take to get a decent band at Degrassi one of these days. Manny glumly returned to her seat after Snake gave her a look. Toby typed in the website address for Monster and grinned until the bell rang._

_Dozens of people came up to congratulate him, even if he did believe that half of those well-wishers voted for Sully. He hadn't seen Sully and was glad for it. Besides, it was after school and Sully must've gone home to avoid him. There was one person he wouldn't avoid, though, not for anything in the world. Taking her hand, he took Manny to the auditorium they'd just left not too long ago._

_"What are we doing, reliving the glory of your speech?" sighed Manny, stopping midway._

_Toby continued to take her the rest of the way, until they came to the stage. He took her by the waist and raised her to the edge._

_"You've been so amazing with this, Manny," said Toby. "The posters, the buttons, the pep talks...the...the blue wardrobe."_

_"Blue and gold for Degrassi. Well, in this case, blue, since it's your fave," demured Manny._

_"And you had your own stuff to deal with, since I kinda just sprang this on you," said Toby._

_"No big," assured Manny. "It's how I roll. You know what I'm sayin'?"_

_Toby laughed. "That should've been my slogan."_

_"Maybe," said Manny, laughing too._

_"Stay there," instructed Toby._

_"Okay," said Manny. _

_Toby climbed the stairs of the stage and began yanking the strings that parted the curtains on each side. The space of the curtain started off slim, growing wider and wider wth each yank. Once he was finished, a long red couch was revealed, Manny gasping in recognition. It was the red couch from Dracula, long with velvet cushions. Manny performed near the couch every night during that show and he wanted to use it for something special._

_"How'd you get that there?" cried Manny. "And when?"_

_"I used my pre-presidential pull to convince J.T. and Danny to move it to the drama room to here," explained Toby. "That, and ten bucks each."_

_"That's my favorite set piece," said Manny. "Emma got to lay on it, and I was a teensy bit envious."_

_"I remember you saying so," said Toby._

_"They moved it after the assembly?" asked Manny._

_"Yeah, the condition was that if I lost, I'd help them move it back after school," replied Toby. "Boy, am I glad I won."_

_"There's something on it," noticed Manny._

_"Is there?" said Toby, smirking._

_Manny pushed him lightly, and they went to the couch, a shiny white instrument on the left cushion. She held it curiously and sat on the couch. Toby sat with her. It was technically his but he wanted her to figure it out._

_"You've used this at work," said Manny. "It...it looks familiar."_

_"Calvin and Kym were letting me test drive it for a couple days, to see if their son would like it, and then they let me have it since he got bored with it after two weeks," shared Toby._

_"It's got words on it," said Manny. "Hmmm? Not an ipod...is it...it's Kindle! That's what it's called!"_

_"Yep," said Toby._

_"Cool. I'm jealous," admitted Manny._

_"Not really of use to me now, what with the downloads that are currently on it," said Toby, stroking his chin._

_"What downloads?" said Manny, her brow wrinkled._

_Toby took the Kindle and pressed a few buttons, finally arriving at the name of the series of downloads within the device. Manny skimmed the first few words and tugged on Toby's tie, making him laugh._

_"The Princess Diaries volumes!" exclaimed Manny. "It wasn't enough that I made you watch both films."_

_"If winning the tiara didn't tip me off that you were into that stuff, those movies definitely did," said Toby._

_"Awww," said Manny, scrolling the page._

_"You can read them to your heart's content," said Toby. "I don't need that back anytime soon."_

_"Mmm, I'm keeping you," sighed Manny, settling into his lap._

_"I wanted you to know that I'm not going to forget you," assured Toby. "With the presidency and Kytel and school and whatever. I'm making time for us, like how you made time for me."_

_"Yeah?" said Manny, turning red._

_"Presidents don't lie," said Toby, nodding fervently._

_"I see," remarked Manny. _

_"Well, the good ones don't lie," assured Toby. "And that's how I roll. Know what I'm sayin'?"_

_Manny laughed loudly, set the Kindle on the cushion and gazed into his eyes._

_"For all the productions I've done on this stage, I don't think I've ever kissed someone in any of them," whispered Manny. "Not...yet."_

_"All you'd have to say is...action," returned Toby._

_"You want some action?" teased Manny._

_"A little," replied Toby as Manny pressed her lips against his mouth._

_Their lips moved soundly for a few moments, Toby's arm encircling her back. Manny giggled when their lips separated for a second._

_"What?" said Toby._

_"I was thinking of when I was a hunter and shot you on here during the Cabaret show," confessed Manny._

_"Yeah," recalled Toby. "You were mean."_

_Manny kissed him, silencing his laugh and everything else. He had a lot of students to answer to and only one student that his heart would answer to. The former panther, now President of the Degrassi Panthers, was blown away by the same girl...twice._

Toby touches his Star of David necklace as Officer Wheaton receives his smoothie. He'd gotten to wearing it ever since he started with the letters. Manny should receive the next one in three days. The necklace and the letters were simple reminders that his faith was starting to pay off. Its chain winds a bit before he puts it under his shirt.

"You're saving me a phone call," says a cheerful voice as he feels someone join him on the bench.

He recognizes her instantly, though she was quick to sit down. Her wavy brown hair is in a long ponytail today and her brown eyes shine under the mall's florescent lights. Lucie's carrying a large roll of paper, a rubber band circling it, and a green backpack.

"Hi," greets Toby. "Uhhh, what phone call?"

"A call from Campanelli's," informs Lucie. "Do you have a free moment?"

Toby considers it. He can either go home, and take more calls about how sucky the state of the budget is, or go somewhere that's more peaceful. With the curfew, he couldn't stay long, but a few minutes wouldn't kill him.

"I do," answers Toby.

"Awesome," says Lucie, rising.

Meeting Officer Wheaton's eyes, Toby indicates that he's going with Lucie to the right side of the mall. Officer Wheaton walks towards them.

"Come on," says Lucie, holding her hand out for Toby's. "He can catch up."

"Yeah, but....," begins Toby.

"I don't bite," says Lucie. "Promise."

He lets her take his hand, the Star of David bumping against his chest.

II.

The sponge leaks soapy water as it moves against the black bus, water trickling over the bumper and under the bus. She has to be in there. He called Aja's, and all Craig received from Nolan was a moody "she ain't here, bloke" followed by him hanging up. Craig's pretty sure Nolan's annoyed by the fact that most of his house guests' stuff is still there when Aja said it was only for two days. He'd apologize to Nolan later, not that he wanted to. Ashley comes first.

Giving Craig a polite grin, the bus driver goes about his task of cleaning the bus, most of the musicians in various stages of getting ready for the day. Bianca was drying her hair while Musk was spreading cream cheese on a bagel. Sarah Lincoln is in her make-up mirror, putting on tons of mascara. He wonders if that's to hide all her shadiness. As annoyed as he is with Ashley lying to him last night, he still can't stand Sarah for what she taped to Ashley's keyboard. She's part of the problem. Or maybe he shouldn't be throwing stones, blaming others. It's just so hard to accept that he's doing this-- convincing Ashley to sit with her folks and hear them out. Wasn't it the other way around usually? Craig had his family worrying while Ashley was his support? Craig raises and lowers his shoulders. This wouldn't be easy, but his life was never easy really.

"Craig!" shouts Dashiel, appearing from the other side of the bus with a newspaper.

"Hey, Dash," says Craig.

If he has to be interrupted, at least it's by someone he likes. Dashiel reaches him.

"Know who bloomin' cut my guitar strings a few days ago?" whispers Dashiel. "Mark. Came in the bus in a drunken fog and confessed."

"Yeah?" says Craig.

"Probably drunk while doing it, too," groans Dashiel. "Ay, I'm going to lay into him once he's good and sober."

"I hope you're making him pay for it," says Craig.

"Will I!" remarks Dashiel.

Craig laughs. "Good. Um, is Ashley on the bus?"

"She is, but she's pretty crabby," replies Dashiel. "Her and Aja kinda stumbled in around three last night."

"Took a cab?" asks Craig.

"Right, and fell right into their bunks," says Dashiel.

"Thanks," says Craig.

"Nothing to it," replies Dashiel, walking in the direction of a nearby Starbucks.

Going slowly up the bus steps, Craig passes right through the common area, where two of the neon-haired guys are napping, going directly to Ashley's bunk. She wasn't in there or anywhere in the sleeping area. He knocks on the bathroom door, hears some loud coughing.

"Hello?" says Craig.

"Craig?" replies Ashley weakly.

Ashley pushes open the door, large sunglasses over her eyes. Craig reasons it's a repeat of when she had that nasty hangover after the first night she was booed. She adjusts her sunglasses and moans as she sits on her bunk. Part of him would like to lecture her and is angry. Her comments to Mark and Aja last night were embarrassing. Yet, with her in front of him, he feels as squeezed as that sponge, like all the harder emotions are flowing away from his body. He can't convince her to go with him if he yells at her.

"Thanks...thanks for the fare," says Ashley, setting her head on her pillow.

Craig sits on the floor and puts an elbow on the bedspread, looking at her. He could see the sadness in her gaze when he stares past the lenses long enough.

"Well, I'm glad you got here okay," says Craig.

"I'm so, so sorry," says Ashley, her voice getting caught in her throat. "It's...I was excited, and everybody else was drinking..."

He closes his eyes and pulls at the bedspread for a bit. Ugh, he has to phrase this in exactly the right way, without divulging too much.

"So...um, your parents, Robert and Chris...I ran into them," stammers Craig. "You know, around. And..they were saying how they rarely get to see you."

"Where...where'd you run into them?" says Ashley, sitting up.

"I...I don't know the city well to really say where," replies Craig, briefly meeting Ashley's sight.

"That...that is kind of true," sighs Ashley. "Ellie and Mer wrote to me, but I barely write back. I never call Mom. I should be calling Dad and Chris more."

"They...they mentioned texting too," says Craig.

"Great," says Ashley, taking off her glasses. "Just...one more thing to feel guilty about."

"So...you feel guilty?" says Craig, leaving the bedspread alone.

"Of course I do," says Ashley.

She lays a hand on his chest, warmth burning in there as she touches him. He's being kind of deceiving and he feels guilty. Sure, he can tell himself that he's doing this for her, a million times in a row, but it's not honest. When he did try to be honest with her last night, it didn't work. But yeah, that doesn't make him any more relaxed.

"Ash, then...then do this for me," says Craig, letting his eyes rest on hers. "Let's go visit them. They'd never forgive me if I didn't try to get you there."

"Uh, the show's at seven, but...," mulls Ashley.

"It'd be for maybe thirty minutes, maybe less," promises Craig.

"You know, I still haven't told them I'm signed," says Ashley, struggling to smile.

"They deserve to know," says Craig.

That's not all they deserved to know. Craig uses every inch of strength to stand so he can take her where he needs to take her.

"Sure," says Ashley. "This'll be a surprise. I don't think they're expecting me this soon, right?"

He shakes his head as Ashley starts ouf ot the bus, not wishing to answer it, answer it with a lie.

III.

"What's in the box, guys?"

Ellie asks this hesitantly, Jay shaking the cardboard box with devilish delight. Alex is similarly pleased with whatever scheme is under way. They'd just arrived. She figures either Alex saw her parents in the waiting room or that Sean filled them in. In any case, it's nice to have someone other than Dr. Rickards in there with her. Her parents and Sean haven't even come into her room yet.

"Stuff we smuggled in from pediatrics," admits Jay.

"First, we have the old stand-by, an Etch-A-Sketch since you're into writing," says Alex, holding the red square with white buttons and a grey screen.

"I don't think they made those specifically for writers," says Ellie.

"That's what I said!" says Jay. "I did you one better. Ball-in-a-cup. Who does _not_ like ball-in-a-cup?"

"What's ball-in-a-cup?" questions Ellie.

"Oh!" cries Jay. "Allow me...to demonstrate."

Jay clears his throat, takes out a cup-shaped toy, with a ball attached to a string. He winds his arm back, gaining some momentum, and tries unsuccessfully to get the ball into the cup. Ellie laughs.

"Okay, I have some experience getting a ball into a net," says Alex proudly.

Alex attempts to do the same thing, the ball bouncing against her breasts.

"Hey!" groans Alex.

"Lucky ball," mumbles Jay, loud enough for them all to hear.

"Lucky ball," mimics Alex in a deeper voice, pushing his head.

"Why were you two in pediatrics?" says Ellie.

"Cindy wanted to go into that wing," snorts Jay. "Three guesses why."

"Eh," says Alex, rolling her eyes.

"I bet she'll have a boy just to spite me," sighs Jay. "Once Dad said he was paying for school, this plan of hers to procreate came up oh so suddenly."

"Jealous," agrees Alex.

"She said that we should talk about it as a family, and that's when Lexi and I bolted," says Jay.

"And ran into your mom," adds Alex.

"Won't the kids miss these?" says Ellie.

"Man, those little kids get booster shots, and I actually got shot," reasons Jay. "Who deserves to have fun more?"

"When you put it like that, I see what you're talking about," replies Ellie sarcastically.

Alex grins. "We better go."

"Have you...have you guys seen Sean?" asks Ellie.

"No," says Jay.

"Me neither," says Alex.

Where is he? When she fainted, everything went by in a whirl. Certain sensations were pretty clear-- the stretcher under her back, the red ambulance lights, the small poke of her mother's wedding ring against her wrist. The last moment she saw Sean was when they were in the apartment. He looked so panicked. So why isn't he visiting her too?

A knock raps against the door. Finally. Ellie straightens her hospital gown.

"Hello, Ellie," says Dr. Rickards, coming in with a smile. "I'm afraid your friends will have to go."

"Uhhh, yeah," says Jay, shielding the box. "We have...stuff to return."

Alex doesn't bother to shield anything, intent on getting the ball into the cup. Jay goes back in his wheelchair and leads the way. Her persistence continues as they exit her room.

"I got it in!" yells Alex, her victorious voice fading as the door closes after them.

"Can I go home?" asks Ellie, as Dr. Rickards stands by her.

Dr. Rickard taps the end of her stethoscope against her right palm. The delay of an answer doesn't make her hopeful.

"Tomorrow, early in the a.m.," replies Dr. Rickards. "Ellie, are you...involved in any sort of relaxing activity?"

"Relaxing?" says Ellie.

"Sure," says Dr. Rickards. "Um, yoga? Swimming? Sports? Music?"

"I was in a band, but I kinda stopped last year," shares Ellie.

"Summer's a terrific time to do what you want to do, instead of just doing what you have to do," says Dr. Rickards. "If you...catch my meaning."

Dr. Rickards stops tapping after the last three words.

"You're saying I'm working too much?" guesses Ellie.

"Bingo," says Dr. Rickards. "From what your parents told me, you seem to be letting a lot of stuff build up."

"It's...it's hard for me to slow down, I'll admit," says Ellie. "But...but I'm not cutting."

"That's very good, Ellie," assures Dr. Rickards. "Getting stress-related migraines isn't good, however. Take some time for yourself. It's better that you learn this now, especially with university right around the corner."

"I....um, I write," says Ellie. "Could that be something? Creative writing?"

"That could definitely be something," replies Dr. Rickards.

Well, she used to write films and short stories, so maybe that could be a relaxing activity. The fainting spell scared her too, though probably not like it scared her parents. She's more terrified that Sean's going to be in deep trouble once the police start looking in the right places. Ellie does her best to erase the worry from her face, eager to show Dr. Rickards she's fine.

"I think your parents should see you now," says Dr. Rickards. "Just wanted to have a little chat with you."

"There's a younger guy with them, my boyfriend?" says Ellie.

"I've been making the rounds, so if he was there, I probably missed him," says Dr. Rickards. "I'll go tell them."

"Thank you," says Ellie.

Dr. Rickards disappears and it isn't long before John and Amanda Nash walk into the room, maybe because Ellie is anticipating their arrival. Their arrival and Sean's. No Sean.

"Ellie, are you comfortable?" asks John, feeling her forehead.

"She didn't have a fever, John," says Amanda. "I'm getting you some water. Are you hungry?"

"Where's...where's Sean?" says Ellie.

Her parents stare at one another, as if she can't view them doing it. Ellie frowns.

"What'd you say to him?" asks Ellie, staring right at her mother.

"I didn't say a thing to him, Ellie," says Amanda.

"That's the only reason he would've left," insists Ellie. "He would be here otherwise!"

"Sean took off," says Amanda. "He was at the hospital, and didn't stay with us. I have no clue where he is."

"Your mother's telling the truth, sweetie," says John. "Look, you have to get some rest."

"But...but that doesn't make sense that Sean would leave," says Ellie.

"Maybe he had to go with the police," suggests John.

"To be booked, no doubt," murmurs Amanda, retrieving a paper cup.

"I'm perfectly conscious, Mom," says Ellie, crossing her arms. "Well enough to hear your little jabs."

Amanda holds the cup tight in her fingers as John takes a deep breath.

"This has been...been a rough day for all three of us," sighs John. "Let's...let's discuss it when we get home."

"Fine," says Amanda, pursing her lips.

"Fine," says Ellie, shrugging.

"Fine," says John with the most labored of sighs.

IV.

Everything around her is secure as light-headed as she is, the cab moving in a straight line in the sunny neighborhood of Hyde Park. Plenty of Britons are walking to and fro, most with good attitudes since the weekend has arrived. They carry vegetables or fresh flowers or their own children. It's a welcome innocence after the raucous night Ashley had.

She remembers bit and pieces of last night-- dancing with Mark in the center of the club; accepting the first glass he gave her, and the second and the third; crouching with Aja on the roof before the rain fell in sheets. Reserved energy must've got her from Ascension to the tour bus. Ashley told the cab driver where the tour bus was, mostly out of instinct. Aja didn't bother saying anything, especially not her address, as she snored away. Perhaps she said the tour bus because the more aware half of her knew that Craig wouldn't be there and she could shape some sort of apology after her hangover left. He came looking for her instead though she wouldn't have blamed him if he didn't.

Craig sitting next to her now, she doesn't talk at all. She knows she's made promises, and she meant them at the time. Something strange happened whenever she was somewhere else. The liquor was always available. It numbed a lot of things she didn't like. She didn't like being seen as young or boring so she indulged. Meanwhile, she didn't like the criticism so she...indulged. Drinking wasn't doing any lasting damage as far as she could tell. Even Craig, who she chalked up to being the biggest loss because of it, came back. If they are damaged, she'd start doing damage control. If she makes a promise, she's going to stick to it this time. Really stick to it.

"We're here," announces Craig as the cab pulls up to the curb.

Ashley pockets her sunglasses, which only helped her hangover a little. She had a quick bite to eat, which helped more. Lucky thing is that she doesn't think her dad or Chris would know the difference. When she first met Aja, she went to the restaurant with them and they hadn't noticed her hangover.

"Dad should just be getting home from work," reasons Ashley.

Craig exits without any comment about that and holds the door for Ashley.

"Thank you," she says, paying the cab fare.

She looks at her black blouse, jeans, and Converse sneakers, an outfit she could speedily take off to change for the concert. Tonight, she'd most likely be wearing clothes Julian picked out for her. Mark texted her and said not to fret about it. She hopes it's not that red leather dress again. Throughout the ride, she's been entertaining the idea of inviting Robert and Chris to the show. They were supportive of most of the things in her life, unlike her mother who's been nitpicking everything in her life lately. Robert and Chris were always so proud of her. It would be nice to have three men who are supporting her in the audience.

"Might invite Dad and Chris to the show," says Ashley. "Or maybe they can make the next one."

"Let's...let's head up," says Craig.

The statement is said very nervously, and Craig wasn't near as jittery when they went to watch _Mary Poppins_ with her dad and Chris. They reach her father's door and it's immediately swung open. Chris stares at them, his knuckles white as he holds the door.

"Hey, Chris," says Ashley.

Chris is usually the first to dole out the hugs. Ashley awkwardly embraces him, Chris somewhat returning it after a few seconds. They walk to the living room after the door is closed. Her father's sitting in a recliner and not in a suit. Did he even go to work today? Chris is in casual clothes too.

"Hello, Ashley," greets Robert.

It's said very softly, and he doesn't bother to say hi to Craig. Ashley sits on the couch. Craig doesn't sit.

"I thought you guys would be a bit more enthusiastic, honestly," says Ashley, wrinkling her brow. "Craig made it sound so necessary."

"It is...necessary," says Robert.

Ducking into the kitchen, Chris returns after a few seconds, Ashley watching him go in and out.

"Craig?" whispers Ashley, trying to catch his eye.

That's useless as Craig hangs his head, Robert taking the bottle from Chris. The bottle looks kind of familiar.

"Did Craig tell you the good news already?" sighs Ashley, throwing up her hands. "That's why you took off work? So we could celebrate? Guys..."

"Ashley, how much have you been celebrating?" asks her father abruptly.

"What?" says Ashley.

"We found this in your room, and it was empty," explains Robert, handing her the wine bottle.

That's why it was familiar. She drank it the night she had nerves, before the tour even began. Robert scans her face. For what, she can't figure out. He's obviously concerned. That's clear. Ashley rolls her eyes. This is why she's here. The strangeness from everyone is sinking in and making sense. Rather than give them the satisfaction, she's going to have to cover her own hide. She sets the bottle on the table with a hard thud.

"Did it occur to anybody that I might've, I don't know, poured the rest out?" says Ashley.

"I asked you to put it away," recalls Robert.

"Accidentally?" adds Ashley. "I know that stuff's expensive so I..I hid it."

"Ashley, I won't be lied to in my home," says Robert, throwing Craig a short glance.

"It's not a lie!" cries Ashley, then turning to her left. "Were you there, Craig?"

"I had no idea that was under your bed, Ash," says Craig. "I didn't find it."

"Chris?" says Ashley, her eyes focused on him.

"It doesn't matter who found it, Ashley," interjects Robert.

"So it was Chris," sighs Ashley. "You are so nosy! And of course you thought the worst!"

"I don't...don't know what to think," speaks up Chris.

"You know what I think?" says Ashley. "We really aren't that close so you can't say anything about anything."

"Ashley!" exclaims Robert.

"He broke up you and Mom's marriage, Dad," says Ashley. "That's not exactly endearing."

"He is a member of this family, and will be talked to as such!" insists Robert. "You apologize, young lady."

"I don't have to stay here!" says Ashley, getting up.

Craig blocks her, his nose nearly touching her nose. She can see his mouth shaking.

"Let me go!" cries Ashley.

"Tell them the truth, Ash," says Craig, not budging. "Tell them about the hotel room where I had to pick you up off the floor. Or the night you threw up in a trash can. Or when you nearly walked into traffic cause you were so wasted."

"You haven't told them already?" shouts Ashley.

The unmoving expression on his face answers that for her. Yes, he's told them. Ashley looks over her shoulder at Robert, the hard lines in his forehead deep, and Chris, who looks near tears. The three guys that were cheering her on? They're not with her anymore. Ashley shuffles her feet, a choking lump growing in her throat.

"Since you wouldn't listen to me, I had to find someone you would listen to," explains Craig, taking her by the shoulders.

Ashley knocks his arms away, her tears finally sliding on her cheeks.

"Sit down, Ashley," says Robert. "Please."

With Chris and Craig on other side of the couch, she doesn't have much choice. Ashley lets her body meet the cushions.

"I..I really think it's your environment that's the issue, not you," says Robert.

"And perhaps peer pressure," says Chris. "Craig's mentioned a couple performers who drink regularly with you."

She shoots Craig an annoyed glance. He sold out Mark and Aja. Wow. Aja let them stay at her home.

"Didn't say who, Ashley," whispers Craig to her.

"Like it matters," waves off Ashley.

"For these reasons," says Robert, prefacing it with a long breath. "We want to...take you off the tour."

"What?" yells Ashley.

"You weren't drinking before this summer so obviously the catalyst for it is the tour," goes on Robert. "You can come home, be under our supervision..."

"That is _not_ happening," interrupts Ashley heatedly.

"Ashley, I'm calling the tour director Monday," says Robert. "I'm not changing my mind."

"This tour got me signed, and I have fans and other musicians counting on me!" cries Ashley.

"Your health is my first priority," says Robert, leaning towards her. "I'm not going to let this city eat you alive, not while I'm in it."

"What if someone told you that you couldn't travel anymore?" says Ashley. "That's what journalists do, what you love. Music is what I love, my passion. Take away the tour, and I..I won't be doing what I love to do."

"There are other avenues you can go on to pursue a music career," consoles Chris.

"You work a boring nine-to-five that you hate," says Ashley. "You wouldn't know anything about passion."

"Apparently not," returns Chris.

Chris stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks briskly from the room. She sincerely hopes her father goes after him. She doesn't want to look at either of them. They can't do this to her.

"I'm extremely disappointed in you, Ashley," says Robert.

They both stand at the same time, level to each other, Ashley wiping her cheeks furiously.

"You expected me to take being railroaded lying down?" asks Ashley, looking from Robert to Craig.

"We....," starts Craig.

"I drink like any other eighteen-year old in the world," interrupts Ashley. "To have fun! Have a good time! Nothing I am doing is wrong!"

"You're headed in the wrong direction," says Robert. "You being so defensive and argumentative is evidence of that."

"How's this for a direction?" cries Ashley. "Stay out of my life!"

Ashley muscles past Craig, hearing her father call for her in the distance as she descends the stairwell. Heavy footsteps go after hers. Ashley desperately searches for a cab when she gets to the street. Where are all the cabs in this stupid city, the city that's supposedly destroying her? This city is embracing her. It is embracing her as an artist while the people who claim to love her want to take it away.

"Taxi!" shouts Ashley through a deep sob.

A black cab heads towards her.

"Ash!" says Craig, joining her on the sidewalk.

"You...you lied to me," chokes out Ashley. "You knew what they were going to do."

"That they were going to take you off the tour?" says Craig. "No. I swear I didn't!"

"Why should I believe you?" says Ashley.

Craig takes her by the hands and shakes them as he talks.

"I lied because I love you, Ashley," says Craig. "You think I wanted to tell them? I had to! I had to get you here."

"Taxi!" yells Ashley again.

"You are stronger than whatever you're going through right now," assures Craig. "Let's get you back on track. Don't...don't run."

She forces the door open as soon as she's able.

"Running away isn't going to help anybody, especially not you," says Craig, before she gets inside.

"Thanks a lot for your 'help', Craig," says Ashley, slamming the door. "And the last thing I told my dad?"

"What, to stay out....," says Craig, his voice dropping.

"Of my life," finishes Ashley. "You guys can decide how you're going to do that since you're so close now."

"Ash...Ash, you don't mean...don't mean that," stammers Craig.

"Go!" orders Ashley, the cabbie pulling off with speed.

Ashley doesn't bother looking back at him, at the building, at the friendly neighbors going about their daily routines. She surrenders to the movement of the car as her eyes grow more wet and her features become more hard. She's reminded of what Mark said to her, how you didn't need your family. He said it without caring. Could she? She tries to think it, that she wouldn't mind if nobody talked to her, or be completely okay with people not contacting her. She could love being alone. Love it. Ashley doubles over in the seat, hiding her head in her hands, crying without control. She can't think at all.


	82. For You I Will

**LXXXII. For You I Will**

_When you're feeling lost in the night,  
When you feel your world just ain't right,  
Call on me, I will be waiting  
Count on me, I will be there  
Anytime the times get too tough,  
Anytime your best ain't enough  
I'll be the one to make it better,  
I'll be there to protect you,  
See you through,  
I'll be there and there is nothing  
I won't do  
I will cross the ocean for you  
I will go and bring you the moon  
I will be your hero your strength  
Anything you need  
I will be the sun in your sky  
I will light your way for all time  
Promise you,  
For you I will  
I will shield your heart from the rain  
I will let no harm come your way  
Oh these arms will be your shelter  
No these arms won't let you down,  
If there is a mountain to move  
I will move that mountain for you  
I'm here for you, I'm here forever  
I will be your fortress, tall and strong  
I'll keep you safe,  
I'll stand beside you, right or wrong  
I will cross the ocean for you  
I will go and bring you the moon  
I will be your hero your strength  
Anything you need  
I will be the sun in your sky  
I will light your way for all time  
Promise you,  
For you i will  
For you I will, lay my life on the line  
For you I will fight  
For you I will die  
With every breath, with all my soul  
I'll give my world, i'll give it all  
Put your faith in me (put your faith in me)  
And I'll do anything  
I will cross the ocean for you (I will cross the ocean)  
I will go and bring you the moon  
I will be your hero your strength (oh I will be your hero)  
Anything you need (I will be)  
I will be the sun in your sky  
I will light your way for all times  
Promise you (promise you)  
For you i will  
I will, I will, (I will)  
I will cross the ocean for you  
I will go and bring you the moon  
I will be your hero your strength  
Anything you need (let me be your hero)  
I will be the sun in your sky (yeah baby)  
I will light your way for all times  
Promise you (I promise you)  
For you I will (I will)  
Promise you (promise you)  
For you I will (whoa...)  
I promise you  
For you I, I will_

**For You I Will is the property of Monica and appears in the film _Space Jam. _**

"She likes peanut butter and banana," says Manny as she pours milk into a glass.

Spinner begins to dice the peeled banana, the knife quietly cutting the fruit into quarter-sized circles. Each piece falls to the side and he arranges them on top of the peanut butter until no more pieces can fit. He wants to make sure that she gets enough food as possible into her stomach before tomorrow.

Tomorrow is coming, quickly. That's when he, Manny, and his grandmother would accompany Emma to the psychiatric wing of the Kaiser Permanente facility. Grandma Mason knew of a Dr. Keller there who was said to be the best in her field in the area. Emma eventually said "okay" after his grandmother told her about it in detail. It's good that she's getting the best. Whenever he was by himself, his mind would rewind to the image of Emma walking towards the end of the dock in a trance, armed with photographs, hair blowing, her expression flat. Then, he'd see himself go after her. Then, he'd wonder what would've happened if he wasn't there and then he would go look for her in Kendra's room so that he could see she was there.

Manny did manage to get her to come out of the Aquatic Experience, hugging Emma tightly to her side. Emma's eyes registered him for a couple seconds and there was a slight smile. On the way home, she didn't talk and only did the necessary things-- walking into the house, taking off her shoes, changing into her sweats, and climbing into bed. Spinner thought making her something to eat would do her some good. Please, he thinks, shaking his head. Let it do her some good.

"You should've seen my driver's face when I sent him away," shares Manny, putting the milk onto the tray with the sandwich. "He was supposed to have me home hours ago."

"Lia's not expecting you?" asks Spinner.

"She is, but like I told Em, I'm staying," says Manny. "I called...called Spike."

"How was that?" says Spinner.

"She's flying out immediately," replies Manny. "She sounded scared. But...aren't we all?"

Eyes downcast, Manny says the last sentence with hesitation and momentarily pats Spinner on the back.

"That looks like enough," says Manny, nodding at the sandwich.

"Yeah," wagers Spinner. "And, Manny? Thanks for coming. I know it was short notice."

"When it comes to Em, I didn't have to think about it," says Manny. "Besides, you're really the one who deserves the thanks."

"Uhh, I'm trying," demurs Spinner. "I don't know what I'm doing, but...I'm trying."

Spinner lifts the tray and leaves the kitchen. Kendra and his mother are in the living room, discussing something related to Gleeson. Their voices are so low that Spinner can't hear them. There was the question of her scholarship still hanging in the air. That's probably the subject of their discussion. He goes by them and approaches Kendra's room. The door is closed and he opens it slowly.

He wants Emma to be sleeping, but she's not. At least she's resting, eyes raised upwards as the gold light from Kendra's desk lamp lights her face. While there is a frown there, there is more movement from her eyes and mouth than when she was on the deck, barely blinking. He supposes that must mean progress. Emma rises from the bed as Spinner enters.

"Good ol' pb & b," jokes Spinner. "Uh, peanut butter and banana, for the common man."

She wraps her robe around her, a blue robe Manny lent her.

"Or woman," adds Spinner.

Emma walks to him with a subtle smile.

Placing the tray on the desk, he pulls over a desk chair for Emma and she lowers herself into it.

"Promised Grandma I'd get the dirty clothes out of the hamper," says Spinner. "Is it too cold in here for you?"

Emma shakes her head and he goes to the hamper with speed. There's quite a pile and he draws them from the hamper carefully since Kendra is a stickler for having people hold her clothes a certain way. Emma's probably eating anyway so he'd bring the clothes to the pantry and say goodnight to her after he loaded them. A blouse touches his nose as he exits the bathroom. Emma might have some things she wants washed too, so he should run it past her.

"Em, do you have any....," starts Spinner.

The rest of his question bunches in his throat as he views Emma crying as her legs shake against the chair's own legs. The lamp shines on the untouched sandwich, Spinner dropping the clothes onto Kendra's bed. Emma sniffles and covers her eyes.

"What..what happened?" whispers Spinner.

She doesn't say, digging her nose into the fabric of the robe.

"Maybe if you'll eat, you'll feel better," says Spinner.

"I...I can't eat it," sobs Emma. "I...I can't."

"Manny said it was your favorite, but I can make something else," offers Spinner.

"No...no, it's not the sandwich," cries Emma.

"If it's not the sandwich, then what...what is it?" asks Spinner.

"I...I don't know," sobs Emma. "There's part of me that wants to...but I just...I just can't."

Spinner sits on the bed, folding his hands together. Wasn't she hungry? After two whole days of not eating, there has to be a part of her that's hungry. He's so used to people eating, people coming to the Dot and ordering and chewing things with ease. To think that any of those people couldn't physically eat...what is stopping it if you have both hands and a willing stomach?

"Tried to brush my teeth this morning?" continues Emma. "Couldn't. Something keeps me from shutting my eyes at night. I can't even talk to you sometimes...and I want to so bad."

"Emma, that's fine," whispers Spinner.

"Who's going to eat it if I don't?" cries Emma. "I...can't lift it. I can't..."

He leaves his position to wrap an arm around her shoulders, Emma staring sadly at the sandwich.

"If you can't, there's probably a really good reason," says Spinner.

"I feel like some ungrateful houseguest," moans Emma, sniffling. "Who doesn't eat when they're supposed to? I'm sixteen, not some stubborn little toddler. You made this for me and..."

"Shhh," soothes Spinner.

He reaches to turn off the desk lamp, the plate and food disappearing to the point where they're only shapes in the dark. Emma grants him a reluctant grin, Spinner kissing her cheek.

"Guess I'll be telling this to a stranger tomorrow," muses Emma aloud.

"You'll have a lot of friends there supporting you, though," says Spinner. "You can think about that when you're in there."

"What if I don't get better?" sighs Emma. "What if this is the beginning of something else?"

"I don't know much about medical stuff, but I know like two things," says Spinner. "One, you're going to be okay because...because you're a tough girl. And two, we're all doing this for you. You don't have to please me or worry about how anyone else feels."

"But...," starts Emma.

"Worry about how you feel," interjects Spinner. "The rest...the rest is going to be alright."

"You're good," sighs Emma.

Spinner kisses her forehead, the tears under her eyes touching his chin.

Emma smiles fully. "You're good for me, too."

II.

It sticks out in the parking lot. On this side of the building, you could see it from whatever window you happened to be looking out of without any problem. He would've loved for the summer to go by so fast, for his motorcycle to go so fast as they left the city. The red metal shines from far away, the wheels stationary.

There's reason enough for the wheels never to move again. Selling it would bring in a decent income. The necessities are way more important than a road trip they most likely wouldn't get to go on. Since her parents were anxious for him to steer clear of Ellie and the police were questioning him on Monday, the pieces were falling into place for the trip not to happen. That's funny because last month, it was totally the reverse. He had steady cash coming in, Mr. Nash liked him, and Ellie was healthy. Yeah, that's funny, or sad. Sean closes the blinds of the window and looks around his living room.

He isn't given much of a chance to look as a knock interrupts his thoughts. Ty is on the other end, holding his backpack in front of him.

"Did you get robbed?" asks Ty as his eyes scan the clutter on the floor and the overturned furniture.

"No," says Sean, shutting the door after him.

"Where's Ellie?" questions Ty.

Eh, he'd attempt to switch the conversation to Ty instead.

"Where were you?" asks Sean.

"Becca finally calmed down," replies Ty. "Then, I got the bus schedule mixed up. Her mother called her grandmother. They want her to come home."

"You could've called," sighs Sean, propping up a side table.

"Sorry," says Ty. "But she gets to stay with her grandma at least."

Ty tries to aid Sean in righting a CD rack, but he'd rather do it himself. He's the person responsible for this mess.

"Look, I can do it myself, alright?" insists Sean.

"Okay," says Ty, yanking his hand away.

Sean rubs his neck and shakes his head. Ty didn't deserve to be raked over the coals. He's been a good person to have around and he isn't even pressing about the state of the apartment after the police search.

"I'm sorry, man," says Sean. "Had a horrible day, and Ellie's in the hospital so..."

"Well, is she okay?" says Ty.

"She is," replies Sean. "But her parents...both her parents are back to not liking me. Can't stick around where I'm not wanted."

"Why not?" says Ty.

Ugh, to be thirteen and never be hated by your girlfriend's family, thinks Sean.

"You're young," says Sean. "You wouldn't get it."

"You're young too," points out Ty.

"Not that young," insists Sean.

He straightens the drawers of a desk, collects the papers that were thrown haphazardly around the area. Jerry and Dee sure looked in every nook and cranny. If Tracker hadn't convinced Sean to leave the spindle with him, he wouldn't be here right now. Ellie fainting probably halted a search of Sean's car. There's really no time to wonder about "what ifs". He has to figure out the best way to sell his bike, and he'd have to dip into his last funds for groceries and pain pills, with an inevitable call to Tracker about helping with the rent money. Then, of course, there'd have to be a job search if he somehow found a way out of jail time.

"But, if Ellie's there, you should be there," says Ty.

"Ty, I told you," says Sean. "Her mom and dad...."

"Like Emmitt?" interrupts Ty. "He doesn't like me much, but he's gotten my pills a couple times."

"I assumed Dale got them for you," says Sean.

"When Dale first started the shop, he didn't have the money," explains Ty. "So he had Emmitt steal from the pharmacy. He didn't like that store anyway. Emmitt's father worked there before he took off."

Emmitt hadn't mentioned this when Sean was with the ring. Sean only remembered that Emmitt had a mother and siblings to take care of, and noticed that yes, he didn't like Ty for some unknown reason.

"Why doesn't Emmitt like you?" asks Sean.

"Guess 'cause Dale started spending more time with me," shrugs Ty. "He kind of missed out on having a real dad, like me."

Having Dale as a makeshift father figure is not appealing on any level, but he's not in Emmitt or Ty. His father is there for him now, and before he had Tracker. He only wishes Ty and Emmitt had a better option than a guy who hoists a gun around.

"Do the other guys at Dale's shops have dads?" says Sean. "Or the kids who lived with you?"

"Nope," admits Ty, shyly. "It's...um, kind of a pattern."

That accounts for Dale's sense of keeping tabs on his own, however twisted it might be. He fails to see how this relates to Ellie. He might as well ask.

"What does this have to do with Ellie, Ty?" questions Sean.

"If somebody's counting on you, you have to be there," says Ty without blinking. "Even if it's not something you should be doing."

Ty's statement makes him recall what Ellie said earlier this summer, when she went on about how every situation has its own set of ethics. What he should do in this situation? Deep down, the answer to that is very much clear. Hadn't Ellie stuck by him while her parents, specifically her mother, didn't like him? Hadn't she made the effort to be with him every step of the way? He was a fool for walking out on her. Sean slams in the last drawer with force.

"How'd you get so smart, huh?" says Sean, turning to Ty.

"Reading," kids Ty.

III.

"I saved you a lot of aggravation, Tobias."

Lucie says this bluntly, parting cans of paint thinner and wood polish as she locates whatever she's searching for. Toby turns in a circle to get a full view of the place. While everything is orderly at Campanelli's, there's so many things that he's incapable of taking all of it in, a variety of household items you could use in any part of a house. The sizes range from small thumbtacks to large grilles set up against the wall. There were no remnants of the his and Manny's Christmas. Toby lowers his eyes but raises them when Lucie says his name.

"Found it!" says Lucie.

"Found...what?" says Toby.

She holds a long brass plate with etched letters across it.

"For your wall!" explains Lucie.

"Oh!" cries Toby. "Yeah, I knew that."

Toby reads the black words on the brass, his name set against it with the date they finished the wall.

"Mr. Campanelli was sure it was T-O-B-E-Y," groans Lucie. "That's correct, right? He was doing the engraving and I had to tell him. I don't know about you, but that would totally bother me if they got my name wrong."

"Thanks," says Toby. "It...it would've been aggravating."

Lucie laughs. "Here, hold it."

The brass plate is cold, glows under the store's lights. The reflection of his fingers are clear at the bottom. Wow, he can't wait to show his dad. Or no, he can't wait until Manny sees it.

"So how do they get it on the wall?" asks Toby.

"A mason will build a cornerstone for it near the wall," replies Lucie.

"Mason?" says Toby to himself, pretty sure he knows what it is, but Kendra's face popping into his head faster than that.

"You don't know construction?" says Lucie, raising her eyebrows.

"Manny's dad works in construction," says Toby. "I...know a few things."

"What does your father do?" asks Lucie.

"He's a musician," answers Toby. "A concert violinist."

"Two very different dads," notes Lucie. "My dad and I? Bump heads constantly since we're different."

Right. J.T. mentioned that Lucie was more on her own path than her father's.

"Well, we're all like that with our parents at some point," says Toby.

"You?" says Lucie, smiling. "Nah, I don't believe you do. You don't seem like the type."

"It's...it's true," stammers Toby.

Lucie gestures to the window, where Officer Wheaton is pacing in front of Campanelli's.

"Ever ditched him?" whispers Lucie.

"Yeah," says Toby, maybe with more pride than he should. "Not...not lately, though."

"Were you alone?" says Lucie.

"No," admits Toby, shifting his eyes. "We...I was with Manny at the synagogue."

"Should've run with her somewhere else," says Lucie brightly, going to the cash register.

What does that mean? Toby follows her to the register, which releases a ring when he reaches her.

"There was nowhere to run," says Toby.

"There's always somewhere to run," argues Lucie, a smile still on her lips. "Where would you take her, if you could go anywhere in the world?"

"Uhhh.......," says Toby, his voice drifting.

He has no idea. He and Manny have certainly talked about where they'd go after graduation, but where to go on a whim? That's extremely tempting and impossible at the same time. It is sort of fun to consider, though.

"Think fast," says Lucie, quickly. "Or...are you drawing a blank?"

"Hey, I was the geography expert on the Academic Bowl team," defends Toby. "There weren't that many geography questions after the second round. Still..."

Lucie silences him by retrieving the rolled up paper with the rubber band. She unfurls it, a map growing larger and larger across the desk. Some locations on the map were circled and others were checked. The map looks worn yet in a nice way, like it's been lovingly handled for seven or more years.

"The circled spots are where I want to go," explains Lucie. "The checked spots are places my father won't let me go to alone, even though I'm going there anyway."

"What happens if he finds out?" poses Toby.

"So?" says Lucie. "Life's too short to do nothing. I want to build houses for families in South America or go paragliding in Italy. If I save enough money, I'm going right after high school."

"This is why you're at Campanelli's?" says Toby.

"That, and I get to be outdoors half the time," replies Lucie. "It'll be cool to have an adventure after all this routine, you know?"

"Do you...know where Mount Kabuyao is?" asks Toby.

He doesn't say a word as Lucie's finger goes along the lines and the countries under the lines. He forgot to say that it was in the Phillippines. That would help her find...

"Here!" cries Lucie.

The printed title of the mountains is dark against the map, Toby viewing the different gold-colored islands and the light blue ocean surrounding them.

"That's where then," speaks up Toby. "Where I'd take her."

Toby lets his hand wander across the country, as if he were really planning to go with her, right then and there. There wouldn't be any police officers or rules or curfews. They would simply be there, relaxed. They wouldn't need a Prism Room because the spectrums there would be a reality. It's time he faced reality, Toby shaking himself.

"I really miss her," says Toby, so quietly he hopes Lucie doesn't hear it.

Lucie taps her thumb against the edge of the map. She stares at Toby, mischeviously.

"Up for an adventure?" says Lucie.

"Huh?" says Toby.

"Can you meet me here tomorrow?" whispers Lucie, leaning into Toby. "You could call Manny from here. Of course, it would mean ditching the cop and doing something your father most likely wouldn't approve of...."

Call Manny from a public place? Why didn't he think of that? Nobody could trace it. Though, he knows in the past that he's been discouraged from calling her altogether. Officer Wheaton discouraged it the most. But why can't he have a little trip like this, a little trip that would take less than half an hour at the most? Toby returns the brass plate to a grinning Lucie before the words exit his mouth.

"Let's do it."

IV.

"_I don't have a tail_!" sings Manny. "_I don't have a tail!"_

Emma can view them from her doorway, Manny making the tail-less alligator dance on the couch cushion as Jack laughs giddily. The tail was missing because of an unfortunate accident where the alligator got caught in the vacuum cleaner. Emma tried to sew the tail back on without any luck. Jack loves it regardless.

"Mine!" cries Jack, snatching it from Manny.

"It is seven in the morning, but you could be more polite," says Manny, rubbing his head.

"No!" shouts Jack, jumping up and running away from her.

"Boys," murmurs Manny, then turning her attention to her vibrating phone.

She leaves, no longer obscuring who came in an hour ago. Grandma Mason and Emma's mother sit in the kitchen, a plant shading Spike's face. Since Kendra liked to sleep with the window open, Emma had heard the cab arrive and Spinner's grandmother greeting her. Who knows if they thought she was sleeping. Spike asked to see Emma as soon as she arrived and she went into the room silently and bent over her daughter. Emma kept her eyes closed and allowed Spike to run her hands over her head several times. She didn't want to look at her mother worrying about her. It was tough enough having Manny, Spinner, and the rest of the Masons treat her with kid gloves. Manny even went to the trouble of drawing a bath. Emma couldn't enjoy it, and washed herself speedily and drew on her comfy sweats. Her mother doesn't know she's awake yet, though someone will most likely tell her any minute.

"I'm sorry, Manny," apologizes Spike. "He didn't sleep on the plane. Was too fidgety. But...he's not the only one."

Spike sighs into her mug of coffee and her shoulders tense. Emma suspects she didn't get a wink of sleep either based on her unkempt hair, so strange for her mother's profession, and wrinkled T-shirt. What if Jack's running her ragged? That's not impossible if Snake broke his word again. Meanwhile, she's out here "on vacation". She was making everybody's life so difficult. Emma closes the door softly.

Kendra remains deep in sleep, Emma shutting on the desk lamp and sitting with her legs crossed on top of her comforter. There's no way to be comfortable, Emma soon realizes. Her limbs hurt as she moves. Emma elongates her legs and sits with her back against the headboard. Her neck hits it, thumping as much as the hand knocking on her door.

"Emma," whispers Spike as she enters.

A pained smile accompanies the name, Spike drying her eyes with her manicured fingers. Emma's gaze doesn't stray from the wall. Maybe she won't have to talk if she won't look at her?

"It's so hard to see you like this," chokes out Spike, embracing her daughter.

She's able to breathe in the scent of detergent used on her mother's shirt, the tendrils of Spike's hair crossing the bridge of Emma's nose.

"You could've called me, sweetie," whispers Spike. "You know you always come first, don't you?"

No words are released from her mouth. Emma makes certain that no words are released from her mouth.

"What's done is done," says Spike, smoothing Emma's hair. "Let's get you dressed for the doctor's."

"I...I'm dressed," says Emma before she can stop herself.

Spike's sight swoops Emma's clothes, her eyes crinkling in confusion.

"I like my sweats," says Emma, standing.

"Didn't you wear these to bed?" asks Spike. "They're wrinkled. Plus, it's going to be pretty hot today."

"I'm not changing," replies Emma. "Why does it matter what I wear? I'm going, right?"

"Yes, you're right," says Spike, playing with her wedding ring. "It doesn't matter."

Emma's last outburst clearly awoke Kendra, who peers over at them occasionally, finally closing her eyes after a couple of minutes. They stay quiet before her mother speaks once more.

"Those _are_ nice sweats," whispers Spike.

"Are you here alone?" says Emma, the ring gleaming when Spike separates her hands.

"For now," answers Spike. "Your father's coming on a later flight. Should be in L.A. by tonight."

"He's working today?"

"A morning class, though he told me he's leaving right after it," says Spike.

That's not what she wanted to hear, though she was almost expecting it. Leave it to him to come later, put their family second.

"Why didn't you guys come together?" says Emma.

Though Spike had made some excuse for him, it's merely that-- an excuse. Emma heads to the door. She doesn't give Spike the chance to say another excuse, tired of sitting still when they're supposed to be leaving. She can't wait to be out of this room with her. Part of her can't wait, is already gone.

V.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Tobes?" asks J.T.

Degrassi Mall has just opened. Janitors are buffing the floors, with the stores' gates still in place, the food court unpacked, without people, with the chairs up on the tables. No food is cooking, and there's barely any talking. In fact, the only person talking is J.T., his pharmacy apron tied into place.

"Why isn't it a good idea?" says Toby, walking backwards as he faces J.T. "There's nobody keep tracking of the phone lines here, like at my house or Manny's. The pay phone at Campanelli's is hidden."

"You could use my cell," says J.T.

"And get you in trouble if Officer Wheaton shows up?" points out Toby. "You've done a lot for me already, J.T."

J.T. stops Toby from walking backwards into a bench.

"See?" says Toby.

"But I thought the reason you couldn't call her was to protect the both of you," reminds J.T. "You guys were in contact, Manny started missing you, came here, and that's when the trouble started."

"Manny knows not to come out here," says Toby. "Besides, she has her own commitments there. And it's one. One phone call."

"I wouldn't...," starts J.T.

"Isn't today your last day at the pharmacy?" interjects Toby. "You don't want to be late."

"Well, you don't want to get caught, so I'd get going if I were you," sighs J.T. "Oh, I have this dirty limerick you could tell her. Even Liberty thought it was funny."

Toby looks at him for a few seconds.

"Okay, she thought it was clever," says J.T.

A second look follows this.

"Okay, she said it rhymed and to never say it onscreen," admits J.T.

"I can't deliver dirty limericks, anyway," guesses Toby.

"Good luck, man," says J.T., raising his hand.

"Luck," says Toby, high-fiving him and walking hurriedly to Campanelli's.

The store is lit, just like Lucie said it would be. She's stationed at the back door, waving Toby to the spot. This is going off without a hitch. That's what he has to believe in any case. He was having breakfast with Jeff, Kate, and Officer Wheaton that morning, most of the conversation focused on a house Kate was having trouble saying. Officer Wheaton was very into the conversation since he and his wife were house hunting. It was the first and only time he'd mentioned his wife. Toby easily dismissed himself and left through the front door. While he's sure Officer Wheaton won't be at the breakfast table forever, he did say that he was taking a shower and would be doing Council business in his room so that gave him twenty to twenty-five minutes at the max, more than enough of a window in which to call Manny.

"Mr. Campanelli should be coming in about ten minutes," says Lucie. "Sorry that's not a lot of time."

Lucie pushes through the door, which releases a loud groan. A black pay phone hangs from the wall, in a small closet.

"It's old fashioned, but it does the trick," assures Lucie.

"Thanks, Lucie," says Toby, patting her on the shoulder.

"Hurry," insists Lucie, presenting him with a quarter.

Toby accepts it and drops it into the slit. He eagerly punches Manny's cell number. There's every chance he's catching her on a busy day, though there isn't an ounce in him that doesn't want to try.

"Hello?" says a voice on the other end.

Her voice. She answered so fast, he thinks it's not real. Her voice is so clear it sounds like she's right there in Toronto with him. Toby gives the "a-okay" sign to Lucie, who gives him some privacy.

Toby sighs deeply. "Manny?"

"Toby?" cries Manny. "Is...is that really you?"

"Yeah, it's me," replies Toby, stroking the wooden enclosure of the phone as he smiles.

He hears some gentle crying through the earpiece and a couple short breaths.

"Are you okay?" asks Toby.

"Hearing...hearing your voice," says Manny. "It's...it's just overwhelming."

"Ditto," says Toby, feeling his own eyes growing wet.

"You're the only guy I know who says ditto, so it really is you!" exclaims Manny through her tears.

Toby laughs. "Well, it's short and sweet."

"Do you have long?" asks Manny.

"No," confesses Toby. "Uh, no. Not long."

Manny doesn't say a word after that, perhaps sinking into disappointment right along with him. Toby peers behind his shoulder.

"Let's keep talking, then," urges Manny. "Until you have to stop."

"I sent you another letter," says Toby, facing front as he stares at the numbers. "Hope you get it before the theater audition. When's your audition?"

"Tomorrow," says Manny. "But...I'm not sure I'm going to end up going."

Manny ducking out of an audition? She sounded so excited for this in her letter. What could prevent her from doing it?

"Why?" says Toby.

"Emma's having sort of a crisis," replies Manny. "It's personal and I probably shouldn't say more."

Hmmm, that's strange. The last time he saw Emma she was perfectly fine.

"I wish I wasn't so cut off," moans Toby into the phone. "I really hope things get better for her."

"So do we," says Manny. "Tobes, I can't wait to read your letter. I loved the first one. Every word."

"I loved writing it," says Toby.

"Toby, not that I don't love this too, but are you allowed to call me?" asks Manny.

"I'm...not," answers Toby, looking down at the floor.

Manny produces a low laugh.

"Awesome," says Manny.

Toby chuckles too, then lets his mouth grow firm. For every word he's not going to be able to say, there are four words he has to say.

"I love you, Manny," says Toby.

"Toby, I love you, too," says Manny, choking up again. "I keep thinking..."

He goes foreward as another hand takes the phone. Then, he turns, his nose right next to a badge. He doesn't have to look up to know who it is, but does so anyway.

"You...you found me," says Toby, nervously.

Officer Wheaton lifts his hat and shakes his head repeatedly. Lucie's behind him, mouths "sorry" to Toby.

"Had a wild hunch," says Officer Wheaton. "You're a creature of habit."

"I...I can explain," says Toby.

No he can't. He's just stalling so he won't have to hang up, surrender to the rules. What he wouldn't give for Lucie's map and two plane tickets to Manila.

"We're needed at the station, so...say good-bye to her," says Officer Wheaton calmly. "Your father's outside."

Toby rests his hand on the side of the phone and slowly raises the phone to his lips.

"Toby?" says Manny, obviously having said it multiple times. "Are you there?"

"Time's up," groans Toby. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Oh," murmurs Manny.

"Was good while it lasted," says Toby.

"Definitely," says Manny, her voice a bit more strong. "You're not going to stop the letters, right?"

"I won't," promises Toby.

"What can I do for you?" asks Manny. "In the mean time. Until I get your letter."

That's easy for him to decide on since he's been hoping for it for quite awhile.

"Wear the ring and think of me," says Toby.

"I promise," says Manny. "Toby, take care of yourself, okay?"

"You, too," says Toby. "Bye."

"Bye," sighs Manny.

He returns the phone to its hook and awkwardly follows Officer Wheaton from the store. Lucie shoves her hands in the pockets of her jeans and frowns at them as they go by. He'd like to thank her again, but it'd be pretty weird to say it in front of Officer Wheaton. Jeff clearly doesn't want him to say anything to him, his father staring at him with his arms crossed.

"How is she?" asks Officer Wheaton as the automatic door to the store opens.

Toby glances at him with a small smile. "Good. I think."


	83. Beautiful Boy

**LXXXIII. Beautiful Boy**

_Close your eyes  
Have no fear  
The monster's gone  
He's on the run and your daddy's here_

_Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy_

_Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy_

_Before you go to sleep  
Say a little prayer  
Every day in every way  
It's getting better and better_

_Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy  
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy_

_Out on the ocean sailing away  
I can hardly wait to see you come of age  
But I guess, we'll both just have to be patient  
'Cause it's a long way to go, a hard row to hoe  
Yes, it's a long way to go but in the meantime_

_Before you cross the street  
Take my hand  
Life is what happens to you  
While you're busy making other plans_

_Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy  
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy_

_Before you go to sleep  
Say a little prayer  
Every day in every way  
It's getting better and better_

_Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy  
Darling, darling, darling  
Darling Sean_

_Good night Sean  
See you in the morning  
Right again_

**Beautiful Boy is the property of John Lennon and Yoko Ono, and appears in the film _Mr. Holland's Opus._**

**AN: Alright, for the first and only time, you'll be getting three flashbacks with the same connective tissue. That is, you'll get three different memories that happened on the same night. You'll be reading Toby's, Emma's, and Manny's recollections of the night of the Kevin Smith premiere. Of course, Emma's has the most dramatic weight. The most noticeable change is that Spinner/Emma are sort of dating at the time so no Peter/Emma. Let's see. Toby/Manny are dating; J.T. and Liberty are not. This should become very apparent as you read but I don't want anyone to be confused when you go through those passages. Thanks for the reviews! Nikki**

The glare of the sun hits the brims of police caps on three officers as Jeff enters the parking lot of the police station. It's more striking when it bounces off the brims and goes past the glass of Toby's window. Officer Wheaton looms behind them in a squad car, the vehicle they used to drive to the mall. His bodyguard must've been concentrating awfully hard to pinpoint him at that exact spot. For now, Toby's concentrating on keeping the sensation of feeling the phone in his fingers.

After the rough pages of the Council handbook, the firmness of his steering wheel, and the fork he used to cut his toast during breakfast, nothing felt more soft and smooth than the handle of that pay phone. How could he not do it again? Because he promised he wouldn't, he recalls. He said this as soon as his father was in earshot and Jeff didn't say another word once this was said. Maybe he'd steer clear of the mall altogether to resist temptation.

"We're here," sighs Jeff.

With his father being quiet, and Officer Wheaton in another car, Toby hadn't gotten around to asking why they were called to the Degrassi police headquarters. During the last trip, they asked a bunch of questions Toby didn't have any answers for, a circle of questions that left him dizzy. Will them taking his computer change anything? If not, can he get it back anyway? Lucie thought a misspelled plaque would aggravate him, but this is a thousand times more aggravating. How long does it take to track down one kid? Justin had to be in the area to deface the synagogue and it's not like he didn't talk to Clara, though he's not sure that's the case post-program. If they still haven't found anything, he doesn't know what he'll do. He didn't relish the idea of his parents, the Santoses, and Manny dealing with this past the summer. They all deserve to move on with their lives, and so does he. Toby puts his hand on the door handle, takes it off when Jeff doesn't appear to be moving.

"Toby, what am I going to do with you?" says Jeff, his eyes staring straight ahead.

Toby takes it as a rhetorical question, his stomach squeezing itself. The guilt didn't take long to eat away at him.

"I'm sorry, Dad," says Toby.

"Do you want me to lock you in your room?" says Jeff. "Hmm? Cause I don't. Have Officer Wheaton follow you step by step? That's too much, don't you think?"

"Ummm...," begins Toby.

"Why are you breaking so many rules all of a sudden?" asks Jeff, turning to him. "I don't treat you well, make sure you have what you need?"

"You do!" insists Toby. "It's...it's just part of me has to risk it....for her."

Jeff faces front once more, although Toby's relieved to see that he appears pensive rather than disappointed.

"When you were looking at the pictures of the houses last time, Sergeant Blanchett pulled me aside," says Jeff. "Toby, you really have no idea what we're dealing with. Any father would...well, any father would worry."

What things aren't they telling him? He's at the center of the investigation; he's the person that came to them. They can show him pictures, while keeping other information tightly to their chests? What sense does that make?

"You're such a sweet kid, regardless of the rule-breaking," continues Jeff, glancing at him. "If I lost you..."

Jeff hits the dashboard forcefully. The echo is brief, yet loud enough to fill the car. Toby's mind returns to weeks ago, when he let Manny come over and they were together upstairs. While he wouldn't have traded that last night with her, maybe he was too dismissive of his father's rules, like today. Jeff left a vacation to come home for him. That warrants a ton of respect. Shouldn't he show him some respect even if it's tough to deal with?

His light jacket is unbuttoned in a flash. Toby pats around for it and removes it.

"Here," says Toby. "No more trips, either."

Gingerly taking the cellphone, Jeff gazes at Toby curiously.

"I care how you feel, too," assures Toby.

"Really appreciate it, Tobes," says Jeff, guiding his son into a hug.

The hug lasts for a good while, Jeff reluctantly leaving it so they can get situated.

"Did they tell you what's going on?" questions Toby.

"Unfortunately, no," says Jeff. "Hopefully, it's what we've been hoping for. Very disconcerting when you keep going in for nothing."

"Yeah," murmurs Toby. "Nothing."

He should prepare himself. Nothing is what he's going to hear, a trip with no pay-off unlike at Campanelli's. Nothing is seconds away. Nothing will come of this. Toby slouches in his seat.

"I'll give you a few," offers Jeff.

"Thanks," says Toby.

"Try and think of something that'll get you through," suggests Jeff, shrugging.

Toby watches his father leave the car and go over to Officer Wheaton, straightening the shirt of his uniform. Something that'll get him through? Who could get him through is miles away. However, it sounds like Emma needs her for right now. Maybe it had to do with Snake and her mom? Their lives have been topsy-turvy since the night of the premiere. Luckily, for him and Manny, the night went off without a hitch.

_"Are you sure this won't make you late?" asked Toby._

_Manny wrapped the white tie around his neck, Toby catching sight of their profiles in the hall mirror. A large, wide vase of flowers was under the mirror, and the carpet was soft, even against the sole of his black dress shoes._

_"The hotel's a stone's throw away from the theater," replied Manny. "I doubt the limo's here, anyway."_

_"Your parents are already dressed," noted Toby._

_"I am the thirty-second, tie-fixing champion," said Manny, grabbing both ends of the tie. _

_"Is that so?" teased Toby._

_"Yep. A full year of theater, then doing double knots for Dracula and Co.," shared Manny, doing a small curtsy._

_"So you wouldn't be opposed to being timed then?" said Toby._

_"Timed?" said Manny._

_"One, two, three, four...," counted Toby._

_Manny furiously brought one end over the other, knotting it, looping it, and securing it before Toby reached twenty, pinching his nose when she was done. Toby smirked._

_"Give me a three-sixty degree spin, math whiz," encouraged Manny. "Let me check my arm candy out."_

_Toby didn't know if he'd meet with her approval. His dad and Kate went above the call of duty, purchasing him a first-rate suit for the occasion. Though he wished her much success, there'd only be one first premiere ever for her even if there were more down the line. The suit had to be tops, too, since Manny was the lead opposite Jason Mewes, and he was Manny's date. The three of them trekked to Merwin's, the male equivalent of Pretty Pretty; he wanted Manny to be surprised so he didn't invite her. Merwin's was where he got his semi-formal outfit the year before and he hadn't planned on returning prior to his senior prom. After ruling out three outfits, they'd finally decided on an elegant, black two-button suit with pleated pants, a white tie and hankerchief coming along with the deal. Jeff said he looked like a musician at Carnegie, probably the highest compliment he could pay Toby. Toby agreed on the suit, but mentally promised himself that he'd go prom shopping with his friends. He didn't want to go through the hassle again._

_Manny, on the other hand, probably woke up and got dressed effortlessly. She was in a cream-colored, knee-length cocktail dress with two skinny straps. Her hair was piled up in a side bun, with whisps of hair touching her neck. The only thing she had left to do lay on top of the desk, next to the vase. Her jewelry was on the surface while they were talking._

_"Red carpet ready," complimented Manny._

_"We decided that you'd walk the red carpet alone," reminded Toby. "Have you been practicing your poses?"_

_"I've been practicing my poses since the womb," answered Manny. "Notice the variety of angles?"_

_She did a few for him-- hand on the hip; back turned, with her chin on her shoulder; two peace signs. He knew the last one had to be a joke unless they'd switched the film to the sequel for Almost Famous, which they'd seen earlier that day at his house. Toby laughed._

_"I'd rather you walk with me," brought up Manny. "I know you don't like the attention, but...."_

_"Maybe next premiere," interjected Toby._

_"Holding you to that," promised Manny._

_"Watched Clerks last night. You know, to get in the mood?" said Toby._

_"And of course you thought of Hollywood Video Hut, and our snappy dialogue there," mused Manny._

_"I just remembered the backroom," said Toby, grinning and raising his eyebrows._

_"Then, why didn't you come with me to my hotel room?" said Manny. _

_"And give your parents the wrong idea?" said Toby, almost yanking his tie as he avoided eye contact._

_Manny halted his hand. "The stylists were getting me ready. All you would've seen is me in a white robe before I went into the washroom."_

_Toby blushed. "I couldn't have."_

_"You've seen me in my pajamas," reminded Manny._

_"Your parents don't know that," said Toby wearily._

_"Want me to tell them?" asked Manny, laughing._

_"No!" whispered Toby, looking at the hall as if the Santoses would appear at any second._

_Smiling, Manny shook her head and started to put on her small gold studs. Toby leaned against the table while watching her. If they weren't standing in the hall, with bellhops and guests going back and forth, he would've sworn this was months earlier, when he saw her getting ready for the pageant at the community center. He was her boyfriend now, getting to share in all the good stuff that was happening for each of them. He was glad they were where they were. He was glad it was months later and they were getting ready for the biggest night of her life._

_"I love watching you, always have," said Toby._

_The words were out before he could censor himself. Manny beamed despite his red cheeks._

_"Off or on screen?" questioned Manny._

_"Off...oh, and on!" said Toby, quickly. "I just hope we're not on and off."_

_"I second that emotion," said Manny._

_Manny fetched her necklace, two tendrils of hair escaping her bun when she tried to wrap the chain around her neck. An unsuccessful second try followed. _

_"Do you need..," started Toby._

_"Yeah," replied Manny. _

_She redid her bun speedily and let Toby drape the necklace against her. Toby grinned at her reflection and looked for the lock on the chain. He fastened it, kissing the back of her neck. Manny shivered and made a grab for his arm, squeezing it._

_"Know what I love?" said Manny, pressing herself against his chest while staring at their reflections. "When the movie ends, and you can hear the flutter of the film strip as it slows on the loop. It's like light applause. The sweetest sound, what I want to hear when it's silent, when everyone's pleased."_

_"I want that for you tonight, then," said Toby._

_"You're what I wanted too, Toby," whispered Manny. "All that and more."_

_"It won't change?" whispered Toby._

_Manny's eyes were shining when she turned her body to him._

_"Why would it?" she replied. "You make me so happy."_

_Letting his thumbs cross the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, Toby allowed her to lean in and move her mouth against his, his tie brushing her neck as his own mouth muscles moved. He closed his eyes and neither of them heard the light footsteps coming off the elevator and towards them. Toby stepped to the side when a throat was cleared. Luckily, it was the more sympathetic Santos parent._

_"Hi, Mom," greeted Manny, going to her instantly._

_"Sorry to interrupt," said Maria. "The stylist found your clutch, and your father called. The limo's outside."_

_"Uh, right," said Manny, accepting the cream-colored clutch._

_"Toby, you're going to ride with us?" said Maria._

_"That's the plan," said Toby. _

_"Walk me?" said Manny, staring at Toby._

_"Alright," answered Toby._

_"I'll wait for Joseph to come down," said Maria, hugging Manny briefly._

_They held hands as the bellhops held the doors for them. The whole lobby was done up in maroon and gold, with gold-plated furniture and maroon seat covers and patterns on columns holding up the ceiling. While Toby liked it, he didn't pay too much attention to it, more focused on how he looked. Manny would make a stellar impression no matter what. He had to keep on his toes if he wanted to remain looking good. _

_Approaching a stretch black limo, Manny peeped in and they heard a hearty "hi" from Jason Mewes. He wore a white shirt and black vest, with no jacket, and tennis shoes. Jason continued his cellphone conversation while beckoning for Manny to enter._

_"Liberty has the tickets?" asked Manny._

_"Yep," said Toby._

_"You have the V.I.P. party press passes?" _

_"Yep."_

_"You have the best girlfriend in the world?" _

_"Yep," said Toby. "She needs to get going."_

_Manny pecked him on the lips and slid into the limo seat, adjusting her dress. _

_"Find me at the theater," said Manny. "I'll be the one waiting for you."_

_"Okay, I'll be the one looking for you," teased Toby._

_He waved and shut the door, watching the limo become as black and distant as the night. _

The police station is distant, brick and foreboding. He should be used to it, though maybe he's refreshing his mind because he doesn't care to remember being under such pressure in this situation. He saw Manny, graceful under pressure, on the night of the premiere. She was so excited, boosting his spirits. It's now time for him to boost his own spirit. Toby opens the car door and joins Jeff and Officer Wheaton as they walk into the office. Sergeant Blanchett is hovering over something, something Toby can't view since the sergeant is right in his line of sight. Then, he moves.

Toby's computer sits on a desk, the screen dark. Jeff places a hand on his son's shoulder. Toby believes it's probably natural, the two of them mentally conjuring any strength they've got left.

Sergeant Blanchett steps forward.

"What?" says Officer Wheaton.

The sergeant smiles. "Good news."

II.

"We did try to stop her!

Chris pours Craig a second cup of tea, Craig setting the saucer on the table. Robert's voice carries from the kitchen, whether he knows that it does or not.

"And what would you have done, Kate?" asks Robert. "Tie her to a chair?"

An anxious look on his face, Chris sighs and stares at Craig.

"Maybe you should go," says Chris. "It's pretty obvious she's not coming back."

Well, yes, he'd known that. Chris and Robert didn't get the honor of seeing the betrayed expression thrown at him once Ashley scooted into the taxi. Her light blue eyes were so icy, a crippling sort of anger that stopped him from following her any further. Besides, if he did catch up to her, what would he say? He had no idea Robert and Chris would remove her from the tour. It did make sense, though, more sense than either of them would like.

"He's been on the phone for an hour," mutters Chris.

"Chris, I should've spoken up earlier," says Craig, shaking his head. "When I was in T.O., when Kate and I were talking. The drinking wasn't as bad, but..."

"Believe me, Craig," says Chris. "We aren't going to get anywhere with the should've-could've game. Let's deal with what's going on now."

Craig nods. "Thanks."

"Of course there are facilities in London!" cries Robert into the phone. "Yes, very good ones!"

Facilities? Isn't that for hardcore addicts? Ashley would hate that. What happened to the option of her living with Robert and Chris, perhaps getting some counselling? A facility would disrupt Ashley's freedom more, stroke a need to rebel. Didn't Kate know that? Didn't they know that?

"Chris, I don't...I don't think Ashley has to go to rehab," says Craig. "She'd be unhappy there."

"Unhappy, but healthy," remarks Chris.

"Still...," starts Craig.

"Robert would rather have her here, anyway," says Chris, nodding with confidence.

Craig releases a sigh. This day has been so hectic, and after consulting his watch, he remembers that Ashley's performing an hour from this very moment. Based on her dismissal of him, basically banishing him from her life, she wouldn't care if he was there or not. For the first weeks of the tour, that's all she cared about, that he was there. He tried to be there for her tonight and that's what tore them apart. Craig stands abruptly. He has to do something or he'll go insane replaying that constant conversation in his brain. There is one thing he has to do.

"I've gotta go," says Craig. "My stuff is at this house in Croydon..."

"Cab fare?" offers Chris.

"No, that's fine," says Craig. "Um, if Ash calls..."

"We have your cell number," guarantees Chris.

"Thanks, for everything," says Craig. "I'm...I'm sorry it didn't work."

"Me too," says Chris. "I'm sure we'll be in touch."

"Tell Mr. Kerwin bye for me," says Craig, then leaving the apartment.

Luckily, the evening hours brought the cabs out in full force. He's in a cab before he's hit by the night's first summer breeze. As the car ferries him to Croydon, he lets his forehead rest against the window. The leaves of shrubs rustle, abandoned newspapers skitter across the sidewalk, and a group consisting of two couples hold hands and walk in a small park. Craig stops staring outside after that last sight. He closes his eyes. With what he had to do, he barely got an hour's worth of sleep. He wonders how much sleep Ashley will get tonight. Has he ruined everything-- her parents' trust in her, her spot on the tour, their relationship? How come everytime he's tried to be a good boyfriend it's blown up in his face? His episodes brought the wedding reception and the successive events to a shattering halt. He told Ashley to stop drinking and failed to get her to be sober for a single night. The only instance where he didn't completely fail was when he was jamming with Ashley in Piccadilly after she asked him, when he'd had that memory of Albert telling him that his mother saw the good in him. Was he right? He's not available to reassure Craig anymore. Reassurance was what he usually received from Julia, though, right up until the end.

_Everyday, he had to wait for the okay. Craig sat on the linoleum, the straps of his camera laying against his shirt, hearing the whispers of the two of them. If Julia was having a good day, there'd be a chirpy tone that he could detect from the whispers. She and Joey were discussing something good. If Julia was having a bad day, Joey would come out and give Craig a pathetic smile. Those days usually had the nurse going in right after Joey and Craig would decide not to see her. Joey always told her that Craig was in the hall, however. _

_When he did go inside, he wasn't anticipating anything he saw. Photography conditioned him to be surprised, to enjoy the surprise of snapping a ladybug on a leaf or a frog swimming rapidly in a river or a tree whose leaves were starting to change. So going into Julia's hospital room and still seeing the same dark circles under her eyes, the silk head scarf that hid the effects of chemo, and her increasingly thin hands was harder to take each time. He expected the unexpected, received the expected. A month ago, the doctors did say things were looking better for her. Who knew that a month later the opposite would be true? Albert initially hated the thought of letting Craig go to the hospital on the same days as Joey, but when things went from bad to worse, he allowed Craig to go. His father came once to see her, when she was sleeping and he didn't have to say anything. Craig didn't find this out until the day after her funeral. Joey told him, and well, that was the most surprised he'd ever been when it came to his father doing anything for her._

_"Go on in, Craig," said Joey as soon as he left the room._

_"This is a good day?" said Craig, standing with his backpack._

_"It's...it's a good day," stammered Joey, unable to meet Craig's eyes._

_Craig couldn't decipher why Joey was tearing up. He thought it was probably because this good day was coming after a string of very bad days. He didn't question it too much, too eager to see her. He went into the room. Julia lay against the blue sheets, a white blanket framing her thin shape. There were a couple dark curls near her forehead where her bangs used to be. The rose pattern scarf hid the rest of her disappearing hair. She didn't uncover herself whenever Craig or Angie were in the room, though she might've for Joey. Her kind brown eyes focused on Craig as he slowly walked to her._

_"What'd you bring for my collection today?" asked Julia, her voice scratchy._

_"Flowers that fell in the water," answered Craig._

_He located the photograph in his backpack. As soon as he came across the yellow roses floating in a brook behind his house, he thought of Julia and her scarf. They looked beautiful even if they were no longer alive. Craig went to her bed and gave her the picture._

_"Oh, this is lovely, sweetheart," sighed Julia. "You have such an eye for these things."_

_"I was afraid I couldn't come in to show you today," admitted Craig._

_"Craig, you can always come in," said Julia. "Joey and I are just talking medical mumbo jumbo. I always like seeing you so don't be afraid to come in here after we're done."_

_But he was afraid, afraid of what he'd hear, and afraid that he could do nothing to stop it. Instead of responding, he found Julia's album full of his photographs near a side table. Julia opened it and flipped through the pages. There was an abandoned treehouse that he'd found on the outskirts of town, with a pink hoola hoop resting against the rusty door; a penguin-shaped piggie bank he'd snapped at a flea market; a yellow parka that flew in the wind. Craig constantly searched for color, and if it was yellow, all the better. Craig sensed that Angie had gone through the album too, because she recently told Joey that she wanted a penguin, obviously believing the bank was real. _

_Julia started to slide the picture into the pocket, her fingers shaking a bit. Craig helped ease it inside. Once it was secure, he noticed a small tube attached to her skin right under her wrist. His sight travels from the tube to a bag above her bed._

_"That's nothing," said Julia, grinning. "Tell me what you're going to do this summer."_

_"I...uh, might go to Europe with Dad," replied Craig._

_"Well, you'll definitely have to take pictures there," said Julia. "Where in Europe?"_

_"London...or Paris," said Craig. "The details are sketchy. It's going to depend on if Dad gets off work."_

_"If you can't go, you have to go someday," insisted Julia, tenderly. "Maybe you and Ang. I went once when I was young, at nineteen. Everybody should try to go."_

_"You can come with us," said Craig._

_Julia coughed and rubbed her throat. Craig found a cup, filling it with water and handing it to her. Julia took a couple sips._

_"That's nice that your father is taking off work," said Julia._

_"It...it might be good to get away," said Craig, shrugging without looking at her._

_"What's wrong?" said Julia, placing the hand without a tube on his._

_He'd rather not tell her, risk her feeling bad. During the years after Julia had left him for Joey, Albert had perfected the art of storing up all his anger and unleashing it at home. He yelled over anything and at anyone, and since Craig was basically the "anyone", he had to hear a barrage of angry words during the weekends. He couldn't tune Albert out either; there was some weird loyalty to being his father's confidante, no matter how loud it got._

_"For me, it's hard to concentrate at home," said Craig._

_Julia didn't dig and he was grateful for that. Instead, she grasped his hand lovingly._

_"Have you ever been inside a dark room, where photographers do most of their work?" asked Julia._

_"No," said Craig. "I've seen one on TV."_

_"The room's very dark, very private," continued Julia. "I'm sure if you look around, you'll find one. I'll ask Joey about it."_

_"You don't have to," insisted Craig._

_"At least promise me this," said Julia, her tone softening. "If you're ever afraid, you go to Joey's, okay? You find him."_

_Though he'd like to forget it, he was well aware of what Julia was referencing, when Albert accidentally bruised his mother on the chin while she was standing in front of Craig to protect him. They seldom mentioned that night, not at all once she was at the hospital. Craig propped himself up on the bed and laid his head next to hers._

_"He hasn't...hasn't done anything else," whispered Craig._

_"I know he wouldn't," said Julia. "But Albert loses control of his emotions sometimes and..."_

_Julia's voice dropped. However, it was not from the lost power in her voice, but from the inability to say whatever she was going to say._

_"The three of you have to look out for each other," continued Julia. "I've already told Joey, in case I'm not here."_

_"Mom...," breathed Craig, his eyes welling with tears._

_"But Joey's so sensitive sometimes, so I'm going to trust you to look out for your sister when he can't," interrupted Julia._

_"I don't know if I could, either," confessed Craig._

_"Yes, you can," said Julia, smoothing his curls back. "Don't you know that your photos get me through the day? That it's going to be you and Angie that's going to get me out of here? I love you."_

_Craig let his head move in a slow nod and hugged her from the side. They went through the album afterwards, Craig detailing how he caught the light and shadow of the images, how he'd like his own dark room to be set up, possibilities for the picture he'd bring her next weekend. Next weekend, she was gone. The nurse handed him the album as he stared at her empty bed, which would be someone else's the next day. So much for him being the reason she got out of the hospital. He did try to do what he'd said he do, keep in contact with Angie and Joey despite Albert's protests. He hoped she knew that he tried. The pictures he took for her were the first photographs he hung in his own dark room, and the yellow items were always the first to be developed._

Nothing is moving under him as they stop in front of Aja's home. The living room light is on and nothing else. Craig pays the cabbie, advances and knocks on the door. He'd almost forgotten that Aja herself wouldn't be there, scanning Nolan's face as he opens the door. Nolan rolls his eyes.

"Thought you Yanks would never bugger off," groans Nolan.

Craig clicks his tongue and enters the living room. He'd just go in, get his and Ashley's stuff, and pretend to have somewhere to go. Joey could wire him some money for a couple nights at a hotel, possibly?

"We're Canadians," retorts Craig.

"What's the difference?" says Nolan. "You guys don't speak proper English."

"I didn't know bugger off was so proper," says Craig, starting up the stairs.

"Where's your lass?" throws back Nolan.

She's not my lass, or my girlfriend, thinks Craig. She's a girl who most likely wants me to disappear.

"I'm talking to you, mate!" yells Nolan when Craig doesn't respond.

"Whatever," mumbles Craig.

"Wanker," mutters Nolan.

Craig quickly turns around. "What Mark called you?"

"Aye, Kennick?" replies Nolan, running a hand through his close-cut brown hair. "He's still about with Aja, then?"

"Yeah, and Ashley," adds Craig sheepishly.

"Your girlfriend sleeping with him?" says Nolan.

The question is delivered in a easy-going way, so easy-going he'd like to deck Nolan so he'd fall on the house's hard floor. Craig goes down the steps and crosses his arms.

"No," says Craig.

"Good taste," remarks Nolan. "Then again, she was with you last night, so..."

Nolan's twisted little smirk is it. This guy needed to shut it.

"She wasn't with me for most of last night, okay?" shouts Craig. "She was with your sister and Kennick, getting drunk, because she doesn't understand the meaning of no! As in no, I don't want to talk about it, especially with you."

The smirk falls before the last word comes out of Craig's mouth. Nolan sniffs the air and stuffs his hands in his jeans.

"How long has she been drinking?" says Nolan.

"For most of the tour," says Craig, hesitantly.

"Come with me," instructs Nolan, gesturing to the room where Craig heard the music coming from earlier.

"I said I don't want to talk about it," says Craig.

"We aren't gonna talk about it," returns Nolan. "Bring that guitar. Hopefully, it's not a piece of trash."

Before Craig can argue, Nolan's strolled across the room and into his private space. Craig glances at his guitar and picks up the case. It's no dark room, but he goes.

III.

Sean's sneakers were leaving no trail as they go back and forth, back and forth. Pacing at nine o'clock at night in front of a hospital is sort of strange, would make people suspicious about his intentions. His intentions are good, though that wouldn't make the Nashes any less suspicious. Amanda Nash doesn't trust him or like him, and Mr. Nash is on the verge of both. Sean glances at the door. Okay, he's going to head in. Why are his feet stuck? Sean zips and unzips his hoodie, something shifting inside.

"We're always open," says a nurse, gently as she exits.

"Oh...uh, yeah, sorry," says Sean.

He enters the hospital, more calm tonight than on other nights where he's been here. His feet are less calm, immediately heading in a less stressful direction. He couldn't stop them from going to Jay's room. Ellie's room is closer but his feet weren't moving towards it. After Ty's very necessary pep talk, his feet are failing him. Sean peers inside to view Jay, awkwardly standing, crutches under his arms. Alex is the only other person there, a few inches away from Jay.

"I hate this!" exclaims Jay.

"Jay, you have two good arms and a good leg," says Alex. "None of which you're making any effort to use."

"The motivational speaking?" says Jay. "Not really working, Lexi. I'm not moving. The stupid therapist already wore me out. I'm tired."

"She said you wouldn't even get out of the chair today!" cries Alex.

"She's a bossy freak who has no life of her own, so she gets on my case for not wanting to exercise when she wants to," argues Jay. "Pain is racing through my leg, man. I'm not one of your little lacrosse superstars."

"No, you're not," says Alex, curtly. "Cause they'd at least get on the field."

"Whoopdedoo for them," mumbles Jay.

"And you want to walk by September?" remarks Alex, rolling her eyes. "Yeah."

Jay sinks into his wheelchair and lets the crutches fall. That seems to be his reply, and that's how Alex reads it too, leaving the room so fast that she apparently doesn't see Sean.

"Too exhausted for a visitor?" asks Sean, standing in the doorway.

Sighing, Jay wheels himself to the bed. "Nah."

"How's therapy?" asks Sean, sitting on the bed.

"It bites," answers Jay. "It bites on every level it can bite. It's so...so much _work_."

"Most hard things are," says Sean.

Jay glances at him incredulously. Sean scratches his neck.

"Sorry, heard that from somewhere," says Sean. "I think it was...Coach Armstrong."

They trade glances and laugh.

"I'm getting an earful from Coach Nunez, who, while hotter, won't tolerate my laziness," says Jay. "Eh...she hasn't given up on me yet."

"The Nashes?" says Sean. "They've had it with me, man."

"May not be permanent," offers Jay, shrugging.

"May not," muses Sean.

"Your own parents? Did...why'd they let you come back to school?" questions Jay.

The change in conversation makes Sean pause, look at Jay hunched over in the chair. Jay is staring at the floor and not at him.

"What do you mean?" says Sean.

"Like didn't they think it'd freak you out to be at the same school where Rick died?" explains Jay, frowning.

"They understood that sometimes you have to face what you're scared of, I guess," says Sean. "And I wanted to come back."

Jay ruffles his hair and scoots the chair back a bit. He folds his fingers, puts them on his chest. He's quiet. Jay's rarely quiet. Sean hops up from the bed.

"You...you barely mention the shooting, Jay," says Sean.

"Well, when it's you this time that got shot, is in a chair..." says Jay softly. "That Jimmy guy? Part of me's like...so that's why I'm in this room."

"You were expelled. You've...you've definitely paid for it," consoles Sean. "What Dale did, man, wasn't linked to that. That shouldn't keep you from trying. You want to walk into class, don't you?"

Unlacing his fingers and putting his hands behind his head, Jay smiles.

"Yeah," replies Jay. "I do."

"Good," says Sean.

"Okay, I'm sick of waxing nostalgic, and there's a biography on Megan Fox coming on TV so...," says Jay.

Sean chuckles. "Right."

He heads for the door, running into Alex on the way. She appears less annoyed, and side-steps so she can walk to Jay.

"Hey," says Alex. "I saw Ellie's mom by the vending machines."

"Oh, thanks," says Sean.

Alex boosts herself up on the bed and lays flat.

"Hey!" says Jay.

"I'm not moving. Sound familiar?" says Alex simply, grabbing the remote and turning it to a _Sopranos_ rerun.

"Hello? Missing Megan Fox!" complains Jay.

Letting them continue their debate on what to watch, Sean swallows all his nerves, the anxiety going down his throat and into his stomach. He really wanted Ellie to wake up in the morning and see him there, to know for herself that he won't abandon her. He was correct with what he told Jay. The hardest things take the most work, physically and emotionally. Sean walks to the vending machines in under a minute. Ms. Nash's head is bent as she retrieves a Milky Way.

"Ms. Nash?" says Sean.

Amanda's gaze goes to him, Sean viewing her eyes instantly cloud with resentment. She makes a fist over the candy bar.

"Getting late, Sean," says Amanda, flashing the face of her watch. "Ellie's asleep."

"I'd like to be here when she wakes up," says Sean.

He says it with conviction, as much conviction as he can drudge up at this time of night.

"I can't deal with you," remarks Amanda heatedly. "My husband and I haven't eaten. My daughter's frazzled, because of you. The doctor suggested we get her into a creative writing class and I have to search for that online."

"What, like after Driver's Ed?" questions Sean.

"Yes, after...ugh, why am I even talking you?" says Amanda. "You're nothing but bad news, Sean, and that's simply something you can't deny. You blew any trust I had in you out of the window today. Right out the window."

Her heels practically punching the floor, Amanda leaves him. Sean leans against the machine, hearing the vibration of the insides. There's a steady hum, a soothing noise. He recalls how Ellie held her head before fainting, how her body went limp. Her mother was concerned, but so was he. He was just as concerned; he is just as concerned. Sean digs his car keys from his pocket, jogs to the door. He knows exactly where his feet are pulling him this time.

IV.

John Nash flips through the newspaper, biting his lip as each page passes. From there, Sean can't tell if it's the sports page or the classifieds. What he can tell is that Ellie's father is alone in the lobby, except for a sleeping kid in a beanbag chair, his mother at the front desk. Sean clears his throat once, with no response. He does it a hair louder, hating that he has to interrupt.

"Sean," says John, staring straight at him.

"I...um, brought...," says Sean, unable to finish.

Instead, he sets the cartons of food on the table, the utensils and condiments in a plastic bag. John helps by sweeping the hospital's magazines to the side.

"What is this?" asks John with a grin.

"Food," replies Sean. "It's pizza. Not wood-fired, but they make a really good pepperoni at Ricci's."

"That's really kind of you," says John.

Sean lets a smile creep onto his face, not sure how long it will last. He sits in the chair across from John's.

"Went through all the section of the paper," sighs John. "Hopefully, you got some food for yourself."

"I'm not hungry," waves off Sean. "You and Mrs. Nash...need the energy."

"We could use that," agrees John.

John takes the carton into his lap, grabs a napkin.

"There's....uh, water in the bag," informs Sean.

"You thought of everything," remarks John, fetching the water.

He allows her father to chew for a few minutes, spies John's eyes drooping every now and then. It'd been a long day for them, but probably longer for a parent. Sean rubs his nose.

"Mr. Nash, can I ask you something?" says Sean.

"Feel free," replies John.

"I didn't mean to, but I heard you telling your wife that...that Ellie and I should take a break," admits Sean.

"Yes," sighs John. "I said that."

"Did you...did you mean it?" stammers Sean. "Cause I love Ellie, like a lot."

John wipes his lips with a napkin, Sean unable to see any facial response to his last statement. Her father offers a verbal one.

"I don't necessarily want a break for the two of you," explains John. "I want a break between Ellie and whatever you're involved in, Sean. Do I think you're a nice young man? Yes. Can I trust you? I don't know you well enough. But I'd like to, for my daughter's sake."

"That...that makes a lot of sense," says Sean, meeting his eyes.

"If you could give her some time, that'd really, really up your ranks with me, so to speak," says John.

Yeah, but how much time? Would he let her go off to U of T without saying good-bye? Would he see her on Thanksgiving break, or Christmas? If he lands in jail, who knows when he'd see her after today? The condition is trust, though. He could earn it with her father. He could start on the right path. After having done so much wrong in the past few weeks, a little of doing what's right would be a benefit to more than the Nashes. It'd be beneficial for him.

"I want to leave something in her room," says Sean. "Her mom said she was asleep. I won't wake her."

"As long as she gets her rest," says John. "Go ahead."

Sean locates her room, peers through the glass. Her mouth is closed, her hair laying flat on the chest of her hospital gown. He goes in and spots her street clothes in a chair. Picking up one of her boots, he smiles and sets it in its original position. The TV is blasting CNN, and he'd be surprised if it were on any other channel this late at night. When she stayed over, when Amanda's drinking was getting worse, Ellie would watch the news scroll on the bottom of the screen. Perhaps hearing the news of the world comforted her because she'd know that compared to others, she didn't have it as bad. Sean never asked if that theory was right. He unzips his hoodie and removes a pen and journal, two tools for her to write her personal news or ramblings or joys or pains. The journal was brought before the food. He used his last seven dollars on it, a book with a ruby red cover and paper without holes. When she woke up, it'd be ready for her and he'd be around.

"For your class," says Sean, tapping the journal.

Ellie remains still.

He leans in to kiss her forehead. "Night, El."

Ellie wiggles her nose, smiles, and moves her body to face his while she sleeps.


	84. Journey to the Past

**LXXXIV. Journey to the Past**

_Heart don't fail me now_

_courage don't desert me don't turn back now that were here_

_people always say life is full of choices_

_no one ever mentioned fear_

_or how the world can seem so long_

_or how the world can seem so vast_

_courage see me through_

_heart I'm trusting you_

_on this journey to the past_

_somewhere down this road_

_I know somone's waiting, years of dreams just can't be wrong_

_oh arms will open wide_

_I'll be safe and wanted, finally home where I belong_

_well starting here my life begins_

_starting now im learning fast courge_

_see me though, heart_

_I'm trusting you on this journey to the past_

_Heart dont fail me now (oh no)_

_courage dont desert me (desert me)_

_home, love, family there was once a time_

_I must have had them too, home, love_

_family I will never be complete until I found you_

_one step at a time_

_one hope then another_

_who knows where this road may go ooh_

_back to who I was_

_on to find my future_

_things my heart still needs to know_

_yes let this be a sign_

_let this road be mine_

_let it lead me to my past_

_courage see me through_

_heart I'm trusting you to bring me home_

_and laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and laaaaaaaaa heee_

_yeeaahh oohhh (courage see me through heart im trusting u)_

_heyyyyy yeeaahh heyyyy yeeahh (heyy yeahh hheyy yeeah)_

_heyyy yeeaahh (courage see me through)  
_

**_Journey to the Past_ is the property of Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty, and appears in the film _Anastasia._**

**Renegade is the property of Styx.**

Ashley allows her butt to fall onto the last step of the bus. Many of her fellow musicians are already near the stage, warming up for tonight's tour stop. Tonight, they're doing things al fresco. A stage had been built in a large park, three times the width of Aja's house. Picnic blankets are sprawled on the grass, with coolers next to couples and singles. Fliers were taped to trees, including some of her and Mark. They had the same promo shots Ashley had taken weeks ago when everything felt so new and promising. The only promise she has now is that she'd be off the tour in two days.

How could they? Invite her to their apartment, accuse of her something that isn't true, and pull her off the tour without hearing her out? Worse is knowing who orchestrated the whole trip. She honestly thought Craig was the right person to turn to when she was lost, the right guy for her period. Isn't he? He looked hurt, from the time they left the cab together to the time where she jumped in her cab and left him alone. Okay, so maybe he didn't know what her father would do. He should've seen it coming. Why didn't she see it coming? Craig, Robert, and Chris mysteriously ran into each other. Yeah, right. Maybe she was too hungover to process the unlikeliness of that being the case. Ashley rubs her temples methodically. She's sober but she wouldn't mind passing out right about now, not remembering what happened an hour ago.

The last thing she recalls today is an event that had actually led up to tonight. Like tonight, she was a jumble of emotions, her father a nervous wreck. Ashley's audition for the arts academy was supposed to go off swimmingly. She'd been practicing for weeks, with the full support of her family and her friends, with Jimmy coming around once they'd compared schedules and compromised on ways they could still date. Kate made a big deal over her outfit; she didn't want to be the mom who made a bad impression. She wore a prim business suit, the first and last time Ashley saw her wear peach. Kate ordered Jeff and Toby to dress nicely too, and then ordered Jimmy, Terri, Paige, and Spinner to behave properly. Her mother called so many shots that day you would've figured she was on the panel.

_"Is that really the best you could do?" sighed Kate._

_Spinner reassessed himself for the third time as Kate went to go fix Jeff's jacket. Spinner sighed. He'd been complaining in the Brooks' car that his belt buckle broke and had to hike up his pants every now and again. In comparison, Jimmy was wearing a black tie, black blazer, and tan slacks; Terri, a floral dress with purple and blue flowers that hung to just above her white sandals; Paige, a (demure for her) strapless white, tea-length dress and ivory Steve Madden heels._

_"Dude, I don't want to flash anybody," whispered Spinner to Jimmy._

_"Are you serious?" whispered Jimmy with a quiet laugh. "You mooned the caf a week ago, man."_

_"Maybe if the panel notices Spinner's butt, they'll pass out and I won't have to play," whispered Ashley, crossing her arms._

_She had no such mishaps with her outfit. It was a long, black dress with no frills and no patterns. The dress had wide sleeves and didn't show a hint of her shape. In other words, it was dull. Her hair was short and black, like her nails. Kate instructed her to select her outfit early so she could have it dry-cleaned. Ashley did what she was supposed to do, mainly because four people were counting on her: her mother; her father; her music teacher; the scout who agreed to include Ashley in the process this year. If she flopped, she'd take out four in one blow. Besides, Ashley Kerwin didn't flop. _

_No, Ashley Kerwin got nervous. She was standing against the wall with her friends to let the butterflies in her stomach flap their wings and eventually settle down. It was working, to some degree._

_"You've practiced so much, you can play it blindfolded," comforted Jimmy._

_Play it she did, and she had yet to miss a sharp or a flat. Her music teacher had convinced herself that sonatas were unlucky for Ashley. Why else would she screw it up so terribly when she was at her first audition when she was eight? Five years later, her music teacher gave her a nice, smooth concerto. She had to play certain notes with flourish but overall the piece would depend on the interpretation of it. If Ashley played it straight and with patience, nothing could stop her. _

_"I wanna go the movies," murmured Spinner._

_Jimmy elbowed him, frowning._

_"I mean, I wanna hear this piece Jimmy's told me about," said Spinner, speedily._

_"Hopefully, there's some tortured musician that's single," said Paige, her eyes scanning the crowd._

_Spinner did a scan of the room too, looking to counter any flirtatious glance aimed at Paige with a sneer. He'd taken an interest in her recently and Terri was none too pleased. Showing up drunk at the dance kind of shelved any chance for Spinner and Terri. Ashley could view the disappointment on Terri's face. Also in sight was the first academy hopeful, his timpani mallets firmly in his hands. _

_"We'll begin with an original timpani solo by Lakehurst seventh grader, Grant Yerby," announced Mrs. Stringer, the scout who'd taken a shine to Ashley._

_Grant took a deep breath and went to the timpani as the audience applauded._

_"They said a Tiffany solo?" said Spinner._

_"No, Mozart, a timpani solo," corrected Jimmy._

_"Ohhh, they're like drums, yo," noted Spinner. "That's cool. Drummers are cool."_

_Spinner was less into it than Terri, however. She was blushing up a storm. _

_"If Ashley gets in, maybe she can hook you and Grant up," teased Jimmy as Terri lowered her face._

_"Stop," protested Terri, playfully pushing him._

_"This guy's really good," sighed Ashley._

_He was, and since they were competing for one spot at the academy, and the panel was considering how they'd fare against other talents while performing, she could safely say that she had legitimate competition. The two other musicians, a red-head boy with a flute, and a dark-haired girl with a violin, were probably better. Maybe they were penalizing her for being too old because the other two were younger, and penalizing her for being a last minute addiction by having her follow Grant. No matter, because Ashley would make the decision for them. _

_"Any nerves?" whispered Jimmy to her._

_Anyone else besides Jimmy wouldn't have known what was behind that question. Yesterday, she took the bus to his parents' and sank into his lap crying. Nobody was there to hear her besides him. His parents were never home. She confessed everything: how much she'd miss Degrassi; how much pressure she felt; how as much as she loved music, she wanted to have the free time to write poems or participate in theater or do anything else that didn't have her sitting behind a piano for most of the day. Jimmy told her to do her best, a motto he lived by. That didn't offer her any consolation, though. She could do her best but she didn't want to do her best. She'd do anything in her power to go where she wanted to go. It was her life._

_"I'm going to kill it," whispered Ashley._

_Jimmy grabbed her wrist and squeezed his support._

_The panel consisted of three people who, at times, did look supportive. There was a woman with auburn hair who resembled Anne Marie Isaacs; an extremely skinny man who must've played something tall like a cello; the admissions director for the school, a man with thick glasses and a constantly red nose. They didn't look like monsters or tyrants so maybe it was easier to do._

_"Next, we're going to hear from Degrassi seventh grader Ashley Kerwin, who will play Bach's Italian concerto on the piano," announced Mrs. Stringer._

_Her friends clapped loudly, everyone else joining in. Ashley smoothed her dress and advanced to the front of the room, passing a grinning Grant on the way. Little did he know that he'd have another reason for grinning. Ashley sat on the bench and thought of a dozen apologies-- to her parents for paying for lessons; to Mrs. Stringer, for coming to the school on short notice; to her teachers, who'd guided her to a moment like this. But could you apologize for something you didn't really ask for? She never asked. Didn't that cancel out at least half of the guilt? _

_Ashley posed her fingers over the beautiful black and white keys, went into overdrive for the first few measures. Once the key signature changed, all bets were off. A C became clunky, an A atrocious. She heard the offended gasps coming from the parents, parents that probably included hers. She let her fingers revolve, and notes she'd played so richly yesterday were ugly. Ashley finished with a few measures that weren't as bad, and smiled as she put down the piano cover. Nobody else was playing it that day, and they were all clearly thankful for the reprieve. Ashley buried a smile, stood up, and bowed. Light applause greeted her as she left the stage and went into the hall. _

_When the performances ended, Ashley stood in the hall and waited for her parents. Jimmy, Spinner, Paige, and Terri appeared._

_"So....uh, good job, Ash," complimented Terri, softly._

_"Uh, yeah," said Spinner. "Were there supposed to be those thumpy notes in the middle, though?"_

_Paige hit Spinner upside the head._

_"What happened, Ash?" questioned Jimmy._

_"I don't know," said Ashley, breezily as she shrugged._

_Jimmy gave her a skeptical glance as her parents and Toby appeared. Her mother had this frown that always elicited corrected posture and red cheeks. Ashley's shoulders straightened as her skin grew hot. What would Kate say? Or her father? They had to know she threw her chance away purposefully, or at least suspected it. Kate's frown grew into a look of pity, however._

_"I didn't get in?" guessed Ashley._

_"They selected another student, sweetie," informed Robert. "We overheard Mrs. Stringer."_

_"We would've missed you if you went to the academy, anyway," sighed Kate, opening her arms._

_She quickly went to let her mother's arms embrace her as Robert rubbed her back. _

_"Besides, we only have three credible musicians at Degrassi," added Toby. "We kind of need you."_

_Everybody laughed, including Ashley. Back then, it was pretty true. _

Right now, it's not. These musicians earned their spot on the tour. She earned her spot, and because of some mislead notion her father has, it's taken from her. It's so sad that she had more control when she was twelve than she does today at eighteen. How many eighteen-year olds let their parents run the show? It feels unnatural, like how it feels unnatural for her not to be playing on a tour that, first tore her to be bits, and then made her triumphant. She can't stop at this point, when she's nearly signed and steering her own boat for the first time since that fateful audition.

"Get off your lazy bum, and pretty up, Kerwin!" orders Mark.

Mark and Aja are walking toward her, most likely hunting her down because they haven't seen her since last night.

"You'd think I was your mum worrying as I was," kids Aja, folding her arms.

"I wasn't worried," says Mark, smiling. "I was just lonely."

Ashley props her chin on her elbows, resting on her two knees.

"Why bother?" moans Ashley.

"What you going on about?" says Aja.

"Tonight's...tonight's my last show," shares Ashley, closing her eyes.

"Who says?" asks Mark.

"My father says," replies Ashley. "About ninety minutes ago."

"What kind of dad does that?" cries Aja.

"He thinks I'm a drunk," says Ashley, opening her eyes and shrugging at them.

"Who gave him that idea?" asks Aja.

"Three guesses," sighs Ashley.

Aja and Mark exchanges short glances, with Mark shaking his head in disbelief.

"Okay, I wasn't so drunk that I didn't see that Manning was mental last night," says Mark. "He's jealous of you."

"No, I don't think that's it," says Ashley.

"Look, it doesn't matter, alright?" assures Aja. "You'll do the show tonight, and wake up in the morning, go to your dad's, and tell him that Craig was overreacting. Julian'll back you up, and better you than Sarah or Bianca. You're more important than the pair of them."

"My dad works for an associate of BBC's," informs Ashley. "The associate and Julian are pretty tight. Dad and Julian even said the same exact thing. 'I'm extremely disappointed in you'."

"I wouldn't talk to your dad at all, and do whatever," poses Mark. "We all signed tour contracts, and Liam's committed to you, tour or not."

Ashley straightens herself and smile. They may just be telling her what she wants to hear, but they are making sense. They're making way more sense than her father or Craig.

"I'm not out yet, am I?" says Ashley, hopping up.

"Nope," answers Mark.

"Ashley Kerwin decides to go home when _she_ decides to go home," cheers Aja, hitting the side of the bus authoritatively.

"Right," says Ashley. "I owe Croydon a good time. This is where I learned I got signed, after all."

"Croydon forever!" shouts Aja, raising her fist.

"Go on and get dressed," instructs Mark. "We're doing Jett again."

"Thanks," sighs Ashley, hugging each of them. "You guys...are really good friends."

"I'm gooder," says Aja.

"That's not even a word, Aja," sighs Mark.

Ashley grins and boards the bus. She opens the closet in the common room, views a familiar sight. Craig hasn't worn his jacket in hours, and she'd hung it here for safe keeping. She fingers the leather back of it for a few seconds, casts her eyes on the garment bag Julian had brought over for her. Ashley slowly closes the closet, with the last bit of leather leaving her eyes. Her hands find the leather of the garment bag and she suits herself.

II.

"Everything there?" asks Sergeant Blanchett.

It better be, think Toby. He doesn't mean for his inner voice to sound so ungrateful, but he's so intent on checking his computer that those words instantly pop into his mind. Thankfully, everything is there. Toby nods and takes a seat next to his father.

Good news. He can't say "it better be" when it comes to that. Yes, they've been stringing this case for what seems like an eternity that the first hint of success leaves him pretty dumbfounded. He hopes it's not something small like the team finding Justin's lighter outside the synagogue.

Sergeant Blanchett shuffles to his chair and sits across from them.

"Remember the hub I mentioned to you?" begins Sergeant Blanchett. "Well, what we surmised at first was that Justin's personal computer was interacting with at least twelve other personal computers on Cezanne Street and Cezanne Place. We traced most of the e-mails to houses in his neighborhood. But none of the relatives knew where their kids were going. What we didn't know was that these computers were confined to a single place with the hub acting as their connection point."

"Really?" says Jeff, his eyes widening. "Like a lab of some sort?"

Some sick sort of lab, groans Toby inwardly. He can't believe Justin's group were so committed to such an ugly cause, but he can hardly believe this is happening in the first place.

"Toby, do you remember this particular house?" asks Sergeant Blanchett.

He removes a photograph from his desk of a brown house Toby has seen before. Drawing the picture in his mind, Toby closes his eyes. Yes, the house is familiar to him. It was next to Justin, and there were three kids, one of the kids rubbing their genitals against Justin's car. The three kids went into the house and didn't come back out. In fact, the little kid was only around when the older kids weren't.

"I do," answers Toby.

"Right next to Justin's?" says Sergeant Blanchett.

"Yes," replies Toby. "There were three guys, and...and they were singing Fly right!"

"What on earth does that mean?" says Jeff.

"There's a common expression of 'fly right'," answers Sergeant Blanchett. "Straighten up your life. But this is a call to adhere to certain rules they've composed. This group seems to think it's their duty, no their obligation, to tell others how to 'fix' their lives, including who to interact with."

"Rules such as?" says Jeff.

"No interfaith or interracial dating or marriage," provides Sergeant Blanchett. "Strict kosher diet. Shunning outside influences that call for tolerance. Punishing brothers who stray from the faith..."

"I'm not their brother!" interjects Toby. "Someone like J.T. would be my brother."

"I'm not pretending any of this is logical, Toby," assures Sergeant Blanchett. "We're doing a full search of the house tomorrow. Look, maybe it's best if I talk with your father alone..."

"No!" exclaims Toby.

"Toby, you shouldn't be hearing all of this, I agree," says Jeff.

"Dad, before Manny left, I told her I'd fight," says Toby. "I can't fight if I'm left out in the dark."

"These are dangerous kids, Toby," says Sergeant Blanchett, lowering his voice. "Clara burst into tears when she heard this. Justin's emailed her a number of times trying to draw her into it. He's angry and one of a dozen angry kids."

Toby presses his hands together and slouches in the chair. How could he honor what he said to the Santoses if they keep him on the sidelines? Finally, here's a signal that will lead them close to or even straight to Justin. They're so intent on protecting him. Wouldn't not knowing make him more anxious, unable to sleep at night knowing that they're watching him and that he has no idea when Justin's group will strike next, if they'll strike next?

"I'm a kid, too," speaks up Toby.

"Not like them," says Sergeant Blanchett.

"On...on some level, Justin is like me, though," says Toby.

"Tobes, that's really stretching it," counters Jeff.

"He's upset...because he wants somebody to be with him," continues Toby. "And I'm sad because...because I want somebody to be with me."

Sergeant Blanchett shakes his head and starts to lift his coffee cup, which Toby halts him from doing.

"I know this guy, maybe better than your team," says Toby. "If you let me go to the house, once, I won't ask for anything more. I need to see why he's doing this or else I'll be right back here, asking more questions."

"We'd need Wheaton with you, and permission from your father," says Sergeant Blanchett.

Based on his stony look, Toby can tell that Sergeant Blanchett's willing his father to say no. Toby straightens his posture and looks at his father, full on, with no flinching. Jeff stares at the computer for a full minute and looks at Toby, the worry lines near his forehead crinkling.

"He has it," says Jeff.

Toby lets his mouth drop, quickly closing it.

"I'll take the day off and come as well," says Jeff.

"Very well then," says Sergeant Blanchett, rising reluctantly.

He goes to fill his cup, the pot in the corner.

"Thanks, Dad," says Toby.

"For the record, I don't think you're like Justin at all," says Jeff. "But maybe that will be what helps them."

"This was good news," sighs Toby, appreciatively. "And I got my computer back."

"Sure you don't want a new one?" questions Jeff, jokingly.

Unplugged, with dust on the monitor, yes, the computer's not at its best. Perhaps that's part of the charm, though. But he has ever said no to anything involving a computer. He can't say it's not a little tempting.

"I don't know," says Toby, laughing quietly. "That thing looks like it's seen better days."

III.

There are three degrees on the walls: one for her bachelor's, one for her master's, a doctorate, and an honorary doctorate. The calligraphy on them all doesn't look the same, however, even if the same name adorns them all. _Dr. Antonya DePauw_. When Emma stepped into this wing of the hospital, she was expecting to see three things: people much older than her, at least Spike's age; Dr. DePauw herself, talking to Emma in hushed, patient tones; an aquarium. The aquarium was the only thing present when she got there. Jack sat on a chair, transfixed by it, while Spinner, Manny, Grandma Mason, and Spike took their seats in a small room. Emma was immediately led to the office by a secretary with large hoop earrings. Dr. DePauw will be in shortly, said the secretary.

How about she not come in at all? Emma's eyes stray from the degrees to the open window opposite her chair. Santa Clara Hospital was right next to the beach. She could hear seagulls talking and the roll of the waves every other moment. This must be what regular patients hear day in and day out, thinks Emma. Well, she wouldn't be a regular. She's had a few bad days but that doesn't mean she has to deal with it under a psychologist's care. Her mother didn't have the money and it's not like Snake is here. Snake, moans Emma inwardly. He _would_ skip out on her, the supposedly reliable stepfather. He _would _miss her getting shrinked.

She'd seen this movie once. _Girl, Interrupted_. The females in there were actual adults, like grown women, and they had these pressures they were trying to grapple with in different ways. The pressure led them to a mental institution. In real life, the closest she's ever come to that is when she visited Shane in Stouffville. He seemed so hopeless and small. She took control there, introducing herself and promising to keep in contact with him. But how she can control this now, being the one who's going to be looked at and evaluated?

The door opens, with a small wheeze. Emma crosses her arms and faces front. Plodding heels travel across the carpet as a woman comes into view. She's fairly tall, with very short nut-brown hair, piercing green eyes, eyes that match her pantsuit. The most notable accessory she's wearing is a bracelet, which looks somewhat indigenous, with black and gold glass beads.

"Good morning, Emma," says Dr. DePauw, her voice calm and airy.

"Hi," says Emma.

Dr. DePauw sits in an olive-colored swivel chair, making her look like the greenest person Emma's ever laid eyes on.

"I wanted to speak to you for a few minutes before we invite your mother in," says Dr. DePauw. "But I did get a chance to talk with your two friends."

Emma glances at the ceiling. Why am I here? She asks it silently as if the ceiling could answer.

"Where are you from?" asks Dr. DePauw.

"They didn't tell you?" says Emma, letting her eyes fall to the doctor slowly.

"Not specifically," claries Dr. DePauw.

"Toronto," says Emma. "I'm sure my mom wrote the address on one of the forms."

There were several forms. Emma had the luxury to observe as the secretary handed her form after form after form. She couldn't help but dismiss it as useless. Everybody's going home in less than two weeks, including her.

"Speaking of which, I have a form for you," says Dr. DePauw.

"Great," mutters Emma, so low she doesn't believe Dr. PePauw heard her.

Dr. DePauw locates a form on a clipboard and presents it to Emma. Emma sighs and accepts the clipboard. She quickly reads the form and stares hard at the doctor.

"Just check off any of those symptoms you're having," instructs Dr. DePauw with a smile.

Emma scratches her nose and detaches the pen from the clipboard. One of her shoes goes over the other. She stares at one side of the paper and then the other. Dr. DePauw's gaze remains on her with each motion. It's so great being watched like a hawk. Well, that didn't mean anything. Emma would give her nothing to talk about.

"I have none of these symptoms," says Emma, shrugging.

"Really?" says Dr. DePauw.

The word is said with interest instead of shock. So don't like the sound of that, laments Emma in her head, which is starting to throb.

"Appetite loss?" asks Dr. DePauw.

"Never eat breakfast," says Emma.

"Mysterious aches and pains?" says Dr. DePauw.

"No," says Emma.

"Loss of interest in activities?" continues Dr. DePauw. "Feelings of guilt or loneliness? Irritability? Insomnia? Feeling tired?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," says Emma.

"Emma, why did you nearly walk off a pier?" asks Dr. DePauw, leaning forward in her chair.

She wasted no time in bringing up the pier, did she? Ugh, she knew she shouldn't have agreed to an appointment. Her walking on the pier had nothing to do with...it wasn't any of her business. Emma lets a few pieces of her hair shift from behind her ear to her face.

"Got the wrong girl," says Emma as convincingly as possible.

"Anything we discuss is confidential, Emma," says Dr. DePauw. "That's the first rule of this office. The second is that I can't help you if you don't help yourself. That means you have to be honest with me and more importantly, yourself. The more you deny or ignore what you're going through, the more you prolong your recovery."

"There's nothing to recover from!" cries Emma. "Look, I don't want to kill myself or hurt myself. I'm not carrying around any deep, dark issues, and if I was, I wouldn't share them with a stranger!"

Dr. DePauw's gaze holds steady.

"Could you stop staring?" sighs Emma. "It's...strange."

Nodding, Dr. DePauw picks up another pen, starting to write in a book with a leather cover. Emma taps her own pen against the clipboard, trying to keep her sight from going to the leather book and moving pen, but she can't. It won't stop moving. Whatever it's doing, it's not doing simple check marks.

"What are you writing about me?' asks Emma.

Dr. DePauw clears her throat and goes on writing.

"That...that I'm like hostile or something?" guesses Emma.

No answer there, either. Emma sits up straight.

"Cause..cause I'm not," insists Emma. "I...I just feel cornered."

"Why?" speaks up Dr. DePauw, turning a page.

That's one word, and she'd rather talk without the woman staring at her so why not?

"I don't know," says Emma. "Everybody thinks I'm this fragile flower. I mean, I guess the shower thing was weird but...I zoned out, and couldn't get out of it."

"What were you thinking about in there?" asks Dr. DePauw.

"Nothing, and I liked it," replies Emma. "I've been wanting to not think of anything."

"What about when you're about to go to bed?" says Dr. DePauw.

"I...I can't go to bed," says Emma, then covering her mouth.

She admitted a symptom. Great, she got it out of her without her realizing it. Pretty soon, she'd be on one of those extraordinarly long couches and spill her guts out to a woman who does nothing but calmly smile. Lowering her hand, Emma winces.

"This isn't going to work," says Emma. "I'm a very private person."

"Privacy is one of our natural rights," says Dr. DePauw, shrugging.

"So why are you in this profession?" asks Emma.

"So you can find a way to deal with your emotions in a healthy way," replies Dr. DePauw. "Because feeling how you want to feel is a right, too."

"You don't know me so how are you going to tell me how to handle all of that?" says Emma, shaking her head at her.

Dr. DePauw stops writing and stares directly at Emma.

"You're articulate and a very strong-willed person," says Dr. DePauw without flinching. "Additionally, you like to be in control and are careful not to show anybody your insecurities. You ignore discussing any situations and emotions that contradict those traits. And while it's obvious you have a supportive social system, you'd sooner alienate yourself than seek them."

Emma offers her a dumbstruck gaze, feeling the weight and heat of her sweatshirt for the first time that day. The air conditioning doesn't prevent a few beads of sweat from falling down her back. She basically did sum up quite a bit of the fears and actions that filled her days this summer. And that's based off a couple conversations with Manny and Spinner, and then this session.

"I've been in this profession a long time, Emma," says Dr. DePauw.

"Yeah, like with adults," says Emma.

"No, half my patients are teenagers like yourself," clarifies Dr. DePauw, smiling. "I think...people have this image of mental illness being this or that, but in reality, it comes in all forms, with people of varying personalities and ages."

"I'm not mentally ill!" exclaims Emma.

"Tell me what you think is wrong, Emma," says Dr. DePauw.

She says it softly, as if she's contemplating being convinced. Emma rubs her forehead. What is wrong with her? Wasn't that her job to tell her what's wrong with her?

"I got fired," says Emma, faintly.

"Okay," sighs Dr. DePauw.

There's that smile again, thinks Emma, rolling her eyes.

"I'll go call in your mom," says Dr. DePauw.

Standing, she leaves, her heels hitting the floor just as hard as when she entered. Emma stands too, so eager to get out of that chair. She looks from side to side. Her hand grabs the leather book without hesitation. She flips to the page where she spots her name at the top. It doesn't take long to rip. The shred is sweet to her ears. Forget Dr. DePauw. Forget therapy. Forget whatever lame thing this is supposed to be. Emma bunches the pages and slips them into her pocket, leaves the room, the degrees shining on the wall as she walks past.

IV.

"Sit in that chair."

Rather than receive an earful, Craig does as told. Besides, he's too into scanning the room and wondering why he's in there. It's a studio, simply, but what a studio. There were dials, switches, and buttons on an expensive-looking console, Craig running a finger over the black edges of it. The microphone glints in the corner of his eye, the recording booth empty. Nolan flips on the power for the console, red and green flashes lighting up as it charges. Well, he certainly looks at home, thinks Craig. Himself? Well, he hasn't been in a studio since his Downtown Sasquatch days, before England. He sets his guitar case against his knees.

"Who built this?" asks Craig.

"Magical fairies," answers Nolan briskly. "Named Twinkle and Sprinkle."

"Fine," says Craig, staring into the booth. "Don't tell me."

"Get that guitar out," says Nolan.

"Why?" says Craig.

"Wanna see how good you are," says Nolan.

Without waiting for a reply, Nolan fiddles with the tracking equipment. Craig can hear the machine churn, a light pleasant sound that's like a whisper.

"You're...you're recording?" questions Craig.

"Chicken?" says Nolan.

"No," says Craig.

He speedily removes his guitar and props it on his knee. Beginning to tune it, he puts his pick next to the strings, starting to play. Nolan nods appreciatively for a couple moments then halts him.

"Do a song," commands Nolan. "No emo. Emo sucks."

"Is please in your vocabulary?" says Craig, lifting an eyebrow.

"When you're somebody, I'll say please," returns Nolan. "Til then, play a song."

"What kind of song?" says Craig.

"Something brill," answers Nolan.

"As in...brilliant?" prods Craig.

"There ya go," says Nolan, adjusting a couple of knobs.

Hmmm, he can't play the song he's writing. He's only got a couple lyrics for it and it's so unfinished. Whatever it is, it really does have to be brilliant. With Nolan so perpetually negative about him, he would love the chance to show him he's good. There's one song he does pretty well, despite never performing it live. Ashley liked it, anyway. He came in here not to talk about her, thinks Craig, plugging his guitar chord to the wall. He gets his fingers in the proper positions. What else did he think about today? Yeah, his mom. His mom, who had to witness so much pain and anger before she died, who had so much love for him. Craig begins to sing a capella:

_Oh Mamma, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law  
Law men has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home_

_Oh Mamma, I can hear you a crying you're so scared and all alone  
Hangman is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long_

Nolan grins slightly, putting his hands together under his chin. It's not a smirk or a pitying grin so Craig goes on. As he does, Nolan presses a button, a supportive drum beat coming in under Craig's riffs. Craig sings:

_The jig is up, the news is out__  
They finally found me  
The renegade who had it made  
Retrieved for a bounty  
Never more to go astray  
This'll be the end today  
Of the wanted man_

The strings vibrate under his fingers, feeling as natural asveins under his skin. He hasn't played for anybody in weeks, forgetting how good the rush of it is, how majestic the instrument sounds. His mom didn't get to see him play, to do what he loves to do. Weren't those Ashley's exact words this afternoon? Do what you love to do? Craig pauses before the chorus picks up again.

_Oh Mama, I've been years on the lam and had a high price on my head  
Law man said "Get him dead or alive" and it's for sure he'll see me dead_

It takes Craig a few seconds to realize that it's not him singing, but Nolan. Nolan absent-mindedly hums as he turns off the drum beat. He rolls back the tape and presses a larger, red button. Pretty soon, Craig's voice is filling the studio, rich against the walls. Craig smiles.

"You only do rock?" says Nolan.

"Been experimenting with other styles," replies Craig.

"Why Renegade?" asks Nolan.

"I don't know," says Craig.

"No, of course you know," argues Nolan, thrusting a thumb at him. "That choice didn't come out of thin air."

"There's a lot of pain to it," offers Craig. "I'm not in the best mood."

"That's when music doesn't sound like bull," shrugs Nolan.

He says it as if it's fact, his striking blue eyes not veering as he looks at Craig's. Those eyes are so familiar.

"Like jazz?" says Nolan.

"Yeah," says Craig. "I don't play it, though. My dad liked jazz and blues, so it was around when I was growing up."

"Your voice is subtle," says Nolan. "Good, but subtle. If you keep doing rock, you're going to lose it."

"What?" cries Craig.

"You've got a story-tellish voice, not a raw voice," goes on Nolan.

"And you decided this in three minutes?" asks Craig, skeptically.

"Bet your dad would keel over if you became a blinkin' rocker," laughs Nolan.

"My dad's dead!" exclaims Craig, shooting up.

"Well, my dad might as well be dead, which is a lot worse," returns Nolan, barely above a whisper.

Craig sits again and stares at the knobs on the console. Should he mention that Nolan's dad called? There's some definite hostility there, hostility Nolan obviously doesn't want to deal with since he remains quiet, saying nothing else.

"What kind of music did your dad....", starts Craig.

"I gotta piss," says Nolan, leaving the room without looking at him.

Sighing deeply, he begins to pack his guitar up until he sees something shiny in the corner, wedged between the bottom of the console and the wall. Somebody must've dropped something. Craig bends to pry it loose. He holds a CD case, the cover showing a group of four men, the man in the center with the eyes Craig had seen seconds before. Searching blue eyes, and the man has the same nose and cheekbones as Nolan. The band is called Cacophony. He flips through the CD booklet for a name. Ted Leeway, it says under a picture of Nolan's father. He sits on a stool, with a trumpet between his legs, his eyes bluer than a pool of chlorine. Ted Leeway's name does sound familiar. He'd have to check on it. Hearing footsteps, Craig puts the CD back exactly where it was. He scurries to his guitar case.

"Okay, here's the deal," says Nolan, coming into the room. "I meet with these guys once a week. Tomorrow."

"Yeah?" says Craig.

"These are signed musicians so you gotta give 'em respect, but they jam with me, and maybe you can hang around," says Nolan. "I don't go many places, but this place is close to sacred. So don't do anything dumb while you're there."

So that's an invite? Because even if Nolan is a total jerk half the time, he'd love to play with professionals. A good time like that can't be missed. Plus, it'd be nice to take his mind off the drama for awhile.

"That means I can stay at your house?" says Craig.

"You'd have to come back over to meet me anyway, right?" says Nolan. "You're a real yob. Of course you stay. It makes things easier. We're leaving at nine."

"Um, okay," says Craig. "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," waves off Nolan. "Now, get out."

V.

"Ah, I messed up," laments Spike.

Spinner lowers an issue of _Good Housekeeping_ to give her his attention. He was just skimming the magazine for recipes anyway. You never know.

"Totally spelled Degrassi wrong," groans Spike.

"I didn't spell it right until grade eight, man," consoles Spinner.

Spike smiles weakly at him, puts a hand on his shoulder, and then proceeds to fill in a couple blanks. They'd been in the waiting area for close to half an hour. Manny was with Jack on the other side of the room. He was obviously busy as Manny would cry out "no!" every five minutes.

"No, Jack!" says Manny. "Don't do that!"

Jack had gotten high enough to reach into the aquarium, and his whole hand had gone in to get who knows what. Nevertheless, he does what Manny requests. He removes it and wipes the water on Manny's shirt like a towel. Manny scrunches her nose and looks thankful to see Dr. DePauw approaching them. He's thankful, too. Not knowing what Emma was going through was hard. He assured her that all would be well, but the bad thing about assurances is is that they're not one hundred percent. Maybe ninety-nine point nine percent sometimes, but it's not absolute.

"Ms. Nelson," greets Dr. DePauw, shaking her hand.

"Hi, thanks for meeting with us this morning," says Spike. "I know this was last minute."

"Anything for Doris," says Dr. DePauw. "She's invaluable to us."

"She went to the bathroom," explains Spinner.

"So I met with Emma," says Dr. DePauw. "She's a lovely young lady. But unfortunately, very...resistant."

"She's...she's nervous," apologizes Spike.

"It's completely understandable," says Dr. DePauw. "This is a hard process to go through."

"Do you have some sense of what the matter is?" asks Spike.

"Let's head to my office," says Dr. DePauw, heading towards her office.

"Can I come?" asks Spinner.

"You can head back with us, and we'll check with Emma," replies Dr. DePauw.

Spinner does a short whistle to gesture that they're following Dr. DePauw and Manny picks up Jack as she nods.

"Based on my own observations, and on what Spinner and Manny have said, I'm seeing definite signs of clinical depression and anxiety, and possibly some signs of schizophrenia," says Dr. DePauw as they reach her doorway.

The door is closed so they're unable to see her. Spinner leans against the wall, figuring that he should probably let her mother respond in most cases.

"How can she have all those things?" cries Spike.

"Depression can be a big umbrella for a couple or a few issues," explains Dr. DePauw. "In fact, depression and anxiety aren't that far removed from each other. What's important is that we pin down the severity of Emma's case. Since she's not as cooperative as I would like, I wouldn't feel at ease prescribing any medication or developing a treatment program for her, not yet."

"Dr. DePauw, it's gotten to a point where she's not eating or sleeping," says Spike tearfully. "I mean, she's my daughter. I can't deal with the fact that...I'm sorry. She can't go another day without eating. I'm sorry!"

Spinner rests a hand on Spike's shoulder, Spike hiccuping instead of talking any longer.

"What can we do, like today?" says Spinner.

"Continue doing what you're doing," answers Dr. DePauw. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Depression can be a long, dark journey for both the patient and their families. There are days where it's possible she won't eat or bathe or want to see people. The emotions can be overwhelming for her. But, and I do want to stress this, that doesn't have to be true for the rest of her life."

"I..I feel like I failed her," stammers Spike.

"You brought her at the right time," says Dr. DePauw, setting a firm hand on Spike's shoulder. "The _right _time."

"I want to see her," whispers Spike, trying her best to smile.

She furiously wipes her tears while Dr. DePauw opens the door. The office shows an empty seat.

"Where is she?" cries Spike.

"I left her right here," says Dr. DePauw, entering the office and spinning around.

There's a few short squawks. Seagulls, identifies Spinner. The beach. Where did Emma go the last couple of times when she was at her wit's end? The beach. Spinner passes the two women talking and peers out of the window. Sure enough, he sees a body on the boardwalk, long blonde hair flowing behind it.

"She's on the beach," says Spinner.

"Oh, I...," begins Spike.

"If you give me a few, I can talk to her," suggests Spinner.

"You've done so much for her already," sighs Spike. "Thanks, Spinner."

He jogs down the hall, and towards the exit of the hospital. He's not entirely sure what he should say, but she can't stay out there. The boardwalk is shorter than the one near the shore of his house. Emma's not hard to find. She stares at the ocean, her hands on top of each other, her chin on top of them. He approaches her, but she's already talking.

"I didn't know you could have a hospital near the beach," says Emma.

"Me either," says Spinner, standing next to her. "Until I came here."

"That DePauw woman probably thinks I'm a freak," says Emma.

"That's not what she told us," insists Spinner.

"I am a freak, to get things written about me," sighs Emma. "What...what did she say to you?"

"She said you were being resistant," admits Spinner.

"She gets paid no matter what so why should she care?" says Emma.

"If she's a good doctor, she cares," replies Spinner. "And...I care."

Emma drops her sight to the top of her hands.

"Then, she was like, I can prescribe medication or start a therapy program for her," adds Spinner.

"What, like happy pills?" sighs Emma.

She lifts her head and starts down the wooden steps, walking across the sand in her sweats and sneakers. Spinner is quick to catch up. He puts his hands in his pockets as the breeze blows against his cheeks. Emma stops, however, and plops down in the middle. Spinner drops to the sand, too.

"Pills aren't so bad," offers Spinner.

"I don't need pills to play with my head," protests Emma.

"They don't change you, Em," says Spinner. "They just help. I've been on Ritalin...for years, man."

"And you tell people you take it?" says Emma, staring at him.

"So what if they know?" returns Spinner. "I want to do well at school and at work, and I need the focus. Anybody that really likes me is still gonna like me."

"I guess...," starts Emma.

"You guess?" kids Spinner. "What, you don't like me?"

Emma laughs quietly, her teeth showing.

"I...I heard a giggle!" remarks Spinner.

"I don't giggle," says Emma. "I laugh, but never giggle."

"That was a straight up giggle, dude," asserts Spinner.

"No, it wasn't!" says Emma.

"A gaugh, a mix between a laugh and a giggle?" suggests Spinner.

"Whatever it was, you're the only one that's made me do it the last couple days," replies Emma.

She lets her cheek fall to Spinner's shoulder, where her mother's hand was earlier. The cheek is warmer, though, and he doesn't want it to end anytime soon, not for any reason, not for anything.

"Want to go in and discuss it with the doctor?" says Spinner.

"Just give...just give us a couple minutes," says Emma.

Did she mean to give "her" a couple minutes? The change is nice, though, the mention of "us". He doesn't bother to correct her.


	85. Help

**LXXXV. Help**

_Help, I need somebody, help, not just anybody,  
help, you know I need someone, help._

_When I was younger, so much younger than today,  
I never needed anybody's help in any way.  
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,  
now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors._

_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down,  
and I do appreciate you being round.  
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,  
won't you please, please, help me._

_And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,  
my independence seems to vanish in the haze.  
But every now and then I feel so insecure,  
I know that I just need you like I've never done before._

_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down,  
and I do appreciate you being round.  
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,  
won't you please, please, help me._

_When I was younger, so much younger than today,  
I never needed anybody's help in any way.  
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,  
now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors._

_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down,  
and I do appreciate you being round.  
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,  
won't you please, please, help me, help me, help me, oh._

**Help is the property of the Beatles and appears in a film of the same name.**

He's been in this hospital so much you'd think he'd be used to the chairs by now. For Jay, for himself, for Ellie. They should think of changing the name to Cameron instead of Lincoln. But the low back ache and stiff thighs are worth it for her. He'd gone through worse pain for her, sometimes without her knowing. The lack of knowledge extended to her parents. John Nash is going through the numbers on his cell and Amanda Nash is fooling with her shoes. She took them off sometime during the night, probably tired of them. The only thing she's probably more tired of is him hanging around.

"Don't you have a job to get ready for?" sighs Amanda, throwing a glance at Sean. "I mean, I appreciated the food but...

"Amanda," scolds John, eyes still on his phone.

"I'm looking out for his best interest," says Amanda.

Blatant lie. Really blatant lie. Sean props himself up in the chair.

"It's only seven," says John.

Amanda mumbles a curt reply that's too soft for either guy to hear. She puts on her shoes.

"Think I'm going to pay Jay a visit," says Sean.

"Give him our best," says John.

"Please. He gets in more trouble than...," starts Amanda, then silencing herself.

Sean wagers Jay is judged by association. Marco may be the only guy she likes. Sean takes a deep breath and walks to Jay's room.

He was expecting to see Jay sleeping, or kicking back as the TV blares. Instead, he's wide awake, and from the door, he's being mentally pushed by two women. One woman is Alex, a copy of _Coaching for Beginners_ under her arm, and the other woman Sean's never met. She has short brown hair, with blonde highlights, and wears a white short-sleeved cardigan and white shorts. It looked like something rich people wore to play tennis. The woman moves Jay's wheelchair to the side since Jay, and he was sorry he missed this, had managed to hoist himself to stand with the aid of crutches.

"Remember the ABC's of good therapy," says the woman.

"Inga, no offense, but those are dumb and they really don't help," says Jay.

"A is for action," goes on Inga. "B is for better bones. C is for calcium. D is for..."

"Don't make me listen to this," interrupts Jay. "Just..let me concentrate."

Jay uses his right arm to slowly place the crutch ahead of him.

"Yeah, babe!" cries Alex, then getting an evil glare from Inga that was worse than any of Amanda's. "Oh, sorry."

Using his thighs to propel forward, he moves his injured leg a hair after the other foot finds the firm floor. Jay grins.

"One small step for Hogart, one giant step for...."

He doesn't get the chance to finish, the crutch sliding free from his hand, and Jay falling to the floor. The hard surface grazes his nose. Alex yelps, a sound Sean has yet to hear her make. Inga is more calm, slouching to the floor with him.

"Ugh," groans Jay.

"That was better than yesterday," whispers Inga, rubbing him on the back.

Alex gets Jay into a sitting position, sitting with him as she retrieves his crutch.

"Jay, are you alright?" asks Alex.

"My...my...my...," stammers Jay.

"Your what?" exclaims Alex.

"My good looks," says Jay, playfully patting his face.

"You idiot," moans Alex, pushing his shoulder hard.

"Hey, I need my shoulders to walk too," says Jay.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," speaks up Sean, coming into the room.

"Nah," says Alex.

"Yeah, you are," counters Jay. "It's all fun and games until someone pokes an eye out."

"I'll poke your eye out if you freak me out again," promises Alex.

"Fine," mutters Jay.

Inga and Sean take Jay by the arms, allowing him to get steady on the crutches.

"Feel like a newborn Bambi," kids Jay, aiming the crutches towards the wheelchair.

"Oh, no you don't," orders Inga. "We still have a good forty minutes left. E is for effort."

"F is for forward thinking," adds Alex.

"Gooooood," praises Inga, smiling at Alex.

"Who thought these up?" whispers Jay to Sean. "Probably a pot-smoking writer who got kicked off _Sesame Street_."

Sean laughs, then grows serious as Inga frowns at him. She really did mean business, didn't she? Ah, it's just as well. Ellie would be leaving the hospital in a matter of minutes and this would be his last chance to speak with her. Yes, he decided to do what John asked of him. He hated that Ellie was there for the police search, even more than her parents being there, because Ellie at least genuinely cared about him. What if there are more warrants? What if when he's questioned tomorrow, this is all over?

"Jay, if...if I'm not around anymore, after tomorrow, could you keep tabs on El for me?" whispers Sean. "Or maybe have Alex do it?"

"What's happening tomorrow?" whispers Jay.

"I'm being questioned by Jerry and Dee," says Sean.

"Dude!" whispers Jay strongly. "Dale must've sold you out because of..."

"There's no way I'm taking Ty back to him," says Sean. "Even before he said anything, I wouldn't have."

"Sean, I was there before you," says Jay, cautiously and briefly staring at Inga and Alex to make sure they're not listening.

"And?" prompts Sean.

"Whatever bond they have is solid," continues Jay. "It's something that won't be broken no matter who intervenes. Either you bring him back or Ty will go back."

"Why would I bring him back?" says Sean. "I hate Dale."

"But Ty doesn't," remarks Jay.

Sean shakes his head. "Just...just keep doing well with your walking."

"Watch your back, man," sighs Jay.

He advances to Inga and Alex, as Sean walks away. Going down the hall, Sean meditates on what Jay's said. Ty's opinion of Dale has changed since the shooting. It had to, because Ty came directly to Sean's as soon as he could leave. Plus, he was taking pretty decent care of Ty. He didn't know where Ty would end up if he's arrested, though. Maybe Becca's? When he dropped Ty off, Becca's grandmother seemed very nice and Becca loves Ty like a brother. But what about Ty's brother, who vowed to return to take Ty with him to a new place? Ty's future is so muddy and his past so sad Sean can't begin to make any definite plans. The only guarantee he can make is that Ty isn't going back to Dale's. Jay's wrong.

"Sean!" cries a voice from afar.

Her voice makes him smile from behind. He turns to view Ellie, dressed and nowhere near as stressed as she was yesterday.

"How are you?" says Sean, going to her and grabbing her hands.

Instead of answering him, Ellie wraps her arms around him and lets her nose dig into his shoulder.

"I saw the journal," says Ellie.

"Oh...that," says Sean.

Ellie pulls away from him with a faint smile. "Yes..._that_."

"Did your mom find a class?" asks Sean.

"We're going to talk about it after my last seminar," says Ellie. "I can't believe it's the last."

Didn't she know? No, of course, she doesn't, realizes Sean. This is going to be the last time they...well, they are a "they", unless he doesn't follow through. It becomes more difficult as he watches her parents walk to them. John halts Amanda from saying a word. This must...be it.

"I've got an interview with the police tomorrow," shares Sean.

"What time?" asks Ellie.

"Nothing you should worry about," assures Sean. "Um, this is going to be an ongoing thing so...."

Staring at her with her wide, light eyes, he's tempted to not say anything else, but he couldn't see her eyes when she fainted, when she was in the hospital room as CNN was on the TV. This is about trust, and sacrifice.

"El, I think we should take a break," says Sean, letting his sight stray from hers.

"Break?" whispers Ellie.

"Until everything gets in order," explains Sean. "I mean, you have driver's ed coming up and this new class. I don't want to eat away at your schedule. Plus, I have to do other things."

"And you decided this yourself?" says Ellie, then biting her lip.

"Whatever it takes to make you feel better," replies Sean.

"_You _make me feel better," says Ellie tearfully. "You always have. We..."

"I think Sean's making an honorable decision," interjects John. "Didn't the doctor say to focus on you instead of everything else?"

Ellie nods and offers John a sad stare.

"I have to say I'm surprised, Sean," offers Amanda, sighing quickly. "And unlike others, it's a good surprise. Thank you."

Both Sean and Ellie stare incredulously at her, Amanda's features showing no other emotion but stillness. John gestures for Amanda to go with him to the front desk, probably to do some last check-out procedure. Ellie wipes a tear and shifts her feet.

"Knew you'd come back," sighs Ellie. "Though, I didn't know it'd be this hard."

"Ellie...," starts Sean.

"So it's three to one," says Ellie, releasing a sad laugh. "Wow. Can you at least tell me how the interview went?"

"Um, I'll stop by the campus after your seminar lets out," says Sean. "I promise."

"Alright," says Ellie.

"We're all ready to go, sweetheart," says John, he and Amanda rejoining their party of four.

Soon to be party of one, groans Sean inwardly. Ellie sniffles and brushes by Sean softly as they leave. The mechanical doors open and close after them.

II.

"I don't know much about Shane's family history..."

Her mother's apology is hushed by another one of Dr. DePauw's calming smiles. Emma continues moving a penny this way and that way on the carpet. She'd accidentally dropped the penny, stared at it for a moment, and found it easier not to retrieve it, but to play with it as her mother and the doctor talked. There were tiny impressions of circles in the carpet, tiny, tan-colored moons. Her mother is better at talking with the doctor, anyway.

"That's quite alright," says Dr. DePauw. "We'll deal with that later."

"How much do we owe you for today?" questions Spike.

"I'd like to keep Emma an extra fifteen minutes, if that's alright?" says Dr. DePauw. "I figure she's more open to communication now."

They both stare at her, Emma keeping the penny under her foot as she casts a suspicious glance at Dr. DePauw. Okay, so after Spinner talked with her, she didn't hate the idea so much anymore. That doesn't make it less difficult.

"Are you?" asks Spike, leaning into her.

"Mom!" groans Emma.

"There's a process I'd like to run by the two of you," says Dr. DePauw. "Hypnosis?"

"Hypnosis?" cries Emma.

"It would relax you while we're talking," points out Dr. DePauw.

Emma's ready to speak, with Spike speaking in the mean time.

"What does it entail?" questions Spike. "Is it dangerous?"

"Far from it," reassures Dr. DePauw. "You could stay with her until I start asking questions. I do need your permission, Ms. Nelson."

"I don't want to!" says Emma.

"Why not?" says Spike.

"Cause...cause it's...invasive and stupid and...," rambles off Emma.

"Something you have no control over?" says Dr. DePauw.

"No," argues Emma.

Yes, she tells herself. Who knows what she'll say and who knows what Dr. DePauw will think. It would be bizarre, feel bizarre.

"You close your eyes for yoga," says Spike. "Consider it as a longer yoga session."

"I...it'd be weird," sighs Emma.

That's when she notices Spike's tired expression, the lines near her mouth showing themselves. She remembers what Spike told Grandma Nelson, that she and Jack didn't manage to get any sleep last night. They came to a new country to see her being...resistant.

"If it gets you eating," breathes Spike, tears falling on her face. "Please, Em."

"Fine," says Emma.

"Very well,' says Dr. DePauw.

The doctor delicately removes her watch from her wrist and heads to a black couch on the opposite of the room. Emma barely saw the couch when she first came in, or the lamp that sat beside it. She stands and lets Dr. DePauw move her body onto the couch. At least it's soft and doesn't release annoying noises.

"Let your body fully relax," instructs Dr. DePauw. "Your mom's still here. Close your eyes."

Breathing deeply, Emma shuts her eyes and does her best to surrender her senses to full relaxation. This shouldn't be hard. She does it for yoga. Yes, yoga. Emma feels her muscles go limp and the temperature of her body grow cool, as if she's being sprayed by morning mist. It's sort of like being in the shower again.

"Open your eyes and count to ten with me, okay, Emma?" says Dr. DePauw. "You will close your eyes at ten."

She dangles the watch in front of Emma's eyes. It's gold with black hands and numbers. The gold of it gets hazier as it swings left to right, left to right.

"One," counts Dr. DePauw.

"Two...three...four," joins in Emma, a double voice echoing in her ears.

"Five," says Dr. DePauw, then letting Emma count to ten by herself.

Dr. DePauw snaps her fingers, and everything's black, no hints of gold watches or tan carpets or the brown eyes of her mother. Is her mother there? Is anybody there? Then, there is a voice, seeking and louder than it probably is.

"You're safe," says the voice. "Stay with me, Emma."

"Okay," says Emma.

Is that her voice? It sounds like hers, but it's softer than the other.

"Have there been instances where you cannot breathe?" asks the voice.

"Yes," answers Emma.

"How many? How long ago?" says the voice.

"Two months ago at a friend's party, and earlier this month when I took Hannah to the Tar Pits," replies Emma.

"Hannah's the child you sat for?" asks the voice.

"Yes," says Emma.

"What were you thinking then?" says the voice.

"I...I don't remember," admits Emma. "I...I couldn't find Hannah. I hurt her feelings. At...at the party, my feelings were hurt. My stepdad showed up with his motorcycle."

"Did you tell anybody about this?"

"No. Spinner saw it at the Tar Pits, but no, I didn't tell anybody after either time."

"Is this the first week where you haven't been able to sleep?" questions the voice.

"No, it's been on and off for weeks," replies Emma.

"And eating?" says the voice.

"I've been eating pretty regularly, until this week," says Emma.

"What happened on the boardwalk before Spinner found you?" asks the voice.

Emma can feel her neck stiffen, but she breathes and lets the tension go.

"I called my stepdad, and my stepdad was with...the woman he cheated on my mom with," says Emma.

The words come out far from fluidly, Emma having to take a pause in between. There's a slight wetness in her eyes, like how it suddenly comes when she's been laying down to go to sleep lately. She releases a small cry.

"This is a private space, and you can cry if you want to, okay?" says the voice.

Emma nods, not sure who's she nodding to. The voice seems nice, however, and it's the only detectable thing in all the darkness.

"Tell me about your stepdad," encourages the voice.

"Snake?" says Emma, softly. "Snake."

_There were flashes of light in every direction. Camera bulbs went off, and the spotlights next to the red carpet wrapped the limos and cars in glowing rays. Photographers shouted for people they recognized, and gossiped about people they didn't. There were countless cocktail dresses and tuxes. Everybody who was anybody was holding a ticket- Degrassi teachers, students, sound men, prop guys, Kevin and Jason. Once their limo pulled up, you would've thought the paparazzi's voices would've been tired. Not so, as Emma soon realized. J.T. and Liberty were on the right seat of the limo, not talking, while she, Spinner, and Snake were in the center seat. _

_"I thought Toby would be riding with us," mentioned J.T. finally._

_"He rode with the Santoses," said Emma._

_She knew there was a weighty silence between J.T. and Liberty, especially with Liberty showing, and with their classmates doing more gossiping than the curious photographers. J.T. did look nice, though, in a classy black tux with gold buttons on the sleeves. Liberty wore a demure, purple dress over her protruding stomach. While they both looked impeccable, Spinner looked amazing. This wasn't their first date by a long shot. It was their first date that month, at Spinner's insistence. Home was getting too hectic, she explained, an excuse he must've been tired of hearing, because she was tired of saying it. They were fully awake that night, Spinner wearing a black tux with a white dress shirt and a blue tie, the same cornflower blue as her dress that flowed to her ankles. She couldn't give an excuse for missing Manny's proudest moment. nor did she want to._

_"This is waaaaaaaaay better than the limo we were in for the Bollywood prom," praised Spinner. "Manny's got serious connections."_

_"All thanks to Em," said Snake, sliding an arm around her._

_"Spinner's right," shrugged Emma. "Being Manny's best friend is a serious connection. That, and Mr. Santos had something against not driving himself."_

_"Thanks for the freebie then, Mr. Santos," said Spinner, lifting a wine glass he found on the side. "Aww, man. Cup holders!"_

_"Dare me to stick my foot inside?" said J.T._

_"J.T.!" scolded Emma, rolling her eyes._

_"We're here, gang," said Snake._

_"Good," said Liberty, doling out the tickets. "Spinner...Emma...Mr. Simpson...myself....and J.T."_

_J.T. accepted his ticket with a puzzled frown._

_"Why am I last?" said J.T._

_"You always lose your ticket unless I give it to you at the last possible second," sighed Liberty._

_"No, I don't!" cried J.T._

_"Yes, you do," argued Liberty. "Let me count the movies. Borat? Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull? Dumb and Dumberer? Like dumberer is an adjective..."_

_"Nuh-uh," said J.T. weakly._

_"The best boy grip doth protest too much," said Liberty, smiling knowingly._

_"That's a respectable job, Liberty," defended J.T._

_"Didn't say it wasn't," said Liberty. "You just can't hold onto anything smaller than a microphone."_

_J.T. opened the door, helping Liberty climb out, but still arguing his ticket-holding capabilities. Snake snickered behind them as he unbuckled his seatbelt._

_"M' lady?" said Spinner, holding his hand out for Emma._

_"Where'd you learn that noble term?" teased Emma._

_"Kwan's Shakespeare class, when I wasn't sleeping," replied Spinner._

_"I'll be certain to tell her that when I see her tonight, Gavin," said Snake sheepishly._

_The whole group laughed, while Spinner's face matched the shade of the red carpet. They entered the lobby, a beautiful room in Toronto's top theater, the Morpheum. The floor had a pattern of blue and gold lace which was why their Degrassi principal chose it. A wide concessions area had red-vested employees scurring back and forth as ushers took ticket after ticket. J.T. and Liberty were already there, and Emma spotted Jimmy and Ellie chatting in a corner. That was strange to see them without Hazel, until Hazel herself showed up and the three of them went into the theater._

_"Em, can I talk to you for a minute?" asked Snake._

_"Uhhhh, sure," said Emma._

_They hadn't talked since Emma overheard the argument between her mom and Snake, concerning a ticket. Spike was at home with Jack and Emma's not shocked at the solution her parents came up with. She was, however, disappointed. It would've been great for her mother to have a night like this._

_"Believe it or not, I would be home if I could," said Snake._

_Emma moved her purse to her other hand._

_"Really?" said Emma._

_"Your mom does deserve a night to herself," said Snake, grinning slowly. "So I did call Liz and Caitlin and a couple hairdressers from the shop so that maybe they can do something tomorrow."_

_"She's going to love that," said Emma._

_"I care about you guys," said Snake. "Never forget that."_

_She nodded repeatedly, and hugged him, her purse nearly slipping from her hand. Snake chuckled in her hair._

_"You look so beautiful tonight, Em," complimented Snake, pulling away. "So...grown up."_

_The lights in the lobby flickered. _

_"That must mean to take our seats," guessed Snake._

_"Not so grown up that I can't race you to the theater," challenged Emma._

_"In those heels?" said Snake._

_"Yep," said Emma, taking off._

_It didn't take much for her to be the winner, Snake reaching the usher ten seconds after her. Emma smiled triumphantly and located Spinner, talking to Jay. Jay had on a black shirt and a nice pair of jeans. Emma grit her teeth and took the liberty of letting Spinner be her shield for this exchange._

_"And you're sure Alex didn't come with Paige?" asked Jay._

_"Paige doesn't date girls," remarked Spinner, then staring curiously at Alex and Paige, conversing with Toby and Manny._

_Better there than here, decided Emma, pulling Spinner in that direction. _

_"Show's about to start," informed Emma._

_"Thanks, theater patrol," said Paige. "We mustn't socialize before the screen goes black."_

_"The cut footage will be on the DVD, Paige," reminded Alex. "Stop being gripe-y."_

_"Awww, they cut you?" said Manny._

_"Shush it, Santos," replied Paige. "I refuse to believe Ellie's a better actress than me, and I refuse to be pitied by a girl who plays a horny freshman."_

_"Hey!" cried Manny._

_Alex flicked Toby's ear._

_"Hey, Tobes?" she said. "You're looking fresh."_

_Manny grabbed his hand protectively. "That better not have been a love tap."_

_She speedily guided Toby down the aisle, so quick he couldn't confirm or deny. Emma and Spinner followed, collecting the premiere programs on their seats. J.T. and Liberty were in the row behind the four of them, caught up in their non-dead debate._

_"Toby, didn't you lose the Watchmen tickets when we all went?" questioned J.T., leaning over the seat._

_"You did," said Toby._

_"Did not," argued J.T., then turning to Liberty. "Wait a minute. Had to be Manny."_

_"I'm not getting all up in you guys' business," said Manny. "This is my first premiere."_

_"Yeah, so let's let her enjoy it," added Toby, putting an arm around her._

_"You're so cute when you agree with me," sighed Manny, sinking into his hold._

_Toby smiled at J.T., who aimed to rap Toby on the head with a program. Liberty giggled as Spinner tapped Emma on the shoulder._

_"I thought you had to do the yawn thing to get some arm action," commented Spinner, nodding at Toby and Manny._

_"Oh?" said Emma, raising an eyebrow._

_"Like...," said Spinner._

_He stopped mid-sentence to demonstrate, pretending to yawn and lifting his arm to put around Emma's frame. Spinner halted, however, when Snake took his seat next to Emma._

_"Um, hi, Mr. Simpson," said Spinner._

_"Hey, Gavin," greeted Snake._

_"Yeah," said Spinner, crossing his arms._

_The theatre lights grew darker and darker. Leave it to Jason Mewes to jump up and yell "Yeah!" Leave it to Kevin Smith to laugh loudly because of that. Leave it to J.T. and Liberty to whisper how right and wrong they were. And yeah, leave it to Toby and Manny to make out as the first preview came onscreen. They were just missing previews for Baby Mama 2. How many times did Tina Fey want Amy Poehler to get pregnant, anyway? _

_"It's lucky it's dark so my parents can't see," sighed Manny when Toby's lips left._

_"Right," whispered Toby._

_"We should really stop," whispered Manny._

_"Right," whispered Toby._

_"After the previews," whispered Manny, seconds before their mouths are connected again._

_Why isn't Snake as attentive with them as he is with her and Spinner? But Snake's eyes weren't on her or Spinner. They were following Principal Hatzilakos, going up the aisle in a pretty, backless black dress. _

_"Restroom," he excused himself, patting Emma on the knee. "Don't worry. I'll be back in a minute."_

_He rarely patted her on the knee, and there was no eye contact. Emma coughed, the fakest of coughs, though it did separate Toby and Manny, who showed their concern nearly as much as Spinner. He sweetly patted her back but she was uneasy about the other pats that night._

_"Restroom, too," explained Emma. "And there's a water fountain there so...."_

_She stared at a bewildered Spinner before going down the aisle, a rise in applause sounding as the film officially began. No, she won't miss Manny's movie. She'd simply go to the restroom area, see for herself that Snake is by himself, calmly take a drink of water, and slip into her seat next to Spinner. Then, the uneasy pain in the pit of her stomach would disappear. It would take two minutes max. Manny didn't appear until ten minutes into the film and she had no desire to watch Alanis Morrisette act._

_The two blue doors that lead to the men's and women's washroom were closed. There was no detectable noise anywhere. Emma saw a sign with an arrow pointing to the cloakroom. Snake didn't have a coat, but perhaps Hatzilakos did. Emma peeped into the room._

_"You can't wear that in the theater, miss," sighed an usher with little patience._

_"That's really not your best hat, Ash," said Craig, twirling his car keys._

_"But I got it from England," lamented Ashley._

_"It looks like a mushroom," teased Craig._

_"Hey, it does!" laughed the usher._

_"This hat is...you know what? It does," said Ashley, twisting her lips._

_Okay, not the couple she was looking for. Emma massaged her forehead and passed a staircase, a staircase that was full of light smacking sounds from above. She peered through the shadows until she saw a familiar back, black cloth hugging her backside and thighs. The back had longer blonde hair than her own covering it. Snake's smooth forehead could be seen above her crown of hair. Emma batted her eyelashes twice, to keep from crying. How could he? How could he honestly do this, on tonight of all nights? Her thoughts swirled, swirled so fast she could hardly stand as she returned to the lobby. She dropped to the blue and gold lace floor, destroying her perfect stockings. The hole was near her left knee, not the knee where Snake patted her, not the knee where he reassured her._

Emma's eyes fly open, traces of skin still before it, the skin of a back. How many times were his hands against that skin? How many times did they kiss? She never got an answer. Liar. Cheater.

"No," moans Emma, clutching her knees to her chest.

"Okay, okay," consoles Dr. DePauw. "That's...that's enough for today."

III.

"Now, you do what we practiced," instructs Manny.

"Practice," repeats Jack.

While she doesn't mind looking after him, it comes with the price of having no idea what is going in Dr. DePauw's office. Were there any breakthroughs? Is Dr. DePauw connecting the dots? When Spinner was telling Dr. DePauw what had gone on this summer, Manny hated to confess that she was unaware of half of the stuff. Emma was letting all of this pile up and she clearly must've gone over the limit for taking all of it in. Her body was saying no more and her mind was saying the same thing. She was truly broken. Why didn't she wake up in time for the girls' night, or talk to her when they were at Lia's, or even phone her when she returned for Toby? Emma made herself available for her. It should be the other way around.

Spike and Spinner flank her now, Emma tugging at the collar of her sweatshirt. Her cheeks look wet.

"Hey," says Manny.

"Hi," says Emma softly.

"I love you, Emma," says Jack, then sticking his thumb in his mouth.

Emma wrinkles her brow, but manages to smile, Jack doing the same as he removes his thumb.

"Did Manny tell you to tell me that?" asks Emma.

"Yes," says Jack.

Everybody laughs, including the secretary, who is at Spike's side.

"Charge them for a regular session, Pru," says Dr. DePauw.

"The extra fifteen minutes?" says Spike.

"That's quite alright," says Dr. DePauw. "We'll go with the regular."

"Thank you," sighs Spike, tugging on Emma's hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Emma," says Dr. DePauw.

"Um, thanks, Dr. DePauw," says Emma, staring at her for only a second.

"Anytime," says the doctor.

She walks away, leaving them to chat among themselves. Grandma Mason left an hour ago to accompany Kendra for a treatment session. Manny's not sure about the particulars, but she heard Grandma Mason say that Kendra was getting better day by day. Spike pays Pru while Spinner grabs Spike's purse.

"So, how was it?" asks Manny, wrapping an arm around Emma.

"Not...so bad," answers Emma.

Spike lifts Jack and talks with Spinner, the three of them moving ahead of the two girls. Spinner, Jack, and Spike were outside in a matter of seconds.

"I'm really proud of you for going," says Manny.

"Manny, I don't know if I would've gone if you hadn't come," says Emma, stopping to turn to her.

Manny smiles shyly.

"Spinner's great," says Emma, hunching her shoulders. "The best thing to happen to me, boywise. But you...I really needed you."

"It's nice to be needed," says Manny.

"Don't think I don't recall you having my back numerous times," continues Emma. "In fact, I remember this one situation with me where there was this computer, this guy Jordan, and there was this new boy...I think he was a friend of J.T.'s..."

"I think you're right," goes along Manny.

"And he helped get me out of that, along with you," says Emma. "And I care, about both of you. Still."

"Em, I swear if you make me cry anymore...," starts Manny, tearfully.

"Do have one question, though," interjects Emma.

"Yeah?" says Manny.

"Did you and Toby ever come up for air during the premiere?" says Emma, laughing a bit.

"Pre-movie? No," replies Manny. "Know what? Shut up!"

Emma beams, as Manny gets a firmer grip on her friend's waist.

IV.

"_Whether red, or blue, or green,_

_For you, we have a perfect SUV,_

_Our cars are good and don't expir-ah,_

_So buy from Joey Jeremiah. _

_So buy? So buy! So buy? So buy!_

_So buy from Joey Jeremiah!"_

Angie ends with a dramatic pause, stretching her arms out as far as they can go.

"Where's Joey?" asks Sean.

"Craig wrote that lame jingle," informs Angie. "Don't blame me if it sucks."

"I liked it," speaks up Ty.

Sean offers Ty an amused look, and Ty shrugs.

"My name's Angela," says Angie, offering her hand. "I work here."

"Um, Ty," returns Ty, shaking it.

"Do you have your license yet?" asks Angie.

"No, but I love cars," says Ty.

"Me too," says Angie. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"And this is where I step in," says Joey, jogging to them and making Angie face the opposite direction.

Angie glumly walks off, kicking a rock under the fence, surrounding the car lot. Sean strokes his chin. Funny how three years can change a girl. One minute, Angie's tackling Craig in the Jeremiah's yard and the next minute, Angie's fishing for dates.

"No offense. She thinks any guy that likes her singing is her next boyfriend," says Joey.

Ty nods in response. He was more chatty with Angie, but Sean isn't surprised.

"Craig and Ashley's influence," jokes Sean to break the ice.

"She has been jamming on my keyboard," muses Joey, then returning to the boys. "So I got a call from you?"

"Yeah, I'm selling this baby," says Sean.

He moves to the side, so that the Ducati can be displayed. Its sleek metal shines in the sunlight. Even the handlebars look like precious silver, and he's parting with it. Need the cash, he repeates in his brain. Need the cash. That didn't take the beauty away from it. He rode it here, one last ride. The wind flew through his hair and his whole body felt taller than ever. Ty took the bus to meet him and only then did Sean leave the bike seat.

"Whoa, a Ducati?" exclaims Joey. "Sean, are you sure?"

"Nope, but it's something I need to do," replies Sean.

"Well, I can't say that reselling that motorcycle to Snake didn't put money in my pocket," says Joey. "And this baby...wow, it'd rake in big bucks."

"So how's it work?" asks Sean. "I sell it to you, and you sell it to them?"

"That's how," replies Joey. "But it'd be significantly less since this is used."

"Significantly less?" says Sean nervously.

"Six months of rent on the scale of less," laughs Joey.

"Oh," breathes Sean. "Okay. Yeah."

"Alright, let me get the paperwork," says Joey.

He disappears inside the office. While Ty hasn't said a word the past few minutes, he's the first to speak as soon as Joey has left.

"You'd get more money at Dale's," says Ty.

"Maybe, but at least this isn't illegal," says Sean.

"You bought that bike with illegal money," points out Ty. "Vic went to Dale's, and the bike has stolen parts from Dale's..."

"Could we not talk about Dale?" interrupts Sean.

"Just saying," mutters Ty.

Joey can't come back quick enough. What's with the Dale's is so great talk?

"Here we go, Mr. Cameron," says Joey as he heads to them with the papers.

Sean reads every section of the papers, something his father would do. Then again, his father wouldn't have gotten into this mess. The motorcycle was supposed to be a symbol of breaking away, of his independence, the thing that got him and Ellie from nowhere to somewhere. He's here today, cashing it in.

"Done," says Sean, signing his name for a final time.

"You can come by for your check in the morning," says Joey.

"I'll be here," guarantees Sean.

He goes to the bike and kicks out the kickstand. The motorcycle whines as it slinks to its side. He's whining too, because he has to leave it and chances are it won't be here in less than a week. Ty stands by him, rubbing the seat.

"Sorry, Sean," says Ty.

"Long as it finds a person who takes good care of it," says Sean.

"That goes for us, too," says Ty, grinning at him.

"Yeah," says Sean. "Us too."


	86. Lose Yourself

**LXXXVI. Lose Yourself**

_Look, if you had, one shot, or one opportunity  
To seize everything you ever wanted, one moment,  
Would you capture it, or just let it slip, yo_

_His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy  
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti  
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready  
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down  
The whole crowd goes so loud, he opens his mouth  
But the words won't come out  
He's chokin' how, everybody's chokin' now  
The clock's run out, times up, over, bloah!  
Snap back to reality, oh, there goes gravity, oh,  
There goes rabbit he choked, he's so mad but he won't  
Give up that easy, no, he won't have it he knows  
His whole back's to these ropes, it don't matter he's dope  
He knows that but he's broke, he so stagnant that he knows  
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's  
Back to the lab again, yo  
This whole rhapsody better go capture this moment  
And hope it don't pass him_

_You better lose yourself in the music,  
The moment, you own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a life-time, yo_

_You better lose yourself in the music,  
The moment, you own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a life-time, yo_

_His souls escaping, through this hole that is gaping  
This world is mine for the taking, make me king  
As we move toward a new world order, a normal life is boring  
But superstardom's close to post mortem  
It only grows harder, only grows hotter  
He blows it's all over, these hoes is all on him  
Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter  
Lonely roads, god only knows he's grown farther from home  
He's no father, he goes home and barely knows his own daughter  
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water  
These hoes don't want him no mo', he's cold product  
They moved on to the next shmo' who flows, he nose dove, and sold nada  
So the soap opera's told and unfolds, I suppose it's old partner  
But the beat goes on da da dum da dum da da_

_You better lose yourself in the music,  
The moment, you own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a life-time, yo_

_You better lose yourself in the music,  
The moment, you own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a life-time, yo_

_No more games, I'ma change what you call rage  
Tear this roof off like 2 dogs caged  
I was playin in the beginning, the mood all changed  
I been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage  
But I kept rhymin' and step writin' the next cypher  
Best believe somebody's payin' the pied piper  
All the pain inside amplified by the fact that  
I can't get by with my nine to five  
And I can't provide the right type'a  
Life for my family 'cause man  
These food stamps don't buy diapers  
And it's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer,  
This is my life and these times are so hard  
And it's getting even harder tryin' to feed and water my seed, plus  
Teetertotter caught up between bein' a father and a prima donna  
Baby mama drama's screamin' on and  
Too much for me to wanna stay in one spot, another day of monotony  
Has gotten me to the point, I'm like a snail I've got  
To formulate a plot or end up in jail or shot  
Success is my only option, failure's not  
Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go  
I cannot grow old in Salem's lot,  
So here I go with my shot, feet fail me not  
This maybe the only opportunity that I got_

_You better lose yourself in the music,  
The moment, you own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a life-time, yo_

_You better lose yourself in the music,  
The moment, you own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a life-time, yo_

_You can do anything you set your mind to, man_

**Lose Yourself is the property of Eminem and appears in the film _8 Mile._**

**I'm The Only One is the property of Melissa Etheridge.**

"I mean, this is vital, Toby," sighs Nate. "Wouldn't press it if it wasn't."

He easily undoes his straw wrapper by hitting it on the table once, while talking. Toby wishes things were easier for him. Besides going over to the house on Cezanne this afternoon, where Justin and his friends had their hateful headquarters, he had to hear from Hatzilakos herself that the arts were unfortunately going to take quite a financial cut. Of course, it was a drama club member who campaigned for his presidency the most. So ironic and so horrible. Manny was Nate's co-chair, and the club had thrived last year under Nate in the fall, and Manny in the spring. Nobody could've seen the budget crisis coming. All this makes it really tough to face Nate, Toby sitting across from him and Darcy at the Dot.

"This could be Degrassi's first decent production of R and J," continues Nate.

"Didn't they do it in the eighties?" says Darcy.

"No one could remember it except Kwan," says Nate. "I mean, it was that boring. We have the talent this year, but yeah, we're gonna need the cash. Ugh, maybe we shouldn't have spent so much for the variety show."

"I wish there was something I can do," says Toby. "The Degrassi Arts Association disbanded. Their money was already set aside in April for the second pageant. No more funding from them after that. Hatzilakos wants to honor their last commitment to the pageant."

"Which I might enter," murmurs Darcy into her Coke.

"They're having it again?" sighs Nate.

"Yep, Manny was that good of a Miss Degrassi," asserts Darcy, lifting her head.

"I guess," says Nate.

Toby knows she was, though he doesn't say it. Besides, he can't, since Hazel is quickly setting down Toby's and Nate's orders. It's strange to see Hazel with her hair out of place, an apron over a black T-shirt with the Dot logo.

"Here you go," says Hazel, brightly. "Chicken sandwich with fries for Nate, and grilled cheese for Toby. Can I get you a refill, Darcy?"

"No," replies Darcy.

As soon as Hazel's head is turned, Toby and Nate switch orders. Toby didn't have the heart to tell her she was wrong. He smiles at her as she looks at them again.

"I'm gonna kill Spinner," says Hazel, managing to keep the grin on her face despite her frustration.

"Eww! There's a nail in my fries!" exclaims a brunette girl in the far corner.

"Mine too," laughs her boyfriend.

Hazel stares at her hands, two acrylics missing. "Shoot."

"Hazel!" shouts Pat, beckoning her over.

"This is only the fourth time," mumbles Hazel, pouting on her way to Pat.

"How much are you going to need?" asks Toby, turning his attention to Nate.

"For costumes, advertising, scenery, building materials....somewhere in the neighborhood of six to seven hundred for that semester," wagers Nate.

"Whoa," breathes Toby.

"I say you do something less serious," says Darcy. "Like...ooh, _Camp Rock_!"

"Not even!" cries Nate.

"What do you have against Demi Lovato?" groans Darcy.

"What do you have against Romeo and Juliet?" returns Nate.

"Nothing," insists Darcy.

"Well, nothing too," says Nate.

The fight doesn't end there, as Darcy subjects Nate to a list of _Camp ROCK _songs that could work on the Degrassi stage, but the fight ends for Toby as he gets up to fetch some napkins. He pulls two from the holder. A light chime of the door rings. Seconds later, J.T. is at his side.

"Tell me about this party," says J.T.

"Hello to you too, J.T.," replies Toby. "What party?"

"There _has _to be a party," says J.T. "Do you guys take me for a fool?"

Toby opens his mouth.

"Don't answer that," says J.T. quickly. "Liberty talked to my grandmother who talked to Mr. Reyes who talked to Harley, the station's event coordinator. Why?"

"Why not?" answers Toby, shrugging.

"This little network of conversations does not make sense!" cries J.T.

"A lot of things in your world don't make sense," chuckles Toby.

"I'm watching you," says J.T., firmly hitting the counter. "Both of you."

"Wanna stay for lunch?" asks Toby.

"Umm, is Hazel serving?" questions J.T. wearily.

"Yeah," replies Toby.

"Yeah, uh, I think I'll try somewhere else," says J.T. "There was a bangle in my burger last time and...yeah."

Should he tell J.T. something else, though, about touring the house today? J.T. knew how frustrated the whole investigation has been for him, more frustrated than Hazel could begin to imagine as a temporary waitress. It would be nice to unload this new data on anybody else.

"Sergeant Blanchett found Justin's hiding place," says Toby, his voice low.

J.T.'s jaw drops. "Did they catch him?"

"No, it's abandoned," sighs Toby.

That's the little nugget of information Sergeant Blanchett neglected to tell them until just before Toby and Jeff were leaving. The house was empty, except for bits of evidence that made it clear that people were living there. Sergeant Blanchett said that that would be obvious to them when they were physically in the house. The sergeant believed someone alerted the group that the police were getting savvy to their whereabouts. No computers had remained in the house, which presented another problem. They could only trace the e-mails to the location and they couldn't nail any of the other kids in the group. Justin was vulnerable, but no one else was, and that wasn't a good thing. Toby closes his eyes.

"Do you think Justin's still in Toronto?" says J.T.

"My gut's saying yes?" says Toby, opening his eyes. "I don't know."

"What would make him stay?" wonders J.T. aloud.

"If he's staying, he's staying for Clara," says Toby.

"Your dad's going with you, right?" says J.T.

Toby nods. "Six o' clock sharp."

"Tobes, are you...are you prepared for what you're going to see in there?" asks J.T., nervously. "It could be...be pretty ugly."

'You can't be prepared for it, probably," replies Toby. "But I haven't been prepared for anything this year, and I came out alright."

J.T. smiles. "Call me afterwards?"

"I will," says Toby.

Toby makes his way to the table, where Nate and Darcy are now lovingly discussing a mutual love of _Hairspray_. Boy, the shows that bring you together. Toby put his napkin next to his plate. A couple more chimes sound, Paige and Marco entering the Dot, with yoga mats under their arms. The kitchen door swings open, revealing a cheerful Jimmy and a sullen Hazel.

"Okay," says Jimmy as he wheels to them. "Vegetable quesadilla for Marco, and turkey on rye, hold the mayo for Paige."

"You got it," praises Paige. "Our mildly healthy alternatives to be eaten on yoga days. And a table..."

"Near the window and without too much sun," supplies Jimmy.

"Man, Jimmy, you remember everything," compliments Marco.

"Yeah, Spinner better come home stat or he's out of a job," adds Paige.

Hazel harrumphs and collapses on a stool.

"I'm up the street without a paddle," moans Hazel.

"Up the creek, hon," corrects Paige.

"Yeah," sighs Hazel. "That too."

II.

They're itchy, yet she can't take them off. Her black fishnet stockings shine, even in the dim light of the backstage area. They're under a tight black leather dress with gold studs along the waist. This wasn't the outfit Ashley had in mind for tonight. But this was what was on her bed, attached with a note from Julian to "enjoy herself in this Topshop frock." She knew the note was from Julian because nobody under forty would use the word "frock." The dress is so tight she feels like she's a balloon pressed between two close walls.

The good thing is that she's already performed. Croydon was very accepting of her Joan Jett cover, Ashley hearing the screaming beyond the trees once it was over. Then, Mark joined her for Summertime and the adulation went up about two decibels. This audience was a weird sort, with easy-going attendees in the front with their picnic blankets and diehard fans clamoring around the stage with their digital cameras and autograph books. Ashley signed a few before leaving Mark to do his set by himself. Seeing her fans up close, with their eager eyes and joyful faces, she could hardly believe she was anyone else but what they wanted, a bona fide rock princess. If they knew what it took to get there. Man, if they knew. If they knew that it wouldn't last for too much longer. Ashley pulls at a purple strand of her hair and locates Aja putting Mark's guitar into his case for him.

"Haven't worn fishnets since my goth phase," says Ashley, falling into a chair near a tree.

"Get out, then!" cries Aja. "You was goth?"

"I swear," says Ashley, holding up her hand. "Didn't last long. I was goth, punk, preppy..."

"Ashley, you were everything," interjects Aja.

They both laugh. Well, she wasn't a keyboard player tonight. She hadn't touched it since she agreed to duet with Mark on two songs this go around. It didn't bother her when she agreed. Honestly, she was simply grateful to be playing, for however long she'll be able to anyway. At this second, though, she's pretty bummed that she didn't play. Who would've agreed that she should've? He's not there.

"Has...has Craig called?" asks Aja, sympathetically.

"Turned off my phone," says Ashley.

She clears her throat, not moving a muscle to go retrieve her cell in the tour bus. Ugh, she can't lie. When she saw Craig's leather jacket in the closet, she had thought about calling him. The truth of the matter is is that he'd never missed a performance of hers since the beginning, and she kind of wanted to keep that going. But the more stubborn part of her, the part Craig was quick to call her out on, turned the phone off and followed Mark to the stage.

"You guys broke up?" says Aja.

"He broke my trust, which is worse actually," replies Ashley.

"I can't be mad at him, I guess," sighs Aja.

Ashley stares at her and crosses her arms.

"What?" says Ashley.

"I worry about Dad sometimes," offers Aja. "I mean, he's not like you. He drinks like a fish, and it's dangerous, but Craig being concerned is...well, I understand a smidge."

"There's a difference between being concerned and tattling," waves off Ashley.

"Ah, he'll learn what's what," says Aja. "Can you help me carry Mark's baby?"

Ashley chuckles, standing to assist Aja in moving Mark's guitar to a safe place near the dressing racks. While in motion, Ashley hears high-pitched screams, not surprised to see that the reason for it is Mark, who comes backstage with his arms lifted in triumph. He wears a white AC/DC tee and black jeans. A hand shoots through the curtain, tugging Mark's shirt, and two girls race to amble through until they get into Mark's sight.

"Mark, you're the most brilliant musician ever!" cries one girl, the name Kennick scrawled across a baseball cap.

"The way you move with your guitar...so sexy!" adds her friend, jumping up and down. "Are you dating? Are you engaged?"

"I'm not off the market," teases Mark, beaming at them.

"Mark...on the market!" laughs the first girl. "That's so....so witty."

"Thanks, love," says Mark.

"Love?" cries the first girl. "Aaaaah!"

Ashley covers her ears, in enough time for her half of the guitar case to drop to the grass. The noise brings her to their attention.

"Oh my... it's Ashley!" yells the second girl.

The girl speedily thumbs through her autograph book and sticks it right under Ashley's nose.

"My name's Robin," says the girl.

"Uh, sure," says Ashley.

She locates a pen and starts to write her name. Mark joins her, the first girl gazing at him with glazed eyes.

"Is this how you treat your keyboard, Kerwin?" questions Mark, lifting the case with ease out of Aja's grip.

'Oh yeah, Mark, I'm trying to sabotage you," says Ashley as she scrawls her name.

"What can I do to get in your good graces?" asks Mark.

"A song!" cries Robin. "Sing us a song....I mean, her a song."

"Hmmm," muses Mark.

He unlatches the case, Aja looking on the entire time. That wouldn't have been my suggestion, thinks Ashley, as Aja's cheeks grow more rosy. Whatever was coming is definitely making Aja uncomfortable. It leads her mind back to the roof when Aja drunkenly asked Ashley if she was interested in Mark. Please don't sing, begs Ashley inwardly. She can't say no in front of the two fans, one of whom asked for her autograph. She has to humor him.

"Sit on the sofa, Ash," says Mark.

"You are sooooo lucky," breathes Robin to Ashley.

Ashley goes to the sofa, shielding herself with a cushion. Her sight rests on Aja, going to a corner and fooling with a couple of brushes near the make-up mirror. At least she's not paying attention. There's nobody else to take this in, either. Ashley thought too soon, hearing a multitude of voices coming their way. Dashiel, Sarah Lincoln, and Bianca were the three she recognized instantly among the group of eight. They all pause as Mark begins to sing:

_Go on and hold her till the screaming is gone  
Go on believe her when she tells you  
Nothing's wrong  
But I'm the only one  
Who'll walk across the fire for you  
I'm the only one  
Who'll drown in my desire for you  
It's only fear that makes you run  
The demons that you're hiding from  
When all your promises are gone  
I'm the only one_

While Mark's voice is very good, masculine and deeply rich, there's something about it that feels so...hollow. His blue eyes never stray from hers but the look prickles her skin. When Craig sang to her in their simple Degrassi gymnasium, they were alone, with him gulping out "I love you." It was so earnest and so hard for him. She loved every second of it. Tonight, she's more embarrassed than honored. And why that particular song? She didn't want to be his "only one". Maybe he chose the song at random.

As Mark strums, she notices the women in the group exchanging knowing glances. Her sight goes to Aja's. As the song continues, Ashley sees Aja's fists curl. Aja then pushes a brush off the make-up station and walks loudly out of the room. Ashley follows, hearing Dashiel say in the background, "You really know how to get them goin', Mark!"

"Aja!" calls Ashley.

"I don't bloomin' care if he sings for any stupid body," mutters Aja, halting in front of a water fountain.

"I didn't think you did," says Ashley, wearily.

Okay, she cares, though she won't say so. Ashley goes to her and puts a hand on her shoulder.

"We didn't even technically date," moans Aja. "But when you slept with somebody, you should still respect their feelings..."

Did Mark even technically date anybody? There was that one girl he mentioned, the one that ended up with his own father.

"You've got fans, you're smart, you're gorgeous," ticks off Aja. "Of course he fancies you."

"Mark...Mark doesn't fancy me," stammers Ashley.

"He was looking at you the way Craig looks at you," groans Aja. "I'm not daft."

Ashley shakes her head. "Let's go back, clear this up."

"Go back to him staring googly-eyed at you?" cries Aja. "I'd sooner beat me head with a curling iron."

"Aja..."

"What'd you do in that hotel you guys was at?" says Aja.

The question is so direct Ashley presses a hand to her heart. Is that an accusation? If it is, they're not alone anymore. Bianca and Sarah Lincoln were inches away, probably going to check on Aja too. Ashley rolls her eyes.

"Nothing," says Ashley.

"You weren't in his room?" asks Aja.

"For a little bit," answers Ashley. "He was trying to get me to do coke with him, for the record."

"You wouldn't do no coke!" cries Aja.

"I didn't do it!" says Ashley.

"Then what was you doing in there?" demands Aja.

"Nothing!" repeats Ashley. "Look, we talked about my family, your family and..."

"That's my business!" interrupts Aja. "Did he say I had daddy issues?"

"Umm..."

"God, he always says that," mutters Aja.

"Okay, sorry," says Ashley. "You're right. I shouldn't air any dirty laundry. What we got into was pretty private..."

"You flippin' cow!" exclaims Aja. "Private? Now, I'm hip to it. You sleep with Mark and score an Arista deal days later!"

"You got a deal, huh?" speaks up Sarah Lincoln.

"Shut up!" shouts Ashley.

"Aw, Ashley, you gave Mark a private show," says Sarah Lincoln. "How much did he pay you, huh?"

Ashley tries to make eye contact with Aja, who's no longer speaking. She has to believe her. Okay, she's lied on occasion, but not to her, never to her.

"If it was for a deal, that's a pretty good bargain," says Bianca. "He leaves most of his groupies in bed and bolts out. You must be the queen supreme, Kerwin."

"Slut," chokes out Aja.

Her heart weighs a ton as Aja's words seep through.

"I wouldn't do that!" cries Ashley.

"From being booed to being in Mark's bed in one summer," says Sarah Lincoln.

"That's progress," says Bianca, with a harsh chuckle. "Come on, Aja."

Aja walks to Bianca and Sarah Lincoln. She hasn't looked this sad since they were on the roof of Ascension, when the midnight mist was encircling them and they were trading their London memories. Ashley's breathing becomes more rampant. Aja's trust in _her_ has been broken, more swifly than hers in Craig. She meant to do Aja no harm. Did Craig? Ashley doesn't want to consider it because that would make her wrong.

"I almost wish you'd go back to those boring skirts and nights crying," says Aja, staring hard at Ashley. "When you was somebody decent. Cause you ain't nothing to me now."

She allows the other two girls to lead her away. If possible, she feels more hollow, leaning on a tree for support. Were her actions really that suspect? When you say it, that's how it might appear, but...does it matter? Bianca hated her, Sarah Lincoln hated her, and because of her actions, Aja hates her. Who is she going to lean on now? Ashley hits the tree twice and advances to the picnic area. The park only has a few stragglers who've yet to go home.

There, a group of twentysomethings are toasting the night. Champagne swivels in their cups before it meets their mouths. Two guys chase three girls across the grass, in perfectly good spirits in the cool evening air. They run and run and run, their basket sitting on a red and white checkerboard blanket. The girls toss the contents of their glass at the guys to ward them off. Ashley would like to ward off many things. She waits until they're halfway across the field, caught up in their excitement. Her hand slips into the basket, feeling the droplets that have dribbled down the champagne bottle. It slides out of the basket with the droplets going under her sleeves. Against her skin, a drop trickles until she can't feel where it flows.

III.

"What are you doing in there, Ty?"

Sean lifts the box, starts arranging the materials so none of them are at risk of being bent up or having their covers wrinkled. Ty's in the living room, pencil moving furiously as Sean carries the box there.

"Trying to figure out how much you'll get from the Ducati," says Ty.

That's a nice gesture, Sean smiling at him in response.

"Joey wouldn't stiff me," assures Sean.

"Yeah," shrugs Ty. "But better safe than sorry. That's what my mom used to say."

That's the most he's heard about Ty's family since they left Wasaga. He doesn't push it, instead focusing on the task at hand.

"Maybe you'll have enough for your trip with Ellie," says Ty.

"Hate to break it to you, but there's something adults have to pay, called rent," kids Sean.

"Most of your bike money has to go there, I know," says Ty. "But if you use your regular car..."

"My car's so unreliable," sighs Sean. "It clunks out once I get past city lines. There's a reason why I had to use Jay's Civic and Tracker's truck to get to Wasaga."

"I don't believe it's that bad," says Ty.

"Fine," says Sean. "I'll take you out tomorrow and you'll see how poor it is firsthand."

"Fine," asserts Ty.

He sets the box on the table, Ty's head still down as he does the figures. Sean taps the box so Ty will stop. Ty raises his head.

"Um, this was mainly El, so...," begins Sean.

Ty gets out of his chair and starts to sift through the box, a slow smile crossing his lips. He paws through the copies and holds up one.

"_Ender's Game_!" says Ty. "Man, Becca said this is the best."

"I'll take her word for it," says Sean.

"Wow, thanks, Sean," says Ty. "And thank Ellie too. I haven't had books of my own since..."

He pauses, clamming up as usual. Sean thinks it a lost cause and hears his stomach grumble. He hasn't eaten a full meal all day, what with going to the car lot after leaving Ellie.

"Dinner?" says Sean.

"Yeah, anything," replies Ty.

"Think we might have some ancient microwaveable cans of soup here," says Sean.

"Like I said, anything," assures Ty.

Once there, there's a single can of chicken soup, and a taped letter. _Took the other can. Couldn't resist the stars. I. O. U. Word is bond, Jay._ Man, Jay and his bottomless appetite. Sean groans, opening the lid and resecuring the plastic cover before putting it in the microwave. Something else he hasn't put in his stomach are his pain meds. He fetches them from the drawer, the same drawer Ellie left them in originally. He was used to following her regimen, ever since the first day he came home with her and her folks. That's when they could partly stand him. Who knows where this break will leave them?

"Ty, do you need water for your pills?" calls out Sean.

There's no answer. Sean fills two cups anyway and returns to the room. Ty is already deep into _Ender's Game._

"For your...what is it, Decadron?" says Sean, giving him the glass.

"Um, I'm kind've...out," confesses Ty.

"Since when?" says Sean.

"Since...the night I spent at Becca's," says Ty, lowering the book. "We were having too much fun and...I noticed it on the bus ride."

Well, he can't blame him for having some fun. The kid certainly needed it.

"How are your lungs?" says Sean.

"Good," replies Ty.

"But you shouldn't....like, skip," says Sean.

"My only other bottle's at Dale's," says Ty. "I forgot them."

Why, moans Sean to himself. They'd both done a good job of steering clear of Dale's.

"I'll just go get them tomorrow," says Ty.

"No," says Sean.

"No?" says Ty, quizzically staring at him.

Yes, his "no" was fast. The only explanation is that what Jay said at the hospital has moved to the forefront of his brain. If Ty returned, Dale would manipulate him into staying or Ty's loyalty would come out in full force and he'd stay. Either way, he wouldn't be where he needed to be.

"I'll go," sighs Sean.

"It's no trouble," says Ty.

"Ty, the cops are around the area," shares Sean. "Trouble's the biggest thing you should be worried about."

"Then, you shouldn't go either," says Ty.

"Better me than you," says Sean. "You're young. You can stay, read, get ready for school."

"You really think I could go to school?" says Ty, hopefully.

Sean nods. "Maybe Degrassi. Most likely with grades better than mine"

"Cool," says Ty. "Hey, then I could go to your graduation. That's allowed, right?"

"I'd...like to graduate," mumbles Sean, more to himself than Ty.

"Sean, you're smart," says Ty. "Look, what if we both promise to graduate? That'll give you some incentive."

Promise to graduate? That's what his family was hoping for, especially since he'd be the first person in the Cameron clan to do it. Ellie would be ecstatic too. Plus, if Jay can get his license after going through so much, Sean's pretty certain he can finish school, too. It might take longer than he originally planned but he could.

"Alright," says Sean, bumping fists with Ty.

Sean stands to retrieve the soup, after the beep of the microwave beeps loudly behind him.

"Um, you're not going to get rough with Dale?" says Ty, closing his book. "Are you?"

He releases a deep breath. "Nah. Nah, I won't."

"He's...he's had it tough too, Sean," says Ty, hesitantly.

That's when Sean clams up, and walks to the kitchen, his only response to Ty the squeaking of his feet as he turns away.

IV.

The stars peek at him from above. Even they might be sleeping. In Toronto, the constellations almost look clearer. You can tell what's an arm and a leg and a claw, if the constellation is an animal. During an episode, when he couldn't get much sleep, he'd sneak into the garage and write lyrics with the stars right visible through the small window. He fine-tuned the studio version of "Dust" while laying on a couch next to the unopened paint cans Caitlin ordered for the living room. His funk compositions, the songs the Squatch debuted at the wedding, had their beginnings on those nights. They were much more amateur then but that's where they started. So him being somewhere other than a bed at one o' clock at night isn't what's confusing at all.

It's the fact that Ashley called him. Her number flashed on his cell at twelve forty-five. He rolled in bed for a second and instantly answered when he saw it was her. Of course, he wondered why. She told him to stay out of her life. She didn't invite him to the show. She didn't say anything to him about the reason she wanted to meet him. Ashley told him to be outside Aja's apartment and left it at that.

How can he plan what to say? Should he call Robert and Chris, or would that upset her more? Yes, it would. That's why she ran away from him in the first place. Craig rubs his hands against his grey sweatshirt to keep his blood circulating. Is this unseasonably cold for Britain? No, probably not.

His fingers are lighted by a white glow, a sudden burst of light streaming on the street. Craig can recognize the tour bus in the dark. Why would the bus come just for him? Craig grabs at his curls, peering more deeply into the windshield. That's nearly impossible seeing as the lights near the driver's seat are not on. He goes to the door and it clatters open.

"Ashley?" says Craig, narrowing his eyes.

Ashley swallows a lump in her throat. "Hop on."

"Where are the other people?" says Craig. "Where's the driver and the roadies and the..."

"They won't miss it for ten minutes," says Ashley flatly.

That's not true by a long shot, but if Ashley managed to commandeer the bus, he'd like to know why. Craig climbs the steps and sits in the front seat, diagonically across from Ashley. The driver's seat makes her look taller and the leather dress makes her look slimmer. She's tired, and clearly agitated. It's quiet on the bus, minus the TV blaring music in the background. Not just any music, identifies Craig. It's the released BBC broadcast, the first broadcast that made her feel so defeated.

"Let me turn that off," says Craig, standing.

"Don't!" cries Ashley.

"Ashley, why would you want to hear...," starts Craig.

"It doesn't matter anymore," interrupts Ashley. "I can tell you how many time Musk twirls his drumsticks. I can tell you what jewelry Sarah Lincoln's wearing and on which day. I can tell who got the most applause. It's not me, by the way."

Ashley releases a light laugh, Craig inching back into his seat.

"But what I can't tell is when I sold out," says Ashley, sniffling. "This was supposed to be _my_ tour, _my_ shot."

"What's going on, Ash?" asks Craig.

"Craig, let's drive to Liverpool," says Ashley.

She smiles gently at him and he almost wishes they could go.

"Everybody's probably freaking out that the bus is missing," says Craig. "How did you..."

"It wasn't hard," says Ashley. "They're all partying on the stupid picnic field. They don't want me there with them. I'm the groupie whore."

"Huh?" says Craig.

"Okay, I waited until the driver went to the bathroom," says Ashley. "Who cares how I got it? Let's just go."

"No...no, we can't," insists Craig.

"The keys were in the ignition," says Ashley, leaping up. "It was a sign. A sign that we're destined to go."

Destined? Craig leans in to kiss her, hoping Ashley is unsure of his intent. He groans when it's apparent. Ashley delicately covers her lips.

"I knew it," says Craig. "I knew it!"

"You're such a killjoy," sighs Ashley, dropping back into the driver's seat.

"Cause I value my life?" returns Craig. "Yeah. You don't seem to care about yours."

"The concert was two blocks away," defends Ashley. "A blind man could find his way here."

Craig forcefully digs through the trashcan until he finds the champagne bottle, so empty he can see his reflection at the bottom of it. Ashley taps her fingers against the wheel.

"I'm calling your dad," says Craig.

He pulls his phone out and sits.

"You would," says Ashley, glaring at him.

"Somebody has to help you!" cries Craig. "Driving drunk? You'll end up dead!"

"I had five or six sips," says Ashley.

"More like five or six big sips," counters Craig. "You wanna go somewhere? Let me drive."

"No!" exclaims Ashley. "You already tried to take the reigns today. With my dad? Get off my back!"

Ashley reaches for the lever, effectively closing the door. Craig jumps from his seat, wobbling to her.

"Screw it," mutters Ashley.

The bus is moving, and they're both heading down the street. Thankfully, since it's so late, there aren't any other cars for her to threaten. That won't protect themselves, though. They reach a red light, Ashley slamming down on the brake. Good. They didn't get far. Craig manages to get beside her, place his hands on the wheel, on top of hers. His fingers linger on her soft skin. Ashley releases a sob, shaking her head at the windshield. Craig crouches next to her.

"I never would've done that to you," chokes out Ashley, glancing at him through her tears.

"I....," begins Craig.

"You sold me out," continues Ashley. "To my parents. They'll never think of me the same way again."

"That's not true," says Craig as he stands. "I want you to be the same. They want you to be the same. But right now, Ash, you have a problem."

"No, I don't," sobs Ashley.

"Why are you crying, then, huh?" asks Craig, laying his forehead against her cheek. "If it's not true?"

"Because you.."

Her voice trails off and she readjusts the mirror above rather than stare at him.

"You were there for me when I was so scared over a year ago," whispers Craig. "When I didn't know why I was doing the things I was doing."

"That was different," argues Ashley, her eyes ahead. "You couldn't control what you were doing. I can."

Craig doesn't say anything. This is the opportunity to get the keys out. He's able to, Ashley following his every move.

"I can," repeats Ashley vehemently.

"How'd you remember the address?" asks Craig calmly.

"Called Mark," answers Ashley. "He's the only one looking out for me."

"Mark isn't looking out for you," says Craig. "You ask when you started selling out? When he got involved."

"You're jealous of him," says Ashley as she shifts in her seat.

"The only thing that should be jealous of Mark is your own common sense, for choosing him over it," remarks Craig.

Ashley takes her hands from the wheel.

"If there wasn't a red light, I'd have kept going," says Ashley, nodding.

"See, Ash?" sighs Craig. "That scares me."

"It scares me, too," sobs Ashley, covering her face.

Craig tenderly strokes the bottom of her neck, feeling the muscles underneath. What if he hadn't answered the phone? What if the light hadn't changed? What if he hadn't come? After every day he's missed helping her, leave it to fate for it to decide that he be there on a day that mattered the most.

V.

Sean sweeps his hand across the dashboard, dust circling in the sunlight. He hasn't cleaned his car in awhile. Though, he's been absent from the shack for more than awhile. The wooden walls of it appear unchanged. He can hear the hammering, twisting, and grinding of the tools he used to use, used to teach with. In contrast, the office building has the shades of each window drawn. It was after five, but it makes Sean pause.

Unlocking his car, he steps into a pool of orange fliers. The fliers proclaim in their bold black letters that Ace's Auto Shop is closing. Sean looks to his left and right. Nothing. Weeks ago, you'd have at least one last minute customer coming in to do business. Why are they closing? Sean hears a siren in the distance and gets his answer.

"Sean!" exclaims a voice from a few feet away.

Emmitt walks to him, with a wrench weighing down his pants. He had bags under his eyes but the bright smile hasn't changed.

"I did Sal Morten's Miata, the one with the busted gear shift and the hiccuping transmission?" says Emmitt. "The car Dale thought was past all hope. By myself, too."

The Miata wasn't past all hope, but Sean said that Dale said it to encourage Emmitt to do something new. And it worked.

"Awesome," congratulations Sean.

"Car's gone now. Wanted to show ya," says Emmitt.

"If you say you did it, I believe you," says Sean.

"Glad you're back," whispers Emmitt, glancing over his shoulder momentarily. "It's mainly me and Delonte these days."

"Why?" says Sean.

"Guess the others got scared," replies Emmitt. "After they found out about Dale."

The other guys knew Dale shot Jay? He'd think Dale wouldn't want that getting out, and nobody who knew was there to tell them. Sean ushers Emmitt to the side, walking to the shack.

"I'm just praying we don't gotta do food vouchers again," sighs Emmitt, accompanying Sean. "Your family ever do those?"

"No, we saved pennies some other way," says Sean. "Community get-togethers? You can get real creative at a trailer park."

"Don't suppose you heard from Ty?" says Emmitt. "It's like he vanished into thin air. Not that we was close, anyway."

"The shop is closing?" says Sean.

"Dale thinks it's best," answers Emmitt.

"Best for him," says Sean, a cold smile forming on his face.

"He could've used someone to go to the docks with," shares Emmitt. "Went alone last time, and well, you know."

Know what? Didn't Emmitt know he's cut off contact with Dale? Perhaps Dale failed to enlighten them. Rather than have Emmitt go into detail, he goes inside the shack. There are so few parts left on the tables he figures the place had been robbed. A mountain of paperwork takes up most of the tables, Delonte and a new guy with spiky red hair carrying a bumper to the other end. Another new guy holds a hammer over a carburetor.

"Hey, Sean," greets Delonte with a grin.

"Hey," says Sean. "Dale here?"

Delonte casts a quick glance at the curtain that sectioned off Dale's space, Dale pulling the curtain aside just as fast. Sean widens his eyes. Multiple bruises were on Dale's face, a large purple one right above his eye. His upper lip is puffy and he gently puts his hand on his hip. This must be what's behind the guys disappearing, if their boss is coming in like that.

"Why you here, Cameron?" says Dale.

"I can ask you in private," offers Sean.

Dale nods to his office, Sean going. It's hard to remove his sight from the bruises. What happened? Not that he feels the slightest bit of sympathy for him. In fact, the closer he is to Dale, the more he remembers that he's responsible for Jerry and Dee busting into his apartment, for the Nashes growing weary of him.

"You got new guys," says Sean.

"Need someone to do the work," says Dale. "Work you apparently think is beneath you now."

Sean smirks. "I'd like your face to be beneath my foot. But it looks like someone else got to you first."

"You should see the other guy," says Dale.

"I doubt that," returns Sean.

"A week from today, you won't have a place to bother me at," says Dale, turning his back to Sean. "Emmitt and Delonte stayed with me 'til the very end. Good kids. I'd scram if the cops were sniffing around."

"What about the kids upstairs?" questions Sean.

"What kids upstairs?" replies Dale.

"I've been up there, man," says Sean.

"No, you really haven't," says Dale, meeting his gaze. "You haven't heard what they do to these kids in some of the shelters, what they're hiding from. Or when they come in so bruised they can't sit. You ain't seen nothing."

Dale's right, and Sean hates to concede. He hasn't seen every kid, heard every story.

"I...I know what Ty's told me," confesses Sean. "About himself."

Stepping backwards, Dale's countenance changes, a softness clear under the scratches and cuts.

"Well, that's one story that's gonna stay here," whispers Dale heatedly.

"Haven't told a soul," says Sean. "I care about him too much."

"You care about him so much?" says Dale, his breath increasing. "You bring him home."

"This isn't a home!" cries Sean. "There's an investigation going on outside. Where's his brother? He said he was coming back for Ty. Maybe he would..."

Dale grabs a wrench from a table and throws it to the ground, barely missing Sean's foot. Sean stares at him incredulously.

"What's wrong with you?" says Sean.

"His brother's in jail," answers Dale, tears at the edges of his eyes. "Marcus is in jail. You want to tell him that?"

"In...in jail? For...for what?" stammers Sean.

"For shooting the man that touched them," says Dale. "Shot him cold dead last year."

Sean lets his hand grip the table, for some source of support.

"The guy deserved it," says Dale. "Maybe that's one thing we agree on."

He can't agree because he can't think. That's a huge thing to hide from Ty, though he can understand why.

"Alright," breathes Sean. "Becca's. Ty likes it there. He can stay......"

"What aren't you getting?" shouts Dale, loud enough so that the movement behind the curtain has stopped.

What should he be getting? Sean looks at him for some clue.

"I'm the closest thing to a family that kid's got!" cries Dale. "It's like he's my brother."

"He's not your brother!" exclaims Sean.

"He isn't yours either!" says Dale.

They're getting nowhere. He'd have to discuss Ty's living arrangements with a sensible adult, not some immature freak that runs a criminal operation. He'd get the pills and split.

"Ty needs his medicine," says Sean after a long sigh.

"No," says Dale, passing Sean without another word.

Selfish, thinks Sean, going after him. To deny him is one thing but to deny Ty is simply mean.

"He'll get it when he comes home," says Dale, starting to collect pieces of paperwork.

"Keeping secrets from him, I get," exclaims Sean. "Keeping medication from him? That's screwed up!"

"Screw you, Sean," says Dale.

Delonte, Emmitt, and the other two guys are against the wall, innocently watching the exchange. What they're saying must be news to them because they're listening intently.

"My apartment is heaven compared to this place," says Sean. "In fact, he might as well stay."

Dale straightens himself, the papers fluttering from his fingers. It's so silent Sean can hear everybody breathe, including himself.

"Ty's at Sean's?" speaks up Emmitt.

"Yeah," says Dale, walking to stand in front of Sean. "Tell 'em about it, Cameron."

"About?" blanks Sean.

"What he's neglecting to tell you guys is that he lured Ty there," says Dale, smirking. "He was...nice to him. He...took him places. He found...a bed for him."

Sean clinches his fists, his teeth sharply coming together.

"Nuh-uh," says Emmitt softly.

"Sean's bed," adds Dale.

That's the last thing Sean allows him to say, pushing Dale past the table to the hard wooden wall. Sean puts his elbow to Dale's neck, Dale smiling smarmily the whole time.

"This guy you admire, guys, is just some sicko who was looking for who was sweetest," says Dale, his voice still clear despite the pressure of Sean's arm. "I bet working here was like being a kid in a candy store, eh, Cameron?"

"Gross," says one of the new guys.

How dare he? After what Ty's been through, how dare he accuse him of that?

"That's why Sean can't let him go," says Dale, laughing a bit. "Can you?"

Their eyes meet, and Sean's eyes finally fall. He can't let these lies continue and Ty's waiting. He releases Dale, who spits squarely in Sean's face. Sean wipes it off with his sleeve and dismisses him with a parting glare. He slowly goes to Emmitt, his last hope to maybe get the pills.

"Emmitt, he needs the...," says Sean, reaching to touch his shoulder.

Emmitt flinches. "Don't touch me!"

Sean retracts his hand, his mind throbbing, running in circles. He throws Dale one last look.

"I used to care about this place," says Sean. "As much as you can care for something under someone so awful. You're right. These are good kids."

He glances at Emmitt, who stares at his knees.

"But you?" says Sean. "I hope everything blows up, right in your face."

Dale clenches his jaw, with no retort at the ready.

"And I hope Ty's there to watch it," concludes Sean.

He leaves the shack, his footprints undone by rolling fliers in the dirt. The end is coming. He doesn't need to be reminded of it. He needs to see it. He needs to see the end.


	87. We Kiss In A Shadow

**LXXXVII. We Kiss In A Shadow**

_Lun Tha:  
We kiss in a shadow,  
We hide from the moon,  
Our meetings are few,  
And over too soon.  
We speak in a whisper,  
Afraid to be heard;  
When people are near,  
We speak not a word.  
Alone in our secret,  
Together we sigh,  
For one smiling day to be free  
To kiss in the sunlight  
And say to the sky:  
"Behold and believe what you see!  
Behold how my lover loves me!"_

_Tuptim:  
We speak in a whisper,  
Afraid to be heard;  
When people are near,_

_Lun Tha:  
We speak not a word.  
Alone in our secret,  
Together we sigh,  
For one smiling day to be free_

_Both:  
To kiss in the sunlight  
And say to the sky:  
"Behold and believe what you see!  
Behold how my lover loves me!"_

_Tuptim:  
To kiss in the sunlight  
And say to the sky:  
"Behold and believe what you see!  
Behold how my lover loves me_

**We Kiss In A Shadow is the property of Rodgers and Hammerstein and appears in the film _The King and I; _I Enjoy Being A Girl is the property of Rodgers/Hammerstein and appears in the film _Flower Drum Song._**

**Some Girls Dance With Women is the property of J.C. Chasez.**

**Around the Way Girl is the property of LL Cool J.**

**Vivrant Thing is the property of Q-Tip.**

"This is the life," comments Spinner.

He puts an arm around Emma and his other arm around Manny, both girls looking at him with amusement.

"Let me know if he tries anything, girls," says Ms. Mason, staring at their reflections in the rear view mirror.

"Man, Mom," says Spinner. "Why's it got to be like that?"

Emma smiles at him and then gazes through her window. Since Ms. Mason came to fetch them from the hospital, she's made herself pretty easy to get along with. She did mostly what her mother, Spinner, and Manny wanted her to do, and was polite to the doctor. Still, she wouldn't fill out the symptoms chart. Dr. DePauw said they could try tomorrow. Tomorrow? A back-to-back session? It was almost too much. She can't believe it, that or the fact that she'd been hypnotized. That was so strange. She was stumbling around in the dark, figuratively and literally, in a memory that had chosen to display itself again for her, whether she liked it or not. People actually did this to other people for a living? The process was scary and she had no idea what she'd said during it. When she came to, Dr. DePauw reassured her that everything was alright, but said nothing else. No questions. Would she have questions for her tomorrow? Did she write anything down?

Glancing quickly at Spinner and Manny, who are discussing who's filling in for Spinner at the Dot (Hazel and Jimmy, apparently), she retrieves the piece of paper she ripped from Dr. DePauw's notebook. _Look into possible family conflicts, and fear of a loss of control._ _Highly resistant to verbalization. Downcast demeanor. _To see those three statements streamed together like that, you'd think Dr. DePauw had been sitting with her for weeks. Spinner and Manny were probably better informants than the ones in the F.B.I.

She catches Spinner look, with interest, at the paper too.

"What's that?" asks Spinner.

Manny joins him in looking at it.

"An old receipt," replies Emma, shrugging and crumpling it up.

Spike, with Jack asleep in her arms, is in the front of the car with Ms. Mason. They're nearly at Spinner's grandmother and she'd be rid of their concerned faces for the rest of the night. She'd tell them she was going to bed, though she suspects she most likely won't sleep. There's too much on her mind. There's always too much on her mind. However, her mind goes blank as a cellphone rings in the car. Spike manages to get it on the first try so she won't wake up Jack.

"Hello?" says Spike. "Oh...you're in Cali? Yeah, that's the Masons' address. Okay. Well...she's...she's fine, Archie. We'll talk when we get there. Bye."

Emma maintains a firm stare towards the back of her mother's head.

"Your father just got in, Em," says Spike.

Yeah, got in an hour after her therapy session, thinks Emma. So like the "new" him. She sits up straight, Spinner removing his arms to stretch them. Emma recalls the last time he speedily took away his arm, when Snake's presence interrupted the mood. How could she forget the kiss? How could he expect her to, want her to?

_Emma held the pass between her thumb and finger, the gold flame under the movie title having a sheen emitting off it toward her eyes. **Jay and Silent Bob Go Canadian, Eh**? Like Manny, she'd been anticipating tonight. She, Toby, and Liberty had small cameos in the film, nowhere near the breadth of Manny's part, but it was fun to see herself onscreen. Snake beamed proudly at her from his seat, her seat different from her original seat. After what she witnessed on the staircase, Emma kindly asked Spinner to switch with her. She made the excuse that she couldn't see past the tall man and Spinner willingly traded with her. Snake didn't appear flummoxed by this at all. He obviously thought he'd gotten away with it. Emma slouched in her seat the rest of the film. Speaking up about anything would've ruined her best friend's elation, the energy surrounding the place._

_That went for the V.I.P. party too as she stood by the entrance. But her resolve is breaking. The bouncer cleared her and she was waiting for Spinner to return from the restroom. She didn't even want to go in, be in the middle of the loud music, the happy-go-lucky audience members, or the enthusiastic journalists eager to get the actors' and directors' sides of the story. There's only one side of the story she has to hear and all the better if she gets it tonight._

_Spinner was cutting through the crowd, Jay on a similar trail. Emma grimaced. Jay Hogart was the last person she would've liked to see._

_"The last person you'd expect to see Lexi with is a cheerleader," said Jay, taking a handful of hor dourves from a passing tray._

_He crammed them in his mouth as Spinner sighed and turned around. Emma could barely hear either of them above the loud, blasting speakers playing songs._

You got me shook up shook down shook out on your loving)  
(On your loving)

_"I don't know how many times I have to tell you," said Spinner. "I don't think anything's going on. Alex isn't exactly Paige's type."_

_"Yeah, the most rebellious thing Michalchuk has done is crash your car, right?" recalled Jay, smirking._

_"Shut up, dude," mumbled Spinner._

I want a girl with extensions in her hair  
Bamboo earrings  
At least two pair  
A Fendi bag and a bad attitude  
That's all I need to get me in a good mood  
She can walk with a switch and talk with street slang  
I love it when a woman ain't scared to do her thing  
Standing at the bus stop sucking on a lollipop  
Once she gets pumping its hard to make the hottie stop  
She likes to dance to the rap jam  
She sweet as brown sugar with the candied yams  
Honey coated complexion  
Using Camay  
Lets hear it for the girl she's from around the way

_Alex approached them, Jay swallowing so he could speak. She was on her way to Paige, who was having a conversation with Jimmy and Hazel. _

_"Hey, Alex!" called over Jay. "You're looking pretty pimp."_

_Alex tipped her black fedora in Jay's direction, spun around. _

_"Can I get a lil' post-premiere play or what?" joked Jay._

_"Still as vile as you want to be," remarked Alex, rolling her eyes. "You haven't changed, not in a whole year?"_

_"So you remember it's been a year?" said Jay, his brow lifting._

_"Of course," replied Alex._

_"Anniversaries come but once a year," said Jay. "February twentieth, three weeks ago..."_

_"I'm not in a sentimental mood, alright?" said Alex. "I wanna party."_

_Alex gave him a short wave and shimmied to the music as she walked to Paige's clique._

I need an around the way girl  
Around the way girl  
That's the one for me  
She's the only one for me  
I need an around the way girl  
(You got me shook up shook down shook out on your loving)

_"Hard to get," explained Jay, elbowing Spinner._

_Jay removed a flask from the inner pocket of his jacket and went on his way. Emma hoped he didn't see the relief on her face. What would guarantee longer relief was actually going home. _

_"Want me to go get you some water ski sandwiches?" offered Spinner._

_"Watercress?" guessed Emma._

_"Uhhh, whatever," said Spinner. "The wimpy little bread things the Dot doesn't serve."_

_"I'm not hungry," said Emma, softly._

_"Emma, you've been quiet since the movie ended," observed Spinner. "And the ending was like, happy. I mean, Manny's character got dumped but..."_

_Emma couldn't stop a brief laugh from escaping her lips, which seemed to lift Spinner too. While her character was depressed for the last scene in the movie, Manny was all smiles at the V.I.P. party, beaming as the journalists interviewed her. She stood with Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, her parents and Toby across the room. From here, it seemed like she had no difficulty in answering their questions. Though she hated to ask this, she was afraid she was going to have to._

_"I'm really tired, Spin," sighed Emma. "Too exhausted to dance, or socialize."_

_"Well, it's a long night if Degrassi's best dancer is too tired to dance," remarked Spinner. "I'll call a cab..."_

_"No, stay and enjoy the party," interjected Emma. "How often do you get to be a V.I.P.?"_

_"It is nice to be all in the glitz and not the kitchen," admitted Spinner. "I like not having to serve."_

_"I'll call you in the morning," promised Emma, grinning._

_"What should I tell Manny?" asked Spinner._

_She peered over at her friend, who was teasingly pulling Jason Mewes' hair. Fun and fancy-free. That was Manny for you._

_"Tell her I'll see her at home," said Emma._

_Not allowing Spinner to walk her out, Emma didn't have any trouble flagging down a cab. They were in frequent numbers seeing as that's how several students came to the theatre. The spring breeze blew onto her shoulders as she sat down and the cab whisked her away. Minutes passed and she thought of nothing. Maybe that's how she prepared to face him. Whatever the reason, it was pretty fruitless. The kiss was the first and last thing on her mind once she left the cab, during that whole wait. When Snake entered the Simpson-Nelson residence, she unleashed it. She unleashed the secret that was tearing at her insides since the moment she witnessed it._

_"Em, you're home before me," greeted Snake._

_"What can I say?" said Emma, standing up from the staircase where she was seated. "I didn't feel like celebrating."_

_"The film was incredible, wasn't it?" said Snake._

_"You saw the first fifteen minutes?" posed Emma._

_She gripped the banister as Snake's face fell. His nose moved as he breathed in and out a couple times._

_"What does that mean, Emma?" _

_He had the nerve to ask? Emma shook her head._

_"I have to spell it out for you?" whispered Emma, fiercely. "How could you...you and her were...and Mom's sleeping right upstairs!"_

_"Look, let's calm...."_

_"Would you be calm if you were me?" interjected Emma. "No wonder you stayed late at Degrassi those nights. No wonder you brought that babe magnet of a bike. That was all for her, wasn't it?"_

_"No, it was for me," said Snake with conviction. "After remission, I...I just wanted to feel..."_

_"Young?" supplied Emma. "That's lame, Snake. Mom stood by you, and so did I."_

_"And I'm thankful for that," insisted Snake._

_"You're not, because then you wouldn't have done what you did," said Emma, her voice rising in volume._

_Snake ran a hand over his nearly bald head. But his hair is returning, so it's not like when he was sick, and it's not like he's vulnerable, not as vulnerable as their family at that moment._

_"I'm so sorry, Emma," said Snake._

_"I'm not the one who has to hear it," said Emma, lowering herself to the staircase once more. _

The car pulls to the curb, and the sun has yet to set. The rays of the sun pummel through the windshield, as if they are punishing her for not paying attention. She turns, to view an airport shuttle ahead of their car. Snake ambles out with his green suitcase. He wears a green polo shirt and unflattering jean shorts, an outfit she remembers he wore while he was tending to the garden in their backyard. He looks at her affectionately. Emma pulls the top of her sweatshirt to her nose.

Spike exits the car and hugs him. His chin meets her mother's neck. It usually did because of their height difference. Snake momentarily ruffled Jack's hair and then went to open the car door for Emma.

"Got here as soon as I could," says Snake. "Sorry."

She's heard that before. Emma shuts the door and blows some hair away from her cheek. She wouldn't bother to see his hurt expression, if there is one. From the corner of her eye, she can tell Spinner and Manny's faces hold similar frowns. They were feeling for him? Why weren't they feeling for her?

Spinner opens the opposite door. Emma slides slowly to that side and gets out.

"Let's get you settled," encourages Ms. Mason, tapping Snake on the shoulder.

He waits until Emma's moving to the door herself. His shoulder bumps her shoulder. The friction is gentle.

II.

Though silent, the red flashing light on the cop car moves from the door to the street lamp to his father's cheek, traces of a beginning beard on there. It is nearing dusk and the street is barely alive. Even with the lights of kitchens and living rooms coming from the different houses, there's an eerie calm on Cezanne. Toby paces on the sidewalk. His shuffling feet cover the quiet.

Is it as quiet as the day he visited Justin? Possibly. Most of the families had been informed of the investigation, shared Sergeant Blanchett as the car neared their destination. They were universally shocked and saddened that the group had made their home there. Why there? Sergeant Blanchett said that it was most likely chosen because it was secluded. The neighborhood had then made it a point to stay to themselves, be cooperative with the cops, and form their own curfew rule that put them in their houses by ten o' clock for the past few nights. They clearly wanted this group found and done away with as much as Toby.

The special unit was composed of five members, Toby soon learned. They were like historians in a way, keeping track of area hate crimes; psychologists, because they probed into what drew people to do things like this; protectors, because they were formerly trained to handle any outbreaks of violence that arose. Toby had no doubts as to their ability once he met them. They were a somewhat diverse team too: Patton, Wheaton, two women, an Asian sergeant who grew up in Montreal, and Blanchett himself.

"We're ready, Sarge," announces Lieutenant Croft, one of the female officers.

Toby stalls to examine the outside of the home one last time. The wood exterior of the brown house is splintered, visible cracks in its four wide windows. Its mailbox is hanging at a forty-five degree angle with no name strewn on its side. Plastic bags are jammed into holes in the porch, maybe some grotesque way to support the beams. The whole area smells like sawdust. Flies buzz around the columns of the porch. Lieutenant Croft swats two away as she leaves the door open for them. Jeff nods at Toby and they enter the house after Sergeant Blanchett.

The lights inside are softening, two blinking lamps in the foyer. Toby passes a staircase where the carpet on it is peeling. You could tell a dozen footsteps had trod on the surface. He almost expects to see Justin come running down the day he did when Toby visited Justin's house. Officer Wheaton notices Toby and greets him with a smile.

"What have we found today?" asks Sergeant Blanchett.

"A bunch of books," says Officer Wheaton, gesturing for them to follow him to what looks to be the living room.

It's a living room that's been gutted out, observes Toby. Newspapers litter the floor, with dirt in the room corners. The coverings of light sockets were ripped off, the internal wiring clear as day. A large table is overturned and the only place to rest are five sets of pillows and blankets bundled in the middle of the room. Whoever vacated the room definitely wanted to make it look like they'd been long gone. Toby wonders if he looks hard enough if he'll see the imprint of Justin's face along a pillowcase. Like he told J.T., his gut is telling him that if anybody did stay, it was Justin.

"Are they similar to the others?" says Sergeant Blanchett.

"Oh yeah," groans Officer Wheaton.

They both turn their backs to Toby and Jeff, Lieutenant Croft bringing the box to the other two officers. Sergeant Blanchett pulls some gloves from his pocket and expertly puts them on to handle the materials. Toby tries to peer past the small spaces between the officers' bodies.

"Some faces have been cut out," whispers Officer Wheaton. "Guess whose?"

"Well, if you're looking for the prime instigator of wiping out a race...," muses Sergeant Blanchett, frowning at a book as he flips through it.

Toby looks at the ceiling. This is clearly the book somebody used to doctor the image of Manny with a picture of Hitler's face on her body. He can feel the bile rising in his stomach, as the insulting image reforms in his brain.

"Are you okay, Tobes?" whispers Jeff.

"Yeah," replies Toby.

"Alright," sighs Jeff, patting his shoulder.

"Whoever was looking through this was looking for dates," supplies Lieutenant Croft. "Important political figures, concentration camp names. Some kind of historical-based agenda."

"Our theory is they wanted to make some pamphlet," says Officer Wheaton. "To get the word out."

"Let's pray that they don't grow in numbers," sighs Sergeant Blanchett.

The cops move to another corner, except for Officer Wheaton who pulls Jeff aside. Toby's left to his thoughts, which are being numbed the more time that he's in this room. He steps past the five blankets, heading to a window where he can see the moon as the sun sinks in purple shadows. Toronto summer afternoons could be so beautiful, if you were somewhere as equally as beautiful. He's not. His shoe hits a hole in the carpet, the floor releasing a whine. Looking closer, he detects that the surface underneath is loose, too loose to miss if a contractor surveyed the room, noticeable enough for someone who did it themselves.

He stays in this position until his father and the officers have moved to the kitchen, Jeff and Officer Wheaton still deep in conversation. Toby crouches and flips up the piece of shaky floor. A small brown shoebox is in the space. The only decoration are the initials J.C. He lifts the top and sets it aside. Inside is a picture of a blonde woman, in her thirties, wearing a simple black wool dress. The necklace she wears isn't so simple. Toby looks at his and then at hers. They're both wearing Star of David emblems, the necklace Manny gave him and the necklace of the woman having no clear giver. He turns the photo over. There's a set of words. "Dear God, make me dumb, that I may not to Dachau come." She's a Holocaust survivor? There's no date accompanying the picture.

Next to the picture is a black journal. He opens it to the first page, though it's easy to see that quite a few pages in front of the first have been torn out. As soon as he starts to read, he can tell who owns the book. He could recognize the guy's hateful speech anywhere, but also a clear sadness.

_Day Sixteen: I don't understand Isaacs. How could he be attracted to her of all people? It's not natural. But she's not terribly bad looking. In fact, she could be pretty if she wasn't so tainted. Matthew's a lost cause. I told my brothers about him and we're puzzled that that's lasted two years. Some guys are just so lost. I used to think I was lost until I came here. _

_Day Eighteen: How could he be having so much come to him when he's going against the laws of God, the laws of common decency? School president. Her Catholic parents like him. The Disney internship I've wanted since I was six. He's a disgusting example of a believer. Santos was at his house. His house! It makes me sick. _

_Day Nineteen: We sent the note to him. I don't know. Shouldn't I be more glad that we did it? When I searched for the address, I was so mad. Degrassi's records are pathetically easy to get into. I got this sudden joy of printing it and handing it to my brothers. They said they'd take care of it. The way they said it scared me. The way they hammered those shards into what was a beautiful symbol of what we are...it was so violent...I watched. I just watched. _

_Day Twenty-Two: I can't count on anyone anymore. Clara was at the synagogue with him. I guess since we successfully took care of Santos, he's zeroing in on me. He must hate me enough to take away the one person who loved me. I wrote a message for him to see, for the world to see. My brothers have turned a deaf ear to me. They tell me Clara's chosen a side. They won't dry my tears. They can't change what's changed._

_Day Twenty-Five: I reached out to them, the them that have always denied me. Mom and Dad... they think I'm weak and will listen to them. They tried to lure me home. I am home. Who's weak now? But I can't sleep when I want or think what I want..it's weird. Is that what's supposed to be happening? I don't want to know the reason why it is happening._

_Day Twenty-Seven: Please, I pray. Liberate me from myself._

There are no more entries, Toby shutting the book. His eyes are no longer dry under his glasses. While he knows he's not crying for Justin, he's crying for some reason. What's the reason for _that _happening? He wipes his tears away quickly and stares at the picture. Hearing Sergeant Blanchett clear his throat from a distance, Toby tucks the picture into his pocket and returns the journal to the box. He manages to close the floorboard, as good as new. The sergeant clearly doesn't notice, though he is looking fondly at Toby.

"Toby, we'd like you to step outside," says Sergeant Blanchett.

"Why?" says Toby.

"We found something...pretty graphic," replies Sergeant Blanchett, exchanging a weary glance with Officer Wheaton.

"What?" asks Toby.

"It's best you go," says Officer Wheaton, nodding.

That's not good enough, thinks Toby. He manages to skirt past them, Officer Wheaton calling his name. His father and the rest of the team are in the kitchen, which smells of mildew. He pauses when he views Jeff crying, more intensely than Toby was seconds ago. Moving his father slightly to the side, Toby's eyes take in the sight no one wanted him to see.

There are pictures, hundreds of black and white pictures against the opposite wall, of couples, all of them interracial. Matthew and Ebony are in the middle of the pack. Toby and Manny, in a yearbook picture of them dancing after the pagaent, are last in succession. There is a commonality of why they were hated, but there is something else that links them physically. Dried rat blood splattered the pictures. Four dead rats are heaped together in the corner. Their message is clear, because they wrote it_. Bad blood deserves bad blood, _proclaimed the message above the pictures_. Save our generation_. Justin slitting a rat's throat and wiping its blood across Manny's forehead and Toby's ears pops into every region of his mind and his mouth trembles.

"I've never seen anything like that," breathes Lieutenat Croft.

"And you probably never will again," says Sergeant Blanchett, handing Officer Wheaton his keys. "Wheaton, take them home, will you?"

Officer Wheaton is quick to usher Toby and Jeff from the room, the other officers staying in the kitchen. Toby's chest squeezes, the thickness weighing his walk down. He leans against the hood of the car as Officer Wheaton opens it.

"Toby?" says Jeff.

He doesn't reply, Jeff wrapping him in his arms. He doesn't move until a siren accidentally goes off.

"Not used to this car," apologizes Officer Wheaton.

Toby isn't used to not responding to his father, but he can't. If he'd seen this earlier, he couldn't have talked to his friends, Rabbi Miller, or Matthew and his tape recorder. He'd have sooner climbed into his bed, buried himself in the sheets, and blink in the black folds of the comfort, but it would be a comfort that didn't really come.

III.

"Manny, I did my best to get here as soon as possible," says Snake, following her in the hall.

"Um, she knows," says Manny.

Since Snake, Spike, and Emma were on the outs, and Jack was two, she has become the go-to person for their family circle. And she didn't find it particularly flattering.

"That doesn't sound too convincing," moans Snake.

"Give her some time," says Manny. "She's gone through a lot the past three days."

"Alright," sighs Snake.

"I gotta go be a towel delivery person," says Manny, holding up her stack.

"Don't let me stop you," says Snake, stepping aside.

Thank goodness, sighs Manny inwardly. She didn't want any more drama for the day. Once everyone was inside, Emma went straight to Kendra's bedroom and shut the door. Of course that meant that she didn't eat dinner. Spinner attempted to bribe her out. Emma kept insisting she was fine through the door. Manny's opportunity came when Kendra went in, Emma unable to deny her access to her own room. Emma was sitting on the floor, going through Manny's scrapbook. The sight of that touched Manny so deeply that she eased up on bothering her. Emma's still going through it as Manny returns. Kendra, meanwhile, is at her desk drawing.

"There's no theme for the scrap other than this summer," says Manny. "I'm not very orderly."

"I plan from the start," shares Emma.

She hunches her legs and turns a page. There's a sudden knock on the door.

"Everybody decent?" shouts Spinner from behind the door.

"That's the first time he's ever asked that," murmurs Kendra.

Manny and Emma smile at one another.

"Nobody's naked... for now," replies Manny.

"Manny, somebody's here to see you," announces Spinner as soon as he has the door open.

Here? Who? Manny hops up and passes Spinner. She spies a lot of red hair as she nears the doorway. Lia? Her silk blue shirt and skinny jeans were the fanciest clothes in the room so yeah, dead giveaway it was her.

"Hey," greets Manny.

"Surprise!" says Lia, nervously.

"Everyone, this is Lia," introduces Manny, turning to Snake, Spike, Ms. Mason and Grandma Mason.

"Hi," say the four adults.

"Hi," says Lia. "Um, can we...."

"Yeah," says Manny, stepping onto the stoop with Lia after shutting the door.

"What are you doing here?" asks Manny.

"Saving you from your too gold self, that's what," answers Lia, sharply. "Preston said you weren't coming back! Explain."

"Emma's going through some heavy stuff," says Manny.

"Meanwhile, you're missing an audition, which is hours away," says Lia. "How fair is that?"

"I can't bail on her!" cries Manny. "She needs me."

Lia rubs her temples methodically and shakes her head.

"Let me talk to her," says Lia, standing.

"No....don't!" says Manny. "She's been stressed out. Lia, you have no idea what's going on. Her dad's here and that's making things harder..."

"I'm talking to her," interrupts Lia.

She goes through the door before Manny can stop her, smiling apologetically at the adults who are as surprised as she is. Lia correctly identifies Kendra's room after missing with the bathroom first. Lia goes right in Kendra's room, Manny right behind.

"Lia?" says Emma.

"Sup," says Lia, then throwing a quick glance at Kendra. "Hey."

"Hey," says Kendra, watching them closely.

"Nelson, Manny's got a huge audition tomorrow and she's planning to skip it, for you," shares Lia, bluntly.

Manny smacks her hand against her forehead.

"You can support her whole decision and all, but speaking as someone who cost her an audition, and has lived to regret it ever since, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning," says Lia. "And the accompanying guilt nausea is so not worth it."

"You cost Manny an audition?" says Emma, her mouth falling open.

"Yeah," answers Lia, shrugging. "I suck okay. Tried to make up for it in all the wrong ways. But the way that makes the most sense is to get her to another one. So though I think Eric Hegel is a total impractical dreamer, and must've been the inspiration for whoever created Milhouse, I'm going to get here there."

Dropping her eyes, Manny smiles and then looks up at Emma. Emma closes the scrapbook and rises to her feet.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks Manny.

"I swore I wouldn't leave you," says Manny.

"You said," says Emma, grinning slightly. "You didn't swear."

"Emma, I want to be there for you," insists Manny.

"You have been and you can come back," says Emma. "Right?"

Manny's sight goes from Lia to Emma. She would do whatever it took to come back, yes.

"This time, I swear," promises Manny.

"Whoo, thanks, Nelson," sighs Lia. "Are those Juicy Couture sweats?"

"No," says Emma, staring at them. "Old Navy."

"Oh," says Lia, flipping her hair and trotting past Manny.

"I can't believe I'm going," says Manny, patting her hands against her cheeks.

"Wow 'em like you always do," reassures Emma.

They hug, and Manny's just as sure that the next hug will put the same smile on her face.

IV.

Toby runs his fingers across the keyboard. The computer's dead, without him bothering to plug it in. If he looks at the socket, he'll think of the sockets in that room, think of what's in that house. Maybe it was a blessing that he couldn't remember which house they went into before they went to the police station. Maybe that's how God wanted it to be. He hasn't asked or prayed or anything.

He gingerly removes the picture and stares at the woman. She is so skinny. You can see the bones in her forearms. The woman is in the woods, and she's not smiling. She's frowning firmly. The first time, he was sure she was alive. This time, he'd be shocked if she wasn't dead. Who did she leave behind? Is anybody in her family at the concentration camp too? Toby lays the picture flat on the computer desk, shading her face from his eyes.

Someone raps on his door.

"Come in," says Toby.

"Hey, Tobes," says Jeff.

Jeff goes to the back of Toby's chair.

"I don't wanna talk," says Toby.

"We shouldn't have gone," breathes Jeff. "I shouldn't have let you."

"I'm old enough to decide," says Toby.

"Well, if you do want to talk...," starts Jeff.

"No thanks," says Toby.

"Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes," says Jeff. "I'm here for you, Tobes. Really."

With a final look, he leaves Toby by himself. What a burden this has turned out to be, for everybody. He told J.T. he'd call and hasn't because how do you tell anybody these things? Manny's cut off from him, his fellow sufferer. Toby places his ear against the keyboard. Why do his family and friends have to go through this? They made this beautiful wall out of something ugly, and days later, there's another wall that's uglier in comparison because he's not the only one who's singled out for following his heart. Should he tell Matthew? He can't, no, not him, and not Manny. To see them at the pageant, where they fell in love so naturally, be reduced to an unnatural display of hatred. Why couldn't these guys let them have that moment? Manny made sure that he was part of her most wonderful moments, without even batting an eyelash.

_"This isn't champagne, is it?" said Joseph, taking the glass and sniffing it._

_"Dad!" moaned Manny._

_"Joseph, it's cider," remarked Maria._

_She passed Toby a glass, who accepted it with a low "thanks." Joseph sniffed his own._

_"Why is there a strawberry in there?" asked Joseph._

_"To make it more festive," said Maria._

_"I don't like it," said Joseph._

_"Joseph, you're putting off Manny's toast," said Maria. _

_Joseph released a low "hmmmph" and returned Manny's glass to her. Manny raised hers dramatically, along with Joseph, Maria, and Toby. _

_"To movies and dreams that come true," toasted Manny._

_"Cheers," said Toby._

_They clinked glasses, Toby grinning at the three of them. J.J. and Rosa had taken off early because he had a business meeting in the morning, but other than that it was the perfect family toast. He could tell Manny was smiling at him from behind the glass. _

_"I love the construction of the theater," said Joseph. "Did you see the cornices, Manuella?"_

_"Uhhh, yeah," replied Manny, unconvincingly._

_Toby didn't know about the cornices, but it was a packed V.I.P. party. J.T. and Liberty traditionally found the single cheese display at the party, J.T. biting onto the tiny toothpicks. Nate was working the room like any other actor in the world would've. Darcy tagged along with him and distributed his business cards. Ellie was writing in her notepad and Toby guessed that's why Sean had opted out of tonight. Emma was nowhere to be found. Craig and Ashley were either making out behind a curtain or wrestling with it; he couldn't tell and frankly, he could live without knowing._

_"I'll show you what I'm talking about," said Joseph, guiding Manny to another spot._

_That left Toby with Maria, which he didn't mind. _

_"Manny's glowing," said Maria._

_Despite her disinterest as her father explained design procedures, Toby agreed._

_"But you?" teased Maria. "I never suspected you'd be so into PDA, Toby."_

_PDA? Toby's brow wrinkled._

_"Pretty darn amorous," joked Maria._

_Ohhhh, the previews make-out session. Yeah, they were pretty into it. _

_"The displays of affection could be more private," admitted Toby._

_"How about just as long as Joseph doesn't see?" said Maria, laughing. "He didn't see this time but..."_

_He envisioned Joseph throwing thousands of strawberries at him, conking him out until Toby fell on the theater floor if he did see them._

_"We'll watch it," replied Toby._

_"Good," said Maria, then calling over. "Joseph, we have to get going."_

_"Oh, alright," said Joseph. _

_"It was sooo cool to have you guys here," praised Manny, hugging her parents. "Six months ago, I thought you wouldn't have come."_

_"Your mother and I loved every scene, and we love you," assured Joseph._

_Joseph buzzed Manny on the cheek, and her parents walked to the cloakroom, hand in hand. Toby was so focused on them that he scarcely noticed Manny taking his own hand. _

_"Parents be gone," said Manny, leading him to kiss her._

_They go on for a full minute, Toby's cider glass nearly tipping over. Manny chuckled and set it aright._

_"Mine's more fizzy than yours," remarked Toby, downing the rest of his._

_"Well, you make me feel fizzy," said Manny as she buried her head into his chest._

_"I can't monopolize you all night," sighed Toby, gesturing to their friends. "As much as I want to."_

_Manny begrudgingly lifted her head and pointed ahead._

_"Looks like Paige and Alex are monopolizing the dance floor," said Manny._

_They were, the crowd in a circle around the two girls who were shimmying, twirling each other, and rocking to the beat that boomed from the speakers. The dancing had obviously lifted Paige's somber attitude and Alex had lost her inhibitions._

Step right up and spin the wheel  
All charged up on what you feel  
Make an approach tryin' to keep it real  
What's your name, girl

Try your luck and spin the wheel  
All charged up on what you feel  
Making a pose trying to keep it real  
I want to take you home

_Alex and Paige bumped hips, Jason Mewes moving his head to their hypnotic beat. Though Toby liked him alright, he did notice that Jason liked to ogle the girls, which included Manny, so yeah, couldn't one hundred percent like him. _

Some girls dance with women  
Knowing that it gets them attention  
I want to get in with them  
So pass me a drink and let's roll

_Before they could get another bump in, Jason Mewes meandered in between and shook his butt for the spectators. Laughter filled the room, and even Paige seemingly liked the long-haired actor after being sent her walking papers. _

_"Manny!" called J.T. from the refreshments table._

_Manny and Toby walked to their friends, Liberty sitting in a chair near the wall with her cheese._

_"We can't let the seniors upstage us alright?" said J.T._

_"What'd you have in mind?" laughed Manny._

_J.T. put down his plate. "Soul Train line."_

_"Oh, no," grumbled Liberty. "I never should've let you watch Danny's old throwback videotapes."_

_"Come on," encouraged J.T. "They're going to diss us on the streets if we're wallflowers."_

_"What streets?" said Toby._

_"Okay, street," said J.T. "Degrassi Street. Manny, you gotta be game. Honey is your favorite movie. Heaven knows why."_

_"Toby liked Honey," informed Manny, squeezing Toby's arm._

_"I'd like it too if I got to see a scantily clad Jessica Alba," spoke up Nate, joining the group._

_Darcy punched him lightly in the chest. _

_"Grade elevens, follow me," said J.T._

_Manny sighed and threw up her arms. Toby started to sit next to Liberty. _

_"No, Tobes," said Manny, halting him. "You can stand at the end of the line and clap."_

_"I can sit with Liberty," offered Toby._

_"That's okay, Toby," said Liberty, patting her baby bump. "The kid...feels like it's dancing already."_

_Resistance was futile as Manny was already steering him to a line that was quickly forming. Nate and J.T. had recruited Jimmy and Spinner, whereas Darcy had drawn in Chante and Hazel, who got a pass since she was dating Jimmy. J.T. jogged over to the D.J. to request a song as Toby went to the end of the line._

_"Traitor!" shouted Paige at Hazel._

_"__"Maybe if you used my routine last week, this wouldn't be happening," replied Hazel with a smirk._

"_We're gonna kill you young folks!" proclaimed Alex._

_The beat began to play, Jimmy, Spinner, and J.T. shouting "hooo!" The girls laughed as everybody began to clap to the song._

Uh.. check it out now  
Uh.. no doubt now  
Uh.. yo, check it out now  
Uh.. no doubt yo

_Alex danced down the aisle, turning every time she reached a new person, finally dropping to the ground like it's hot and taking her hat off to bow. _

_"Hot!" remarked, Spinner pretending to fan himself as everybody cheered._

_Spinner went next, pretending to spank something. Toby had no idea what. Spinner ended with undoing his toe and shuffling his feet. Darcy snorted while the rest of them applauded. _

Special girl, real good girl  
Biggest thing in my itty bitty world  
Called her up and she made me feel right  
Wish for bliss could never take flight

_Manny stepped up to the plate next. Toby eagerly watched her. There was no doubt in his mind that Manny would deliver._

Imprinted on my mind every minute  
Make my plans and you always in it, yo  
Uhh, such a vivrant thing  
Vivrant thing, a vivrant thing

_Gliding down the aisles in her heels, Manny rolled her shoulders to the tempo, sashaying her hips to the bouncing bass. She received the most applause thus far because she was the most on point. He had to dig to find rhythm in the bones of his body but here Manny was doing it the same way she did her acting, with gusto, with polish. She impressed him twice. She wasn't done by the time she got to him. Toby's cheeks went red. _

_"Get him, Manny!" shouted Hazel._

_Manny rocked from side to side in front of Toby, then moving around him in a circle. She wanted him to dance. Eh, he couldn't do it, not with this pressure._

And even though we both fly  
Give each other space and not the evil eye  
Actin like grownups  
Don't even try to hide cause the spot blown up  
Girlfriend tellin you she wanna see  
I say 'I dunno' but you say 'Gladly'

_She twirled his tie, though she appeared content with his decision. Manny leaned on him, her hands against his waist._

_"Get ready to be blown away!" announced J.T._

_At the other end, his body went into strange motions, popping his shoulders and arms from place to place. Toby believed he'd learned this at his hip-hop dog/ fry commercial, but he wasn't gung-ho to find out. J.T. completed it, leisurely strolling down the line as he tried to amp up the applause. _

Sweeter than Ben & Jerry  
Can I rhyme? Well you know I gets mine  
Sittin round in my abstract car  
This abstract thing goin abstract far, yo

_"Brooks is in the house!" yelled Jimmy._

_Jimmy wheeled himself to the center and did the Harlem shake, ending with brushing "dirt off his shoulders". He was as good as Manny. Toby had to give him that. _

_"Darce!" called over Hazel._

_The two girls moved in unison, pumping their chests and making their feet turn in and out. It was a Spirit Squad routine, Manny later told him. It got admirable applause. Nate would have to close the gap, if there was one. _

Uhh, such a vivrant thing  
Vivrant thing, a vivrant thing  
Yo.. such a vivrant thing  
Vivrant thing, a vivrant thing  
Look at you, look at me

_Nate pretended as if he were at a premiere, which may've been the most creative of the group. He posed for cameras in time to the beat, then did a small moonwalk as the song went into the last chorus. Then, he did a backflip. J.T. looked on incredulously. _

_"Oh, snap!" praised Spinner, high-fiving Nate._

_It was a close call._

_"Hey, Liberty, who won?" called over Manny._

_Everyone stared at her. Liberty set down her cheese plate._

_"Ummmm, based on athletic prowess, I'll go with the grade elevens," commented Liberty._

_"Biased much, hon?" said Paige, rolling her eyes._

_"We won!" sang J.T., doing the Roger Rabbit. "We won! We won!"_

_He and Manny weren't paying attention to the winners, whoever they were. They were too wrapped up in each other. Tonight had gone so perfectly and he wouldn't have changed it. There was no competition for each other's affections. _

_"I didn't disrupt your flow, did I?" asked Toby._

_"No, you made it better," said Manny, hugging him with all her strength. "You made this night better."_

Toby lifted his head up from the keyboard, hearing the keys rise with sharp clacks. He would have to go to J.T.'s party with this entrenched in his memory. No amazing memories of the premiere can trump tonight's discoveries. He looks at the young woman once more. There's no more debate as he takes in her sunken cheeks. She has a ton of bad memories and no one. She's alone.

V.

Manny checks her mood ring. Amber. That's not calm, definitely not calm. But she can tell that by the sweat on the nape of her neck and her stomach churning repeatedly since they arrived at the Majestic. Eric Hegel _would_ hold the audition at a place where she's had two bad drama experiences. No, not his fault, she tells herself. This man was actually confident in her, unlike Franz Holt, and Lia was supportive today, unlike with _Hearts for Sale. _She changed into a simple white blouse and a black skirt so the emphasis would be on her talent. Plus, black made her look taller. Hey, after Holt, it couldn't hurt.

"_As long as he needs me, I know where I must be_," sings a clear alto voice behind the metal doors. "_I'll cling on steadfastly..."_

"This is going to be gravy," reassures Colin, massaging Manny's shoulders.

"Jade sings like freakin' Marni Nixon," praises Lia. "I mean...not that that matters."

"Thanks, Lia," says Colin sarcastically.

"What?" says Lia. "We are all aware of this fact. She warbles like a bird, but her acting is more stiff than a crash test dummy."

"Don't you have anything positive to say?" nudges Colin. "Or do?"

"Oh yeah," remembers Lia, handing an envelope to Manny. "The letter from that agent."

"I should probably study my music," sighs Manny.

She goes to a bench and looks at her other ring, the garnet gift that was formerly on Bubbe's hand. That makes her smile as she lays the sheet music across her lap. Unbeknownst to Lia, Colin had already auditioned that morning. Colintold Manny when Lia went to go put on more eyeliner. Manny sort of wishes he would've told her he was auditioning by now. If Lia supported Manny's audition, chances are she'd support his too, at least eventually.

Manny reviews the notes for ten minutes, glancing up to find an empty lobby. Jade is still in the theater with Eric Hegel so she doesn't think Lia and Colin are in the auditorium. Well, she can't go look for them. She's up next. But if Colin isn't there in the next few minutes, she'd have nobody to accompany her on the piano. Ugh, wouldn't that be something if they got her here and they weren't there when it was her turn? Better not to worry. She'd read the agent's letter to kill time.

It's definitely not her agent's name on the envelope. Manny eagerly opens the letter penned by Benjamin Satchel. She's grateful Lia's conscience kicked in for the sake of the audition, but this is an added bonus. She reads:

_Dear Claudia,_

_I'm hoping with all the hope I have left that this letter gets to you before your audition. Though I only have a couple details about this one, I'm sure you will nail every line and shine brighter than any spotlight that's there. You're forever fascinating to watch and any director would be crazy not to cast you. I've seen your body of work, from Dracula to the premiere to the variety show. You have bucketloads to offer and a fighting spirit so don't give up._

_Council business is going fine, but we're having issues with the budget. I'm sure Nate will fill you in when you get back. He's doing his part so you have nothing to worry about. Yeah, I'm trying to have fun, emphasis on trying. Kytel starts next week and I love it so that's something. Of course, you were the one who orchestrated it all so I'll be thinking of you when I'm there._

_No matter what happens, I won't disappoint you on your birthday. I'll work around whatever I need to work around. No hints on a gift. I think I need to run the idea by a girl first, though. I'd ask Liberty, but she's busy with a party for J.T. I'd ask Clara but I don't want to ask for a favour when we don't talk much anymore. Ashley's in London. The list is getting shorter and shorter. J.T. told me to get you a twenty-dollar certificate card for Hollywood Video Hut and call it a day. I don't think he was kidding either. _

_When you step on stage, just go for it. I'm sure you know the song/script backwards and forwards. Like you reassured me, I've known you long enough to be certain that you have what it takes. I'd follow your career in Toronto, in New York, in L.A., wherever you happen to be, because of that._

_I love you,_

_B.S. (ha, but you know who I mean)_

Manny refolds the letter and places it against her heart. If Toby has faith in her, and faith has been hard to come by these days, she can get up there and try. He wasn't afraid to go out on a limb for her. Today, she'd go out on a limb, for herself.

The door opens suddenly, Eric Hegel's head sticking out.

"Ready, Ms. Santos?" he asks with a smile.

"Yes," she says. "It's showtime."

VI.

"_I'm a girl and by me, that's only great!_" sings Manny. "_I am proud that my silhouette is curvy, that I walk with a sweet girlish gait, with my hips kind of swivelly and swervy."_

Eric Hegel taps his foot to the piano, Manny notices, as Colin plays buoyantly. She's put on her flirtatious smile, confident with her hands on her hips. This is going better than expected. Sure, this song is nowhere near Jade's range and she hasn't been doing musical theater for years like her. But Hegel seems to like it and she's having fun. Colin made a great choice.

She thought back to when she was trying on lingerie, when she was in her pagaent miracle dress, when she was all done-up for the ball, when she felt most beautiful. It was strange because she probably didn't embrace it then as much as she does now. Maybe that's what the stage does. Maybe that's what the stage has always done for her-- made her appreciate the moments when she could stand out.

"_I float as the clouds on air do,_" sings Manny. "_Oh_, _I enjoy being a girl."_

In the rear of the auditorium, she catches Lia peeking through the heavy door. They disappeared on her because Lia was checking on Hannah, who had a new baby-sitter for the day. Lia kind of delivered the news off-hand, but Manny could tell she was having some silent anxiety over it. Hannah practically begged Lia to stay. Manny wouldn't be surprised if Hannah thought Lia would leave permanently like Emma based on her reaction. In any case, Manny would see Hannah after the audition was over and she hopes it will perk her up a little. Manny was in a good mood so why not share it?

"_Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl..like...me!"_ finishes Manny.

Clapping enthusiastically, Eric then stands and fixes his glasses.

"What a snappy number!" says Eric. "And you have no vocal training?"

"Not formally," admits Manny.

"You can carry a tune, and that's most important," says Eric Hegel. "You'll get more advanced vocal training should you go to the academy. So the ballad you selected is?"

Okay, this is where she'd have to be a bit antsy. There are some key changes and she's only heard this song once when her mother was watching the movie in another room. Colin insisted the song suited her, however, and they practiced it quite a few times before she headed to Santa Clara.

"We Kiss In A Shadow," answers Colin for Manny.

"That's a favorite of mine!" praises Eric.

Manny looks at Colin. Yeah, it was clear Colin knew and Manny had no idea that this would work for Eric. Hopefully it'll still be your favorite when you hear it from me, thinks Manny, nervously. Colin plays two opening bars.

"_We kiss in a shadow_," starts Manny, after a huge gulp. "_We hide from the moon. Our meetings are few and over too soon..."_

Eric's facial features drop, the giddy smile disappearing before she finishes the next phrase. Uh-oh. She's still in tune, from what she can tell. The lyrics are right. She throws a nervous glance at Colin, who's clearly not feeling it either. Manny touches her throat briefly and then goes on.

"_We speak in a whisper..." _continues Manny.

"Stop," orders Eric, waving his arms above his head.

Colin freezes his fingers, leans over the keys as they watch Eric Hegel slowly climb on stage. He stands on the stage next to Manny. This is the most serious she's ever seen him. He must be coming up with some sweet way to tell her that she sucks. Manny ruffles her hair.

"You're not singing this song with any emotion," says Eric. "I don't know if it's nerves or...hmmm. Do you know why I asked you to audition for me in the first place?"

"Uhhh, you felt sorry for me?" guesses Manny.

"No," says Eric strongly. "It's because of that monologue you did, on the first day of camp. When you became the character."

"Honestly, I pulled something out of my butt," admits Manny. "Wasn't prepared at all."

"Preparation is only thirty percent of theater," insists Eric. "Look, do you know the story behind this song?"

"I know it's about a king," says Manny.

"Actually, this song is about a young girl who was forced to marry that king," explains Eric. "But Tuptim loves someone else, someone she can't be with. They have to hide their love because it's forbidden. That night, she's been holed up in the palace and escapes to go find him in a garden. For her, to be with this other man would be looked down upon for personal and societal reasons. They're just asking...for a bit of time to be free to do what they want, to love who they love. Does that make sense?"

"I...I think so," says Manny.

"What do you think she's thinking?" asks Eric.

Manny folds her hands together and releases a deep breath. She couldn't possibly tell him that she's aware of what this character wants-- to do what she'd like to do without worries; to push past rules and beliefs; to be with someone and risk the consequences. Tuptim's thinking of everything like Manny has thought of everything. She has to be. Manny thinks of every day and every feeling she's had this summer while the stage is silent.

"She doesn't want to fight it anymore," provides Manny. "She's tired, and she wants to be happy."

"Colin, can you start from the beginning?" says Eric. "Manny, just let go, okay?"

Closing her eyes, Manny digs her heels into the stage. She straightens her body and begins.

"_We kiss in a shadow,  
We hide from the moon,  
Our meetings are few,  
And over too soon. "_

Their parents' reluctance to let them talk and meet, missing him at the mural, their timed date. Some of the moments they could've had were completely gone before they knew it.

"_We speak in a whisper,  
Afraid to be heard;  
When people are near,  
We speak not a word._ "

Toby calling her without anybody's permission, sneaking away from her parents at the synagogue, a post office box he had to obtain privately. She misses the cell phone chats, the IMs, the ease in which she could go to his house without there being any trouble. Wow, she hasn't been to his house in so long.

"_Alone in our secret,  
Together we sigh,  
For one smiling day to be free  
To kiss in the sunlight  
And say to the sky:  
"Behold and believe what you see!  
Behold how my lover loves me!"_

She closes the song while opening her eyes. There are hundreds of empty chairs, shadows on every seat. The sun had never come in here. The lights above were man-made and could be shut off by anyone. Majestic is less majestic. Manny fans herself as forming tears blur her vision.

"Manny?" says Eric.

"Yeah?" chokes out Manny, staring at him.

Eric nods. "I couldn't have asked for anything more."


	88. Just Another Girl

**LXXXVII. Just Another Girl**

_You think your slick in every way changing up the codes on your phone everyday  
Is there something that you're trying to hide from me?  
I never gave you reason to  
Run and take your calls in the other room.  
Am I the only one or is somebody else getting at you?  
Is this my imagination?  
Things ain't always what they seem.  
Cause I don't want to be._

_Just another name in your little black book  
Just another face in the crowd and it's got me shook.  
I've got to mean a little more to you  
Than a space in your list of things to do.  
Another g-shot gun in your Benz.  
Another dime piece that you can show all your friends.  
You can call me crazy, say I'm insecure.  
But I don't wanna be just another girl._

_ooooh ohhhh ohhh mmm hhmmm  
Strange how you claim to tell the truth.  
When the passenger seat in your car has been moved  
And you swore that there was no one else but you.  
And something else you can't explain why'd you called me by somebody else's name.  
You say it's history your player days are through or so you say.  
Is this my imagination?  
Things ain't always what they seem  
cause I don't want to be_

_Just another name in your little black book  
Just another face in the crowd and it's got me shook.  
I've got to mean a little more to you  
Than a space in your list of things to do.  
Another g-shot gun in your Benz.  
Another dime piece that you can show all your friends.  
You can call me crazy, say I'm insecure.  
But I don't wanna be just another girl._

_Tell me, have you lied or is it my suspicious mind.  
I've gotta know the truth if I'm just another  
girl you're treating wrong.  
Another one you string along  
Is it you and me, is it two or three?  
Cause I don't want to be_

**Just Another Girl is the property of Monica and appears in the film _Down to Earth._**

**Summertime is the property of Will Smith.**

The night has remained clear with each twist and turn. Starlight and lamplight aids him as he drives. He had to get used to the larger steering wheel fast, the unknown knobs and buttons he'd only spied from a distance. Craig hits the clutch and then decides to go straight. While he hasn't gone to the venue like Ashley, she hasn't told him that he's going the wrong way. In fact, she hasn't said a thing. Bunched in a front seat, Ashley wraps a blanket around her frame and stares at the townhouses as they go past. He tried to get her to lie on a bed, but she wouldn't budge and after awhile he gave up.

It'd be the last time he'd give up if he could help it. As soon as they returned the bus, he'd take her to her father's. Would she resist? Without a doubt. She was in denial from the moment she picked him up, drunken denial. That's precisely why he can't take no for an answer. There'd be no deceit on his part this time around. Robert and Chris would have a better idea as to what to do next.

"They're going to fire me," murmurs Ashley, rubbing her nose.

"No, they won't," says Craig.

"They were going to fire me anyway, once my dad called," says Ashley.

"Ashley, we don't have any idea what they'll do," soothes Craig. "Let's not try and guess."

Honestly, though, he has a pretty good idea as to how Julian will react. The two of them were already under his careful watch because of that night where Craig punched the guy and Ashley puked on the street. So coming to him on a stolen bus, with Ashley inebriated, is asking for it. Is there any hope for damage control? Craig stalls at the last red light before the picnic area.

"I can't lose my deal," moans Ashley, standing quickly and going to him.

"Ash..."

"That's the one good thing that's come out of this tour," says Ashley. "Craig, let's stop. Let's stop here!"

"If we don't bring back the bus, things will only get worse for you," argues Craig.

"Arista doesn't take everybody, alright?" cries Ashley. "Why should I lose out? Because of one bad choice? Musicians make stupid choices everyday."

Craig glances at her, at his own reflection in the windshield. Based on the other things Ashley has said tonight, she's already lost a lot-- her sense of control; her original sound; her confidence. If she lost this deal, would it lead to another night like this? He couldn't take that, and neither could her parents.

"I'll say I took it," sighs Craig.

"What?" gasps Ashley.

"You won't catch any heat for taking the bus," continues Craig. "But, if I do this, you have to come to me with your dad's."

"So this is another deal?" mumbles Ashley.

"Both should be important to you," says Craig pointedly.

Ashley seems to consider what he says, finally lending him a look of pity. Craig smiles a little at her.

"We couldn't get you off the hook if that happened," realizes Ashley.

"Ash, I'll survive," says Craig.

The light goes green, Craig moving forward. As the bus lurches ahead, they're met with a greeting, many greetings of stunned faces, and Julian at the head of the group. Craig swallows the tight lump forming in his throat and stops the bus. Ashley rises, the blanket falling to the seat. The length of time it takes for it to drop is about the same length of time it takes for the driver and Julian to get to the bus door and bang on it. Craig instantly opens the door.

"You rotten...," starts the driver, lunging for Craig.

Julian manages to get a hold of the driver as Craig shirks to the side. That doesn't stop Julian from unleashing his own wrath, however.

"What are you?" yells Julian. "High? Daft? This bus is worth thousands!"

Ashley and Craig exchange a worried look, Craig trying to formulate his first response.

"Off the bus!" shouts Julian. "Now!"

While Julian didn't allow the driver to manhandle Craig, he has no qualms taking Craig roughly by the arm and pushing him out onto the sidewalk. Ashley clamors down the steps.

"Explain!" orders Julian.

"This better be good," adds Bianca, the rest of the group just as motivated to watch.

Of course, chief among them is Mark, his hands in his pockets, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Um, I took it for a spin," says Craig.

He says it so weakly even he doesn't believe it. Julian is biting on his cheek, his eyes flashing red.

"You must think I was born yesterday!" exclaims Julian. "Come on. Where were you taking her?"

The gazes of the group members focus on Ashley next. She puts a hand against her brow, the same expression of panic there as when they were discussing her record deal.

"Nowhere," insists Craig.

"You stole a bus for kicks?" says Julian. "Unbelievable. Unbelievable."

"Look what this yob left in my trashcan!" cries the driver, sticking his head out of the window.

Oh no, thinks Craig. Ashley coughs and traces her foot along a crack in the sidewalk.

The driver waves the champagne bottle madly, for all to see. Mumbles of disbelief cross the square. Julian snatches the bottle and slams it against the street. Ashley, Craig, and a few of the others who are closest to them jump.

"I'm calling the police!" shouts Julian. "You hear me? I'm calling the..."

"Don't!" cries Ashley.

"And why not?" says Julian.

"The...the champagne's mine," replies Ashley. "A gift from a fan. I tossed it earlier, before the show."

"Craig wasn't drinking?" says Julian, staring at him up and down.

"No," says Ashley, hugging herself. "He wouldn't do anything that stupid."

"Because stealing a bus isn't stupid," argues Julian. "And this isn't the first time that you've disrupted this tour, young man. You're a liability if ever I saw one!"

"I'm really sorry," says Craig, turning to the group. "To everyone."

Dashiel immediately offers Craig a genuinely sympathetic look, while others take a bit longer. Nobody appears totally petrified or insulted. Well, not as insulted as Julian anyway.

"Eh, get him to pay for gas," jokes Mark.

Laughter follows, with the exception of Julian and the driver.

"This isn't funny!" exclaims Julian. "Everybody, get on, check your belongings. If I find one item damaged or missing, you'll be booked before you can blink, Manning."

The musicians grudgingly climb the bus steps, going by Craig and Ashley with curious stares. This is probably a first for them on tour. This is definitely a first for him, to be under fire. Man, everything has to be on there. Ashley goes to his side.

"Craig," she says, sliding her arm through his. "I...."

"Where'd you guys really go?" says a voice from behind.

Unlike the others, Mark hasn't left his spot, eagerly waiting for them to speak.

"It was dumb," says Ashley.

"Ashley, you have to watch it," sighs Mark. "You and me? We're a package deal."

"Package deal?" repeats Craig. "She's not some item for you to latch onto yourself, okay?"

"I mean, Liam wants the both of us," says Mark. "He wants to meet us tomorrow. You've got to be on your best behavior. And here you've got Craig, complicating everything..."

Complicating everything? He's one to talk. Mark's the guy who's creating problems.

"Shut up," says Craig.

"No, you shut it," returns Mark.

"Mark, Craig can't go to jail," whispers Ashley. "You and Julian are tight. We..."

"Craig's getting kicked off the bus," says Mark, shrugging. "I know Julian. There's nothing I can do."

"But jail?" moans Ashley.

"Got a record, Manning?" asks Mark.

"Umm, no," answers Craig.

"Okay," sighs Mark. "If Craig jets, maybe Julian will calm down a notch, go easy on him. I'll work him. For you, Ashley."

Ashley pats Mark on the shoulder.

"Only for you," says Mark, giving Craig a dismissive look and then hopping onto the bus.

Breathing soundly, Ashley hugs Craig. Mark's help isn't exactly what he would've liked, but if it keeps him from getting arrested? He'd be a fool not to take it.

"He told you to go," says Ashley, releasing him. "So go."

"We're...we're still going to your dad's, right?" reminds Craig.

"Yeah, yeah," says Ashley. "After I meet with Liam. Noon, alright?"

Craig nods. "I have to meet Nolan early, and yeah, that's fine. Noon. Swear?"

"Yeah!" cries Ashley. "Just go!"

Straightening his sweatshirt, he momentarily rubs Ashley's back, then jogs off. With each block, the chilly air hits the hair on his arms and the skin on his cheeks. He's not sure if he really did escape. Julian was livid. Ugh, all that matters for right now is that he has a plan. Mark may be helping him. Though him helping Ashley? Finally, there's a possibility for one set path.

II.

"You have rights," sighs Alex. "You totally have rights."

Ellie swings her portfolio folder as she walks meditatively. She met Alex for coffee, indulged herself on a pre-final seminar bagel, indulged herself on the fact that Alex made for a good sounding board. Alex listened calmly, though quickly went into an anti-Nash spiel, dealing with the fact that they'd basically left Ellie out of the "if she could date Sean" debate.

"Ellie, you're eighteen, not eight," says Alex.

"What am I supposed to do?" says Ellie. "Sneak and see him on weekends? Stalk him at the Dot? Sean agreed with them."

"How about speaking up for yourself?" insists Alex.

"Ummm," demurs Ellie.

"Being direct?" continues Alex.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the most confrontational person," says Ellie. "I got nervous during parent-teacher conferences right up until senior year. Well, actually considering _past_ parent-teacher conferences for my family, maybe the anxiety didn't have to do with confrontation."

"Nuff said," says Alex. "Stuff like that? Your mom so owes you some good times."

If only it were that simple. Alex has no clue as to how deep Sean's troubles really are, and how it's threatening how her parents view him. For her to be so vocal about why she should be with Sean right now might mean she'd have to tell her parents everything. She doesn't feel like giving her mother more ammunition to verbally attack Sean.

"I...," starts Ellie.

She grows quiet as her cellphone buzzes.

"Marco," identifies Ellie. "He's been calling obsessively since my hospital stay."

"Delaying your attitude about me saying you need to show some attitude," points out Alex.

"You won't rest until you land me in hot water," sighs Ellie.

"I'm your devil, Marco's your angel," lists Alex. "I guess, Sean is the forbidden fruit..."

Ellie smirks, hits Alex in the ribs with her portfolio. Their duo is soon to become a trio, however. Cindy Hogart cheerfully approaches them, shopping bags in hand. Alex makes a fake gun of her hand and pretends to shoot it off into her mouth. Ellie pulls her hand away.

"Hey, ladies!" exclaims Cindy. "So my girlfriends are in Cancun for the week, and I could totally use some female approval."

"For?" says Ellie.

"Baby outfits!" says Cindy. "I've already bought the Baby Bjorn online. Angelina got two for her twins."

"Don't you need to get pregnant first?" says Alex sarcastically.

"Oh, I'm ovulating," assures Cindy. "I'm soo ovulating."

"Gross," murmurs Alex, so low Cindy couldn't hear.

"You should be happy for me," says Cindy, tenderly touching Alex's shoulder. "Jay's gonna be a big bro in no time. Maybe it'll help with...that responsibility issue."

Rolling her eyes, Ellie clears her throat and clutches her portfolio. Alex takes a bag from Cindy.

"Hey!" protests Cindy.

"Get over yourself!" exclaims Alex. "This isn't about you! Mr. Hogart and Jay could really use this time to bond. Jay's at Lincoln learning how to walk and you're worried about shopping for and popping out a kid? Such a responsible stepmom."

"Jay doesn't like me," pouts Cindy.

"Cause you don't bother liking him," says Alex. "You want to be a mom? Why not try out being a stepmom first?"

Cindy bites her lip. Rather than respond, she plucks Alex's fingers off her shopping bag, some of the wrapping paper staying in Alex's hand as she takes it away.

"You're not even his girlfriend," says Cindy. "I...I don't have to listen to you."

She sashays across the street, holding her head high. Ellie shrugs at Alex. Cindy doesn't seem destined to change. Alex provides Ellie with an annoyed smile.

"This is a clueless parent," says Alex, holding the wrapper paper in front of Ellie's eyes.

"Right?" says Ellie.

"This is a clueless parent when you tell them you've had enough of their bull," says Alex, wrinkling up the wrapper paper until it's a balled mess. "Any questions?"

"No," sighs Ellie. "I got you."

"Embrace it, Ellie," says Alex, lowering Ellie's portfolio for her. "Embrace it."

Alex leaves, Ellie smiling and shaking her head. She really should return Marco's call. There's nothing the boy can do, but still. Now, if Marco could assure her that Sean would make it out of police questioning alive.....man, she can't even be there for him. He's meeting her later; that's not the same.

Repositioning her backpack, she starts to speed dial Marco's number. She's so intent on her task that she barely recognizes where she is when she lifts her neck. Jeremiah Motors. The lot is far from empty yet it's almost cruel that it's the first vehicle she sees. The Ducati is in a very visible position, an orange and black _For Sale_ sign attached to a handlebar.

This has to be Sean's. Why else would it stick out like a sore thumb to her? She rode it so she would know, right? Presently, it's taunting her for all the wrong reasons. Ellie puts her hand against the lot's gate, lets her portfolio slide against her legs. So long to their the road trip. So long to their chance to be together in the near future. Or maybe not. Stand up for herself? That's tough to do, considering she can barely stand here.

III.

When somebody's gone, truly gone, and they suddenly reappear, you start paying extra attention to how they do things. If it wasn't for that, she wouldn't have noticed how he wiped down the counters with two bunched paper towels or that he put the forks in a place where Jack had trouble reaching. Snake went about his business while Emma sat at the kitchen table. It would be pretty rude to walk out. Because, presumably, he's doing all of this for her.

"Do you still like chives in your veggie omelets, Em?" asks Snake, looking over his shoulder.

Emma traces the folds of a red rose on the patterned placemat with her thumb. He frowns and nods at the pan in front of him.

"I'm throwing you in some chives," says Snake.

Do what you want, groans Emma inwardly. I'm not eating it.

"I make you breakfast, Emma," speaks up Jack.

He takes the farmer pepper shaker and sprinkles a few flakes of pepper onto her plate. Emma smiles at him.

"Thank you," says Emma.

"Welcome," says Jack.

"I smell healthy food," announces Spinner. "Yep, Emma's in the vicinity."

Spinner bends down and kisses her forehead. Jack notices, wrinkling his nose. Emma won't wrinkle her nose. She enjoyed it, enjoys having somebody else in the room.

Going to Snake, Spinner peers over his teacher's shoulder.

"Dude, you're not putting in any tomato?" inquires Spinner.

"Gavin, ever heard the expression, too many cooks in the kitchen?" says Snake.

"Yeah," says Spinner innocently.

Snake raises his eyebrows at him.

"Oh!" cries Spinner. "That's like aimed at me and means like you d...uh, I'm going on a walk with Mom and Kendra anyway."

"Have fun," says Snake with a relieved sigh.

"I know I'm not Emeril," demurs Spinner.

"Emeril, Smemeril," waves off Spike, coming into the kitchen. "You're a hundred times cooler."

"Thanks," says Spinner, pumping out his chest. "Hear that, Em? A thousand times cooler."

"I heard it," assures Emma.

With a short bow, Spinner exits the room. Her mother takes a seat next to Emma. Snake fetches a plate for Spike and puts it on the table. Jack returns the pepper. Hmm, is it really just the four of them? It's almost like they're in Toronto, in their own family kitchen, with the four of them getting ready to eat. That hasn't been the case for awhile. Emma glances at each of them, then lets her eyes meet the tabletop.

Grandma Mason's working at the hospital. Spinner, Kendra, and their mother were headed to the beach for a family walk. Kendra was tired of being cooped up at home or at the hospital, which Emma couldn't knock her for. She's not exactly gung-ho about going to the hospital for her session with Dr. DePauw either.

"I washed your sweats," informs Spike. "You can put them on whenever."

"Need socks," admits Emma.

"Manny put some in the dresser before she left," says Spike.

It's nice to be remembered. When Lia came, she figured that Manny would dart off in a flash. This wasn't exactly an easy-going environment. But Manny did stay true to her word, and Emma didn't want her to miss out on anything. Her acting dream, nor her relationship, had gone smoothly this summer so her best friend really did deserve something for herself. As long as she sticks to her word to come here again, thinks Emma.

Snake uses a spatula to remove the omelet and slides it onto Emma's plate. Emma stares at the soft texture, diced veggie chunks, the scent of melted cheese making her stomach shift agreeably.

"Ooey gooey goodness," proclaims Snake.

He has the nerve to smile at her, to believe this is going to help in anyway. Didn't they tell him she'd been having trouble eating? Emma pushes the plate to the side.

"Emma no hungry," observes Jack.

"Snake," moans Spike, letting her head fall.

"You have fork," says Jack, pointing to her utensils.

"No, Jack," says Snake, softly. "She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to."

Emma stares at his arm as it stretches over her to take the plate, his sunken shoulders as he leans to turn off the oven. He must be listening, a little.

"You should probably get ready," says Spike, tapping her watch.

Standing, Emma leaves the kitchen. An object situated in the hall nearly trips her, however. Snake's suitcase, full of many zippers, is on its side. The largest zipper is undone. A folder sticks out. The tag on it reads **Degrassi School Budget. **The stupid budget. This is the budget he was helping _her _with. Emma sniffles and starts going through the folder. There aren't any budget numbers. No, there's plenty of information and statistics, statistics not related to the budget. Printed out webpages detail symptoms. Testimonials fill the white papers. Hundreds of words were telling anyone reading them how to deal with a family member with depression. Did he read these already? Is he bothering to care? Emma shuts the folder and returns it to its original spot.

"I wouldn't have cooked that."

Her mother's voice floats from the kitchen, Emma perching herself against the wall to hear what they're saying.

"What, your first instinct wasn't to feed her when you found out she wasn't eating?" says Snake.

"Yeah, but...," says Spike, her voice trailing off.

"What have I missed?" sighs Snake. "I'm here for her until things change. Getting a hotel room today."

"You have the money?" says Spike.

"I have more than the Degrassi school budget until the board gets it together," shrugs Snake.

"It's that bad?" says Spike.

"I'm not sure anymore," says Snake. "I told Daphne I had family stuff to deal with. Toby's going to be more involved. Just as well. He's better at math than me."

He's not still working on the budget? That meant he really did break some commitments to be in California. He wasn't acting selfishly. Emma goes to Kendra's bedroom, wondering if maybe she shouldn't have shut the car door or shoved her plate. At the moment, they felt like the right thing to do, but as she's getting dressed, now she's not so sure. She's also not so sure she absolutely needs to wear the sweatshirt today. This would be the third day with the same shirt. What would Dr. DePauw think of that? What would Snake think? She cares what Snake thinks?

Emma slides open the drawer to find the socks. Next to the balled socks is a light brown shirt. She has yet to wear it in Los Angeles or Santa Clara. There was a purpose in avoiding wearing this piece of clothing. Snake bought it for her, two years ago. Degrassi's Insect Club had been alive and well, the club going on a day trip to Wasaga. After Sean, she'd had lukewarm feelings about Wasaga, and she wasn't into bugs so she wasn't heartbroken about missing a trip to observe what lay in woods near the beach. Snake didn't mind her lack of enthusiasm. He came home with treats for her and Jack, including this shirt, which he said was the color of a bonafide sand dollar. The shirt wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, but she found it sweet that he thought of her. Snake and Spike were newlyweds and he was already doing the whole "bring your kid something home" shtick. She threw it into her suitcase, randomly. Today, it doesn't feel as random.

Will changing her shirt kill her? Emma twists her lips and walks to the shower. She stays in for a few minutes, towels off, dries her hair, and gets dressed-- her grey sweatpants, her sneakers, and her sand dollar shirt. Returning to the kitchen, she pulls her shirt down as she stands in the doorway. Snake is handing Spike an omelette and Jack is sucking on a spoon.

"I'm ready," says Emma.

Her parents look at her, at each other, Snake then smiling faintly at his wife. Emma sways her hands back and forth as they stay silent.

"What?" says Emma.

"Nothing," replies Spike.

Jack removes his spoon. "Emma pretty."

With a half-hearted grin, Emma returns to her seat.

"You don't eat pepper," says Jack.

"By itself?" replies Emma. "Nah."

"I know now," says Jack.

She glances at Jack and shakes the pepper. He giggles, his mother, father, and sister not too far behind.

IV.

Toby seals the envelope, affixing a Canadian stamp to the corner. There's a second envelope too, containing J.T.'s congratulatory present. He's only looked at the contents of J.T.'s once. With the other, he's read its contents so many times. He's read it so much he hates hearing his own voice in his head. Thankfully, he's going to the party and can hear as many voices as he'd like for the rest of the day.

Someone knocks on his door. Toby yells for them to "come in", Kate entering tentatively.

"Thanks for letting me use your car," says Kate, throwing him the keys.

"Yeah," says Toby.

"Officer Wheaton asked if you were ready to go," informs Kate.

Toby taps the letter for Manny against his desk. He wonders if she'll suspect the reason why it's different. She could usually tell when they were in the same room but he couldn't guess if that would be the same with this communication. Jeff and Kate were clearly suspicious. This is the fourth visit from the pair of them this morning.

"Have you ever been scared to talk to somebody?" asks Toby.

He's scared, not only to talk to Manny, but to reveal what he found in the house. Perhaps it's his own fault. He shouldn't have been poking around. The team would have eventually found the journal themselves. If he tells them he hid the information, they won't let him be involved in the investigation anymore. Then again, does he want to be? He partly hid the information because he was so overcome by it. He was overcome because Justin was starting to not...to not look so evil. Justin felt human. He wanted to die based on the thoughts in this book. This wasn't the Justin Toby thought he'd discover. He also hid the information because he had to leave that horrible house. It was too confusing.

Kate provides him with a long sigh. "Yes. Parents have a tough time talking, too."

"Like what if it slips out to her," continues Toby. "What I saw."

Going to him, Kate sets both of her hands on his shoulders.

"I don't think breaking off contact with her is for the best, if that's the sentiment in that letter," remarks Kate.

"She can't hear...," begins Toby.

"Believe me, Toby," says Kate. "There are days when I wish I _had _heard about things that weren't so good."

Huh? He offers her a searching gaze, pockets the two envelopes. Officer Wheaton shows up in the doorway, ready to roll. They get into the car and start the drive to the station. Officer Wheaton pats the chest pocket of his orange cotton shirt. His wardrobe is pedestrian again and his mood lighter.

"You didn't want me to drive?" says Officer Wheaton.

"I like driving," replies Toby, staring ahead. "I can have some type of control for at least ten minutes."

Toby's grateful that Officer Wheaton seems content with that, though he does throw Toby a sympathetic, sideways glance.

His car crawls to the station, and he parks near the front. Liberty had carefully concealed most of today's events despite J.T.'s digging. Mr. Reyes would invite J.T. there to retrieve his first official script. Liberty would tag along so that she could usher him into the right room, the actual TV set where P.J. J.T. would make his monster comeback. J.T.'s grandmother, a few of J.T.'s co-workers, and Liberty had spent most of the morning doing the party prep. Derek and Danny called Liberty to confirm that they'd brought both music and party supplies. Leland's Bakery delivered the candy corn cake and made known their appreciation of Liberty's thoughtful thank-you note. Nothing could fall through.

Toby walks directly to the set, Officer Wheaton admiring their surroundings as they go.

"The meterologist at this station is never wrong," says Officer Wheaton.

"Uh, good," says Toby.

"Toby!" whispers Darcy, peeping out of a door and beckoning him.

Toby and Officer Wheaton hurry, enter the dimmed set. TV monitors stand at the far side, costume racks behind them. Mr. Reyes, Derek, Nate, a few of J.T.'s castmates, the crew, and J.T.'s grandmother are against the wall, staying as quiet as possible. In fact, it's so silent he almost anticipates a flashing sign will demand "quiet on the set!" from above the audience area. Darcy, Toby, and Officer Wheaton join those against the wall. A large dry erase board is to his right, the board detailing the fall schedule. He spies Racquel, shifting time markers on the space, and Lucie desperately trying to correct them. Lucie puts a hand over her eyes and waves to him when she makes out Toby. Toby smiles at her.

"Anaconda Actor is coming!" whispers Danny as he runs into the room.

Smirking, Toby turns to the front door. He's absolutely certain J.T. wants to have a code name tied to his penis pump adventure. His grandmother looks clueless. Good.

"Why won't you let me take a peek at what's on the clipboard?" he hears J.T. say from afar.

"It's nothing that concerns you," lies Liberty.

The door releases a loud creak as Liberty opens it and then hits the lights.

"Surprise!" shouts everyone in the room.

J.T. puts a fist against his heart, smiling broadly.

"What?" cries J.T.

"A miracle," speaks up Mr. Reyes. "J.T....speechless."

Laughter follows the comment. After a large hug for Liberty, he circles the partygoers, saving his last hug for Toby.

"You didn't call me," mentions J.T.

"Things got weird," whispers Toby. "I'll tell you about it later."

J.T. nods, goes to Liberty motioning him to the center of the room.

"You got me candy corn," says J.T., staring lovingly at her.

"It was no trouble," says Liberty.

Toby would beg to differ.

"These are festivities in honor of James Tiberius Yorke being rehired as the host of P.J. J.T., sure to be a top cable draw in the upcoming fall season," announces Liberty, grabbing J.T.'s hand.

Nate whoops as they all clap loudly.

"In lieu of long-winded speeches, I...," says Liberty.

"Thank God!" interrupts Danny.

"Daniel, please," says Liberty. "I've divided this party into amusing allotments to make full use of the room, which Mr. Reyes and Harley were kind enough to open up for us."

She displays the clipboard. J.T. stares at her with amused pride.

"Respect this space since it's not ours," adds Liberty.

"Well, not yet," kids J.T.

"It's not too late to replace J.T. with a dancing bear, is it?" asks Harley.

Chuckles fill the set as J.T.'s face grows flustered.

"We need music," sing-songs Darcy.

Danny wastes no time in blasting his CD player, dancing to the bass as J.T.'s grandmother covers her ears. J.T. himself immediately gets into the music and starts to rap along.

_Here it is the groove slightly transformed  
Just a bit of a break from the norm  
Just a little somethin' to break the monotony  
Of all that hardcore dance that has gotten to be  
_

"Awww, yeah," says J.T. "_A little bit out of control, it's cool to dance, but what about the groove that soothes and moves romance..."_

He pulls Liberty to him, and gets her to rock to the side with him. Their dancing is put to a halt with Racquel gocng to the floor after a few seconds. She presents J.T. with a plate.

"I brought you cookies," says Racquel, getting in between J.T. and Liberty.

"Hey, snickerdoodles!" cries J.T.

J.T. happily scarfs one down.

"I ordered those," says Liberty.

Toby lets them discuss the snacks, walking over for some punch. Danny and Derek had the same idea. They were already at the bowl.

"Toby," greets Danny. "We have something to ask you."

"Shoot," says Toby, getting a cup.

"Derek's got it bad for Clara," says Danny.

"Nuh-uh," protests Derek weakly.

"Denial," asserts Danny. "Anyways, how'd you get her into you, Isaacs? Like, what cologne do you use?"

"What?" says Toby.

"It's probably like Eau de Geek or something," says Derek, laughing.

"You're just mad because Clara liked him for like forever," says Danny with a grin.

"Nuh-uh," repeats Derek.

_Summer, summer, summertime  
Time to sit back and unwind  
_

Ugh, this is not what he wants to be discussing, especially since Clara has made it clear to him on multiple occasions that that crush was buried. Toby abandons the punch, instead choosing to get away from the CD player and find some peace of mind. Too bad peace of mind is going to be hard to find wherever he goes. Toby stands by a monitor, watching most of the party attendees dance.

"There's no place to hide on a TV set," says Lucie, situating herself right next to Toby.

"I...I wasn't trying to hide," stammers Toby.

"Personally, I would," says Lucie. "If I don't, my dad makes me do boring odds and ends around here. And if I'm really lucky, I get to hold cue cards."

Toby shrugs. "That's showbiz."

"Why don't you dance?" asks Lucie.

"Why don't dogs fly?" replies Toby. "Because they can't. I...I'm not a good dancer."

"Hmm, they found a soaring schnauzer in Timbuktu," says Lucie.

"Timbuktu?" says Toby, staring at her in awe.

"I can't believe you fell for that," laughs Lucie. "There's no such thing. There is a real city called Timbuktu, though. Africa."

"Give me some credit," says Toby. "I knew the dog thing wasn't real. Now, Timbuktu? That's news to me."

"Something else that's real?" says Lucie, pointing to the dance floor. "That little triangle. My sister's got the hugest crush on your best friend."

Toby's jaw drops. "That explains all the kicking."

"Mmmhmm, it's her subtle way of saying 'I love you'," says Lucie.

Or not so subtle, thinks Toby. Racquel is currently running around J.T. and Liberty, preventing them from dancing any further. Obviously defeated, Liberty yells for them to stop the music.

"Gather round, gather round," instructs Liberty.

Everyone does as they're told, including Toby and Lucie.

"Next up?" says Liberty. "Charades!"

"Yesss!" shouts J.T. "I kill at this game. Absolutely, kill."

Liberty knew this, clearly, and smiles sneakily at Toby. They'd done this at J.T.'s last birthday party, and it was a rousing success. Emma was there, Paige was there, Darcy was there, Manny was there. Toby rubs his neck.

"Too bad Manny isn't here," whispers Darcy to Toby. "She'd so give J.T. a run for his money."

He slowly nods. Yes, he experienced that firsthand. He and Manny were dating, so they were partners then. They were so in synch that they won in the final minutes. There's no chance of that at this party. Eh, nobody hated him for not dancing. Maybe he'd sit this one out, too.

"Nate's my partner!" exclaims Darcy. "Got the best actor of the bunch."

"Danny," says Derek, punching Danny's shoulder.

Danny punches him back. The two boys get into a tossle as others pair off, including Racquel and J.T.'s grandmother. Toby starts to leave. He'd sit with Officer Wheaton and watch them go at it.

"I'm pretty animated," says Lucie, getting in front of him.

"I can't," says Toby.

"You're getting repetitive with the excuses," sighs Lucie. "Come on. Let's play. What I can't do? Let you mope at this party."

She isn't totally off-base. This is J.T.'s shindig, and it'd be a poor showing from his best friend if he didn't participate in anything. He won't have to move awkwardly or talk a lot.

"We're going to lose," guesses Toby.

"I like your confidence," says Lucie.

V.

As it turned out, confidence isn't key. After twenty minutes, he and Lucie had locked into second place. J.T. and Liberty were doing the best; Danny and Derek were third; Harley and his fiancee Erin were fourth. Nate and Darcy weren't having much luck.

Darcy is pretending to bang an object, maybe a nail. Nate looks on intently.

"Uh, pound?" says Nate. "No, hit? Hit Me Baby One More Time!"

"We're doing movies, Nate!" reminds Darcy.

"No talking!" chastises Liberty.

"Yeah, say another word, Darcy, and you're disqualified," says J.T., putting an arm around Liberty.

Lucie taps Toby on the elbow.

"Remember our signals?" says Lucie.

"Yep," answers Toby.

They were right after Racquel and J.T.'s grandma.

"Thrash?" continues Nate. "Throttle? _Charlie Angels: Full Throttle_?"

Darcy stamps her foot in frustration.

"Steel!" cries Darcy. "As in, _Steel Magnolias."_

Nate groans.

"Ooops," says Darcy.

Looking forlorn, she returns to her chair next to Nate's, who takes awhile to console her. Racquel's happy though, skipping to a spot where she can be seen by everybody. She collects a card from the box Liberty obtained for the game. Officer Wheaton kept watch over the box, which Toby was fine with since he wasn't the one being watched. He was also keeping score and Liberty cut him a piece of cake.

"Go ahead, dear," encourages Ms. Cooney.

Racquel reads the card, holds up two fingers. She's so small compared to the others, Toby finds it sweet.

"Two words," says Ms. Cooney.

Smiling, Racquel points to J.T. and Liberty.

"Couple," guesses Ms. Cooney. "Cute? Love?"

Racquel gives her the thumbs up. She points at only Liberty this time, then pinches her nose. This wasn't as sweet. Anybody could determine the next word.

"Smells? Stinks?" says Ms. Cooney. "Love and stinks? _Love Stinks?_"

"Yay!" cries Racquel.

"This just got personal," says Liberty, beginning to stand.

"Liberty!" whispers J.T., getting her to sit again.

"I hate that movie," mumbles Liberty as she tosses her clipboard on the table.

"You haven't seen that movie," remarks J.T. "And trust me, you don't want to."

Clearly glad that she offended Liberty, Racquel skips just as merrily away. Toby stops looking at her when Lucie pats his knee.

"Let's keep the momentum going," she says to him.

Lucie fetches a card, nods to herself, and takes center stage. Lucie was right when she said she was animated. Unlike Toby, who had to really think over what gestures to do, she did whatever came to her mind first and if that didn't work, she simply tried something else. She let him do all the guessing too. Perhaps it was because he was a very visual person, what with staring at a computer screen for hours throughout his life, but he caught on pretty quickly with each turn.

"Don't unseat me!" warns J.T. "It's my party, Tobes."

Toby smiles as Lucie raises two fingers.

"Two word title," says Toby.

Lucie makes her hands into two little arches, her fingers aimed at the floor. What were those? Claws? Paws?

"_Care Bears_!" exclaims Racquel.

"Shhhh," quiets Ms. Cooney.

Has to be related to an animal. Toby tugs on his ear, a signal for her that she's on the right track. Lucie strokes her chin. She bends her back, hands remaining curled, baring her teeth momentarily. Oh, a dinosaur? Yeah, that's how a dinosaur moves. There are several dinsoaur movies. The biggest would be...yeah!

"_Jurassic Park_?" guesses Toby.

"Right!" exclaims Lucie.

"Heh, thirty seconds," praises Officer Wheaton, putting it on the paper.

"He's closing in on us, Liberty," groans J.T. playfully. "Your partner's ace, Tobes."

Lucie walks back to her seat.

"Yeah," says Toby, sharing a high-five with her. "Good job, Manny."

Lucie stops her descent into her chair, dozens of eyes revolving to Toby. No, he didn't just say what he thought he'd said. Toby glances at J.T. for confirmation. J.T. lets his head fall into the table. Ugh.

"Awkward, much?" whispers Danny to Derek.

"Um, I have to go to the washroom," says Lucie, apologetically.

Why? How could he have called her that? Toby speedily leaves his chair, goes into the hall to find Lucie. Luckily, she isn't walking very fast.

"Lucie!" calls Toby.

Sighing, Lucie whirls to face him. She looks a little shaken.

"That was kinda weird," says Lucie.

"I'm sorry," insists Toby. "Manny's been on my mind, and...see, we were Charades partners at a party once. That sounds stupid, but...look, I didn't mean to do it. So much has been on my mind. I've been trying not to embarrass myself today, and here I am, embarrassing you _and_ me."

Lucie fools with a piece of her hair and comes closer to him.

"Just...just don't do it again, alright?" sighs Lucie.

"I won't," promises Toby.

"Since you've got these huge things on your mind, it might be good to talk to somebody," suggests Lucie. "I mean, I wasn't at your program, but I heard about it. Rows and rows of people, Toby. And it only takes one person to hear it."

That's easy for her to say since most people woudn't want to hear this. Holocaust pictures, bloody murals, racist journal entries. That makes for great conversation. He'd change the subject.

"I'm really, really sorry," says Toby.

"If we win, I'll forgive you," says Lucie.

"J.T.'s going down," says Toby firmly.

VI.

Ashley runs her hands across her waist. This is how she's going to met Liam, Arista A&R rep, guru of the freshest new rock acts in the world. She put on Craig's leather jacket because the bus got cold. Then, she chose to sculpt an outfit around it, with the red skirt she bought at the flea market. Ashley had worn Craig's jacket the night Mark told her they were getting signed. Plus, it made her feel closer to Craig. He wouldn't be there to bask in the moment like he was at Ascension. She's on her own.

What she won't have when she meets Liam is a lot of time. This was the day Robert said that he'd call Julian. Craig had found a way to bypass it, though. Craig texted her and told her two things. The first? He was fine. The second? Robert wasn't going to work and would be waiting for them at the apartment at noon. The single thing Ashley had to do, Robert's sole request, was that Ashley had to call him by eleven. If that wasn't done, he said he'd be calling Julian in a heartbeat. There'd be a limited time for her to revel in her achievements. She keeps telling her ambitious side that even though her dad will no doubt pull her off the tour, she'd be leaving with a record deal.

"You're blocking the loo!" moans somebody in the background.

Ashley rolls her eyes at Sarah Lincoln.

"Fine," says Ashley, allowing her to go by.

"How's Craig?" says Sarah with a smirk. "Haven't seen him around today. We missed him at breakfast."

The majority of the musicians are at breakfast, and of course, neglected to invite her.

"Whatever," sighs Ashley. "Um, I haven't seen Aja?"

"What makes you think she wants to be on the same bus with you, the Canadian version of Eurotrash?" balks Sarah.

She goes into the commode, shuts the door. Now she's forced to remember why she stole the bus, which she'd made a habit of not doing since Craig fled. Ashley collapses onto her bunk. No Craig, no Aja. When she gets pulled from the tour, she's not leaving any friends, is she?

"Kippers for Kerwin!" yells Mark, coming in with a styrofoam package.

Okay, one friend. Ashley grins as she accepts it.

"Smells like fish," notes Ashley.

"It is fish," says Mark. "Ate it when I was young."

Ashley sets the package aside, stares hopefully at Mark.

"Any word on the whole tour bus theft thing?" says Ashley.

"Relax," assures Mark. "Julian isn't pushing it, as long as he never sees Manning again. I chalked it up to youthful indiscretion, and said you'd be unable to perform if your lover was in the pen, fending off future lovers."

"What a mature description," says Ashley. "Thanks, Mark. You're a lifesaver."

Mark flops down on Ashley's bunk too, situates a pillow behind his neck.

"Have you seen Aja since last night?" asks Ashley.

"Went to her place is what I heard," replies Mark. "Why?"

"She's...pretty mad," says Ashley.

"At who?" says Mark.

"At us," explains Ashley. "She thinks we slept together."

Mark laughs loudly, then stops just as suddenly. Ashley guesses it's not that hard for him to believe, what with his reputation.

"How many girls...have you slept with?" says Ashley, nervously.

"I'm a virgin," says Mark.

"Mark," sighs Ashley.

"Look, whatever I do, I've managed to make it discreet," defends Mark. "It's other people who are obsessed with it. Fact is, I've been freakin' near chaste this tour."

"Sorry," says Ashley.

Mark tosses the pillow for a few moments, then sighs as he sits up.

"I'd stop banging groupies if I thought I'd be happy not doing it," says Mark. "Like if I found the right girl. I'd be good."

"Maybe you will," says Ashley.

His leg touches her, and he scoots so that his hands are on her waist, touchier than when she was evaluating her figure before in the bathroom door's mirror. Ashley's breath increases as Mark's other hand cups her face.

"For you, I'd be a perfect saint," whispers Mark.

"Mark," breathes Ashley, shaking her head. "No."

"Ashley, I didn't know I could feel like this, about anybody," sighs Mark.

He presses his mouth on hers, instantly moving his lips in hurried motions as Ashley tries her best to push him away. Her first attempts are unsuccessful since his hands are planted on her, but she's able to worm her way out by slapping him seconds later. Mark gasps and strokes his jaw.

"What are you doing?" yells Ashley.

"What are _you_ doing?" groans Mark. "Ah!"

"Get away from me!" cries Ashley.

"You can't show a little gratitude?" says Mark. "I got your boyfriend off the hook. I got you a record deal."

"Wow," says Ashley. "I suppose this is your reward and you're collecting."

Mark takes his hand from his jaw.

"No, I like you," insists Mark. "That's not flippin' obvious?"

"I have a boyfriend!" cries Ashley.

"Tell him to bugger off!" says Mark.

"Why would I do that?" says Ashley.

"He's a jealous nobody with no self-control," replies Mark. "You're better off without him. We'd be better off without him."

"No, there is no we!" exclaims Ashley.

"There's something between us, Ashley," says Mark, his voice growing calmer. "Our fans see it. Liam sees it. Fire, chemistry..."

"Know what's between us?" argues Ashley. "Nothing."

Ashley grabs her purse, resisting the urge to push into the bathroom, push Sarah to the side so she can gargle away that kiss. He went for it, with no reservations. Ashley glares at him, rushing off the bus. Mark's feet thunder after hers.

"Is it because he's some helpless orphan?" yells Mark, making Ashley do an about face. "The vulnerability. That get you hot?"

"We're done talking," says Ashley.

"You didn't like it, not for one second?" says Mark.

His mouth turns up into a smile. Jerk. Ashley spits on the ground and then wipes her mouth.

"Ashley, Ashley," sighs Mark. "You're gonna regret that, love. Nobody denies Kennick."

"Really?" says Ashley. "Well, I'm happy to be the first."

"Good luck with Liam," says Mark.

He reboards the bus with that last statement, a statement that sends shivers racing along every pore of her skin. Luck? She needs luck? Ashley knows she screwed up. With Aja, with Craig, and with Mark. Who knows if she can go back? And though she knows it's not what she should do, she's already done things she regrets. Hey, she won't have to dwell on this if she does it. Ashley removes her wallet.

"I need a drink," says Ashley, as the clasp bursts open.


	89. Wake Up And Pay Attention

**LXXXIX. Wake Up and Pay Attention**

_If you wanna be somebody  
If you wanna go somewhere  
You better wake up and pay attention  
Hey..._

_So you think you've got the answers  
To all that lies ahead  
Well, in my mind I thought the same one time  
And I hear you spouting much talk  
'Bout how you ain't being lead  
Ain't no one telling you what to do  
But attitude will catch up with you  
And keep you from your destiny_

_If you wanna be somebody  
If you wanna go somewhere  
You better wake up and pay attention  
When the time is now or never  
To make your dreams come true  
You gotta wake up and pay attention_

_I ain't buyin' no more lyin'  
'Cause truth don't cost a thing  
Denyin' what's inside's too much to pay  
It's 'bout sweatin' without stressin'  
There ain't no other way  
You know you can't get much without much givin'  
Oh, expect from yourself and you'll respect yourself  
You control your destiny_

_If you wanna be somebody  
If you wanna go somewhere  
You better wake up and pay attention  
When the time is now or never  
To make your dreams come true  
You gotta wake up and pay attention_

_If you wanna be somebody  
If you wanna go somewhere  
You better wake up and pay attention  
When the time is now or never  
To make your dreams come true  
You gotta wake up and pay attention_

_Time to wake up, everybody  
Time to wake up, children  
Wake up, everybody  
(Ooh...)_

_If you wanna be somebody  
If you wanna go somewhere  
You better wake up and pay attention  
When the time is now or never  
To make your dreams come true  
You gotta wake up and pay attention_

_If you wanna be somebody (wake up)  
Go somewhere  
Wake up and pay attention  
When the time is now or never  
To make your dreams come true  
You gotta wake up and pay attention..._

**Wake Up and Pay Attention is the property of Valeria Andrews and Ryan Toby and appears in the film _Sister Act 2._**

**Autumn Leaves is the property of Eva Cassidy.**

AN: The first Sean scene happens the day before he has to go in for questioning. The other two happen on the day of questioning. Thanks. :)

"I wish I could thank your Dad in person," laments Manny, climbing out of the car.

"Well, I wish you could stay with us until you leave next week," says Lia. "Summer is way too short."

Lia locks her Porsche and gets out with a weighty sigh. Colin leaves the car less loudly. The Andrews house appears the same as when she left it. The house is still beautiful and impressive. But she swore she'd return to Emma and she wouldn't break a swear.

"Dad would have to be here for anybody to thank him," says Lia. "He'll supposedly be stopping in over the weekend. With the fall TV season on the horizon, I wouldn't be surprised if we actually saw him for more than two hours. Wow."

Wow is right. Joseph made it routine for their family to spend time together when they were growing up. They ate their meals at the kitchen table, watched appropriate TV on the tube (but never too much) in the same room, and she had to attend every family function. She had to be kicked out before she wasn't under her father's watchful eye. For Kel to give Hannah and Leia that much freedom for most of the year truly baffles her.

"I'll write him a note," says Manny.

"Eh, I'm sure he'll read it," waves off Lia. "When he gets the time. What did that agent Satchel say?"

Manny removes the letter from her pocket, reads it a second time, and smiles. She can't really tell them, can she? The only people who knew about their correspondence were herself, her parents, Toby, and Toby's parents. She'd rather it stay that way, at least for now.

"Just an invite to do something," replies Manny.

"What?" say Lia and Colin at the same moment.

"Ummm, being a spokesperson for....uh, nail polish remover!" says Manny quickly.

"Meh," dismisses Colin.

"Commercials are bank," counters Lia. "But if you're going to New York, there's no use in doing it."

"True," says Colin.

"We're going to have so much fun in NY, Manny," asserts Lia. "Shopping on Fifth, walking the Great White Way. It'd be like here, with you, me, and Colin, except we'd be Manhattan chic instead of L.A. hot."

"Eric hasn't told me anything yet," demurs Manny.

"He's giving us a call at the end of August, Manny," says Colin. "A day after your birthday."

Before Manny can answer him, Lia puts a hand against her mouth, and then pokes Colin. Manny reviews the conversation in her head and yep, Colin had let it slip that he was expecting a call from Eric too. Manny shrinks back against the car.

"Are you insane?" exclaims Lia.

"_Mamma Mia _Lia!" protests Colin. "You don't..."

"I don't understand?" interjects Lia. "Of course, I don't understand! My best friend leaving me? Who am I supposed to hang with now? Blake?"

"This academy is the best, Lia," insists Colin. "Even if Eric's project doesn't fly, I'd be prepared for any other opportunities."

Lia covers her face momentarily, then folds her arms. Manny watches her features soften and glances at Colin, who looks at her hopefully.

"Manny, what does Toby think of you going to New York?" asks Lia.

That was the last thing she expected to come out of Lia's mouth. In his letter, he did say he'd follow her to New York. However, if she did get into the academy, which seemed possible after her audition, Toby's reaction might be different. She'd be at the academy from September through March for vocal and dramatic training. That's a lot of days, several months. Where Toby would ultimately go post-Degrassi would be decided by then. All she can do is hope that the investigation will be kaput when she comes home and that Toby will be waiting too, for her.

"I don't know," says Manny.

"I don't know, either," confesses Lia. "Come on. Let's pack you up, Manny."

Lia walks ahead of them, her eyes on the ground. Manny tugs on Colin's shirt, indicating that they should follow.

"That went better than I thought," whispers Colin to Manny.

"I heard you," says Lia.

Colin turns red as Lia opens the door. She's not successful in getting into the house completely, though, since her sister immediately wraps her small arms around Lia's waist. It was clear Hannah had been waiting for her.

"Please take me with you!" sobs Hannah.

Tears are streaming down her small cheeks, Hannah hiccuping as her crying intensifies. She looks scared to death.

"What's wrong, baby?" asks Colin.

A panicked girl with eyeglasses and extremely short red hair scurries to the foyer, holding a storybook of Hannah's in her hand. Manny guesses this is the baby-sitter who's as frazzled as she was during parts of her audition.

"Miss, I'm so sorry!" says the baby-sitter. "I don't know what's wrong. I invited another girl to sit and read with us while we were outside. Maybe it was the book I chose or she didn't like the other girl, but...I'm just so confused!"

Hannah runs past the baby-sitter into the living room, not bothering to confirm what the problem was to her or Lia. Lia moans and pulls out the baby-sitter's payment.

"You might as well go," says Lia. "She probably won't talk about it with you here."

"I feel really bad about it," says the baby-sitter.

"That's okay," assures Lia.

The baby-sitter collects her bag from beneath the hat stand and accepts her payment. She walks out, shaking her head.

"Hannah?" calls Lia as she enters the room with Manny and Colin.

Hannah has managed to situate her ears between two pillow cushions so she won't have to hear.

"Hannah Rose?" says Lia. "You can't block me out forever."

"I can try," says Hannah.

"So you _can_ hear me?" sighs Lia, taking a pillow from her and tossing it to a chair.

Kicking the sofa gently with her feet first, Hannah sits up. Her blonde hair is in a high pony-tail today, with tiara-shaped earrings in her ears, her small body housed in a pink shirt and white overalls. Minus the tiara earrings, Manny could totally picture a seven-year old Emma in that get-up. Emma did help Hannah get dressed everyday so maybe her style had worn off on her.

"Why are you always ditching me?" cries Hannah.

"That's not true," says Lia. "Well, not recently anyway."

"What does recently mean?" says Hannah.

"It means like...I've been trying to be a better sister since we've talked," says Lia. "Manny...and _Colin..._ had an audition today. I had to go get Manny."

The pause accompanying Colin's name isn't lost by him or Manny. She gives his hand a small squeeze.

"Manny!" shouts Hannah, jumping up from the couch to go hug her.

Manny lowers herself to really embrace her. The girl definitely needed it. It seems to have stopped her tears anyway.

"Where's Emma?" asks Hannah.

Her question is directed at Lia moreso than Manny.

"Um, she's spending time with her parents," offers Manny.

"Her parents are in Canada," says Hannah. "You're lying."

"I wouldn't lie to you," assures Manny.

"It's the truth, Hannah," says Lia.

"You guys don't say the truth," moans Hannah, her eyes growing teary again. "You said Emma would come back and she hasn't. She isn't coming back to see me. That's why I didn't want to be with the baby-sitter. You'll go away and won't come back too. I was afraid you weren't coming back, Lia."

Manny puts an arm around Hannah and stares at Lia, who got the message loud and clear. Lia stoops to Hannah's level and touches her cheek.

"Sisters are different from sitters, okay?" says Lia, softly.

"Why?" says Hannah, sniffling.

"Because sisters don't go anywhere," continues Lia. "They...they just don't."

"Emma feels like a sister, too," says Hannah.

The statement is said with a shy smile, and Lia thankfully doesn't take it as an insult, returning her smile.

"I know how that feels," speaks up Manny.

With a deep breath, Lia takes out her phone and starts to dial. Colin stares at her cluelessly.

"What are you doing?" questions Colin.

"No way am I driving my Porsche to Santa Clara two times in a row," says Lia. "Manny, what are Emma's plans for the day?"

"She has a morning appointment, but I'm pretty sure she has the afternoon free," replies Manny.

"Gremlin, go pack yourself something to eat," instructs Lia.

"We're going to see Emma?" asks Hannah, hopping up and down.

"Why not?" sighs Lia. "I'm delivering Manny. You might as well be the bonus."

Hannah hugs her sister's legs once more, an expression of content replacing her fearful face. Manny's glad for it as well. This could be the most therapeutic thing to happen to Emma since they found her on the pier.

"Thanks, Lia," whispers Manny over Hannah.

"Hey, if I can't have my friends close by, someone should," whispers Lia.

Of course, it was loud enough for Colin to hear. But he was sympathetic more than anything, wordlessly hugging Lia from behind. Manny jokingly hugs Lia from the side.

"You guys are seriously cheesy," says Lia, rolling her eyes and grinning.

II.

Craig parks his guitar case right between his legs. Nobody's taking it, touching it, or looking too long at it. He decided to err on the side of caution because he hasn't been on the Tube before. Not a single soul is staring at him, but you never know. He was honestly surprised people were awake this early. Businessmen wore crisp suits as they hung on to their brown briefcases or newspapers. Mothers cooed to their babies as the electric lights on the side flew on by. The orange and tan seats weren't that uncomfortable, though Craig was uncomfortable when the speakers announced the stops and he couldn't understand a few because the accents and static was so thick.

"Ever been on a Metro?" asks Nolan.

Nolan brought no items with him, and had luxuriously stretched out his legs on the floor. This gesture irritated a few of the passengers, but they chose to remain politely silent.

"Only a train," replies Craig over the rush of the noise.

"Best way to get to Hyde Park," says Nolan.

"Ashley's folks live near there," says Craig. "That's where I'm going afterwards."

"What?" shouts Nolan.

"I said Ashley's...," says Craig, then realizing it's impossible. "Never mind!"

The train halts, the name of their stop blasting over the speakers. Craig carries his guitar case off the car and tries to locate his ticket at the same time. Nolan expertly gets his fare card and exits the gate without any trouble. Craig smiles when he finds it and puts it into the slot. Nolan chuckles.

"Other way, dolt," says Nolan.

Craig bites his lip and does as told. The gate clatters open. Craig pockets the ticket without a word.

"You ruddy blighter," laughs Nolan.

"Excuse me for having no clue," says Craig.

They go up the stairs and come out onto a street.

"What's a ruddy blighter anyway?" questions Craig.

"Google it," answers Nolan. "We don't have much of a walk. Come on."

The street is pretty packed, though Craig and Nolan manage not to separate as they move through the busy district. The houses and apartment buildings were very attractive, with gold, blue, or green fronts. There is so much greenery too, notes Craig. He can see trees, shrubs, lakes, and interesting statues too. He almost wishes he held a camera instead of his guitar.

"You brought your song with you?" asks Nolan as they cross another block.

"Yeah," says Craig. "Still lacks lyrics, though. I've been distracted for like ninety-eight percent of the trip."

"When I get distracted, I come here," says Nolan.

"But...but you have a studio at your house," says Craig.

"Yeah, and no one to bounce ideas off of there," points out Nolan. "My sister thinks I'm a hermit. Not true. I'd just rather be with people that got half a lick of sense. They're interesting."

Craig's interested in who Nolan finds interesting. What kind of people would put up with this guy's personality? But Nolan did invite him along, and when he wasn't being a jerk, he wasn't too bad. Craig can grin and bear it since he hasn't gotten to play since Piccadilly.

"Don't touch anything until I tell you, and don't say anything until I tell you," says Nolan.

He already said he wouldn't when he met Nolan at the front door. Nolan grumbled something about Craig disturbing his shut-eye and let him inside. Craig stayed on the couch, blinking in the dark, until six-thirty. He was worried. What did Julian decide to do? Would Ashley get punished too? If she was punished, did it drive her to drink? She sounded okay when he called around eight and told her that her father was taking the day off, but she had done a good job of hiding thngs from him all summer. As much as he wanted to leave and escape any jailtime, he had wanted to stay and hear for himself what the outcome would be. Mark wasn't trustworthy, and Ashley was pretty lost. Maybe he should skip this and try to track her down.

"Nolan...," begins Craig.

"Shhh," says Nolan.

They'd reached wherever they needed to be, Craig taking in a nice brownstone with a plain exterior. There are a couple of pink flowers in a pot, the numbers of the address, and that's it. This didn't appear to be a recording studio, unless he missed some sign on the way here. Nolan knocks on the door.

"Hey!" cries a voice from behind it.

"Hey!" exclaims Nolan.

A man in a cocked fedora appears from behind the door, his grey beard going to his neck. He's holding a bow in his grip as he nods for Nolan and Craig to step inside.

"Tricks, this is Craig Manning," introduces Nolan.

"He's a tall one, he is," says Trick good-naturedly, shaking Craig's hand.

"Nice to meet you," says Craig.

"He's a pretty good guitarist," says Nolan.

Craig raises his eyebrows. That almost sounds like a compliment. No, wait, it's a compliment.

"For a teenager," adds Nolan.

Okay, a short-lived compliment.

"A teenager? We won't hold that against ya," kids Tricks. "Hurry on then. Let's meet the rest of the folks."

Tricks leads Nolan and Craig to an accompanying room. The room is huge and must take up the majority of the brownstone. There's a lot of space, filled by a gleaming piano, several music stands, a raised stage, an upright string bass made of oak, two golden trumpets, and a recording machine. The trumpets belong to two men, one black man who is balding, and a white man with a peppermint color-striped tie.

"Dwight, Neville," says Tricks to the two men. "Nolan brought a friend. Name's Craig."

He'd hesitate to call Nolan his friend, but he'd let it pass.

"Hi," says Craig.

"Where you from, Craig?" asks Dwight, rubbing his bald head.

"Toronto," answers Craig. "Canada."

"I liked Canada when we went through," remarks Neville. "Hospitable place."

"You guys went there on a tour?" says Craig.

"That we did," says Neville. "Course, Ted was with us those days."

Ted? The name sounds familiar. Craig thinks back to when he discovered the CD booklet. That was the man in the picture he studied the most. Nolan and Aja's father. He's Ted Leeway. Craig glances at Nolan, who walks to the piano with a frown so sullen that Craig thinks twice about asking him if he's right.

"Like jazz, Canadian?" jokes Tricks.

"I don't listen it to it regularly," admits Craig.

"Then, get out," says Neville.

The men laugh, Craig giving them a pathetic smile.

"Nah, we were lucky to find Nolan, who's under thirty and loves the stuff," says Dwight.

"Most music today is bile," says Nolan, shrugging. "As soon as Maggie gets here, we'll play Autumn Leaves. Show the kid where it's really at."

"Maggie!" yells Tricks. "She's upstairs."

Not long after Tricks says her name, they hear a pair of feet descending the staircase and some humming. The humming is lyrical and light, right until Maggie comes into the room. Her hair is curled and blonde, right above her shoulders. She's in a blue and white polka dot dress, with a white belt at the waist. While Ashley went vintage a year ago, she didn't go _this _vintage. Maggie carries it off beautifully, though, smiling at Craig as soon as she entered.

"Who's this?" says Maggie.

"Pal of Nolan's," replies Tricks. "Craig. He's here to listen. Mags, we're doing Autumn Leaves."

"Enjoy the show," says Maggie, walking right to the stage.

She tenderly takes a microphone from the stand and shouts "1, 2, 3, 4!" Neville and Dwight play a brassy interlude, full of dips and a couple of trills, Nolan playing a somber melody as Tricks drags his bow against the bass. Maggie opens her mouth, a silky voice singing:

_The falling leaves drift by my window  
The falling leaves of red and gold_  
_I see your lips, the summer kisses  
The sunburned hands I used to hold_

Craig closes his eyes, enraptured by the subtle beauty of her song. It's not hard to think of lovers the way she is singing it. When Julia was healthy, she sang too. Albert said that was one thing he loved most about her. Craig gradually started to notice that there was less singing in their house. No, there was more fighting. When Julia left for good, so did the singing. Albert would solely listen to male blues singers as if they could articulate his pain. He certainly didn't share his pain with Craig. Albert sunk into his recliner, hit the on switch for the stereo, and stared at his knees until he fell asleep.

_Since you went away the days grow long  
And soon I'll hear old winter's song  
But I miss you most of all, my darling  
When autumn leaves start to fall  
_  
The night before he started at Degrassi, he was in this position, though awake. He was so glum Craig thought he'd lost a patient. As it turned out, he was simply in a blue mood. Craig started up the staircase, to avoid being a part of it. He didn't relish being around his father when he was depressed. It was better than when he was angry, and anyone who took a good look at his limbs would know why.

_He placed a single hand on the banister, hearing the soft strains of a clarinet floating into the foyer. His thigh ached like the bones under his skin were screaming. Yesterday, he wondered if it was worth it. Should he have risked it? Yes. He caught Angie in the most beautiful autumn light, her bottom perched on the school monkey bars, her eyes, like their mother's, looking nowhere in particular. The moment would've been a moment Julia would've loved. So he wandered to the park and took her picture._

_"That you, Craigger?" called Albert from the living room._

_Craig rolled his eyes and, with difficulty, turned to go down the steps. A sharp pain crossed his waist. He tenderly lifted his foot, took one step and then one right after the other. _

_"Yeah," replied Craig._

_He crossed the carpet slowly, refusing to wince. He showed too much weakness yesterday._

_"Where were you?" asked Albert._

_"Taking pictures," replied Craig._

_His eyes went around the living room. It didn't resemble the house of a divorced man. Julia's bone china was still in the cupboards. Their wedding photo was securely on the mantle. His mother's collection of sea glass was where it always was, despite Albert having used that desk more than she did. _

_Albert turned the stereo up. He rested his hands on his chest._

_"That must've been your mother's influence," sighed Albert. "I can't stand the blasted things."_

_"She taught me everything she knew," said Craig._

_"Like how to be loyal?" said Albert._

_Craig played with his lens, denying his father a reaction. Loyal? What was Julia supposed to do? Stick around and let him hit her, like how he stuck around? _

_"You were late yesterday," said Albert. "That's...the only reason I got mad."_

_"Okay," sighed Craig._

_"You're a good boy," continued Albert. "Hey, I'll buy you a new camera and you can show me how it works. We'll take some photos together."_

_"Uh, I...I try to work alone," replied Craig._

_Yes, there's that, and he didn't want him to come across the pictures of Angie in the scrapbook Julia gave him. _

_"Why?" said Albert, fixing his blue eyes on Craig. _

_"Photography is...is very quiet work," said Craig. "That's what Mom said."_

_"You're hiding something," said Albert flatly._

_He rose from the chair, towering over Craig. _

_"No, I just don't want a new camera," assured Craig._

_"That's fine," said Albert. "Your mother hid stuff, too."_

_Albert stayed silent, his gaze never leaving Craig. Craig was scared he'd see the sweat dribbling along his shoulderblades, right under his shirt. Maybe if he saw the damage he did with his fists, his father would understand why he's hiding the fact that he's visiting Angie. Who' was he kidding? Albert communicated with his fists before any other part of his body._

_"You shouldn't hide things from your loved ones," said Albert, sitting. "Creates tension."_

_No, you create tension by hitting me, thought Craig. Although, he couldn't say that out loud. _

_"But you have stayed," sighed Albert. "So that's something."_

_While obviously referencing his mother, Craig couldn't help being struck by the last gentle statement. His father, the doctor, who helped loved ones get better everyday, was hinting to him that he neeed him. He was also hinting that Craig had a choice. He could stay, continuing to be hurt, or he could go, to help himself. Craig often replayed this conversation in his mind over the past few weeks, a conversation where Albert was aware of the possibility that he might go. There was somewhere else he could've gone. He didn't put it into practice until Joey offered him a home but the idea of leaving like Julia had been on his brain for some time. _

_He didn't mention any of this to Albert. Articulating his thoughts would've lead to a turn for the worse. Instead, he thought of Julia telling him to watch out for Angie, to run to Joey's, on her death bed. There was barely any doubt in his being that that was where he'd go if he got the chance. The single doubt lay with Albert scoffing at his disloyalty. But wouldn't it be loyal to Julia if he did what she requested? He was constantly torn until Albert went too far a few days later, beating him repeatedly when he found the pictures of Joey and Angie. No music could cover Craig's yelling. No camera could make the wounds hurt less. He didn't have to be loyal if it got him hurt. Craig released the tension for both of them and left._

His eyes flutter open as Nolan finishes with two repetitive bars. Neville and Dwight take the trumpets from their lips as Tricks twirls his bass in a circle. Maggie bows towards Craig.

"Awesome!" praises Craig.

"Reminds me of our gig in Atlanta," says Tricks. "When we played for that exec's kid. Couldn't have been older than Craig."

"You guys don't have a record yet?" asks Craig, not allowing his mouth to drop.

"These guys released an album twenty years ago," shares Maggie. "Me? I was five at the time."

"I was six," jumps in Nolan.

"I wasn't born," thinks Craig aloud.

They all laugh, Tricks holding up his bow to get them to stop.

"Since we lost Ted? I don't know," says Tricks. "Got kinda lazy."

"Don't have the same ooomph," shrugs Dwight.

"Definitely have to have the right chemistry," says Craig. "I have my own band, Downtown Sasquatch."

"Recorded anything?" asks Maggie.

"Uh, I did a track for Kevin Smith," answers Craig.

"Blimey!" cries Neville. "Nolan, why didn't you tell us?"

"The wanker didn't tell me," replies Nolan.

"Get out your guitar," encourages Tricks. "Wanna hear this track."

"He's got a new song, too," says Nolan.

"We'll get him to play both," says Tricks. "Been a while since we've played with six. We'll record too, for fun."

Craig nods, eagerly opening his guitar case and putting the strap above his head. There's pressure to impress, but the pressure would get him to play his best. As Craig finds the sheet music with his original song, there's a tap on his shoulder. Nolan shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Ted's my dad, in case you were wondering," says Nolan.

"The name did sound familiar," says Craig.

"He wrote a lot of rock songs in his heyday," shares Nolan. "That's probably why."

The other musicians are busy, Maggie and Tricks discussing where Craig should stand.

"He's a lush," says Nolan without a trace of compassion.

"He's in rehab," says Craig. "He...he called the other day."

"Thanks for not telling me," says Nolan. "No, really. Thanks."

"If you hate him, why do you play with his band?" asks Craig.

"They're cool guys, who just got caught up in his mess, like me. Something in common," answers Nolan.

"Rehab's not working?" guesses Craig.

"Drinks himself into a stupor as soon as he's free," groans Nolan. "He hasn't learned. If you saw him ten years ago....man, I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Craig's throat clinches as he recalls Ashley, on several occasions, falling apart in her drunken escapades. Is she on the same track as Ted?

"You're being awfully open," says Craig. "Why?"

"If your girl is as half as bad he was, and if you don't do anything, you're going to be way more distracted than I ever was," replies Nolan.

"I...," begins Craig.

"Get on it early," interrupts Nolan. "Even if she hates you for it."

He says this casually, walking away from Craig as if they were discussing the weather. Craig stares at the piano as if Ashley would appear at its keys, with her being calm and relaxed. That isn't their reality, though. He has to get her straight; he has no other choice this time.

III.

"Nearly done," says Ty.

He plops down onto the couch with Sean, tinkering away at his alarm clock. The clock needed some repair work. The glowing numbers were faint and it didn't even buzz when he put in new batteries. Sean cradles it under his arm to get a better view.

"You're almost done with a boxful of books?" asks Sean.

"Read a lot while you were out," says Ty.

Ty would have the time to do that. After he left Dale's, he went to several convenience stores to locate a box of Decadron. The cashiers all told him the same thing. The Decadron would help somewhat, but it would work better if Ty had a combination of pills if that was what he was taking each day. Sean figured he'd try again tomorrow, most likely when Dale wasn't in the shop and he could talk with Emmitt by himself. Although, the look in Emmitt's eyes when Dale accused him of...well, it was clear what Emmitt believed to be the case.

"Which book are you reading now?" asks Sean.

"_Red Badge of Courage_," answers Ty.

"What's it about?" says Sean.

"It's about this kid in the middle of a war," explains Ty. "Like he's becoming a man as he faces battle."

"Violent?" says Sean.

"Very," says Ty. "Wanna read it after I'm done?"

"Eh, I think I'll rent the movie," replies Sean.

Ty smiles and resumes reading. Sean can't resume his own work as several knocks hit the door. He grudgingly stands and goes to answer it. Tracker appears in the doorway, a light green jacket on his skinny frame.

"You're getting harder to hunt down," says Tracker.

"Was gone most of the day," says Sean, closing the door behind him.

"Any particular reason?" asks Tracker. "Hey Ty!"

Ty waves hello without looking up from the book. Tracker steers Sean to the kitchen, probably for a private interrogation he doesn't want to be part of. He was already going to face the police tomorrow at five.

"Did you call that lawyer?" says Tracker as soon as they're in the kitchen.

Sean sighs. "No."

"Sean!" cries Tracker. "Don't tell me you're still planning to dump the part."

He hadn't thought about dumping it in awhile, though he hasn't ruled it out either.

"They're bringing me in for questioning tomorrow," says Sean.

"Then that's the perfect time to fess up," says Tracker. "If you confess, they might go easier on you."

"They won't," says Sean, beginning to open the refrigerator.

Tracker prevents him from opening it, by putting his weight on it so Sean has to pay attention to him. He was giving him a penetrating stare that his father would often give him when he'd done something he shouldn't have in Wasaga. The strange thing was that he hadn't believed Tracker resembled their father by any means until now. Their demeanors were different, Tracker more laidback than withdrawn. Their idea of discipline was different, Tracker often talking to Sean instead of quickly writing him off like his father when they were little. But at the end of the day, he hates how he's disappointing both of them, and himself.

"The only reason I didn't tell you to go earlier is that I thought you'd go yourself," says Tracker. "Especially after we got Mom and Dad involved."

"I'm scared," mutters Sean.

"This is coming from the guy who risked his life to do the right thing?" poses Tracker.

"The shooting?" cries Sean. "Man, that was diff......"

"You had to be brave then, and you have to be brave tomorrow," interrupts Tracker.

"People will hate me when they find out," groans Sean. "Mr. Hill, Mr. Ehl, Ashley, Ashley's parents...Ellie's parents will hate me more."

"You'll have to live with it," says Tracker, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"But..."

"A real man deals with what he has to," continues Tracker. "Takes responsibility for what he's done. A coward keeps running."

He _is_ sick of running. Moment after moment, he's had to carry around this guilt, worry about the stolen spindle, and act as though he had nothing to do with it. Denying his part in it has spawned horrible things, including his ransacked apartment and Ellie collapsing.

Would confessing put an end to all of this? He could wipe his hands of Dale, and maybe even be with Ellie sooner than he thought. He turns to glance at Ty in the living room. He's almost finished with _Red Badge of Courage_. No offense to the author, but he's fairly sure he's going to need more courage than the guy in that book. Tears line Sean's eyes. He won't let them go down. Courage. He has to summon it somehow.

"I...I can't go alone," whispers Sean to Tracker.

"Dad will call the lawyer," reassures Tracker. "We'll be there, right with you."

"I thought the shooting would be the worst thing I faced, but...," says Sean.

"Only this time, you've got all of us," says Tracker. "We're here for the worst, as worse as it's gonna get."

Sean swallows a lump in his throat, nods. "What about Ty?"

"We'll make sure he's alright, as soon as we make sure you're alright," replies Tracker.

Tracker's promise sounds earnest and he believes him. If only he could be just as reassured that they'd spare him any jail time. He'd have to walk in there and face the unknown, his own personal battle, a war he has no chance of winning.

IV.

The bold yellow banner flies in the breeze like a trapeze. While you can still read the words on it, **Jeremiah Motors**, it whips about so fast that when Sean drives into the lot under the banner, he's able to pretend that he's somewhere else for a few seconds. While he's excited that he's receiving a check today from Joey, he's not happy that he has to view the Ducati as he takes the check. Of course, he'd experienced something similar. He had to go to his old workplace and accept his paycheck from his old employer, while being at the mercy of his son at his illegal shop. With Joey, it would be mildly better, he hopes.

Not so. The For Sale sign is angled, catching his sight. His Ducati is officially on the market, all the money he received from Dale to buy it, not really worth it at the end since he's going nowhere. Sean purses his lips.

"This car really does move like a dinosaur," says Ty.

"See?" says Sean. "I wasn't exaggerating."

Sean pulls into the lot, getting out at the same time as Ty.

"Why not fix it? You can fix anything," says Ty.

"I could," replies Sean. "If I could buy a few parts."

"Well, you're getting paid today," offers Ty brightly.

"Yep," says Sean.

He spots Joey smiling and waving as he leaves his office. Joey has to be the most cheerful car salesman Sean has ever laid eyes on. Judging by his face, Sean can tell that he'd gotten a good price for the bike.

"Kirk, our evaluator, checked things out and boy did you make out good," greets Joey.

Sean beams. "What's the total?"

Joey takes the check from his pocket and Sean reads the total. His mouth parts as he reads the numbers, glancing at Joey for any inkling that this is a lie. Ty peers over his shoulder.

"That's a price you can drool over," asserts Joey. "I'll go print your receipt after I make this call. Will take six minutes max."

Joey jogs to the office, Sean leaning against the hood of his car in shock. Ty smirks.

"Fixing your car now?" asks Ty.

"I'd be a fool not to," answers Sean.

"This lot has a lot of nice cars," observes Ty. "Camaros, Chryslers, Saturns."

"Joey's moved up since the last time I was here," says Sean. "I'm friends with his son, Craig. We got in trouble for stealing a car on the lot once."

"You stole a whole car?" exclaims Ty with a smile.

"Craig did it," says Sean.

Ty chuckles. "You _were _there."

"Okay, okay," says Sean. "We took it for a joyride. The ride was nice too. Was nice, until Joey caught us."

"Wish I could drive," sighs Ty.

Sean tucks the check into his jeans pocket. Man, sometimes it seemed like Ty didn't get to do anything. Dale had basically stopped him from being a normal kid. He couldn't go to school, barely went anywhere, and now he was playing with his health since Ty wouldn't return to the shop. Well, that won't be me, decides Sean inwardly.

"Get behind the wheel," says Sean.

"What?" says Ty.

"We'll drive around the lot some," encourages Sean. "Gotta move fast."

Ty asks no questions, hurriedly going to the driver's seat and putting on his seatbelt. Sean drops into the passenger seat and closes the door.

"Alright," says Sean, reaching to turn on the ignition.

The car roars to life, Ty grinning into the rear view mirror. Sean puts on his seatbelt.

"Even Marcus wouldn't let me do this," says Ty.

"Marcus?" says Sean, though he knows exactly who he is.

"My older brother," replies Ty. "But maybe when he comes back, we'll go for a joyride."

Sean folds his hands together, feels the air conditioning raise the hair on his arms. He can't deflate the kid's hopes and neither could Dale. Dale didn't say how long Marcus would be locked away, but Sean suspects it was going to be for a long period of time. Murder ranks up there, a serious crime. Ty turns to Sean and realizing that he's been silent for awhile, Sean speaks.

"Put it in drive, and hit the gas."

"Sean, I've been around cars my whole life," reminds Ty. "This is nothing."

"Fine," says Sean.

Ty puts the car in drive, hits the gas, the car lurching forward and eliciting a screech when he accidentally hits the brake. They both laugh.

"Your car's weird," says Ty.

"No, I think the driver doesn't know as much as he thinks," laughs Sean.

"Whatever," says Ty.

His foot pounds the gas, and he abruptly stops before a speed bump.

"Stupid bump," laments Ty.

"Least you paused," says Sean. "Craig flew over this years ago."

"Was he thirteen too?" asks Ty.

"Fourteen," replies Sean.

"Sweet," says Ty, a proud smile crossing his lips.

"Eh, let's stop," says Sean. "Joey should be on his way."

"You don't want to get caught again?" kids Ty.

"Why, do you?" returns Sean.

Sean unbuckles his seatbelt, is surprised when Ty doesn't touch his at all. No, Ty is staring thoughtfully at a stop sign beyond the windshield. His mouth no longer smiles. It is tight.

"Sean, how was...how was Dale when you went to the shop?" questions Ty.

Ugh, he doesn't want to discuss Dale. He should say how Dale neglected to give him the medicine due to his own selfishness, but then he was afraid that the subject of Marcus would come out and he really didn't want to share that bit of information.

"Dale was the same as ever," says Sean.

Though a little beat up, he adds privately in his head.

"He's not hurt?" asks Ty.

Sean runs a hand through his hair. Should he tell him the truth? Today, he'd be spilling his guts to the police station. Might as well get a good start.

"He got in a fight, I guess," says Sean.

"How...how bad?" says Ty, his eyes narrowing in concern.

"I didn't see the fight," answers Sean. "Emmitt mentioned it happened on the docks."

While glancing at Ty, he notices that his chest is beginning to rise and fall rapidly, his eyes growing panicked. Ty's mouth starts to shake. His breathing speedily changes into short gasps, so fast Sean can't think of what to do for him.

"Carter...Leon!" gasps Ty. "Wasn't there so they.........."

His inhaler, remembers Sean. He had an inhaler when they were at Wasaga.

"Ty!" cries Sean. "Ty, where's your inhaler?"

"My...my fault!" gasps Ty, tears accompanying the unsteady breaths.

"Focus, Ty," says Sean, calmly. "Where's your inhaler?"

Ty puts a hand on his chest, taking in a deep breath and pointing to his pocket. Sean leans in and starts to go through it as fast as he can. His thumb touches the inhaler. He pulls it out and puts it against Ty's lips. Ty situates it into his mouth and takes a few drags. Thankfully, the inhaler does the trick and Ty's breathing is slowing down. Sean leans against his seat to catch his breath too.

"I have to go home," says Ty.

His first complete sentence, and it's that?

"To Dale?" balks Sean.

"Carter and Leon always threaten him, but the second I'm not there, they make good on their threat!" cries Ty.

Carter and Leon. Sean ponders who they could possibly be, until he recalls that those two guys were at the docks the first night he went with Dale and Ty. And yes, they did threaten Dale and were rough around the edges.

"Being around him is a threat to you," remarks Sean.

"I can't leave him," insists Ty. "They didn't touch him when I was there."

"Guy's a freak, Ty," says Sean. "That's not clear?"

"He was there for me when nobody else was," insists Ty.

"I'm doing what's best for you," says Sean.

"Maybe your best isn't my best!" exclaims Ty. "Ever think of that?"

Ty shakes his head, turns the car off. He props the door open just as Joey is walking to them with Sean's receipt. He took longer than six minutes, but Sean wouldn't have minded if he was a little more late. He had to convince Ty that he was only looking out for him. Ty didn't know this? He can't return to Dale's. There's too much at stake.

"Thanks," says Sean, climbing out to take the receipt.

"What's with the grim faces, fellas?" asks Joey with a laugh. "You look as though you've lost your best friend, Sean."

V.

A cop coughs as he goes to a supply closet, disappearing behind the door. Another rifles through a mountain of paperwork, a toothpick between his teeth. From the entrance, he spies Dee hunched over Jerry. They are staring at a computer, possibly staring at a file. Probably his file. Would they bring up his past actions? How he deafened Tyler, or how he was a suspect when electronics went missing at Degrassi? The second one would be applicable to this case, that's for sure.

But he was a different person back then. He didn't have an apartment. His family wasn't as supportive. He had no clue what he wanted to for the rest of the life. Didn't changing count for anything? No, because he's holding the evidence in his hands. Sean revolves the spindle. He's had it for weeks, but hasn't ever held it for this long. This grey, round item has caused him more drama than he could ever dream about.

"Sean!" calls a familiar voice in the distance.

Sean watches Tracker approach, Ike and Iris bringing up the rear. He exhales. Tracker kept his word. His whole family was there, and so was the lawyer, stepping out of a separate car. The lawyer is thin, the only hair on his head in two patches on the side. Ike waits for the lawyer to be in their circle so he can make the introductions.

"Sean, this is Mr. Syrus Fletcher," says Ike.

Syrus smiles broadly, a blinding white smile. "Let's see if we can get you out of this pickle."

"Thanks for coming, Mr. Fletcher," says Sean.

"Nonsense," says Mr. Fletcher. "My uncle Hank has always had nice things to say about the Camerons."

"I filled him in on everything," says Tracker. "Well, what you told me."

"Do you...do you think I could avoid jail?" asks Sean.

"Anything's possible, Sean," says Mr. Fletcher. "But thank goodness you're a minor. Yes, that never hurts."

Throughout this conversation, his eyes drift to his mother. She has yet to talk. What did her being here mean? That she forgives him? If he could walk in with that surety, he'd walk in there with his head high. He almost says her name, when she speaks up herself.

"I want a moment with Sean," says Iris softly.

The three men glance at each other with questionable stares, then enter the police station. Iris begins to fix the collar of Sean's T-shirt. He's not sure why.

"I should've said something before you left," says Iris.

"I should've told you myself," says Sean, shrugging.

"Is Ty in the middle of this?" asks Iris.

He couldn't be any more in the middle. That said, when he dropped Ty off, he went right back to reading like they're hadn't been a blow-up between them. Ty will most likely cool down by the time he returns.

"The car ring's how I met him," replies Sean.

"He's so little, though," sighs Iris. "And you're so young, Sean."

"I was too old not to have known better," says Sean.

"But you're old enough to do the right thing," says Iris.

"That's what I figure, too," agrees Sean. "I am, tonight. That's why I asked you to forgive me."

Iris bats her eyelashes to halt her tears, though they trickle down after a lack of effort.

'The second you left, I did," whispers Iris, wrapping her arms around him.

With the hard spindle digging into his chest, he remembers the night they got it, when Dale practically threw it into his chest. The spindle was hard, bruising his ribs. This evening, however, it rolls to his body, as sleek and soft as the arm of a turnstile. Iris releases him, her softer arm around his shoulders as they enter.

"They're here," says Ike.

His father, Tracker, Mr. Fletcher, Jerry, Dee, and another officer are at the far end. Ike is standing behind a chair, which Sean correctly supposes is for him. Sean approaches them, Jerry's eyes growing larger and larger.

"And yesterday, we were doubting he had it!" cries Jerry.

"Jerry, let the boy talk," says Dee, though she appears flummoxed too.

"This case has been driving us batty for weeks!" exclaims Jerry.

"My client came here willingly," says Mr. Fletcher. "The least you can do is hear him out."

Sean reaches the desk and sits across from Jerry and Dee. He can feel both of his parents on either side of his chair.

"I stole this part, weeks ago," starts Sean. "First, I stole the spindle from Ashley Kerwin's car. I stole this one from Hill's to replace it."

"Why are you turning it in now?" shouts Jerry.

"Shut up, Jer," moans Dee through gritted teeth.

"I was a member of this car ring," goes on Sean. "With these other kids that were trying to make ends meet. I had no job, no money, no alternatives. Well, at the time that's how I saw it."

"Is Hogart part of this ring, too?" inquires Dee.

He had mulled it over, whether or not to mention Jay. Jay wasn't there to defend himself, and Sean wouldn't let anything delay his recovery like he had the night he lead Dale straight to him.

"No," says Sean. "Jay was doing inventory, and I made him give me the part."

"You fired the gun?" says Jerry.

While he was dictating this story, the third officer whose name he didn't catch is writing on a notepad.

"I have a hard time believing you'd shoot your best friend, Sean," says the third officer. "I'm Officer Rali by the way. I've been following this case."

"Uh, hi," greets Sean.

Officer Rali leans forward, his chest covering the notepads.

"I lead the team that busted the first car ring," shares Officer Rali. "And I'm determined to knock off this one too. So I'm banking on some honesty from you."

"What would Sean get in exchange?" asks Mr. Fletcher, staring at Officer Rali.

"A lighter sentence, definitely," assures Officer Rali. "Even less if he's more than cooperative. The fact that he turned himself in speaks volumes to me."

"Go on," encourages Mr. Fletcher.

"Fact is I need an in man," says Officer Rali. "Someone who knows the operation of this ring thoroughly and can open some doors for us."

"That sounds dicey," says Ike, squinting his eyes.

"Not if Sean gives me a detailed report, and a confession from whoever's running the show," counters Officer Rali. "We can take the bigwigs down ourselves if we squeeze out a confession from his boss."

"How does that work?" asks Tracker. "Like he has to wear a wire?"

"Yes," replies Officer Rali.

Sean looks to each of them, tries to fathom a situation where he'd have a part in apprehending Dale. He hadn't planned on outing Dale when he came in for questioning. The whole thing seems very risky.

"Couldn't he just give you his boss' name?" cries Iris.

"Not if it's listed as a legitimate shop," says Officer Rali. "Is it?"

"Yes," says Sean.

"And here's betting the boss was smart enough to stop shipments from coming in and has started closing up shop," sighs Officer Rali. "He's covered his tracks, I bet. These guys aren't dumb."

"Isn't he a bit young to wear a wire?" asks Ike.

"We'd send an undercover officer with him," promises Officer Rali. "He'd be well-protected."

"Absolutely protected?" chimes in Tracker.

"Absolutely," guarantees Officer Rali. "Sean, you're our greatest asset. If we let him alone, they'll just start a new one a couple years down the line. Do you want him to draw more kids into it, put their lives in jeopardy?"

Emmitt and Ty are brought to his mind. It wasn't like their lives were getting any better because of the ring...not lately. He didn't want any other kids to be enticed by Dale like he was, or be questioned by the police like he was, or worse, end up in the hospital like Jay. Jay, Emmitt, and Ty were fighting for their lives, in different ways, but there had to be better ways. There has to be.

"It is ultimately your decision, Sean," adds Dee.

"There's a possibility of no jail with this, right?" asks Tracker.

"I assure you the judge will be more than understanding if Sean helps us," says Officer Rali, nodding. "You with us?"

"Sean?" says Mr. Fletcher.

If he turns in Dale, a lot of things will hit the fan. Ty would resent him for it, more than he resents Sean presently. Mr. Hill would see the more real version of his son. The kids at the shop would have to own up to what they've done. The kids in the office building might have no place to go. But Dale was so cocky and so spiteful that he had to be taken down. He would take Dale down so he wouldn't bring anyone else down. Maybe then Ty would see. If Dale can spit in his face, he can spit on his spotless reputation.

"I'm with you," says Sean.


	90. Fire In The Twilight

**XC. Fire in the Twilight**

_Hot on the run from the grip of the power game,  
The man who leads the way, the man who leads the way.  
Shell in its box from his home that they'll never tame,  
The man who leads the way, the man who leads the way._

_He is burning, burning in the twilight.  
He is turning, turning to face us.  
He is burning, fire in the twilight.  
He is turning, turning to lead us away, away, away,  
Lead us away, away, away._

_Taking a break from the role of the everyday boy,  
The man who leads the way, the man who leads the way.  
Is he for real or is he back to the old way boy,  
Can he lead the way, oh can he lead the way.  
He's searching, but he's lonely, and he's hurting, but he's only,  
Waiting for a chance just in time to live a life.  
Does he need ya, does he want ya,  
Does he listen to what you say?  
Is he only waiting for the simple way?_

**Fire in the Twilight is the property of Wang Chung and appears in the film _The Breakfast Club_.**

All that are left are J.T. and Liberty. Toby makes a stray cookie twirl. It drops softer than a dreidel ever did. Free of dreidels, the party was a massive success, even after the namedrop of Manny. Toby's team did win, victorious when Toby rightly guessed _The Wizard of Oz_ when Lucie kept clicking her tennis shoes together. J.T. groaned for about ten minutes and then got over it because he was presented with gifts. J.T. received anything a good quality host needed: a tape recorder from Nate and Darcy; joke and instruction guides from Derek and Danny; a giftcard to the coffeehouse so he could get some feul, from his grandmother; a promise from Racquel that she'd bring her friends to several tapings. Toby could tell the last one bothered Liberty, but she played the part of a good hostess and put on a pleasant face.

The three of them are currently cleaning up. He sweeps the cookie and two paper plates into a trash bag. Most of the other guests helped before they went home. He missed the initial beginning of the clean-up because Officer Wheaton had to go to the bathroom and Toby had to help him find it. He never thought he'd have to wait for a grown man to pee, except for his father. Lucie caught him in the hall and bid him good-bye. He noticed she wasn't as offended so he guessed she forgave him. That's good. Lucie didn't seem like the kind of girl who held a grudge.

"T-minus five seconds," says Liberty to Toby, walking past the table.

Toby nods knowingly. He reaches for J.T.'s gift after putting the bag on the table. Liberty's statement was their signal that now would be the best time to give J.T. their gifts. Most of the people thought the party itself was it, and Toby and Liberty _did_ do most of the work. But two more tokens of their appreciation for him wouldn't be overboard or anything.

"What are you two planning now?" calls over J.T., stacking the charade cards and putting them in their box.

"Suppose you'll have to come over and find out," says Liberty.

J.T. wrinkles his nose, grabbing his bookbag on the way to them. Liberty releases a pleased sigh and hands him a gift bag. J.T. shakes the bag near his ear.

"The only way it'll make noise is if you flip through them," hints Liberty.

He peers inside, chuckles. Then, he removes them to evaluate them.

"Business cards!" says J.T.

"James Tiberius Yorke, television personality, _P.J. J.T._," recites Liberty from memory.

"This is my favorite present," assures J.T.

Liberty turns red as J.T. hugs her. The whole day has been a great day for their relationship. Toby can't imagine a day when they'd be apart again. He hopes he can imagine something similar with Manny in the near future.

"Unless Toby can top it," says J.T., fishing for Toby's contribution.

"I don't think this will top hers, but it'll sure make the Squad look good," poses Toby.

"They're going to perform in spangled bras now?" says J.T. giddily.

Rolling her eyes, Liberty raps J.T. on the head with a paper plate. Toby laughs, giving J.T. the envelope he'd sealed earlier that day. J.T. opens the envelope and smiles.

"That's a guarantee, even if the budget goes south," promises Toby. "Hatzilakos loves the Spirit Squad and said it'd be okay."

"A receipt for a new panther suit," sighs J.T. luxuriously. "So long to itching, plus lint that doesn't come off. Thanks, Tobes."

"Let's hope she's as good-natured when it comes to debate," muses Liberty, more to herself than to Toby.

"I'm sticking to my campaign speech," says Toby. "Every club is going to have their fair share."

"Or fundraise themselves to death," says J.T.

"That's if they need more money," shrugs Toby. "Besides, I'm really nervous about the arts. Like the stuff Nate wants to do this year? We'll see."

"I bet if it was Manny, you'd have no problem divvying up the cash, eh?" teases J.T.

"Romance shouldn't get in the way of a democracy," counters Liberty. "If you'll excuse me, I have a thank-you card to dispense to Harley."

Liberty walks to the entrance, where Officer Wheaton is finishing a third piece of cake in a dark corner. He aims a thumbs up at Liberty, then continues eating.

Regardless of his agreement with Liberty's beliefs, he ponders what he _would_ do if the Drama Club's funding didn't come through. He has yet to tell Ms. Hatzilakos what Nate told him, and he sure didn't mention the problem to Manny in any of his letters. She certainly didn't need the stress, what with her auditions and her focus on Emma. What he wouldn't give for a surplus of some kind. He'd be as excited as J.T. is today.

"Okay, we're alone," says J.T. "What happened at the house?"

"The house?" says Toby.

"The house where Justin was," whispers J.T., fiercely. "Did you find any clues that he's still in town?"

This is his first opportunity to do what Lucie nudged him to do. Plus, it's not as if anybody else knows as much as J.T. knows about the whole thing. Well, besides Jeff, Kate, and the officers. But they weren't his age, going through something horrible.

"Um, I think so," replies Toby softly.

"What?" asks J.T.

"Like...a journal," says Toby. "It doesn't one-hundred percent prove that he's still here. I'd be amazed if he left without it, though."

"What did the sergeant say?" inquires J.T.

"I...didn't...I didn't show him," stammers Toby.

"Toby, you have to!" cries J.T. "Why wouldn't you? It could really help."

"I just got scared," admits Toby. "I could've told them, but...like there was this wall in the house after I found the journal. It's...I can't even describe it."

Toby turns away from J.T., flustered. His throat feels clenched. The back of it burns. He couldn't articulate what he'd seen. He barely had the guts to mention the threats a few weeks ago and may've not done it if he wasn't fearful about the bundle on his doorstep.

"You don't have to get into that," says J.T., patting his back.

"Thanks," says Toby. "I...can't not remember it. Any part of that day. I'd love to erase it, but..."

"Is that why Manny's name came out of your mouth?" asks J.T. when Toby's silent.

"Maybe," says Toby.

"Lucie was upset?" says J.T.

"More confused," replies Toby.

'You know, while I think Lucie's a great girl and everything....I mean, her dad rehired me, let's not forget," says J.T., staring at Toby. "I really, really, really like Manny."

"J.T.!" cries Toby.

J.T. is obviously fishing for clues, clues that didn't have to do with a present.

"I'm on team Manny," defends J.T. "So sue me."

"Well, I'm on team Manny too," says Toby, shrugging.

"Just curious," says J.T. "Lucie _is_ very pretty and she has been hanging around you more."

"It's nice to have someone who isn't involved in all the Degrassi drama, you know," explains Toby. "That's it."

"Agreed. Why do you think I wanted to come back here so badly?" says J.T.

"Craft services," kids Toby.

"That was actually funny," applauds J.T., leaning against the refreshment table.

"I should be a guest on your show," says Toby, leaning too.

"As long as you don't eat the glue we use," says J.T.

They both laugh, Liberty reentering the room. She carries a small paper bag, the contents rattling. Toby exchanges a smile with her. When they were planning, they'd decided on the best way to end it, a very J.T. way to end things. J.T. stares innocently ahead. Liberty hands Toby the can right behind J.T.'s back.

"I wonder if they'll rope off a fan section for me," jokes J.T.

"They certainly will," says Liberty.

"Yep," says Toby.

"You guys are getting awfully nice all of a sudden," remarks J.T. "Why?"

"We're your best friends," offers Toby.

"Uhh, right," says J.T. "So you wouldn't...."

He's too late and they don't give him the chance to finish, shaking their cans in unison as J.T.'s eyes widen.

"No!" cries J.T.

His cry is covered by the spraying of Silly String, pink and white lines crossing his face, arms, and chest. He shrinks from the assault, a huge piece of pink string dangling from his nose. J.T. blows it away from his mouth.

"Congratulatons," chuckles Toby.

"We're...um, not cleaning you up, either," asserts Liberty.

J.T. grins, shakes his head. "There goes you guys' free tickets."

II.

There's no time to lose. Every second is precious. This was Officer Rali's way of thinking. Usually, Sean would've had more of a window in which to learn how the plan would go down. He had to be briefed about typical protocol, how to keep the wire hidden, what officer would be going with him, how he would be monitored, and how to throw Dale under the bus without him knowing it. However, due to the fact that Dale had been so cautious and that the shop was closing indefinitely soon, they chose to speed things along.

When he first said Dale's name, the team looked taken aback. The owner's son? Dee and Jerry's, who previously thought his word held no weight, eyes bugged out. As Sean had thought, Dale had come in previously and told them that Sean had the spindle in his possession. That just gave Sean more incentive to prove Dale's guilt. That and the fact that Dee told him that Dale kept insisting that Jay had stolen the key to the back door and that he believed Sean had shot Jay on the three instances the police questioned him. He told them to examine Sean's record and Jay's record to get a good read on their pasts. What Sean didn't know was that his father, Mr. Hill, was right next to him on those occasions, hearing his son's lies. The lies are through, thinks Sean, as he climbs the stairwell to his apartment.

His parents were staying with Tracker in a hotel room at Iris' suggestion. Since Ike had gotten him a lawyer, she wanted to contribute something and asked Sean how she could aid him in this situation. He simply asked her to stay. Not two seconds later, she said she wasn't going anywhere. Obviously, his parents and Tracker couldn't come with him when he went to the shop but they would be at the station waiting for the outcome.

It was going to be weird being around Ty from then on. Try as he might, Sean couldn't change Ty's opinion of Dale. To horde this secret that could potentially do that? He couldn't come up with a tougher thing to deal with at the moment. He didn't have to be around Ty for too long tonight. Ellie's seminar let out in a couple of hours and he was going there to share his good news and more than a few worries. If he knew her, and he's sure he does, she'd be relieved, but a little nervous. That's how he is, too.

He was planning to apologize, though, to her, the Isaac-Kerwins, and the Nashes. He dealt with Mr. Simpson in this fashion and hoped it would have the same effect on the multiple people he'd lied to over the summer. If they did hate him, his conscience wouldn't.

Reaching the step right before his door, his eyes catch a pair of feet, in beaten up sneakers. Sean raises his head.

"Emmitt?" says Sean.

The boy is biting his lip nervously. He wears a pair of baggy jeans, a mechanic uniform-style shirt with no name stitched where a label usually was, and a white T-shirt underneath.

"Looked up your name in the records," says Emmitt.

That's how Ty found him too, and he instinctively wonders what Dale has done to Emmitt to send him here.

"What's wrong?" asks Sean.

"Nothing," says Emmitt, avoiding eye contact. "I mean, I have what you asked for."

Emmitt's hands dig in his pocket and he removes two pill bottles.

"This is what he usually took," says Emmitt.

"They're stronger, right?" asks Sean.

"Right," replies Emmitt. "I don't think he has it as bad as his dad did. Least that's what I got when we talked those couple times."

"Are these for asthma?" says Sean.

"Nah, he's got bronchitis, too," says Emmitt. "Really bad lungs. He's always been like that."

"Thanks, Emmitt," says Sean.

"Eh, Dale should've let you have it," demurs Emmitt.

At the shop, Emmitt continually knocked himself for his lack of smarts, but this has to be one of the smartest things he's done. It really was like what Ty said. Even if you didn't like someone, you should be there for them if you can. Emmitt is a shining example of this. More shining, especially when you consider what Dale accused Sean of being.

"Emmitt, I never lured Ty...," starts Sean.

"I...figured that out," interrupts Emmitt. "Later."

"How?" says Sean.

"Like how you were at the shop," says Emmitt, finally meeting his eyes. "Like you didn't touch anybody or say anything weird. I...I don't know. I couldn't picture you any different. Plus, Ty talks around you. I never saw him talk that much, except for with Dale."

"You don't talk with him?" asks Sean.

"Twice, when I crashed upstairs in the office building," shares Emmitt. "We both had family members that left, you know. But then he'd talk about missing school and I hate school so..."

Sean laughs. "I'm not a big fan of school, either."

"But he was always with Dale after I left the office," continues Emmitt. "I know why they're close, cause of Marcus."

"Dale told you about Marcus?" questions Sean.

"He didn't have to," says Emmitt. "Delonte and I were working one day and Marcus and Dale were arguing outside. Dale kept wanting Marcus to go upstairs and tell Ty that he was probably going to jail. Marcus refused, said he couldn't disappoint Ty like that."

"Then he left?" says Sean.

"He left," replies Emmitt.

"Poor Ty," sighs Sean.

"Yeah, that's why I couldn't hate Ty," says Emmitt, looking skyward. "Man, it sucks when family flakes out on you, but it sucks worse when they don't say good-bye. Leave without a word."

Emmitt folds his hands behind his neck and blinks with wet eyes. It's clear he's thinking of his own father.

"Want to come in?" asks Sean. "Bought some microwaveable burgers this afternoon."

"Dude, I'm there," replies Emmitt quickly.

Sean grins, accepts the pill bottles from Emmitt, and inserts his key. There's no sign of Ty when the door swings open. Strange. If he'd been a betting man, he'd be sure that Ty would be reading on the couch same as when he left for the police station. No books are on the table or on the couch.

"Ty must be in the bathroom," says Sean.

"I'll stay here, where there's air conditioning," says Emmitt.

The bathroom door is open and it's not occupied. He checks his room and Ty's not there either. The kitchen is empty too. What's going on? This is where he left Ty, a sullen Ty, but Ty himself. Sean returns to his bedroom to peer out of the window. Ty isn't at the bus stop. Where could he be? He's got his hands on the medicine and Ty's not to be found. Sean forcefully closes his window. The air makes an item float to the floor. It's a white sheet of paper that flew from his desk. Sean closes his eyes. No. Please don't let that be what he's thinking. Ty wouldn't. Sean picks up the piece of paper.

He would. Ty had told him where he was, unlike when he was staying at Becca's. He told Sean in less than thirty words.

_I have to be there, like Dale was for me. You may not understand. I just hope you forgive me. Your brother (in more ways than one), Ty_

Sean hits the table hard. Jay had been right. He couldn't keep Ty and Dale from one another for very long. He could slap himself. Why did he tell him Dale was hurt? Why didn't he anticipate that would send Ty running to him? He should be here. Ty should be here. What can he do now? Sean answers himself. Has to keep Ty out of it, has to make sure he's well out of danger while Sean's incriminating his mentor. This would be tricky. This would have to be the most careful act he's ever done at Ace's Auto. Because this is for the person he cares for most that's there.

III.

"Close to two hundred and fifty people attended the event," says Matthew. "The synagogue was filled to capacity."

Their classmates exchange impressed expressions, Ellie staring straight ahead. She'd been at the program so she's not too wowed. Besides, she noticed that Matthew was attentive to her presentation and she wanted to return the favor. They were now on a question and answer session for Matthew's project. Nobody had any questions for her. Professor Williams appeared pleased, however, so that's good. And since Matthew was so popular, it seems fitting that his Q & A has lasted the longest. Never mind that he'd put the number of attendees in his actual article. The girls just wanted his attention.

"That is soooo great," comments Bridget.

"We have to wrap up, ladies and gentlemen," announces Professor Williams.

A few groans cross the room, and everyone enthusiastically applauds Matthew as he collects his belongings. Professor Williams replaces him at the head of the class.

"It has been a real privilege to work with you this summer," says Professor Williams.

Everybody, including Ellie, claps before he finishes this sentence. Professor Williams wasn't as personable as Caitlin, but the man definitely lived up to his good reputation.

"I encourage you all to sign up for the _Core_ this fall, where I will be the faculty advisor," continues Professor Williams. "As far as I'm concerned, you've proven yourselves worthy enough to write for the best student publications in the country, and are well on your way to being outstanding journalists for your generation."

"Professor Williams rules!" yells out Bridget.

A second round of applause follows, the majority of people rising to give their ex-seminar professor individual thanks.

"Well, Ellie," says Bridget, standing in front of her. "No hard feelings."

Bridget extends her hand, cheerfully smiling at her. Ellie shakes it, wishing with every bone in her body that Bridget won't try out for the _Core. _The girl had to be the most annoying partner Ellie had ever had. Bridget did her project on Greek life, particularly rushing for a sorority. It was a subject Professor Williams was fond of since he'd mentioned offhand that he was in a fraternity. Of course, Ellie saw it for what it was, brown nosing.

"We're going out for post-seminar coffee," announces Matthew after he separates himself from two girls. "Ellie? Bridget?"

"I love lattes," sighs Bridget.

"Can't," replies Ellie.

"Aw, come on, Ellie," encourages Matthew. "You're the Woodward to my Bernstein."

"Which will continue when we're both at the _Core_," says Ellie. "I can't...tonight."

Matthew moans. Bridget takes his arm.

"Some people don't value networking," says Bridget, tugging him in another direction.

No, some people are dying to hear from their boyfriends. Since the question and answer session went over, she was late in meeting Sean. She'd done a great job avoiding the subject with her parents. Her mother would smile as she stared off into space and Ellie wouldn't be surprised if the "break" was the reason. Her father went off to do solitary work on his Cadillac. Ellie stayed in her room for most of the afternoon, reviewing her presentation, and took the bus to campus.

She makes up her mind to contact Professor Williams on a later day. She'd send him a lenghty e-mail or pop in and give him a heartfelt thanks. Tonight, he'd have to wait because Sean is waiting for her. Ellie grabs her things and walks to the elevator, pushing the lobby button hard when she gets there.

Sean basically has two choices. They couldn't find the part so he could maintain that he was innocent, or he could locate the part and turn himself in. She's weighed the pros of both. If he says he's innocent, perhaps the investigation will die out on its own. The police would get frustrated and focus on another case or scenario. If he turns himself in, they might see it as honorable and he wouldn't be severely punished. This was up to Sean. She really can't do anything since her parents pulled her away from the situation and she can't counsel him from afar.

Not that he needs it. Sean knew right from wrong. He knew to talk Rick down while he was holding the gun. He knew what he had to do when the moment called for it. It's in his genetic make-up to listen to his heart when it all came down to it. That's knowledge you don't learn in school or in a seminar, and it makes her hopeful as she walks across the quad.

Sean is seated on his car, his arms resting on the hood. His eyes are on the blades of grass instead of her. This can't be good. Ellie takes in a few short breaths and approaches him.

"Sean?" says Ellie.

Her fingers start to shake so she puts them in the pockets of her jacket. She doesn't want to be fearful since he has the most to fear.

"Hey, El," says Sean, smiling a bit.

What's behind that smile? Good news or bad news? She wouldn't mind going back to the seminar room because then, at least, the news stories had already happened and she had an idea what the ending would be.

"So?" says Ellie.

She stands in front of him, ready to hug him, to tell him it's going to be okay.

"So...they're going to go a little easier on me," says Sean.

"What?" says Ellie, beaming.

"Yeah, they need my help to get to Dale," continues Sean. "I...I can't believe it."

Ellie puts her hands on her cheeks, letting her body collapse into his. Sean gently laughs as he strokes her hair.

"I totally believe in the justice system now," moans Ellie into his chest.

He laughs again.

"How are you going to get to Dale, though?" asks Ellie, straightening herself. "I thought you quit."

"Dale can't resist money," says Sean. "He's in business this next week, so our alibi is going to be that I'm willing to work with him this last week. One of the officers is going to be our potential client."

"You've never brought him a client before," points out Ellie.

"I think dollar signs will invade his eyes more than red flags," replies Sean. "No, he's held out this long."

"True," sighs Ellie.

"I'm going to be wired," says Sean.

"Wired?" whispers Ellie strongly. "Sean, what if he finds it? He has a gun!"

"Dale got rid of it once he shot Jay," says Sean.

"Sure?"

"Uh-huh."

Man, she'd heard of journalists putting themselves in life-threatening situations, but this is a little too real. She didn't think of her boyfriend doing the same thing.

"Ask for a bulletproof vest," whispers Ellie.

"Dee already told me I'd be getting one," reassures Sean. "I'm...not worried about bullets."

Ellie looks at him questionably.

"Ty is with Dale," groans Sean.

"No," breathes Ellie, closing her eyes.

"I screwed up," sighs Sean. "Maybe I just blasted Dale so much that...eh, he wrote in his letter that I didn't understand him. I still don't."

"Don't beat yourself up over that," says Ellie, opening her eyes and stroking his arm.

"If I see him, I'm getting him out of there first," says Sean. "No matter what's going down."

"This is one situation where you have to think of yourself, too, Sean," says Ellie.

"I...I will," stammers Sean.

"Sean," says Ellie, crossing her arms.

"I will, okay?" vows Sean.

She kisses him on the lips, Sean grinning as his arms encircle her back.

"Call me crazy, but I think you missed me?" says Ellie.

"After you point me to a bathroom, I'll answer that question," replies Sean.

"Tease," says Ellie, pushing him.

She nods her head to the right, Sean disappearing into the technology building. He'd be walking into another building soon, wired, vulnerable, nervous. Nowhere as nervous as me, thinks Ellie. Ellie opens his car door, searches through the dashboard, and searches in the backseat. A flier catches her sight. Ace's Auto. There's no address listed. She'd have to look it up online. Exiting the car, she writes the name on her arm and rolls her jacket sleeve down quickly when she spots Sean in the distance.

"Campus bathrooms are as amazing as high school ones," says Sean with notable sarcasm. "They put wet floor signs where you can see them better, though."

"Safety first," says Ellie.

IV.

When he thinks of that first day now, he can scarcely recall the details. The morning was grey as he left the car in his best navy suit. He had no idea what he was stepping into, and still doesn't. Sean remembers how the tiny flame lit Dale's face in the dark, the rest of his body in pitch black before the guys took him down. He hadn't seen Ty yet, his name only coming through as his sight went into a blur. Ty was the sole person to ask if Sean was okay. Dale was the sole person in power. Today, if everything went well, Sean can truly say that he's the sole person who took Dale to task.

"Your own son stealing from ya," says Jerry, biting into a danish. "Sure didn't think of that."

The van is as grey as that morning. It's not attractive from the outside, pretty plain with streaks of brown where someone had scratched off the grey paint. Crumbs from Jerry's danish fall to the floor as the console in front of him comes to life as Dee touches a button. Satisfied with the onscreen picture of the office building and the rolls of tape whirring, she bends her body as she goes to Sean. She sits across from him.

"No blotches on Dale's record," says Dee, turning to Sean. "I guess he let you guys do the dirty work, huh?"

Sean nods slowly. He glances at the console once more. Before this, he'd only seen vans like this on cop shows or in movies. He knows the tape will record any bits of their conversation, but can't make sense of the monitor. The picture on the monitor shifts, from the office building to the side door of the van. The cop who is accompanying Sean parts the door, hops in, and closes it. Officer Pinsky is thirtyish, possibly the youngest guy on the force. He's very tall and has the lightest green eyes Sean's ever seen. If they needed a guy who looked far from guilty of lying that he's interested in buying a carburetor, their best bet is him.

"What's up, Pinksy?" asks Dee.

"Officer Rali's parked two blocks away," shares Pinsky. "Told us to put the wire and vest on Sean."

"And the mini-camera?" says Dee.

"I'll tote it," replies Pinsky. "We have to be extra careful with that piece of merchandise."

"Camera would make you extra bulge-y anyway," kids Dee, unlatching the bulletproof vest.

Sean gives her a weak smile and raises his arms. Dee sets the vest aside and removes a large white packet. She opens the packet and removes a smaller vest, black and with far more accessories. Dee slips his arms through the two holes of the vest, latches it securely. She begins to identify the different parts of the vest.

"This is the microphone, most important part," says Dee, touching what really is a microphone the size of a quarter. "Don't place your hand here, alright? Muffles the sound and we need what he says to be as clear as possible. There's a battery pack in the back that he won't be able to see so don't worry about the time frame. This is crucial. See this button here?"

"Yeah," says Sean.

"That's the panic alarm button," explains Dee. "If there's an emergency, any sort of emergency, you press it and it alerts us, Officer Rali, the station, and the nearest hospital and fire department."

"It's like when you baby-sit and the parents give you all those numbers," adds Jerry.

"I doubt the kid baby-sits, Jer," laughs Pinsky.

"He saved a school once," says Jerry.

"That so?" says Pinsky, raising his eyebrows.

"Yep, brought down a shooter," remarks Jerry.

Normally, he'd be hesitant to let a conversation like this go on further, especially since that was a difficult point in his life, but it was said by Jerry of all people, the cop who had been doubting him since the beginning.

"Well, with luck, we can bring down this shady business," says Pinsky.

"One more vest and we're good to go," says Dee.

The bulletproof vest is less difficult as the sole instruction is for it to stay on, informs Dee. Pinsky was wearing a vest, too, the camera attached to the left part of his chest pocket. Sean couldn't see the camera at all, but that's why they called it a mini-camera.

"Some general rules to help you out," says Dee. "Ask leading questions, not direct questions. How business has been lately? What's it like with fewer workers? Questions that don't ask for information outright."

"Exactly," says Pinsky. "A lot of guys shoot themselves in the foot without you yanking it out of them."

"Don't feel it necessary to talk into the mike," continues Dee. "The mike does its job. If you're uncomfortable, nod at Pinsky and he'll take the lead. He's experienced with this sort of thing. Above everything, trust your instincts. I can't stress that enough."

"Okay," says Sean.

While the whole rundown of the rules is relatively simple, he just wants to get this over with and have that calm that this is done. He also considered a couple of things while she was talking that he wants to tell her.

"There are kids in that building," informs Sean. "Like...homeless kids."

"Like right now?" says Dee.

"They could be gone," muses Sean. "Dale wouldn't tell me."

"Looks like we'll have to extract one more nugget of info from him," sighs Pinsky.

"Wait," sighs Sean, glancing at the front window. "That's...that's Emmitt. I can ask him."

Emmitt is chewing a piece of beef jerky, walking towards the shack.

"Let's get you situated first," whispers Dee.

They help pull on Sean's white T-shirt and a blue hoodie that wonderfully covered the two vests. It felt a bit awkward, especially with the rib belt, but he's more hot than uncomfortable. Sean opens the door himself, leaps out of it, and shuts the door. The slam gets Emmitt's attention.

"Hey, Emmitt," greets Sean.

"Sean!" says Emmitt. "Didn't think you'd come here anymore. Not after last time."

Sean shrugs. "Cash was too good."

"We're closing, though," reminds Emmitt.

"Any little bit helps," says Sean. "I'm not driving around in this ugly van for nothing."

"Ain't that the truth," sighs Emmitt. "I saw Ty at the shack earlier, if you want to give him his meds."

"He's not upstairs?" says Sean.

"Oh no, those kids left awhile ago," replies Emmitt. "Dale would've had a lot to answer to, otherwise."

That's exactly what he wanted to hear. Ty is somewhere other than the office building, and so are the rest of the kids Dale knew.

"Thanks, man," says Sean.

"It's whatever," says Emmitt, walking to the shack. "Come find me when you're done. I'll fill you in on what we're doing."

"I will," replies Sean.

This is the single lie he's told Emmitt but he can't risk saying he wouldn't. Hopefully, later, Emmitt won't mind. Sean watches him go inside and backs away to the grey van. He reenters.

"We're straight," says Sean after shutting the door.

"We heard," says Dee, patting the console. "Ready, fellas?"

"I am," says Pinsky.

"Me too," sighs Sean.

"I'll contact Rali," says Jerry, fetching his walkie talkie.

"Tell 'em it's five on the dot," calls over Dee.

"We gotta move since this is closing time," speaks up Sean.

"Let's get to it," says Dee.

V.

The fading orange of sunlight paints the grass a gold hue, pink clouds with purple streaks outlining the office building, the shack, and their bodies. Pinsky puts an arm on Sean and stares at the front door. Dale hasn't drawn the blinds. He'll probably wish later that he had. Sean can hear the shuffle of paper, the slamming of a cabinet drawer, and footsteps from where he stands. He's probably getting ready to close, having no idea that Sean intends for him to close this door forever. Sean looks at Pinsky for a sign that this is it.

"You're a hero regardless, Sean," whispers Pinsky.

They walk to the front door. Sean breathes in and out, taps the glass surface.

"Come in!" yells Dale.

Sean and Pinsky enter. The room is the same, with the two desks, the multiple filing cabinets, and Dale's nameplate as gold as ever. The only difference is that there are boxes of paper stacked in a corner. He must've removed the papers from the filing cabinets. When they enter, Sean spies Dale playing with his lighter, quickly hiding it when he sees them.

"Cameron, and a guest," says Dale coolly.

As they walk to his desk, Sean feels the vest with the microphone against his muscles, a silent reminder of its existence. He's more aware of it now, aware of what Dee said and how to go about it. He has to sound natural, and hate him as much as when he left.

"It's no picnic for me, either," groans Sean.

"What could you possibly want with me?" says Dale, leaning back in his chair.

"My friend needs a carburetor, sighs Sean. "I want him to have a good one, so...I figure I'd come back, work on it myself."

Dale rubs his chin and sits up straight.

"Why not go to my dad's?" poses Dale.

"Your dad hates me," says Sean. "Look, I need the money for my legal fees."

"Oh!" says Dale, happily. "They finally nailed you, huh? Sean Cameron in a court of law. Now, do trailer parks even have courts?"

Sean bits his tongue to stop a trail of retorts that want to come flying out. He has to be above it.

"This your lawyer?" asks Dale.

"Name's Howie," says Pinsky, stepping in. "I'm looking to buy."

His real name is Samuel, though everyone at the station called him Pinsky. He and Pinsky corroborated a story, namely that they knew each other through Tracker, and that Sean was doing him a one time favor. Dale stops insulting him and a cheerful smile replaces his disdain.

"Welcome to Ace's, Howie," says Dale, extending his hand. "I trust Sean told you about our end of business sale?"

"That's why I'm here," says Pinsky, firmly shaking Dale's hand.

"Our carburetors are top of the line," praises Dale. "What's your car?"

"Mercedes," says Samuel. "Hear you do luxury vehicles."

"That we do," says Dale. "How do you two know each other?"

Sean and Pinsky glance at each other.

"His brother, Tracker," answers Pinsky speedily. "Fixed up my windshield."

"Great, great," says Dale, nodding.

"Is Ty around?" asks Sean.

This wasn't part of the script, but his eyes shift to the door of Ty's former "home" and he can't help asking. Pinsky gives him a sharp look.

"Emmitt said he's next door," waves off Dale. "Now, about our carburetors..."

"Do you have a restroom?" asks Pinsky.

"Sure do," says Dale. "Our own little water closet."

Dale points to the door of a tiny room, no bigger than a closet, and Pinsky enters. Now's the time to get started, Sean positioning himself next to the desk.

"How's business going?" questions Sean.

"Not well, since you ditched me," groans Dale.

"You need my help?" says Sean.

"I can do without your for the last week, Cameron," replies Dale, crossing his arms. "Besides, the shipments at the docks stopped two weeks ago. We should have a carburetor for your friend, though."

Nice, thinks Sean. Okay, lead him to the next thing.

"So you went down to Greenville alone the last time?" says Sean.

"Thanks for telling Ty that," says Dale, narrowing his eyes at Sean. "That I got beat up. Shows that you're the real man, right?"

"He was worried," defends Sean.

"Well, he's not the only one," whispers Dale to himself.

He hopes the mike caught that since it was so quiet.

"Carter and Leon are running around like their heads were cut off," sighs Dale. "I meant it when I said they'd ice you, Cameron. These guys have no remorse."

"Where are they?" says Sean.

Ugh, no, no. That wasn't a leading question. Sean walks slowly to the other side of the desk. Dale hunches forward, staring at Sean. Dale's gaze dips from Sean's eyes to his neck to his waist.

"I don't know," says Dale without a hint of any feeling.

Sean ruffles his hair, his eyes dropping to the floor. What else should he ask? Should he ask anything? Dale stands and Sean's sure that he shouldn't.

"You went and did something stupid, didn't you, Cameron?" whispers Dale.

"You're paranoid," says Sean, shaking his head.

"Funny," says Dale. "The last time I was paranoid somebody got hurt. Or don't you remember?"

"Relax, man," says Sean.

"Who sent you?" yells Dale. "Who's in the bathroom?"

Panic button. The thought races to his brain. But how much does Dale know? Can he worm his way out of this? He hasn't gotten nearly enough information.

"He's a friend," replies Sean.

"The only friend you've come here with is Jay," challenges Dale.

"Who you thought sold you out, but didn't!" cries Sean.

Dale doesn't say a word for a minute, casually going to a filing cabinet. Sean closes his eyes while his back is turned. What a relief. That is, until he hears Dale remove something from the cabinet. He quickly undoes the cap, muttering to himself. It's said so low that Sean nor the microphone can detect it. Dale faces him. A container of gasoline is in his hands.

"Wh...what...what are you doing?" stammers Sean.

Dale thrusts the drawer open, collecting his lighter, and a gun. His gun. He hadn't thrown it away. Sean's heart beats faster and faster, under the two carefully placed vests.

"Don't move!" commands Dale. "I want to remember you, just like this."

The door to the bathroom opens a slit, Dale kicking it closed.

"I have a gun, man!" shouts Dale.

"Don't do anything drastic, son," cautions Pinsky from the other side.

"You guys are the ones doing something drastic!" exclaims Dale. "Sean can tell you! I'm not afraid to shoot!"

"Let me out and we'll talk about this, rationally," says Pinsky, loudly, but calmly.

Dale drags a chair to the bathroom door and fixes it so it's right on the knob. Pinsky tries to wrest it open. He's trapped. Sean stares at the door pathetically. He's on his own.

"You probably never learned this in school, Sean, because you're so stupid, but sometimes you have to fight fire with fire," says Dale.

He begins pouring the gasoline on the floor, alternately kicking the boxes so paper will spill out. Sean has no choice but to freeze and take it in. If he moves, Dale can easily throw away the container and pull the trigger. His eyes don't leave Sean throughout this madness. Madness is what it is. Or, thinks Sean, this is a man running scared. He's lost it.

"Torching this building is the solution?" shouts Sean.

"No evidence," says Dale. "None. Zilch. I'll let this place burn to the ground before I let you get the best of me."

"You're warped!" yells Sean. "We'll both die!"

"No, you'll die if you move!" shouts Dale.

Holding the gun in one hand, Dale clumsily turns on the lighter in the other.

I can't let him do this, thinks Sean repeatedly. Officer Pinsky would lose his life. Dale wouldn't stand trial. This whole night would've been for nothing. Too many people are counting on him. He wouldn't be a hero, not a hero who's alive anyway. He'd be dead.

"I'll take my chances," says Sean, starting towards him.

Dale throws down the lighter before Sean gets him to the ground. A raging flame shoots upward, other flames simultaneously sprouting from the linoleum floor. Sean coughs as the smoke fills the room. The wood of the desk is engulfed in a sea of yellow light seconds later, and the filing cabinets, formerly a smooth grey, are embraced by a fog of smoke. The lit papers, drenched in gasoline, are doing the most damage, sending the flames in various directions. Sean bends and coughs, rolling away from Dale. He can hardly see Dale.

Pinsky. The fire is nearing the bathroom door, Sean crawling there. He lifts the chair and Pinsky exits, coughing.

"Panic button!" yells Pinsky.

Sean feels for it, his fingers meeting skin, and then a tiny circle under the second vest. He presses it repeatedly, his eyes growing teary in the smoke.

"We gotta get out of here!" exclaims Pinsky.

He glances around while coughing some more.

"Where's Hill?" shouts Pinsky.

Sean peers through the smoke. Half of a desk comes crumbling down, and Sean can make out Dale's ponytail as the desk descends. Dale lets out a harsh cry.

"Go...get...the others!" says Sean through heavy breaths.

"I'm not leaving you!" exclaims Pinsky.

"I'll be fine!" says Sean. "If you go to him, he might shoot you! He'd aim for your legs most likely!"

"What about you?" says Pinsky.

"Don't think he will!" replies Sean. "Go!"

Pinsky does his best to duck under the smoke, getting to the front door in a couple of minutes. The front section of the building is pretty untouched, a bunch of smoke the only obstacle in the path to the front door. But you could see the jumping flames in the glass, the gold letters of Ace's Auto Shop shining brightly from the light of the fire.

Sean lowers himself and rushes to the side, where the blaze isn't as towering. Dale's on his side, trying his best to push the fire-filled wood from his body. His gun has dropped from his grip. Sean moves the wood, sweat racing down his shoulderblades.

"Leave me!" yells Dale.

"No!" says Sean.

"Why not?" says Dale. "You got what you wanted."

"I want you to pay, that's what I want!" shouts Sean, smoke filling his nose.

"I'm going to die, if you leave me!" shouts Dale.

"I'm not going to let you!" says Sean. "Ty would never forgive me."

Sean gets Dale's arm around his shoulder, rising, Dale howling in pain. They head to the bathroom, way too slow since Dale is limping. The fire roars to a steady rhythm and creates a wall they can't pass. They'd have to go against the wall itself, with the locked door to the upstairs, and hope for the best. Sean and Dale flatten themselves against the door. Sean swallows a bit of sweat, his mouth open to try and get in any oxygen he can. He hears some hoarse coughing along the wall. Dale has his mouth closed. Is it him? He can't stop to think. The fire's spreading fast. Pretty soon, everything would be swallowed by the blaze.

"We move on three!" yells Sean. "Got it!"

Dale nods, wincing as he moves his leg.

"One...two...three!" counts Sean.

Sean advances to the front door, the smoke burning his eyelids, Dale leaning on him. The door becomes clearer as they near it. They're going to make it. Sean exhales, using his other arm to throw the glass door open. They leave the office, a blast of heat leaving with them.

Several vehicles have joined the van, a couple cop cruisers, another van holding Officer Rali and two other officers, and an ambulance. Dale tumbles to the ground, two nurses running towards him. Sean coughs, crouching in the dust.

"Sean?" yells a familiar voice he didn't think he'd be hearing tonight.

He can't even say her name, Ellie leading him to the side of an ambulance. A nurse wraps a blanket around Sean.

"Fire department's coming!" shouts a voice he thinks is Pinsky.

Sean can detect a siren in the distance, bleating in his ears.

"El...Ellie," breathes Sean, touching his chest.

"I...I couldn't stay away," says Ellie. "I found the address."

"Practically had to force this little lady into the van," says Jerry, with a cross look at Ellie.

"Sorry," says Ellie faintly.

"At least we got something we can use," points out Dee, nodding at Sean.

He'd be content with that, if he was thinking clearly. In the building, his mind was racing so much that he thought he'd heard someone coughing.

"Thank God for the panic button," sighs Pinsky, wiping his badge, full of soot.

A figure approaches them, whose face appears just as panicked. No, two figures, Sean identifies in the purple haze next to the shack. Delonte and Emmitt are running towards them.

"Did you...did you get him out?" exclaims Emmitt.

"Dale?" says Ellie.

"No, Ty!" cries Delonte. "I told Emmitt a couple minutes ago that he went in there!"

"He was sleeping upstairs!" yells Emmitt.

"What?" cries Sean.

He flies, the blanket falling from his blackened clothes and hunched body. Ellie's on him, though, grabbing his waist.

"Sean, you can't!" exclaims Ellie.

It takes two other men to bring him down. Their arms pin him to the ground. Meanwhile, Ty's in there. He'd been the person coughing, that Sean had heard along the wall. Why didn't he check? He's in there! Sean pounds his hands against the dust, trying his best to stand.

"You can't go in there!" shouts Jerry.

"Pinsky, get on it!" yells Officer Rali.

Pinsky dashes to the front door, fire springing up like a geyser. He inches back, shock filling his green eyes. He's not going to get there in time. Nobody's going to get there.

"No!" shouts Sean.

Sean stares up to the top of the building, as if there were a window there, as if Ty could see him. The fire truck reaches the spot, and the firefighters immediately turn on thier hoses, battling the flames.

"A kid...a kid is in there!" stammers Pinsky. "Top floor."

"The second door on the left," adds Emmitt in a rush. "You might have to hack it."

"Cano, Menendez, in!" orders the fire chief.

Cano takes an axe, smashing the glass door. He and Menendez put down their helmets and go inside. Please let them find him, begs Sean inwardly. Please. He breathes against the dust, labored, weak. It's the last thing he can do before his eyes shut. That and stare a final time as the flames leap towards the twilit sky, resembling a purple-tinged heaven.

VI.

Sean allows his legs to dangle from the back of the ambulance. He let the nurse go through the motions-- checking his eyes, his lungs, his limbs. But he refused to leave and so did Dale. They had to hear it, whatever it was going to be. Emmitt, Ellie, and Delonte sit on a blanket on the ground. Sean coughs into his own blanket.

The fire had been put out in about eight minutes. Sean couldn't speculate what the damage to the actual building was, nor did he care. He's waiting for what they're all waiting for. Ellie rubs Sean's knee as she's perched on the ground.

The doorway to Ace Auto's shop is filled, by two people, and a third person in Menendez's arms. Ty's eyes are closed, significant burns on his hands and cheeks, his black shoelaces undone. The cops crowd around them. A nurse moves through the crowd, putting a hand tenderly on Ty's neck.

"He wasn't breathing when we reached him," says Menendez, sniffling.

Shaking her head, the nurse turns to the others. Sean trembles under the cloth of the blanket, tears coming to his eyes quicker than when the blaze started. Dale clutches a pillow on his chest as he lays on a stretcher.

"He's gone," she says.

"God!" moans Dale, burying his face in the pillow.

Sean covers his face, not looking at anyone, anywhere. Ellie hugs him from the side, burying her nose in his shoulder.

"You have to keep your air passages open," instructs the second nurse softly. "Helps clear out the smoke."

Reluctantly, he takes away his hands and stares as Ty is laid on a stretcher. His white T-shirt is so black, and his jeans burnt and dusty. He's so small, just like his mother said yesterday.

"Sean?" says Ellie, rubbing his back.

He glances at Dale. Dale runs his hands through his hair repeatedly, tears spilling down his nose and lips. He attempts to smother himself again, really this time, so obviously that the nurse snatches the pillow from him.

"I want to go home," whispers Sean.

"I'll tell them to call your parents," says Ellie.

Ty's body is lifted briefly to place a black body bag underneath him. His limbs disappear among the folds. He can't believe they won't hold a book anymore or touch a car anymore. The silver zipper goes up, the nurse sighing as she does so.

"Wasn't badly burned, it looks like," says the nurse. "Too much smoke in his lungs probably."

"Kid was on the floor when we got there," says Menendez. "He looked so harmless."

"I hate zipping these when they're young," sighs the nurse. "I hate it when they're young."


	91. End of The Road

**XCI. End of the Road**

_Girl you know we belong together  
I have no time for you to be playing  
With my heart like this  
You'll be mine forever baby, you just see_

_We belong together  
And you know that I'm right  
Why do you play with my heart,  
Why do you play with my mind?_

_Said we'd be forever  
Said it'd never die  
How could you love me and leave me  
And never say good-bye?_

_Well I can't sleep at night without holding you tight  
Girl, each time I try I just break down and cry  
Pain in my head oh I'd rather be dead  
Spinnin' around and around_

_Although we've come to the End Of The Road  
Still I can't let you go  
It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you  
Come to the End of the Road  
Still I can't let you go  
It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you_

_Girl, I know you really love me,  
You just don't realize  
You've never been there before  
It's only your first time_

_Maybe I'll forgive you, hmm  
Maybe you'll try  
We should be happy together  
Forever, you and I_

_Could you love me again like you loved me before  
This time I want you to love me much more  
This time instead just come to my bed  
And baby just don't let me go_

_(spoken)  
Girl, I'm here for you  
All those times of night when you just hurt me  
And just ran out with that other fella  
Baby I knew about it, I just didn't care  
You just don't understand how much I love you do you?  
I'm here for YOU_

_I'm not out to go out and cheat on you all night  
Just like you did baby but that's all right  
Hey, I love you anyway  
And I'm still gonna be here for you 'till my dying day baby  
Right now, I'm just in so much pain baby  
Cuz you just won't come back to me  
Will you? Just come back to me_

_(Lonely)  
Yes baby my heart is lonely  
(Lonely)  
My heart hurts baby  
(Lonely)  
Yes I feel pain too  
Baby please_

_This time instead just come to my bed  
And baby just don't let me go_

**End of the Road is the property of Boyz II Men and is featured in the film _Boomerang._**

**AN: After this chapter, and the first four scenes of the next, there will be a time shift from late July to early August to accomodate the storylines. What went on during the week and a half is mentioned in the fic over the next two chapters. Thanks!**

"Most young folks don't come in here this early," remarks a cashier.

He opens a brown paper bag, puts in a shining brown bottle of bourbon and smiles. Ashley touches her lips briefly as she gazes at the lotto numbers behind his back. The man saw that she was from Canada after she handed him her I.D., and he had decided to try to engage her in a friendly conversation. The problem is she doesn't feel very friendly.

"Guess you guys are still recovering," kids the cashier, with a deep-throated laugh.

Ashley plunks down the money, then holds the paper bag to her chest. She frowns at the floor as the cashier counts out her change, wonders why he's not talking anymore. Ashley looks up to see him staring at her. The look in his eyes isn't cocky like Mark's when he leaned into kiss her, or even flirtatious. It's genuine concern.

"Are you alright?" asks the cashier, handing her the change.

Is she alright? He should've asked her that about twenty minutes ago, when she was not worried about the single most important meeting of her life. Her future with Arista is now up in the air. Was Mark going to act any differently after she rejected him? Nobody could win over Julian quite like him, and it was Mark who scored her the deal with Liam in the first place. She was the outsider of the group, an outsider yearning to be inside.

She couldn't be late for the meeting, but she could at least be relaxed. Well, after she found a way to be relaxed. She promised herself she'd only have a couple swigs of it. If the meeting didn't go so well, she'd polish it off. Why is Mark putting her in this position? He should've just respected the fact that she liked him as a person and that she already had a boyfriend. That would be the professional thing to do. Then again, most of her tourmates haven't been professional, have they? Mark was the latest example she could throw on the heap.

"Have a good day," says the cashier.

"You too," says Ashley, then going through the store door.

Ashley looks from left to right. She finds a side street, where there don't seem to be that many cars. Ashley removes the bottle. She runs a finger along the smooth label and the cool glass at the top. Opening it, she sighs and drinks, gulping twice and her mouth tensing as she swallows the first thing she put in her body that morning. She was glad not to have ate Mark's kippers. They would've tasted more bitter.

"Okay," says Ashley, putting the cap back on. "For now."

And Craig thought she couldn't control herself. Her parents and Craig? See, they didn't see this part of it, the part where she draws the line, she thinks. They were too busy pointing out her mistakes. Freaking out because there was an empty wine bottle under her bed? Chris and her father had a glass of wine every night with dinner. Having a few at a nightclub? Who didn't? Sure, she'd humor them by going over there after Arista, but she still wouldn't agree with them. No, instead, she'd sit there and maturely listen until it was her turn to speak. That's when she'd tell them that she wouldn't drink anymore to show them that they were worried for nothing. She wouldn't even need Craig on the bus with her, she'd argue. The promise of a deal and her cooperation would be her motivation to go cold turkey. If her parents were still pushing for her to quit, she'd simply have to come up with some other alternative in the moment.

"I can't leave the tour," she says out loud to herself.

She listens to it, takes it in, and believes the words. It's the truth because she has won't lie to herself, even if she's lied to others.

Ashley unzips her large purse and situates the bottle into it, creating a bulk that takes several seconds to get rid of. Finally, it doesn't look as heavy as it feels. She returns to the main street and signals for a cab. A couple minutes later, she's on her way. She pulls out her compact and straightens the purple and reddish-brown hairs of her bangs. She blinks at the large bags under her blue eyes. Frowning, she fetches concealer to hide what the lack of sleep has done to her face. Ten minutes later, the cab stops.

"Arista," announces the cabbie. "Are you an intern?"

"No," says Ashley, more agreeably. "I'm an artist."

"How about that, then!" cries the cabbie.

She pays him, smiles, and leaves the cab. The Arista building is the largest in the vicinity, gleaming black-tinted windows stretching far above her head. Arista is spelled out in white letters on a side sign. Small shrubs surround the sign and a steel statue of a treble clef is parked right in the middle of a walkway. Ashley breathes in and out as she passes the treble. She enters the building, immediately met by a smiling secretary at a polished grey desk.

"Hi, my name's Ashley Kerwin," says Ashley. "I have an appointment with..."

"Liam?" fills in the secretary. "Yes, your associates are already in the office. Please go to room 404."

"Thanks," says Ashley.

"Oh, and I loved your performance at the Hammersmith," says the secretary with a large grin.

"Thanks for that, too," says Ashley, shrugging.

Ashley walks to the elevator and presses four. The compliment had given way to more worrying in her mind. Julian, Mark, and Liam are already in the room? When did Mark show? Has he been poisoning her chances for the last fifteen minutes? As soon as she walked in, he'd probably have this huge smirk on his face. Ashley bites her lip and leaves the elevator.

There weren't any signs of other employees, Ashley guessing that they were on another floor. The only other person in the hall is a janitor, calmly vacuuming the royal blue carpet. The number of gold records on display is definitely more than one. Ashley beams at the titles, songs, and circular discs, promising herself that she'll actually read the words when she's not in such a rush. There's a parted door at the end of the hall, and three masculine laughs streaming from the room. Are they laughing at her? Ashley grabs the strap of her purse instinctively as her heart quickens. With the other hand, she knocks on the door.

"Ah, Ashley!" greets Liam. "You're right on time."

"Did I...did I miss anything?" asks Ashley.

"Only some small business talk, about another group," replies Liam. "You can sit next to Mark there."

Sure enough, Mark is smirking, leaning back in his chair as he spins his watch on the table.

"We do need to make a short phone call to the group," says Julian.

Liam nods. "We'll be back soon."

She doesn't know what's worse-- being alone with Mark, or the fact that she can't shake the feeling that Mark would throw her under the bus as soon as Liam and Julian returned. The two men leave, talking as Ashley remains silent. She avoids eye contact as she takes a seat next to Mark. Mark angles his wrist and spins his watch again, then again, then again. Ashley closes her eyes and rubs her brow.

"Would you stop?" says Ashley.

"Liam likes it when you remove your watch," says Mark. "I'd do it if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asks Ashley, staring at him.

Mark spins his watch once more. Sighing, Ashley quickly takes off her watch and puts it in front of her.

"So, is this going to be the last helpful advice you give to me before you ruin me?" says Ashley.

"Ruin you?" says Mark, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"I'd never kill somebody else's dream," says Ashley, shaking her head at him. "You're going to make me lose everything."

"You're the one who's lost it," insists Mark. "You're crazy."

"Yeah, right," waves off Ashley.

She sinks into her chair, but immediately rights herself when Julian and Liam reenter the room. They take their seats with Liam clearing his throat. Here it comes, moans Ashley inwardly. The deal has been done away with and they want nothing to do with her.

"So I really want this album out as soon as possible," says Liam, staring at Ashley.

Ashley's mouth falls open, an airy feeling settling near her chest. Mark hasn't sold her out. She so has to apologize after the meeting.

"I know, I know," says Liam, taking in her expression. "It's fast. But we have to build on the sensational buzz from the tour. This business is fickle and buyers might be clamoring for something else come Christmas. But you guys' talent can't be denied. You're both brilliant."

Mark grins at Ashley, who returns it, though hers is more from disbelief than pride.

"Liam can take you places," speaks up Julian. "Grammys? Madison Square Garden? You name it."

"Noticed the gold records," mentions Ashley.

Liam laughs. "I hang those personally. This is the big time, love."

It certainly sounds like the big time. Ashley wraps Craig's leather jacket around her, to try to stop trembling from excitement. The next gold record might have her name under it. She could win a Grammy, possibly before her twenty-first birthday. After every horrendous moment, after the bucketloads of stress, she's made it. She's made it.

"How many tracks would we be doing?" says Mark.

Wait a minute. We? Ashley takes her hands from her body and firmly rests them on the table.

"Standard," replies Liam. "Thirteen, fourteen."

"No less than ten, that's for sure," adds Julian.

"Well, I have more than ten songs," says Ashley. "Some haven't been performed yet but..."

"Mark and I have selected the songs," interjects Julian. "Liam, who's drawing up the contracts?"

"Morty," replies Liam. "He's the best."

"I always liked...," begins Julian.

"Wait, what songs?" interrupts Ashley.

"What you've been performing this summer, obviously," answers Liam.

"The covers?" cries Ashley.

"That's what our fans want, Ashley," says Mark, throwing subtle glances at Liam and Julian who nod their agreement.

"What about what I want?" exclaims Ashley. "I haven't agreed to any of this."

That should be the point. Unfortunately, the three men who are on either side of her don't seem to get it. Liam is looking at her as if her skin is orange; Julian offers her a confused stare; Mark is rolling his eyes. Who thought she'd be up for an album that's exclusively covers of rock anthems? Her version of Summertime is even a cover of a cover. How far away from your own work could you get?

"I made it clear to Mark that this is what I was signing you guys for," says Liam.

"Well, Mark didn't make that clear to me," says Ashley, crossing her arms.

Mark coughs, leaning forward in his chair. He rests his chin on his hands. Liam gives Ashley a stony gaze.

"Truth to be told, I was on the fence with you, Ms. Kerwin," remarks Liam.

"Mark has bent over backwards to make sure you're included in this venture, Ashley," says Julian, reproachfully. "He said he wouldn't do this album without you. You guys are most successful when you're a team."

"Mark, why didn't you say anything?" groans Ashley.

"Because I knew you'd react like this," replies Mark, turning to her.

"So this is what you meant last night?" asks Ashley. "That we're a package deal? Craig was so right about you."

"Craig?" sighs Julian. "Don't get me started on _that_ one."

"At least he doesn't lie to me about my music!" throws back Ashley.

"There's no need to get hostile, Ms. Kerwin," says Liam.

"Yes, there is!" says Ashley. "I'm not playing my music! Still!"

"Ashley, you're being irrational," says Julian.

"Right, I'm acting like a typical woman," returns Ashley, her cheeks flushed. "I don't have an opinion, I can't play unless it gets orchestrated by one of you, I'm Mark's pretty little partner. My music is deemed elevator music and I won't be signed unless I'm your rock princess, huh? Is that it?"

Julian, Mark, and Liam all have their brows raised, skeptical expressions on their faces.

"Is that it?" shouts Ashley.

There's no answer so that's their answer right there. Ashley's eyes water as she stands, as she shoves the chair into the table. Mark raises his chin to put a hand on Ashley's arm.

"Don't blow this opportunity," says Mark.

"I'm through taking your advice," whispers Ashley, knocking his hand away from her.

"You're going to have to take someone's, if you want to make it in this business," says Liam with a pained smile.

"This business?" says Ashley. "I've been booed, groped, and screwed over. Something new every day. When you go through that, you can tell me how this business works."

Liam puts his hands up, frowns at Julian.

"Jule, that's...that's it," says Liam. "She's obviously not a cooperative person..."

"Liam, believe me," insists Julian. "I understand you're upset, but she is, too. Ashley isn't usually like this. I don't know where this is coming from..."

"Her boyfriend," speaks up Mark. "An irresponsible git who stole the tour bus. Must've transferred his poor thinking to her..."

"Now, I see," says Julian, playing with his suit jacket.

He sees? Sees what? He didn't see at all.

"I stole the bus," says Ashley, shrugging. "I took the keys. I drove to Aja's. I picked up Craig."

"Ashley!" cries Julian, though it's barely above a whisper.

So what? The truth hurts. She knows that firsthand. They'd been lying to her and look what that cost her. They didn't believe in her music, and more importantly, they didn't believe she should be given the chance to prove them wrong. Ashley lets her tears roll. She is done dealing with her fears; she's too surrounded by her failures.

"You were drinking!" says Julian. "You could've hurt yourself."

"Nothing hurts more than this," chokes out Ashley.

"I'm not signing someone with a drinking...," begins Liam.

"Girl's crying, man!" silences Mark. "Don't kick her when she's down."

Liam moans loudly, though apparently, unlike with her, he's willing to listen to Mark. Julian pats Ashley's shoulder.

"I'll call your dad," says Julian softly. "We'll get you into some counselling..."

"No!" exclaims Ashley.

"This is serious, Ashley," maintains Julian.

"I'm not going to some stupid facility, or seeing some stupid counsellor!" shouts Ashley.

"You will," says Julian, flatly. "You will go or I will not let you continue on this tour."

"That's not fair!" cries Mark, jumping up. "This tour needs her!"

Counselling? A guy who's known her less than a year wants her to get counselling? For a few rough nights? That's insane. And it's not like this tour is doing her a world of good. The deal isn't happening, what would've been the last saving grace of this whole messed up summer.

"But I don't need this tour," says Ashley, glaring at Julian.

"We're not through here!" insists Julian.

"I am," counters Ashley, grabbing her watch.

She slides the zipper of her purse down as fast as she can, removing the bottle and setting it right in front of Mark. Mark blinks at her with bewilderment. Julian and Liam stare at the bottle as if it's going to disappear at any second. She'd disappear before the bottle did.

"Good luck, Mark," says Ashley, sarcastically. "Was going to drink it myself, but you've got an album deal to celebrate. Drink up, gents."

The only thing that follows her out is silence. It follows her to the elevator, through the lobby, outside the building. Then, the first sound finds her when she reaches the treble clef. The sound leaves her mouth as she bends and grips the metal edge of the statue for support. It's hers. It's her cry.

II.

"I could give her a mild sedative, to help her sleep at night."

Emma presses her ear to the door, the mahogany touching the sensitive skin of her lobe. She'd left the waiting room a few moments ago to do exactly this. Jack was with Grandma Mason in Pediactrics, and both her parents were in the office with Dr. DePauw. The voice that is coming through is Dr. DePauw's and it is as calm and steady as ever. She would swear that this woman never got upset. Well, she's upset that she's out here and they're in there.

From the taxi ride to here, she's been anticipating how Snake would take it once Dr. DePauw had given him her diagnosis. This would be something that's pretty alien to him. When he was living with them, Emma would regularly share her report cards, first-rate essays, and latest environmental passions with Snake, to show him how she was doing and what she was doing. She'd seek him out first, often more times than her mother. Maybe it was because Snake's appreciation for her felt new, more fresh. That's how it felt when she looked at the first place trophy she got at the Science Fair, the trophy Snake set in the china cabinet. But overall, he always told her how proud he was and she'd feel this strange warmth fill her chest. He can't be feeling too proud about her latest actions. She was being evaluated, in a fashion that wouldn't bring forth any prizes or compliments.

"What about eating?" asks Snake. "It's been _days._"

"You may want to leave her alone with the food," suggests Dr. DePauw. "Being watched might be impairing her motivation."

She doesn't want to eat. Okay, yes, she's been hungry once in awhile, but she just didn't want to do it.

"I think it's best Emma join us now," says Dr. DePauw.

Emma leaves the door, quickly sits in a chair next to the front desk, pretends to stare at the scale opposite her. Dr. DePauw, wearing a dark pink dress suit, exits and walks to her.

"Come on in, Emma," says Dr. DePauw.

Does she have a choice? No, she realizes. Emma stands, enters the office as Dr. DePauw closes the door. There's a seat in between her parents. Why is she not surprised they're one, making her the focal point, and two, more than happy not to sit next to each other? Could it be more obvious? Emma sits anyway. The sooner they can get this over with, the better.

"How are you today, Emma?" asks Dr. DePauw.

"Fine," replies Emma.

"What's been going on?" says Dr. DePauw.

"You saw me _yesterday_," answers Emma. "Not much."

"Emma, be nice," scolds her mother softly.

"Maybe we'll let Emma listen awhile, hmmm?" says Dr. DePauw. "There is something I agreed on with Emma yesterday."

What could that be? They didn't exactly meet in the middle at any point during the first session.

"She's not a danger to herself, or to others," continues Dr. DePauw. "That's why I'm going to recommend a good outpatient program for her."

"As opposed to?" says Snake.

"Staying at our hospital," says Dr. DePauw.

"Oh," says Snake.

"I believe the moment at the docks was an isolated incident," says Dr. DePauw. "Is that correct, Emma?"

Emma pulls at her sand dollar shirt. "Yeah."

"Nevertheless, I think it's very important that the two of you are here," asserts Dr. DePauw, looking from Snake to Spike.

"I'm glad I'm here," says Snake.

"I'm finding certain things problematic, since Emma's refusing to open up," says Dr. DePauw. "Now, the hypnosis was very effective. However, it doesn't inform me about the physical complications Emma may be experiencing. It helps me know her habits but not all of her symptoms. It seems as if Emma is incapable of..."

"Incapable?" interrupts Emma.

She isn't incapable, she'd love to yell. She just thinks it's a waste of time. If she really wants to eat, she'll find something to eat. If she's in pain, she'll deal with it on her own. The pain comes and goes. It's not that terrible. She's not that weak.

"You refused to fill it out," reminds Dr. DePauw.

"Will you get off my back about it, if I do it?" says Emma.

"Emma!" chastises Snake.

Dr. DePauw doesn't even frown. She simply slides the clipboard across her desk.

"As honest as possible," says Dr. DePauw, also handing her a pen.

Emma groans and uncaps the pen. She checks yes or no for each of the boxes. Yes to loss of appetite, irritability, insomnia, fatigue, agitation, mysterious aches and pains...this is kind of a lot. Emma stalls at suicidal thoughts and thoughts of death...she can check no for at least two of them. Emma rubs her nose with the back of the pen, sniffles. She turns the page over and starts the next part. While her eyes are reading, she can see someone watching her every mark intently. She raises her head and rolls her eyes at Snake.

"Just keep going, Emma," encourages Dr. DePauw.

Shortness of breath, chest tightness, cold chills, stiff muscles, all a yes. Emma releases a sigh of relief and puts it on Dr. DePauw's desk.

"Thank you," says Dr. DePauw. "This makes it far easier for me to determine the type of medication I should prescribe."

"Dr. DePauw, I have a few questions about the hypnosis," speaks up Snake.

"Well, it's like I told your wife......," starts Dr. DePauw.

"Actually, we're...we're separated," interjects Spike.

"We're still married," says Snake as he looks at Spike. "I'm still her father."

"Did I say you weren't?" says Spike.

"There was clearly this tone behind it," replies Snake.

They're doing this, groans Emma inwardly. They're doing this in the doctor's office? Why can't they shut up? Everybody in the room knows they're separated now. Let's not get into it.

"There wasn't any tone!" insists Spike. "Why don't you just ask the questions that you need to ask?"

"Did you ask if the medication would be covered by our insurance?" asks Snake.

"She hasn't prescribed it yet!" cries Spike.

"You can't wait to ask things like that, Spike," says Snake. "Especially if she's taking the medication regularly. Has she had a thorough physical examination?"

"I'm doing that today, Mr. Simpson," says Dr. DePauw.

"Emma was having a rough time yesterday, so I asked her to do it today," explains Spike.

"A rough time?" says Snake.

"She...she left the hospital," admits Spike.

"You let her?" cries Snake.

"Of course I didn't!" exclaims Spike. "She was fine. Where were you? Grading papers?"

"On my way here!" says Snake.

Back and forth, back and forth. Emma lifts her head, stares up at the ceiling. It's the same here as it is there. They fight like they don't expect her to hear it. How can they expect her not to hear it? They never see eye to eye. How impossible is it for two grown adults to have a conversation where they're not accusing the other of something else, where they're not blaming each other for something a third person does?

"Let me take the stupid physical examination!" yells Emma over their words.

Her parents quickly silence themselves, staring at her with awe.

Dr. DePauw goes to the door and opens it for her.

"This way, Emma," instructs Dr. DePauw.

"Should I go with her?" asks Spike.

"No, stay," says Emma, speedily answering for Dr. DePauw. "I'd hate to interrupt your feud."

Spike lowers her gaze while Snake crosses his legs, staring out of the window.

III.

Today is a nice day for a walk. Craig had no hesitations about choosing to forgo a taxi. Frankly, he was running low on cash and was too busy thinking of where he'd sleep since the tour bus was out of the question. Nolan, surprisingly, had been a decent guy and let him stick around longer. But he couldn't just bum around there for the next ten days. So after he left Ashley's dad's apartment, he'd go collect his bags and head for the nearest ATM. This whole trip gets more and more difficult with each passing second.

Two men were kind enough to steer him in the right direction when Craig asked, and he has no trouble recognizing the awning of the apartment building the closer he gets to it. The same cat that he saw a couple days ago is near a flower pot, licking a paw. He glances up at Craig and follows him as he moves to the front door. The cat goes in before him. Some manners.

Craig wastes no time in going upstairs. He really would prefer to be there before Ashley. Though Ashley seemed more open to discussing this with her parents than she did last time, he really wanted to be there for her from start to finish. She'd know he was on her side. Whatever else was coming, he'd be on her side too. He would hate for Ashley to ignore him like Nolan did with his father. Ashley had to know he wasn't going anywhere until she was healthy.

"Hello," says Craig after knocking and seeing Robert.

"Hey, Craig," says Robert, gesturing for him to sit on the couch.

Chris is already there, flipping through an old nature magazine. Craig gets the sense that Chris simply grabbed the first magazine he'd seen. Robert massages his brow.

"Her meeting should be over by now," says Robert.

"It takes awhile to get to Hyde Park from there," comments Chris.

"True, true," sighs Robert. "So Craig, what'd you do this morning?"

"Recorded some songs actually," replies Craig.

"For an album?" says Chris, grinning.

"Nah, for fun," says Craig. "This guy Nolan said he'd fiddle around with it, make it sound more professional."

"Must've liked what he heard then," remarks Robert.

Robert is right on target. Nolan, Maggie, Tricks, and the rest of the band were very enthusiastic when he played his own song, the song that didn't have a single lyric for it. They said they dug the beat, though, and encouraged him to keep composing. It was just the sort of boost he needed to keep trying. Chances are he wouldn't get very far with it, but there's no harm in trying.

They were all here to try, honestly. They were trying to make Ashley see reason. Craig didn't forget the most valuable thing Nolan told him, more valuable than any musical advice he could've supplied. "Get on it early. Even if she hates you for it." Ashley may hate him, hate her parents for this, but she'd be alive while she hates them at least.

"Have you had anything to eat, Craig?" asks Robert.

"No, that'd be nice, thanks," answers Craig.

Chris does his best to entertain Craig over the next twenty minutes. They talk about the landmarks Craig's viewed, what Chris misses about Toronto, and how expensive apartments in London are, until more than thirty minutes flies by. Craig didn't notice until Robert reentered the room with a plate of baked chicken.

"I fixed up a plate for Ash, too," says Robert.

"This looks good," says Craig, accepting the plate.

"She should've been here by now," sighs Robert.

"You do know Julian's number?" asks Chris.

"I do," says Robert. "Hold on."

Robert retrieves his address book, flips through a few pages. Craig bites into the chicken leg, chewing soundly and watching Robert the entire time. Robert takes the phone from the hook and cradles the phone against his neck as he dials.

"Hello? Julian?" greets Robert. "Yes. I....is Ashley there?"

The long pause afterwards leads to Craig swallowing the chicken in his tight throat.

"She stormed out?" exclaims Robert.

"Oh boy," murmurs Chris, standing.

"Why would you let her leave?" cries Robert. "Why did you wait to call?"

Craig buries his face in his hands. Ashley left. He should've gone to the meeting. Or _he _could've called.

"Did she say where she was going?" asks Robert. "No? This is...you know what? I'm wasting my time talking to you. I have to find my daughter!"

Robert slams the phone against its cradle, walks swiftly to the living room. Craig and Chris wait for his next move.

"Ashley's off the tour," informs Robert.

Off the tour? Ashley couldn't be off the tour. She had gone through way too much to throw that away. Something else must have influenced the decision. Craig shakes his head.

"How?" says Chris.

"She quit," replies Robert. "Julian said she was acting erratic and drove drunk last night. I can't...can't believe she...would..."

"Well, she has to go to the tour bus to get her things, right?" says Chris.

"You're...you're right," stammers Robert. "We'll..we'll call her. She's probably too upset to call us."

"Craig, I really hate to ask this, but...she does seem to trust you the most," says Chris.

Robert swiftly nods, though it appears as if it hurts to agree with that.

"I'll call," says Craig.

"Thank you," says Robert, turning away from him. "I'll go get my car keys."

Craig finds his phone, ducks outside the apartment. He takes a couple deep breaths and hits Ashley's number. The phone rings once, twice, three times. Once it hits five, her voice mail would pop up. He really hopes her voicemail won't be filling his ears.

"Hey, this is Ashley," says her voicemail. "Leave your name and number after the beep, and I will get right back to you. Promise."

He clicks off and dials again, his large fingertip repeatedly hitting the same button after the second attempt.

"Come on, Ash," says Craig, pacing the floor. "Pick up...pick up...pick up."

"Hey, this is Ashley," says her voicemail, clear and loud as ever.

"Ugh!" cries Craig, tossing his phone on the floor.

The soft case protects the phone, but it clatters onto the second step with a lot of noise. Where is she? Wherever she is, what is she doing? Wherever she is, she doesn't want to talk to him. He sinks to the step, scoops up his phone. His shoulders start to shake as he goes through the last three unanswered calls. He sucks his lips to keep in any audible cries. His efforts prove useless, regarding her and regarding him, because he can't keep in a loud sob. The sob doesn't catch the attention of her father who's inside, though it manages to catch the ears of what's coming upstairs. The cat meows and sits by Craig. He lets it crawl into his lap and stare at the wall. Trembling, Craig lets the phone fall, stroking the softness of the cat's shoulders. The cat goes on staring, waiting for nothing else.

IV.

Her gown must be extra crunchy. Emma crosses her ankles, the air at room temperature, comfortable air hitting the backless part of her hospital gown. In this small room, she has no complaints. It's not too cold or hot; she wasn't offended when Dr. DePauw asked if she was pregnant or sexually active, because they'd asked that when she was tested at the clinic over a year ago; her parents weren't there. That sounds about right. It's because her parents aren't in the room.

"Sorry we're in the childrens' wing," says Dr. DePauw. "The other rooms are full."

Emma glances at the toys in the box near a magazine rack. There are cartoon plush toys, puzzles, two teddy bears, an Electronic Simon Says, and neon toy cars that move along loops set in a block of wood.

"I'm used to toys," says Emma. "Jack has that same car on the loop thing."

"Nice to finally meet your stepfather," says Dr. DePauw. "Or would you rather I call him your father?"

"You can choose," say Emma, shrugging.

She wouldn't choose between her parents either. She's sick of that. Well, she's made herself sick over that...right? After all, it was a phone call concerning him that drove her under the docks. She couldn't sleep in their home. She wouldn't eat the food that he made. And they had the nerve to fight over her? Never mind her. They make it about_ them_.

"That was quite a scene," says Dr. DePauw, putting a stethoscope on Emma's chest.

" Well, I'm used to that, too," says Emma.

"When did your parents separate?" asks Dr. DePauw.

"Doesn't matter," replies Emma.

"I think it does, Emma," says Dr. DePauw, gazing at her intently. "Breathe in and out for me."

Emma does as told. Dr. DePauw gives her a satisfied "mmm hmm" and writes something on her pad. She's guessing things are normal. Emma only wishes she were "normal" enough to avoid these sessions altogether.

"You know, when you were under hypnosis, you mentioned your stepfather," says Dr. DePauw, scribbling away. "Quite a few times."

That sounds kind of familiar, though she has no idea what she said. But like she said, it doesn't matter. She's been handling this on her own for awhile now.

"So?" says Emma. "He's been stressing our family out lately."

"Actually, I found parts of the relationship you described rather sweet," counters Dr. DePauw. "Not everything you remembered was bad, Emma."

"There's a type of bad that can make you forget the good," says Emma, uncrossing her ankles.

"Really?" says Dr. DePauw, arching her eyebrows.

How could Dr. DePauw understand her, or those nights when she wondered where he went? Without living in the same household? Or being in the same position, when she didn't have to reassure her little brother that their lives weren't changing? Then, when the darkness came, it came hard. Emma didn't even understand herself in those moments. She didn't like it. She didn't like not being aware of why she was doing these things, living this way.

"Please don't ask me to tell you," whispers Emma, her mouth trembling.

"You have to tell someone, Emma," says Dr. DePauw, touching her shoulder.

"I...I can't..."

She's relieved that her babbling has been interrupted by the parting of the door, and not relieved in the slightest when she sees who's behind it.

"Archie, get out of there!" cries Spike, joining Snake in the doorway.

"I thought this was where Jack was," says Snake, apologetically. "I'm sorry. Stop jumping down my throat, Christine!"

Heh, they were even using their formal names. The fight obviously escalated once she left. You'd think they'd listen to her, but no. No! Emma hops down from the examination table and shoots them a cold look.

"Don't yell at her!" says Emma.

"Em, I....," begins Snake.

"You just showed up at the last minute, so don't you dare yell at her!" exclaims Emma.

"See, Archie, you're upsetting her," says Spike, pointing to her daughter.

"It's not only him!" cries Emma, tears wetting her cheeks. "Why do you act like you're not married anymore? You won't let him live with us! You won't talk to him for more than five minutes half the time! You always fight with him! What about me and Jack?"

"We love you and Jack," says Spike strongly.

"Jack needs a father!" exclaims Emma. "Cause...cause growing up without one sucks. I should know."

Spike presses her hands against her cheeks and moans. Emma advances to her. That was a pretty low comment and she hates that it left her mouth. She hates it as much as the comments she hurled at Spinner and Manny. Spike had no say really on what had happened to Shane, and it's not like they didn't talk after she visited him. And Spike definitely didn't ask Snake to kiss Hotzilakos.

"Mom, I didn't mean...," says Emma, her voice fading.

"It's...it's okay," whispers Spike through tears.

"No, Mom," assures Emma. "I'm...I'm just afraid. You..."

"Spike, Emma knows you're not the villain, okay?" says Snake, looking to Emma for confirmation.

Like he has any clue about her these days, mulls Emma.

"No, that's you," says Emma coldly.

"Emma!" says Snake, giving her a confused look.

"You go out and buy motorcycles and apartments, and get university jobs so you can distract yourself from any emotions that are too tough to deal with, so you can be away from us," continues Emma. "Meanwhile, I'm doing the chores, helping with Jack, and lying in my bed guessing who you're with."

Snake's features drop, as if Emma were chipping away at his insides with an ice pick. She didn't particularly mean to hurt him either, but she's been hurting for far too long.

"I...," says Emma, glancing at Dr. DePauw.

"Doctor?" says Spike.

"She has to get a lot of this out," says Dr. DePauw, nodding at Emma.

"Emma, I've been reaching out to you," insists Snake. "I have. I realize you're angry and sad..."

"Don't!" shouts Emma. "You don't know what's going on inside of my head!"

Snake flinches, meets her eyes.

"You don't know how I feel," sobs Emma. "I...I don't know how I feel. About you. "

"Do you want me here, Em?" asks Snake, taking a step towards her.

With the slamming of doors, the tests of her patience, the doubts, the awkward greetings and partings, there's a single word she can mutter. Maybe Dr. DePauw suspected this all along and that's why she let it go on, because it's a lot easier to say now than it would've been yesterday. She's not so angry anymore. She's not so alone anymore.

"Yes," says Emma.

"Emma," says Snake.

He hugs her tight, swaying her thin body from side to side. Spike smooths her blonde hair, laying her head against the top of Emma's back.

"Dad," moans Emma as she starts to cry again.

"I love you," says Snake, kissing her cheek. "I love you."

IV.

The globe is the first thing she packs After shaking it, the tin foil falls over little Liverpool, coating the ground in gold. The swirl stops. Little Liverpool couldn't look alive forever. Heh, she wouldn't have been on this tour forever. Ashley wraps it tenderly in purple tissue paper.

She stretches her body across the bed to retrieve the few things she's taped to the wall. There's the _Tart_ article; magazine clips that mentioned the venues where they'd be playing; a couple graduation photographs; a bumper sticker that said **Oxford or Bust**; a postcard from Meredith. Meredith wrote that she was enjoying her new life, that things were never better. Ashley wonders if Meredith ever wished to be in her shoes when she was staying at the shelter, and what Meredith would think if Ashley said that she'd rather be in Meredith's shoes now.

Ashley slides the various items into a folder and then kicks open her suitcase. She stuffs every bit of clothing she can hold into her hands and deposits them inside. There was no time to fold, organize, do her usual system. She wants to be off the bus before Mark of Julian return.

"Carry-on bag," says Ashley, snapping her fingers.

She finds it next to her keyboard case, throws it on the blanket. Something metallic tumbles out and slides onto her pillow. Her digital camera. Why did she bring this? She's barely taken any pictures while in London. Ashley switches it on, the first clear picture coming into view. The picture shows her and Craig, on a different bus, the double-decker bus. They were smiling so big their teeth nearly touched their ears. Okay, maybe not that big, thinks Ashley, grinning despite herself.

Here she is letting him down again. Here she is letting herself down again. She has to have outdone the record for sabotaging yourself. It started with the academy audition and she hasn't let up. Wow, it's getting so bad she can't even feel really sorry for herself. Ashley bats away tears as she turns the camera off.

Ashley puts the bag around her shoulders and locates a cup. She still had half a can of soda and desperately needed the energy. At the rear of her mind, she can hear her mother scolding her for this. She'd definitely scold her for more than that if she was on this tour with her, more than her dad, more than Craig. What Kate doesn't know won't kill her. Ashley opens the fridge. Nothing. Nothing to drink. Ashley slams the door shut. She can't even tell why she's mad that it's empty. She's only mad that it is.

"Hey, take it easy," says a voice from the common room.

The voice is female, so it's not Mark or Julian. Good. Sarah Lincoln walks into the bunk area. Not good.

"I'm done anyways," sighs Ashley.

"Done?" says Sarah Lincoln.

"I quit," explains Ashley. "That's bound to make your day."

Ashley moves past her, fastens her suitcase.

"Uh, listen....," says Sarah Lincoln, her voice softening. "I was in the bathroom, when you and Mark were talking."

"So?" says Ashley.

"So you didn't sleep with him," says Sarah Lincoln. "I overheard. And I...I shouldn't have accused you. And Mark shouldn't have kissed you. At least, I think he kissed you."

Ashley's lips grow tight.

"We can talk," offers Sarah Lincoln. "Woman to woman. My first year performing was pretty awful too."

"Chalk it all up to experience," says Ashley, sniffling. "Thanks for the apology. I have to go."

"Ashley," sighs Sarah Lincoln.

Setting her keyboard case on her suitcase handle, and propping up the suitcase, she rolls it to the front of the bus with her carry-on against her back. Her eyes stray to the steering wheel of the bus, the tool she used when she had an idea of where to go. She was drunk but she had a destination. Choosing Liverpool wasn't difficult. It was so simple. This tour could've been so simple.

Ashley goes down the bus steps, her breathing slowing down as she catches sight of the blue vehicle with yellow letters. The color in her sight changes as a burst of purple catches her eyes.

"I...I came for my sax," announces Aja, putting her bag in front of her.

"I'm leaving," says Ashley.

"Where are you going?" asks Aja, squinting. "There's ten days left! What...."

"Ask Mark to fill you in," replies Ashley.

The man loads her suitcase, keyboard, and carry-on bag, Ashley sliding the side door open. Ashley gets in and shuts the door. Aja is still gazing at her through the tinted window. Ashley stares ahead.

"We going to Heathrow?" asks the man, settling into his seat.

"The airport," confirms Ashley. "In other words, as far away from here as possible."

V.

"Pulp or no pulp?"

Spinner's head appears in the window nearest Boomer's backyard. Sitting on a bench next to an inflatable kiddie pool, Emma has been carefully knitting Manny's gift ever since they came home. Her hands always managed to find the knitting needles and yarn after some huge family outburst. Before, she wouldn't have laughed at that. Today? It's somewhat amusing.

"No pulp," says Emma.

She hates to admit it but Dr. DePauw was correct. Once she unleashed some of the pent up resentment and fear, she became less tense, less annoyed, and less willing to resist everyone. She actually smiled once she calmed down. The physical exam confirmed that she was physically fine. Dr. DePauw was confident that her bloodwork would show likewise. Most importantly, she agreed to take the medication and she meant it. Despite Dr. DePauw telling her that it would take up to six weeks for it to work, she meant it.

"I make lemonade all the time at the Dot!" calls Spinner.

"Dude, your shirt's in the ice!" says Boomer, pointing at Spinner's shirt from behind.

"I just thought it got cold in here," mutters Spinner, disappearing from sight.

Jack's head briefly replaces Spinner's as Jack stares at Emma, and then her brother's head goes down. Spinner volunteered his baby-sitting services so that Snake and Spike could talk before her appointment tomorrow. Anyone could tell they really needed to, what with the constant looks they exchanged once they reached the Masons'. They weren't the only two who weren't at Spinner's house. Kendra was given the okay for crutches by her doctor. She and her mother were getting her a new pair. Boomer suggested that Kendra come by so he could see how she was doing and Spinner wanted to see her too. Emma suggested they should just go over and Spinner seemed pleased that she wanted to be around people at all.

"Alright," says Emma, getting her needle steady.

She hears the grass crunch, wonders if Kendra's coming. No, the feet were going pretty fast for somebody on crutches. Emma leaves the bench, the needle and project still in her hands.

"Expecting a BFF?" says Manny, turning the corner.

"Manny!" cries Emma, clapping and then quickly hiding what she's holding.

"I said I'd get here ASAP," says Manny.

She pretends to run in slow-mo towards Emma, Emma laughing. This doesn't prevent her from giving her a strong Manny hug, resulting in them falling into the plastic pool. Manny stares at her apologetically.

"Oops," says Manny.

"You're such a goofball," says Emma.

"You totally missed the goof," asserts Manny.

"I guess I did," teases Emma. "Get off me, though."

Manny props herself up and helps Emma stand.

"How'd the pow-wow with DePauw go?" asks Manny.

"Surprisingly good," says Emma. "We're going to have pow-wows over the next few weeks, an outpatient program? But it...it's good to talk."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," says Manny, smiling. "Because I brought someone for you to talk to."

Manny puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles. She's hoping it's not a dog based on that reaction. Not that she doesn't like animals. It would just be difficult to bring him or her home. It's no dog, not at all. The white overalls make her legs look a bit paler, and the pink shirt makes her cheeks rosier, but there's no mistaking it. She hasn't seen her in days, since her world sort of collapsed. How could she forget her, though? There were the hours they spent in her fairy tales, the mornings where Emma monitored her routines, the less than ordinary adventures they took with Spinner. This blonde girl is Hannah and there's no one like her.

"Hi Emma!" shouts Hannah, running to her, her lunchbox clattering in her grip.

Emma wipes her wet eyes and bends to receive her. She can hardly believe she's there, even as Emma's own hand strokes the back of Hannah's head.

"I missed you a lot," says Hannah, pulling away. "Did you miss me?"

"You have no idea," says Emma, smiling.

"I told Lia we traveled a billion miles to get here," says Hannah. "That's what it felt like. Lia said I was wrong."

Manny waves from behind Hannah, and crosses the yard until she's out of sight. Emma guides Hannah towards the bench.

"Lia was nice to let you come," says Emma, sitting across from her.

"She's been pretty nice, since you left," shares Hannah, with reluctance.

"I'm glad you two are getting along better," reassures Emma.

"Is that why you left?" asks Hannah. "Because you think I didn't need you? Edwina...Edwina's coming home soon, but it won't be the same."

"Did Manny tell you why I'm here?" says Emma.

"She said you were sick," replies Hannah. "Did I...did I make you sick?"

"No," says Emma, quickly. "Being with you...I think that actually made me smile a lot more than I thought I would've this summer."

"Will you come back if you get better?" questions Hannah.

Emma would love to say yes, can only say no. After the six weeks she's being monitored, school will have started and Edwina would be tutoring her again. Things would go back...to normal. Emma tenderly grabs Hannah's wrist.

"I can tell you're going to say no," sighs Hannah.

"You can?" says Emma.

"Pausing usually means no," says Hannah.

"Um," murmurs Emma.

"But I can tell you don't want to say it, so that shows you care," says Hannah, smiling a bit.

"I care a lot," insists Emma.

"Would you visit me on my birthday, like if I ask you now, in advance?" asks Hannah.

"Of course," says Emma. "I love birthdays."

"The presents are free," notes Hannah.

"I wonder who's said something like that before," muses Emma playfully.

Hannah giggles and puts her lunchbox on the table. Emma releases Hannah's wrist and watches her remove the contents.

"I have mustard and cheese," says Hannah. "Have you had lunch?"

Emma shakes her head. Hannah doesn't have to hear the details of why she hasn't had lunch.

"Do you want half?" offers Hannah.

Hannah opens the sandwich bag, extends her small hand with the half of a sandwich to her. Emma accepts a napkin from her next. She touches the edges of the bread, the small sliver of cheese that goes past the bread.

"I make really good sandwiches," says Hannah. "And I didn't use a knife or touch the oven."

"That's good," says Emma.

"Try it," says Hannah.

She can't explain it away, not after accepting the sandwich, or hurt her feelings, not after being so honest with her. Hannah has come billions, alright a huge number, of miles to visit her. She could follow her example, this once. Emma closes her eyes and bites. The food is light against her tongue. Emma gives her the thumbs up. Hannah beams.

"Emma, you were my best friend this summer," says Hannah.

Emma relaxes her jaw, swallows so she can smile without a pause.


	92. Love Me Or Leave Me

**XCII. Love Me or Leave Me**

_Love me or leave me and let me be lonely  
You won't believe me but I love you only  
I'd rather be lonely than happy with somebody else_

_You might find the night time the right time for kissing  
but night time is my time for just reminiscing  
Regretting instead of forgetting with somebody else_

_There'll be no one unless that someone is you  
I intended to be independently blue_

_I want your love, but I don't wanna borrow  
To have it today and to give back tomorrow  
My love is your love  
There's no love for nobody else_

_There'll be no one unless that someone is you  
I intended to be independently blue_

_I want your love, but I don't wanna borrow  
To have it today and to give back tomorrow  
My love is your love  
There's no love for nobody else_

**Love Me or Leave Me is the property of Walter Donaldson and Gus Kahn, featured in a film of the same name.**

**AN: If you're keeping track, this is the last memory of premiere night. Also, an asterisk (*) will mark the time change I mentioned previously. The last two scenes are a week later.**

**To give the Sellie storyline its proper attention, I am moving that to the next chapter. I don't want it to get swallowed up. There will be quite a bit of it in ch. 93, starting with the hour after Ty's death, so brace yourself for some angst. :P**

Apparently, a lot of interesting things can happen in a giant peach. _James and the Giant Peach _held Jack and Hannah's attention anyway. Emma has been reading to them for the last half hour. After Spinner finished making the lemonade, he and Manny entered to quite a surprise-- Emma eating. Manny didn't know how or why she started to eat again but she's convinced they shouldn't question her about it. Instead, she just let Jack lead her to the bench as he pulled her forward. He was not only interested in the book, but also the other blonde kid who was hanging around his sister. Hannah appeared slightly reluctant to have Jack there, but then Spinner and Lia sat with them and everything was fine.

She'd love if things were fine with her. Finding the swingset in the backyard, she slowly slumped into the swing. She swung to and fro for a little bit, finally giving up, surrendering her energy to her mood. The audition went better than she thought, sure, but the emotions she had to conjure up to get there? Draining. It was like all the feelings inside of her were running in a marathon around her heart, and she's tired. She's so tired. But would she rather not feel anything? No, thinks Manny, resolutely. She'd just rather be happy, completely happy.

Her ringtone sounds loudly through the yard, eliciting curious looks from the book crowd. Manny smiles at them briefly and checks the number. Speaking of someone who's completely happy, muses Manny, answering with a cheerful "hello."

"I'm dying here!" groans J.J.

That doesn't sound too happy, thinks Manny.

"Why?" says Manny. "Oh, and hello and all that."

"Should I get the princess cut or the oval?" cries J.J. "Yellow or white gold? And what the heck are pave accents?"

"Wait a sec. Calm down," instructs Manny.

"You said you'd help me, Manny!" reminds J.J. "You only get one engagement ring and I am _not _screwing up Rosa's."

"J.J., I'm not exactly available," points out Manny.

"Manuellita, I don't exactly have a lot of female friends that I can ask, okay?" says J.J.

"What about Mom?" says Manny.

"She's taking care of an absurd amount of things already," replies J.J. "Then, everytime I talk to Dad, it's about the pre-marriage counselling we just _have_ to have."

"Well, that sounds like a lot of fun," says Manny sarcastically.

"Please," begs J.J. "I'll fly you out here. It'd be for a day max."

Why is her own brother putting in her this position? Oh yeah. Because she promised. Still, that was before the investigation was in play, before Emma had her breakdown, before the summer became more topsy-turvy than either of them expected. That doesn't mean, however, that she's not partly attracted by the idea. Being in Toronto, with her family, in close proximity to....no, it'd be too complicated. Right? Manny bites her lip.

"I'm calling you back in a few minutes," says J.J. "Sir, can I..."

"J.J.!" cries Manny.

She wasn't quick enough, and she's disconnected within a couple of seconds. Manny shakes the chains holding the swing and groans. Big brothers can be so frustrating. While she was on the phone, she missed the arrival of Snake and Spike, milling around the bench with the others. Snake spots her, maybe because he's the tallest, and walks towards her, his laptop case against his hip. Manny waves.

"What's shakin', Mr. S?" asks Manny.

Snake awkwardly situates himself into the other swing.

"Spike and I spent the better part of today hunting for a couple of hotel rooms," says Snake. "Santa Clara is a pricey place."

"L.A.'s far from cheap, too," says Manny.

"I just want to be near the hospital, you know," says Snake.

"Um, while you guys were out, Emma was eating," shares Manny.

"Really?" says Snake with widened eyes.

"Uh-huh," says Manny, smiling fully.

"Boy, when things start to turn around, they start to turn around," says Snake, staring at Emma. "But we still have a ways to go, I guess."

Manny nods in agreement.

"So, how are you?" asks Snake.

"Me?" says Manny, scrunching up her forehead in confusion.

"You," repeats Snake. "You've had a pretty hard summer, too."

She shrugs, doesn't look at him. It was quite a bit more than a hard summer, and who knows what she's going home to? If any new developments surfaced, Toby would've told her about it in the letters, wouldn't he? Honestly, she would be relieved if there were any news. With news, she'd know how high to get her hopes up.

"Isn't Toby due back at Kytel soon?" questions Snake.

"That's what I heard," says Manny, then more secretively, "From somewhere....I mean, I don't really know."

Eh, she didn't exactly want to tell him about the letters. Sure, he'd be understanding, like always, but it would be better to keep things as private as possible. Lia didn't even have a clue and she was the one consistently giving Manny the mail.

"Well, we can check," says Snake.

Snake removes his laptop from his bag. He turns on the machine, Manny hearing steady beeping noses until a cheery tune signals that it's finished warming up. Snake types in a webpage, the Kytel homepage quickly loading. Their logo of a computer with legs and tennis shoes bounces under the company name. Snake scrolls down and clicks on Internship Opportunities. Manny angles her swing towards the computer.

"Yep, Toby's leading an orientation session next Friday at eleven," says Snake, reading the screen.

"He is?" says Manny.

That sort of made sense. When Toby didn't want to worry himself with something personal, he immediately jumped into work or tasks to distract himself. Given the amount of worries they both were facing, she very much wouldn't be surprised if this was just the start of a busy month for him.

"I'm very proud of him," says Snake, elbowing Manny.

"Me too,' says Manny. "And...I miss him."

"You get to see him next week," reminds Snake. "That's when you go home, right?"

"Actually, I...I was going to stay until Em went home," confesses Manny.

"That's...that's another three weeks, Manny," says Snake, raising his eyebrows.

She's well aware of the number of weeks. On the way home, she'd thought about the pros and cons. On one hand, she'd get to be in the same spot as her family, friends, and of course, Toby. She could start helping Nate out with Drama Club and discuss any of her final Miss Degrassi commitments with Ms. Tellman. Additionally, she'd enjoy being around her parents if she did get that call regarding her audition so they could celebrate together. On the other hand, Emma needed her more than ever. Today, she's having a good day, but what about tomorrow, and the day after and the day after? She can't let her best friend fall apart again, fall apart without her nearby.

"Emma's here," says Manny, tossing a quick look her way.

"But we're here, too," counters Snake. "And after today, I think..we're part of the problem and ultimately part of the solution. I'm sure Emma appreciates everything you've done and Spike and I definitely do. But you should make some time for your happiness too."

"Snake, I'm not sure...how to be a good best friend and a good...semi-girlfriend, like simultaneously," admits Manny.

"Everybody runs across that delimma," assures Snake. "All I can say is that...you have to make time for both, and they should respect what you decide. Emma would respect it."

"You make it sound so easy," says Manny with a weak laugh.

"No, it's hard, especially if you're a good person," says Snake, patting her on the back.

He closes his laptop, heading in the direction of his family and their friends. Manny views Spinner turn a page in the book as Jack sits on Emma's lap. Her brother punches the book, making Emma grin as the rest of the listeners laugh. Manny takes out her cellphone and has no hesitations in dialing her own brother, who answers on the third ring.

"I can come home for a milisecond to help you pick it out, but I can't stay long," announces Manny.

"Sweet!" cries J.J. "For the record, what do you think of combining green and yellow diamonds? Those are my favorite sports colors."

"Ick," groans Manny. "Get out of that store."

II.

"Manny, we have a bone to pick with you," sighs Emma.

Clearly startled, Manny snaps out of a reverie as she's folding clothes and faces Emma and Hannah. Emma's not sure what Manny was thinking about, but whatever it was seemed to be momentary since her old face brightened upon seeing the two of them. Manny stoops down to Hannah's level.

"You forgot to deliver Merlin," says Hannah, positioning the teddy's bear black button nose next to Manny's.

"Yeah, I flaked out on that," apologizes Manny. "Sorry."

"As long as Merlin wasn't offended," says Hannah.

The three of them look at the bear as if it were a living, breathing, emotional animal.

"He doesn't mind it," decides Hannah. "Here, Emma."

Though Emma was the one who recognized Merlin among Manny's belongings, she gingerly takes the stuffed animal and hugs it to her chest. Hannah grins widely as the three of them leave the Masons' house. For the ninety minutes they'd been in the neighborhood, Lia had holed up in the car, rehearsing her lines as Preston read a mystery novel. Lia nearly drops the script when Hannah knocks on the car door.

"I taught Jack how to say a letter," says Hannah proudly.

"Which one?" asks Emma.

"W," replies Hannah.

"That's an important letter," assures Emma.

"Ooooh, I need to start doing Pilates again," mutters Lia as she sluggishly leaves the car seat.

"I want to use the pirate machine too!" says Hannah.

"It's not a pirate machine...it's a Pilates machine," says Lia.

"Then how come you always say 'aaarrrr' when you're on it?" asks Hannah. "You also sweat a lot."

Emma and Manny chuckle as Lia rolls her eyes.

"I think it's time to go, Gremlin," says Lia.

"Can I use the bathroom first?" asks Hannah.

"Sure, I'll take her," offers Manny.

Emma's silently thankful Manny offered, because she did want to mention something to Lia before they left. Though she's tried awhile ago, she figures she should try again, for Hannah's sake.

"Lia, I might be stepping over some boundaries...again, but....," begins Emma.

"Spit it out, Nelson," interjects Lia.

"I still believe Hannah would benefit from going to school," says Emma. "Manny told me she freaked out when you left to go to the theatre."

"I'd say freaked out is an understatement," says Lia.

"At school, she'd learn how to be independant, like you," continues Emma. "She'd probably make tons of friends, too. You could even go with her the first couple of weeks to make sure she's doing okay."

"I wouldn't have a problem with that," assures Lia. "My dad......"

"Is afraid your family history will find its way into Hannah's ears," fills in Emma.

"I kind of told Hannah about the affair, stupidly," informs Lia.

Emma purses her lips and glances down at the grass.

"Was mad that day," sighs Lia. "Hannah didn't seem to get the severity of it anyway."

Lia passes her to lean against the trunk of the car. Emma stands beside her, not sure of what to say next.

"Have you ever heard the story of the Pied Piper of Hamlin?" asks Lia.

"Sort of," recalls Emma. "Umm, the piper is mad because the townspeople don't pay him for ridding the city of rats."

Lia nods. "Then, he retaliates by luring the children away from the town. I mean, it's pretty dark for a kid's story."

"Yeah," says Emma.

"My mom used to tell me those types of stories every night," says Lia. "You know how parents are supposed to kind of cover up how dark it is and reassure you with a happy ending, so they won't scare the kid? She didn't do that with that one. That story would just...end when the kids left."

"Oh," breathes Emma.

"Hannah has dark thoughts too, and I'm pretty sure that's where they came from," says Lia.

"Like they're inherited?" wonders Emma aloud.

"Or the fact that she wasn't born in the best environment," says Lia. "What, you haven't seen it?"

Yes, on the first day as a matter of fact, thinks Emma. Hannah colored Sleeping Beauty's vines black, telling Emma that she was waiting to save herself from the dark, suffocating surroundings. If anyone understood being in an environment like that, feeling that sad and trapped...Emma glances to her left and releases a deep breath. Manny and Hannah were heading right for them.

"We better get home before dark," says Hannah, reaching the car. "Marilyn Monroe needs me to turn on her nightlight."

"Who's Marilyn Monroe?" questions Emma.

"She's a lightning bug," replies Hannah. "I put her jar right next to my knight so he could protect her."

Emma looks at Lia.

"Relax, we let her out to exercise," defends Lia.

Hannah taps Manny's side, the highest part she can reach.

"Bye Manny," says Hannah. "I hope you can come to my party too."

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," says Manny dramatically, rocking Hannah from side to side as she giggles.

"Who said farting?" yells Spinner from the front door.

"Bye Spinner!" calls over Hannah.

"Tell Lia to Facebook me!" calls back Spinner. "I want to see pics of your party!"

"Lia, I need you to Facebook Spinner," says Hannah.

"What the...," starts Lia, then giving Hannah a strained smile. "I mean, cool. Cool."

"I didn't invite Spinner because Daddy doesn't like him in the house," whispers Hannah to Emma.

"I remember," whispers Emma.

"So I'll see you on September fifth?" says Hannah.

"Labor Day weekend," says Emma, nodding. "Works out perfectly."

"You have to come, even if Manny's party is better than mine," says Hannah.

The three girls laugh, Hannah hugging Emma a final time. Emma kisses her on top of the head, rubbing her small back as she climbs into the car.

"I'm sure I'll see you soon, Santos," says Lia.

Lia and Manny hug briefly, then separate. It's nice to see after some very tense moments between them. What takes her by surprise, however, is Lia gently hugging her as well. Emma tenses and lets herself relax after a few seconds. Lia pulls away.

"Don't be a stranger, Nelson," adds Lia.

"I won't," says Emma.

Ducking into the car, Lia closes the door. Emma and Manny wave at the car as it grows distant and more distant.

Emma convinces herself not to cry, despite it being a not so terrible thing. She would miss her little charge, her little sister over the summer. Hannah didn't think they'd find anything they had in common and as it turned out, she'd completely missed the mark. How inaccurate and how grateful she is that Hannah was wrong.

"Good-byes suck," harrumphs Manny, letting her head fall onto Emma's shoulder.

"Majorly," says Emma.

"Who wants dinner?" calls Spinner, appearing again in the door.

"Coming!" answers Emma.

"Speaking of want," says Manny simply. "For my birthday, I want a Pretty Pretty gift card, a L'Oreal make-up case, new pearl studs...."

"Oh goodness," sighs Emma.

"I also want...."

"Speaking of good-byes," jokes Emma, jerking away from Manny.

"Emma!" cries Manny.

III.

A woman walking with a handful of flowers walks by the windshield. Croydon couldn't come sooner. As soon as Craig reentered the apartment, he told them that he hadn't gotten a hold of Ashley and the three of them bolted down the stairs. None of them could say for certain that Ashley would be on the bus. They might be hurrying to the tour bus in vain. If Ashley was already gone, if they were too late...Craig shushes his thoughts. He has to stay calm. He'd already broken down once today. It's Ashley who's unravelling.

The light turns green and Robert veers left. Craig had given him extremely blurry directions, trying to recall where he'd driven from Nolan and Aja's apartment to the tour site. He's also only guessing that the bus hasn't moved on. Then, when they got there, he couldn't board the bus if Julian was there. Maybe Dashiel would cover for him so he could get on board and get Ashley.

"There!" says Craig, spying a long black vehicle a block from their car.

Robert speedily moves the car, parking near the sidewalk. Craig and Chris immediately jump out, Craig running to the bus. A few performers are getting the bus loaded, carrying odds and ends to the luggage compartments underneath. Among them is Aja, lugging a bag of hairspray and accessories.

"Aja!" shouts Craig.

"Craig?" says Aja, meeting him in the middle. "You better go. Julian'll flip if he catches sight of you."

"I need to talk to Ash," says Craig.

"She just left an hour ago in one of them airport shuttles," says Aja. "She wouldn't tell me why."

The airport? Craig grabs his curls and turns to look at Robert and Chris jogging to him.

"Ashley went to the airport," groans Craig.

"Heathrow's where she came in," says Robert. "Do you know what time her flight was?"

"No, sorry, sir," says Aja. "She looked too upset to talk."

"My guess is she couldn't get on until a later flight," wagers Chris.

"Come on, then," says Robert.

"Thanks, young lady," says Chris.

"Thanks, Aja," says Craig.

"Lemme know what happens," yells Aja after them.

Craig barely closes the car door before they're off. The traffic isn't too horrible, but there's no telling how the traffic near England's major airport is going to be. Craig tries to gauge the window of time they have. She has to buy a ticket, get her bags checked, go through customs. So yeah, there's a great chance that she's not leaving within the hour. They'd locate Ashley, tell her everything would be alright and get her the help she needed. Ashley just can't run off. She can't.

His thoughts run so fluidly that he scarcely notices they're near the airport in no time flat. Robert's even found the proper spot, possibly where he and Chris went when they flew over for Ashley's graduation.

"I'll park the car," says Robert. "You go ahead."

Craig exits, running through the automatic doors, quickly reading the signs above his head. Ashley would most likely be using the same airline. He finds the specific sign for it, following the white arrows. That's when he sees her familiar brown and purple locks of hair flapping as she rolls her suitcase across the linoleum.

"Ashley!" yells Craig. "Wait!"

Ashley halts, setting her keyboard on the floor too. Craig jogs until he's at her side. Ashley frowns, hesitantly looking him in the eye. Mascara has run down her face and his leather jacket is sliding down her shoulders. He pulls it up for her.

"Who's with you?" asks Ashley.

"Your dad and Chris," replies Craig.

Closing her eyes, Ashley lets a tear go from her eye to her chin without wiping it away.

"I have to go home," chokes out Ashley.

"Okay, okay," comforts Craig. "We will. But we...we have to sit down and talk...

"No, I have to go home now!" interrupts Ashley. "I...I can't be here!"

"Tell me what happened," encourages Craig. "Explain it to me."

Ashley opens her eyes. "What good is explaining anything going to do? It won't change anything."

"Ashley, look, just...just stay here and I'll get your dad, okay?" says Craig. "Stay here. Will you do that for me?"

"For you?" says Ashley, sniffling.

The last two words are soft, desperate. They're the kindest words she's said since he found her. Craig strokes her neck as Ashley's mouth trembles.

"When does your flight leave?" whispers Craig.

"Three twenty-eight," whispers Ashley.

"I'll be...I'll be right back," says Craig, backing away.

Ashley nods slowly. Craig catches his breath, starts to run across the floor once more. They'd dodged a bullet and gotten there before she left. He couldn't wait to tell her dad. Robert would be relieved, as relieved as he is at the moment. He quickens his pace, turning a corner.

IV.

Turning a corner, Ashley digs forcefully through her carry-on bag. They had to find her, didn't they? And they want to talk? Who still talks when the wounds are fresh? Why can't they give her a little space? That's why she's leaving. For space. Ashley removes her passport, staring at her smiling photograph on the left side. She wouldn't have smiled if she knew how much her second trip to England would crush her.

Walking fast, she arrives at customs, the man grinning at her from the kiosk.

"Reason for travelling, miss?" says the man, evaluating her passport.

"I'm going home," says Ashley.

"I wish you a safe flight home," says the man.

He returns her passport, Ashley loading her luggage onto the baggage claims conveyor belt. She goes to security, dumps her shoes, change and watch into the small bin. She wouldn't even care if the watch got lost under there. All it did was remind her of that terrible meeting with Julian, Liam, and Mark. Mark. Why did she ever trust him? He was just using her to get a better deal. He's slime, and so is Julian and so is Liam. Slime must hang out in packs.

A Heathrow employee reads her ticket, hands it to her.

"Flight 9201 to Toronto, three twenty-eight," says the employee. "To your right."

Ashley doesn't immediately go right, peering to the left for a couple of heartbeats. She hates disappointing Craig. She loves him and that he cares for her. But she's disappointed herself so much that she can't be in the same room with other people she's disappointed more. Maybe they will understand later. They won't now. They won't. Ashley considers this as she fetches her carry-on bag, money, and watch.

"I'm headed to Toronto, too," says a woman in front of her, retying her shoelaces. "Not in a rush, though."

"I am," says Ashley, speedily putting on her shoes.

"Hurry, Chloe," sighs her husband. "The plane's taking off in fifteen minutes!"

"We're on vacation, honey, and I'm taking my time," says Chloe.

"I'm tired," groans her husband.

"Nonsense," waves off Chloe. "Dear, you look so sad. What's wrong?"

It takes Ashley awhile to realize that Chloe is talking to her and no one else. Ashley shrugs.

"Tough day," answers Ashley.

"Our day will be tough if we don't catch this plane!" exclaims Chloe's husband.

"Is something going on at home?" says Chloe to Ashley.

"I...I just have to get there," sighs Ashley, her eyes growing wet.

"Is it an emergency?" questions Chloe.

No, thinks Ashley, wiping her cheeks, tears trickling across her fingers. But what if she said yes? She could leave sooner. She wouldn't have to face her dad, Chris, or Craig.

"My mom's really sick and I'm not sure she's going to make it," lies Ashley.

"That's too bad," remarks Chloe, her voice growing faint. "Poor dear. Perhaps...perhaps I could swap tickets with you."

"Would you?" says Ashley, sniffling.

"Chloe!" cries her husband. "I'm not flying home without you!"

"I can't bare to see a pretty girl cry," says Chloe. "And it's an emergency. I'm in no rush to get to your mother's house."

Her husband harrumphs, throwing his flip-flop on the floor. Chloe gives Ashley a pleasant smile.

"This is very generous of you," says Ashley.

"I believe in helping people when it's needed," says Chloe, squeezing Ashley's arm gently.

V.

"I left her right here!" cries Craig.

He looks at a kid kicking a vending machine; a family of four tying on luggage tags to their suitcases; a stewardess leaving the airport. But he looks in every direction and Ashley is nowhere to be seen. She said she would stay put. How come she's moved then?

"Maybe she went to the bathroom," says Chris, with weak optimism.

"Her flight doesn't leave until nearly three-thirty," says Robert, checking his watch.

"Not unless she lied about the flight too," sighs Chris.

Craig knows Ashley has made it a habit of lying, especially to the three of them, but she wouldn't ditch them like that.

"No!" says Craig strongly. "No!"

He's already moving, his feet going madly to customs.

"Craig!" yells Robert from behind.

He arrives at customs, staring hard at the man behind the kiosk.

"Did Ashley Kerwin go through here?" asks Craig.

"Son, I read a lot of names everyday," says the man, somewhat jokingly. "I can't remember a particular one."

"Then you obviously aren't doing a very good job!" exclaims Craig.

"Excuse me?" says the man.

"I need to get back there!" says Craig.

"Unless you have an I.D. and an airline ticket, you can't go through," replies the man.

"It's important!" exclaims Craig.

"So is airport security," counters the man. "Who I will call if you don't move."

Craig bangs the side of the kiosk with a closed fist, turns to face Robert and Chris who've caught up. The three of them turn to the man, who is shaking his head.

"She's not answering her phone," says Robert, holding up his cell.

"Sir, do you know if any flights have left for Toronto?" asks Chris.

"I believe I heard the intercom announce that a flight has just boarded," replies the man. "By the time you get there, it will have left the gate. If you folks will step aside..."

Craig views a few annoyed travellers standing near them, their passports in their hands. He's the one who's really annoyed. He thought she'd stay for him, since _he_ asked. She's hurting right now, true, but that's more reason for her to be with them. Didn't she see that? What are they going to do here? Now?

"Let's make some arrangements to go to Toronto," sighs Robert.

"Hopefully, she'll go straight to Kate," says Chris. "Craig, where do you...."

"I couldn't tell you," says Craig, letting his irritation shine through. "Because she didn't tell me."

"Well, let's hope for the best," says Robert.

The best? Craig's not sure Ashley knows what that is anymore.

***********************************************************************************************************************************

VI.

"Porpoises hunt in coastal waters for their prey, a diet that includes shrimp, squid, and octopus," says the narrator as a family of porpoises cross the wide blue ocean on the television.

"Dude, I ate squid once!" says Spinner, then shuddering. "Never again."

"Look how beautiful that ocean is," remarks Emma. "South America is doing a way better job with pollution control. They just are."

"Um, yeah," says Manny, not sure what to add to either statement.

"Manny, you have a flight tomorrow so maybe you ought to go to bed," says Emma.

Yes, she was flying out that morning and would be arriving in Toronto in the evening. She and J.J. would go shopping the following day. The week flew by so fast that a whole day seems to have gone missing. Although, the days were getting blurry for another reason. She insisted on staying up late with Emma, who still had trouble falling asleep. Manny overheard Spike saying it would take at least six weeks for the meds to kick in, which she understood completely. The first two nights were fun. With Emma's perfectionism guiding Manny, the scrapbook was finished and ordered from the beginning of June to the first days of August. For the empty pages, the two of them had taken to photographing themselves doing different things-- doing handstands and flips they hadn't done since gymnastic meets; teaching Jack how to throw a Frisbee; burying each other in the sand on the beach. The activities let Emma exercise, which Dr. DePauw encouraged in her third session with Emma. Emma was sort of lackluster with it initially, but she started to enjoy it after a few days, especially since her sessions were now weekly and not daily. However, once the scrapbook was done by the third night, and Emma went with Spinner somewhere the next morning, Manny crashed on the Masons' couch. The hours began to get foggy. She yawned when they sat down for meals most days. Every adult in the house had asked her what was wrong. So she seriously doubts she can make it through a porpoise documentary tonight. The animals aren't that exciting, or that cute.

"Are you kicking me out because you want to neck?" teases Manny.

"No," says Emma.

Spinner gives Emma a disappointed frown behind her back.

"Fine, fine," says Manny. "I'm getting some milk and going to bed."

Manny trudges to the kitchen, stops at the first row of tiles. Kendra is sitting at the counter slicing an orange in half, her crutches set against the counter. Since Grandma Mason and Mrs. Mason were allowing Manny to stay in Kendra's room, Manny made it a point to stay cordial to her. They hadn't discussed her note or what was in the note. Manny usually greeted her with a passing regard. Things were too weird between them for her to say anything else.

"Juice," groans Kendra, fetching a paper towel and spying Manny in the process.

Kendra quietly gets the paper towel and starts wiping the juice off the counter. Manny goes to the refrigerator.

"I came for milk," explains Manny.

"Hopefully you like skim because that's all Grandma buys," says Kendra.

"All versions do a body good," kids Manny nervously. "Ummm, I had crutches. They kind of bite, don't they?"

"When did you have crutches?" says Kendra skeptically.

"I tripped on the Degrassi stairs in grade seven," replies Manny.

"Oh...right," says Kendra. "Um, Manny, I've been meaning to ask you something."

Please don't let it have to do with you-know-how, thinks Manny.

"And it has to do with Toby," continues Kendra.

Why? She's too tired to deal with this.

"Yeah?" says Manny.

"I was going to call Anne Marie...and ask for a Disney internship next summer too," says Kendra. "There's no guarantees with Gleeson, not like I thought."

Kendra's interested in an internship, not Toby. Okay, good. In fact, Manny's unclear if Toby still wants the internship. If he took it, he'd be reminded everyday of the angst he had to go through to accept it. That's too bad. Toby would be an asset wherever he worked.

"If that's not cool with Toby, can you tell him to give me a call in a couple weeks?" asks Kendra.

"Umm, sure," says Manny, shrugging. "That's pretty mature of you, Kendra."

"Whatever," says Kendra. "I'm just keeping my options open."

Manny could see her side of things. There were so many opportunities presented to her this summer and she thought she'd die as each one was yanked away. She couldn't dare pass up another chance to boost her career. How many chances do you honestly get in life? Not many if you don't open yourself up to them. Being with Kendra in this kitchen gives Manny the chance to do something she's wanted to do as well.

"Before this mature moment passes," says Manny, light-heartedly. "I really want to apologize for pushing you that day."

"I kind of saw it coming," says Kendra.

Kendra and Manny smile at one another. Manny pours himself some milk as Kendra peels her orange. About to leave the kitchen, Manny stops and watches her peel.

"Good night, Kendra," says Manny.

"Night, Manny," returns Kendra, grinning at her.

That was something to stay up for, asserts Manny inwardly. She walks into the bedroom, viewing her suitcase, zipped and ready to go, minus her toothbrush and bath essentials which she'd put in after she used them tonight. J.J. wanted the ring selected by that weekend because Rosa's girlfriends were bugging Rosa about seeing the ring. That frustrated Rosa, which frustrated J.J. Manny told him to relax, that such a happy event shouldn't cause this much aggravation.

No, she'd say her situation is more aggravating. Of course, Officer Patton was called and he'd be accompanying Manny for the entire duration of her trip. She suspected it would go down like this, but hearing it from her parents hammered it home. This shouldn't be what you come home to. She'd grin and bear it, though. Perhaps she could poke Patton for some clues as to how the investigation is going. Her parents weren't spilling. J.J. wasn't spilling. Toby isn't spilling.

Manny sighs, sits on the floor, and flips open her scrapbook to the third page. She slid in the small slip in the pocket of the fourth page, when Emma went to take her medication.

_Friends first, lovers last. Knock 'em dead, come home fast. Tobes._

Yep, she's coming home, with conditions. Still, the rest of the message is as wonderful as the day she first read it. Anybody, a friend, an acquaintance, a perfect stranger, could tell that he was anxiously awaiting for her to arrive in Toronto at the end of the summer. The end of the summer is basically here. By all appearances, they'd be waiting in the fall too, maybe even the winter, maybe even past that. Luckily, daydreams don't come with conditions. They go on and on, until you want them to stop.

_The cameras stopped flashing, the music was winding down to lyrical whispers, and the cheese trays were empty in the party area. It was six full hours of fantasy for her. She witnessed her first film up on the screen, was at the center of the media circus, and everyone she was close to was proud of her. The person who was most proud of her was close to her all night. Toby was chatting with Jason Mewes, the buttons of Jason's vest undone, his jeans still smooth. He looked more like a moocher than a movie star but he had been kind to both of them the entire night. Toby was the exact opposite in appearance. He kept the tie Manny fooled with tied, immaculate, and he was as polished as when he first walked through the theatre doors._

_Manny continued to look in her compact, checking to see that every hair was in place. You never knew who'd catch you offguard for a picture._

_"Manny, Manny, Manny," said Jason, walking to her with Toby. "Something told me your boy was good people."_

_"That he is," said Manny._

_She closed her compact and looped her arm through Toby's._

_"But you didn't tell me you guys were video clerks!" cried Jason, beaming. "Loves me some clerks. You can watch slasher flicks while the rest of the working stiffs drive through rush hour, or offer any opinion on films ranging from Adventureland to Zanzibar. Have you seen Zanzibar? Dude, it's like whoa!"_

_"We'll watch it," promised Toby._

_"You gotta!" said Jason. "We better shake a leg if we're gonna get there, Toby."_

_"Where?" said Manny, looking back and forth between them._

_"There's one more thing we have to do tonight," mentioned Toby._

_"I'm...lost," admitted Manny._

_"Then, let me lead you to your final destination," said Jason jokingly._

_Manny and Toby followed him, up the carpeted staircase, down the hall with gold panelling on the walls, in front of a solid, wooden door with brass handles. She had no clue what could be in there. The whole thing is strange. What, were they going to watch Zanzibar in there? It's getting pretty late._

_"You've got five minutes," said Jason, dropping a silver key into Toby's palm._

_Well, they couldn't watch a full-length movie in five minutes, thought Manny. _

_"Be kind, rewind," said Jason, saluting them. "Oh yeah, you should check out that film too! Be Kind Rewind, with Jack Black?"_

_He hopped down the first two stairs and was out of their view in less than ten seconds. Toby inserted the key into the door._

_"Toby, actresses get arrested for less than this," said Manny, unable to hide her amusement._

_"Jason's the one who flirted with the projectionist to get these," informed Toby. "I just stood idly by."_

_"I thought I was the only one he flirted with," said Manny, playfully pouting._

_"Please be kidding," said Toby, wresting the door open._

_The room before her was no joke. Grey film canisters lined the yellow brick walls like small, round towers. Two speakers were above the canisters, and to the right of a large square window that you could peep through to see the theatre itself. The screen was white and imageless. The machine, full of sly twists and turns, three wheels, and multiple buttons sat in the middle of a grey table. Manny beamed when she saw that the film was still on the loop._

_"You said you wanted to hear it," recalled Toby._

_"Turn it on!" encouraged Manny, pumping her fist as she said it. "Turn on!"_

_Toby took a few moments to find the power button, but he got it into gear. The little flickering of the film filled the room, with a soft creak when it ended. Manny sighed with pleasure._

_"Perfect," breathed Manny._

_"This is high-class stuff," complimented Toby, touching the movie projector. "Way more complicated than a computer."_

_"I'm sure you could figure it out if we had more than five minutes," assured Manny._

_Manny walked by him and collapsed in a far less complicated invention. _

_"Swivel!" cried Manny, spinning the chair around a couple of times._

_Toby chuckled and leaned against the table. Manny inched the chair closer to him and put her hands against his knees. Toby looked shyly to the left. _

_"We should break in here next year and watch your favorite movie," proposed Manny. "Which is?"_

_"The live-action Super Mario Brothers movie," kidded Toby, facing her._

_"I'm serious," insisted Manny._

_"So am I," said Toby, then eventually relenting. "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon."_

_"Whoa, Isaacs," says Manny, blushing a bit. "I'm impressed. That's a pretty beautiful movie. The way they filmed the..."_

_He interrupted her with a kiss, so deep she had to grab his pressed pants for support, or she'd fall off the swivel seat. Manny gazed up at him when they were through._

_"You're beautiful," said Toby._

_"Toby...," began Manny._

_"So beautiful you made every scene you were in the best," continued Toby. "I really can't wait for the next one."_

_Neither could she. She didn't tell him that. Sometimes, when you're that early in the relationship, those things were hard to say offhand, so she said something she's said quite a few times already, each time with less trouble._

_"I love you, Toby," said Manny._

_Manny stood and kissed him, her feet firmly on the floor, her heart moving as speedily as the swirling film reel. Judging by the fact that she could feel Toby's heart through his chest, she kind of thought it was the same with him._

"Manny!" says a voice, a pair of snapping fingers flashing in her face.

Shaking herself, Manny rubs her eyes and glances over at Emma. Emma has her toothpaste and floss in her hands, but was clearly waiting for Manny to respond.

"Oh, I was daydreaming," admits Manny.

"That must've been an intense daydream," says Emma. "Picturing J.J.'s wedding?"

"Um," says Manny, her voice failing on her.

"Manny, I understand family commitments," says Emma, sitting on her bed. "You don't have to feel guilty about leaving. I mean, technically, you should be home by now."

Manny hangs her head and touches the carpet.

"But you do know I love you for staying this long, right?" insists Emma with a small smile.

"I love you...so...so it's not a problem," says Manny.

"Manny, come on, you're exhausted," notes Emma. "You could use the rest."

"Maybe," demurs Manny.

"So don't worry," says Emma. "If, and this is a big if, Jack asked me to help him with an engagement ring when we got older, I'd be there in a split second."

What if she isn't just going for an engagement ring, she asks herself. Snake's advice was good, but what happens when she puts it into practice? Who should she stand by and for how long? Emma's in a delicate position, Toby's in a delicate position, but so is she. Manny momentarily glances at Bubbe's ring and stands with her back towards Emma.

"I...um....um, I might check on Toby...while I'm there," says Manny, more cautiously than she intended.

"You were daydreaming about him, weren't you?" asks Emma.

Emma's voice went several decibels lower, Manny slowly turning to her. The amount of time it took to turn is enough time for tears to form.

"Em, I feel so torn," chokes out Manny. "With you and him. Please don't judge me...because I keep judging myself, and I can't take it anymore."

Manny covers her face, beginning to cry. She hears something drop, imagining it's Emma falling onto her bed, upset with her once more. But it's not. A tube of toothpaste rolls to the top of her toes. Two arms wrap around her.

"Aww, Manny," says Emma, putting her ear next to Manny's.

Wiping her eyes, Manny separates from her.

"I've been torn between people I love, too," says Emma. "You know that. You should've told me."

"We've had a busy week," offers Manny.

"We could've made time to talk, anyway," assures Emma. "I shouldn't have put that stress on you, and you're more fun to talk to than DePauw."

Manny reluctantly laughs.

"It's only for a day and a half," reminds Manny.

"Make it a really long day and a half, then," says Emma. "Come on. You have to wake up early tomorrow."

VII.

The pink and blue electric waves follow his thumb as he moves it across the orb. Paper flutters as his elbow shifts. Then, the plasma ball sits there placidly like his stapler, his computer graphics book, and his multi-colored index cards. That's one thing he can say. His desk is a lot more colorful this term. Toby sighs and looks at the calendar taped to the right wall of his cubicle.

Deep down, he knew not to wish so hard. A lot of things were going on, he assumes, with Emma. Maybe Miss Dale had booked her more auditions than he knew about. Then, there's the third possibility, which neither of them could forget. The closest reminder of the third possibility comes in with a scone and a cup of black coffee. Toby says a small "hey" as Officer Wheaton smiles at the scone before tearing it in half with his teeth. Manny would be better protected in another country. That's the plain truth.

"Excuse me, sir," says a friendly voice from the door of his cubicle.

"Hi...hi, Armand," says Toby, trying not to appear too startled.

A lanky seventeen-year old, with a dress suit on, hangs in the doorway. He looks like a tanned J.T. with his shaggy brown hair, and he speaks with a slight French accent. Armand was always smiling since Toby met him and the four other interns two hours ago. Always. He was always talking too.

"Oh, sir, that's...that's not right," sighs Armand. "I should call you Toby. That's what it said in my job etiquette book. You call your peers by their first names. Or are you my superior since you've been here longer? Hmmm, what'd you think?"

"Toby's fine," replies Toby.

"Cool, a plasma ball!" cries Armand. "Where'd you get such a nice ball? Gizmo N' Things? They have nice balls."

Toby sighs and stares at the swirling colors under the glass.

"It was a gift," says Toby.

"When's your birthday?" asks Armand. "Mine's in April. I can't wait until I'm eighteen. Can you?"

"July," says Toby. "Um, listen, I have to prep myself for the session so....."

"No, I'm making a bad first impression," groans Armand. "That was not my intention. Or is this a second impression?"

"I'd say second," offers Toby.

"Alright, good," says Armand. "And like, can you tell this is my first internship?"

Oh boy, could he ever, thinks Toby.

"You're doing a really good job so far," says Toby.

"Niiiiice," says Armand, walking away with a giant grin.

Toby releases a labored breath and starts to collect his index cards. He'd gotten the idea from her, really. Whenever Manny had to make a Miss Degrassi speech, she pulled out the old index cards and got to writing. It's not like she'd be there rooting him on like she was in the spring on his first day here, though. Toby grabs his briefcase and starts out of the cubicle. Too bad he's blocked.

"How are you feeling?" asks Calvin, then sipping his latte.

His two bosses were very cheerful today, more cheerful than Armand, which was creepy for Calvin and Kym. They were a serious team and a serious couple. Calvin wore a black tie everyday and Kym's hair was forever tucked into a conservative blonde bun.

"Nervous," admits Toby. "But this will be good, to get the experience."

"That is just what I was saying to Calvin," says Kym, awkwardly tapping Toby's shoulder.

"Don't be nervous," says Calvin. "You're incredibly talented, Toby. As I was saying to Kym."

"Um, okay," says Toby, eyeing both of them.

"So is Manny coming?" asks Kym hopefully.

Toby drops his eyes, shuffles his briefcase.

"Oh, no Manny?" says Kym with a sigh.

"Kym, we said we weren't going to ask...," starts Calvin.

"You were wondering too," whispers Kym.

"It's...it's okay," speaks up Toby. "We can't be late so....."

Toby and Officer Wheaton walk to the conference room, Calvin and Kym silently in tow. Ugh, this is what he wanted on his mind as he made his presentation. He can't hate them for it. Calvin and Kym were at the program where Manny magically showed, and they were at the mural where Manny graced them with her presence. Then, it's Kytel itself, where Manny reminders abound. That's sort of why he plugged in the plasma ball in the first place, which is kind of wonderful in a sad sort of way.

A large white, dry-erase board contains nothing. Toby had already decided to write four words up there max. He wanted the interns to focus on him and share in his enthusiasm rather than stare blankly at the board. That's what he noticed last year when Calvin lead the session-- five pairs of glazed over eyes, with Toby being the odd man paying attention.

Toby sets his briefcase near a chair, writes **Time Management, Skills**, and **Passion** on the wall as Calvin, Kym, and Officer Wheaton settle into their seats. He'd practiced his speech using those three bullet points and cut it down to twenty minutes. This would really aid him with the Council speeches in the coming months. But he had friends on the Council who wouldn't be as tough an audience. No, don't psyche yourself out, he tells himself. At least Armand would probably like it.

The interns funnel in, a collection of three girls, a boy who's taller than Toby, and Armand, who sits up front and makes a big scene of crossing his legs. He notices Calvin crossing his legs differently and corrects himself. Toby can't picture buying a book that focused on how to cross your legs.

"Ahem," says Toby, clearing his throat.

As it turned out, there really was no need. The interns are as quiet as the kids in his synagogue when their parents reprimanded them.

"Good morning," says Toby.

Nobody says "good morning" in response, not even Armand, who looked ready to say it, then chickened out.

"My name's Toby Isaacs," begins Toby. "Welcome to Kytel. You've been given the chance to work with one of the most successful graphic design and animation companies in North America."

Toby notices Calvin and Kym smiling proudly, and everyone else staring at him with no expressions on their faces.

"Okay, time management is one tool you will need for the eight weeks of your internship," says Toby. "You...."

"Wasn't there a PowerPoint presentation last year?" speaks up a female intern in a sleek, short black dress.

That was certainly not related to time management. No, it sounded fairly snotty.

"Uh-huh," says Toby.

"Just wondering," says the girl, checking her watch.

"Raina, I'd advise you to listen," says Kym, frowning at her. "Go ahead, Toby."

"Once you get time management under control, you're sure to have a productive day," says Toby, avoiding looking at Raina. "It would be best to ask your supervisor how they'd like you to start the day. For various tasks, you will have to login using your provided username and password. These passwords are..."

"Lame," murmurs Raina to another intern.

They giggle, earning angry looks from both Calvin and Kym. Toby's angry too, at himself. Why didn't he think to do a PowerPoint presentation? He loved those. He just thought being without it would add a personal touch. Toby nervously flips the index cards, a couple spilling to the floor. More giggles reach his ears, and the parting of the door. Great, more interns to be embarrassed in front of. Toby rises and looks at the new additions to the group.

Toby grips the cards tight when he sees her in the back, Manny touching the top of each empty chair as she walks along the row, finally taking a seat at the end. Wearing a yellow summer dress and a white blazer, she smiles, her smile almost as glowing as her eyes fixated solely on him. Officer Patton stands by her chair and waves at Officer Wheaton on the other side of the room.

"These passwords are.....ummm...," blanks Toby.

"Passwords are?" says Raina, sighing in annoyance.

"Kytel passwords are case-sensitive," says Manny from her seat. "Because Kytel is well-known for respecting the privacy of their workers, no matter how long they've been there. That's what Toby explained to me once."

The other interns look to Toby for confirmation.

"Yeah," says Toby. "I mean, it's worded differently on the card, but..."

Everyone laughs, including Raina, who shrugs and waits for Toby to continue. Toby beams at Manny for the length of a breath, though he's well aware he has to charge ahead. He's not sure what miracle brought her here, but he's infinitely glad that it did.

VIII.

The conference room is clearing out. Most of the interns, except for Raina, did come over to thank him personally. The question and answer session after his presentation really woke them up. They were excited about the new programs Kytel was implementing and the personal projects Toby would be working on for the rest of the year. Still, there was only one person Toby was excited to meet with after it was all said and done. But she was gone.

Toby instinctively went to his cubicle to find her. That's where they usually met when she came to Kytel. Nope, not there. How could she just show up and leave? Was she dreaming? No, because the other people in the room had to have heard her.

Perhaps it's better that she left. He wouldn't have to tell her about the house and the journal. Man, he still didn't know what to do with that information. But if she did stay, he'd get to see her and the joy would beat every other emotion by a long shot.

"Slow down or you'll trip," advises Officer Wheaton.

"Huh?" says Toby. "Oh."

He's pacing the floor, waiting, hoping.

"You saw her, right?" says Toby.

"That I did," says Officer Wheaton. "Maybe she went to the ladies' room."

"Or maybe she's here," says a third voice. "Burning off carbs, Tobes?"

Toby halts, grins at her as she stands in the cubicle doorway. Better her than Armand.

"I'll step out for a bit," says Officer Wheaton.

He leaves the cubicle, whistling. Manny walks right up to Toby.

"You've come a long way from the Isaacs system," says Manny.

"They did perk up when I mentioned the software I was slaving over," says Toby. "But the Isaacs system never fails. J.T. and Terri will be getting engaged any day now."

Manny grins. "Yeah, they're meant to be."

Touching her face, Toby lets his thumb cross her cheek. It is significantly softer than the plasma ball and more tender than he thought it'd be. Manny's cheeks flush pink.

"I thought you were a dream," says Toby.

"Toby, you're so sappy," sighs Manny.

"You're not?" counters Toby.

Manny lowers his hand and answers with a hug. Toby lets his nose fall to her shoulder, his eyeglasses sliding along his nose.

"Yeah, I am," whispers Manny.

She lets him go, wiping a tear away, smiling at the same time.

"Are you stoked I'm here?" asks Manny.

"Totally stoked," says Toby, laughing.

"Can I ask you something else?" says Manny.

"Anything," replies Toby.

"Would you like to have lunch with me?" says Manny softly.

"I would love to have lunch with you," answers Toby.

"Let's fix your glasses," says Manny, righting them for him.

After that, she takes his hand and they leave the cubicle. Copiers spew out copies. Printers beep and sputter. Officer Patton's shoes squeak after them. But it's not as if Toby hears the last sound. It might as well be just an ordinary work day with the best visitor he could've asked for.


	93. Hideaway

**IXIII. Hideaway**

_Hideaway  
Well they'll seat us in the sun  
By the way  
Know you've always been the one_

_You'll ask your reasons why  
What once was yours is mine  
My baby's gone_

_Ride away  
Gonna take me from my man  
By the way  
No they'll never understand_

_We'll have a bit of fun  
Watching everyone pass us by_

_You'll ask your reason why  
What once was yours is mine  
My baby's gone_

_Hideaway  
Well they'll seat us in the sun  
By the way  
Know you've always been the one_

_You'll ask your reasons why  
What once was yours is mine  
My baby's gone_

_Ride away  
Gonna take me from my man  
By the way  
No they'll never understand_

_We'll have a bit of fun  
Watching everyone pass us by_

_You'll ask your reason why  
What once was yours is mine  
My baby's gone_

**Hideaway is the property of Karen O and appears in the film _Where The Wild Things Are._**

**Like Lovers Do is the property of Heather Nova.**

**AN: Okay, all the Sellie scenes are within the same two day span, starting with the evening when Ty dies. Toby's lunch with Manny make up the last scenes. Would love any feedback. Thanks.**

"Sean."

Heard above the calm directives for doctors, several machines beeping and squeaking as they're rolled past, and the multiple sighs surrounding him, he lifts his head to the clearest voice in the room.

"Sean, let's get you out of these clothes," says Ellie.

"No," whispers Sean.

His parents, sitting on either side of him, look at Sean. Ike tenderly runs a hand alongside his son's back. Iris picks her purse up and sets it on her lap. Ellie kneels by Sean's side.

They're at a different hospital. Rather than transfer Dale, and have Sean examined, the ambulance and the Camerons went straight to the nearest hospital, Adams Medical. It's relatively small and Dale was still in the emergency room, according to Officer Rali, who has stood at the front desk ever since.

"Your shirt's pretty charred," notes Ellie. "Tracker went to your apartment and got you another shirt, some jeans."

Tracker left and returned? He hasn't kept track of who came and who went. He hasn't looked at length at any of them. Sure, his ears have caught voices. Dee and Jerry were discussing the investigation in the corner. They had enough to lock up Dale, what with the microphone safely tucked under the vests, but they were going to have trouble nailing the other ring members. That was their biggest concern? Sean had to scowl at the floor. He couldn't face his parents either when they arrived at Adams. Iris clutched him, the vests tightening around his body. His father and Tracker got the grim details about what went on in the building: what set Dale off, who was saved, who wasn't saved. Sean closes his eyes.

"All I care about is that I got that stupid wire off," mutters Sean.

He catches Ellie and his mother exchange weary glances when his eyes open. Ellie lays the clothes in Sean's lap, stands.

"I have to call my parents," says Ellie.

"Fine, dear," says Iris.

This is great, so great. It's just how he wanted Ellie to meet his parents for the first time. Or is that...trivial? What matters anymore? Ellie disappears as Sean slouches in the chair.

"Do you want me to go with you when they call you back?" asks Iris.

"I'm not hurt," insists Sean. "At all."

"A cautionary thing, son," says Ike. "Doesn't hurt to check."

Why didn't Dale check if anyone was up there? Ty's the one who's hurt to the point where there's no return. To imagine him, smothered in smoke, surrounded by flames, knocking so someone could get him out is cruel to picture. What's worse is he heard the coughing and couldn't understand where it was coming from. Then again, there were still several things that Sean didn't understand about Ty or his background. Now, who's going to tell Marcus? Or his mother?

Dale should, he thinks, a firm frown occupying his face. Dale should tell them that he started the fire that killed her son, his brother. Some protector. Sean tosses the clothes to the floor and walks towards the hospital entrance.

"Sean!" calls Iris.

"Give him a minute, Iris," says his father.

Sean reaches the end of the hall, and bends to touch his knees, multiple black marks on the fabric of his pants. Ellie was right. His clothes look awful. He feels awful. He'd give anything to stop feeling this way. Unfortunately, the door parts and another person that won't lift his spirits enters.

"Mr...Mr. Hill," says Sean, standing straight.

He hasn't run across Mr. Hill since the day he left his office, when Mr. Hill still thought he was worthy of a second chance. The change in _his_ feelings, towards Sean, is clear. He's in his work uniform, two grease-filled hankerchiefs filling his pockets. Mr. Hill grimaces, moving past his former employee.

"Don't talk to me," he says from behind.

Sean can't help but follow. Have the police officers told him anything? Did his father finally know that Dale had been one of the key guys in the ring? Mr. Dale reaches Officer Rali, his voice carrying around the lobby.

"Where's my son?" exclaims Mr. Hill.

"You are Dale's father, I presume?" says Officer Rali.

"I got a call that said he was here," says Mr. Hill. "What happened? How bad is it?"

A nurse with auburn hair and a pink Scrunchie holding most of her hair exits a room. She walks to the two men.

"Are you the father of Dale Hill?" says the nurse.

"Yes!" replies Mr. Hill. "How's my boy?"

"There was some lower leg trauma, which we've addressed, but we're pretty sure he'll need orthopediac surgery," answers the nurse.

Mr. Hill sniffles, takes out one of his hankerchief and wipes his nose. Sean's certain it would've been much worse if he'd left Dale in the building but he's not expecting anybody to tell Mr. Hill what he did, at least not right now.

"Dale's refusing to take any painkillers or any type of medication," continues the nurse. "It would alleviate a great deal of the pain he's experiencing pre-surgery."

"Give it to him!" orders Mr. Hill. "I'm his father. I think I'd know what's best for him."

"Sir, he's an adult and it was his wish," defends the nurse.

"I don't care how old he is!" exclaims Mr. Hill. "He's in pain! This is ridiculous! Lemme through!"

Not waiting for permission, Mr. Hill passes the nurse, who worriedly jogs after him. Sean's not sure who's going to win that battle. Officer Rali shakes his head, probably on the same page as Sean. He puts a hand on Sean's shoulder.

"You did us a real service today, young man," compliments Officer Rali.

A service? This is the last thing he'd call a service. This service cost somebody their life. If he hadn't agreed to it, or if he had asked Dale the right question instead of the wrong one, this could've all been avoided. Ty would be safe and sound.

"I didn't do anything, not really," says Sean.

"You saved Dale's life," reminds Officer Rali. "That's something."

Sean begins to formulate words. He doesn't as he follows the path of Officer Rali's gaze, not at him, but on someone in the distance. Sean turns to see who he's staring at, his head throbbing when he views Mr. Hill and the nurse less than a foot away. Mr. Hill hunches his shoulders and drops his gaze. He looks up at Sean again, his mouth parted slightly.

"Um, I guess he wants to talk to you," says Sean.

Officer Rali nods, leading away Mr. Hill, who stares at Sean a final time before they're gone.

II.

A pair of headlights hit the bottom of her boots as a car enters the parking lot. No, it's not her parents. She's relieved. Ellie could barely process all of this. To process this and then tell her parents is going to be twice as hard. Hours ago, she was in a cramped van with two other officers, hearing traces of Sean's steady voice and Dale's ranting. The building looked stoic through the windshield. Then, as quick as a blink, Dale made good on his word and she could hear a ton of shuffling and coughing. Ellie's entire body went tense as if someone poured ice cubes down her back. The worse thing was that she could do nothing. Luckily, the officers left the van, prompting her to move in numbed terror. If Sean didn't come out...she can't articulate a possible reaction.

It must be the same for Sean. He can't tell her what he's feeling now that Ty's gone, though maybe he should. This summer has reenforced the notion that if you held in things too long, you'd suffer. You would be making yourself suffer. She fainted because she let things overwhelm her. But Sean was a lot more involved and he had more to lose. Everything's lost for poor Ty. He wouldn't go to school like he wanted or find a better home. There was so much more life he could've lived.

Ellie raises her eyes to view her father's car crossing the lot. Her mother sits in the passenger seat, able to see Ellie from there. She thought it would be best to meet them outside for that reason. If Amanda was going to lay into her, she didn't want it to be around the Camerons and particularly a grieving Sean. Amanda didn't say a lot when Ellie called. She immediately asked if Ellie was okay, and of course, her mother grew ten times more annoyed when she mentioned Sean. This is clearly the Amanda she's getting as her mother speedily exits the car.

"Do you know how late it is?" asks Amanda.

Yes, it's nearly ten, which is not incredibly late.

"We had to drive to the other side of town," continues Amanda, crossing her arms. "What were you thinking?"

Ellie stands. "I didn't want you to worry."

"Did you take the bus down here?" questions Amanda.

She's thankful that her father is approaching them. Her mother might lunge at her after hearing every single detail.

"You gave us a scare, Ellie," sighs John.

"Yeah, but Sean...," says Ellie.

"Here we go again," interrupts Amanda. "What did he do this time?"

"Mom!" cries Ellie.

"Look, is Sean alright?" asks John.

"Thankfully, yeah," answers Ellie. "He...he was in a fire tonight."

"What?" says Amanda, her mouth growing less firm.

"The police struck a deal with him," says Ellie. "He confessed that he was part of the car ring, and he helped them get some information. He was wired. The owner went ballistic and set the whole place on fire. One person...one boy died."

"Dear God," breathes John.

Amanda lets her arms drop and smooths her skirt.

"The boy and Sean were really close," says Ellie.

"I'm sorry to hear that," says Amanda, glancing at her husband.

"Are his parents here?" questions John.

"Yes, they've been with him all day," replies Ellie. "I'm sorry I lied to you guys."

"Is there anything we can do?" says John.

"I've tried to help, but I'm not doing much good," admits Ellie.

"That's because he probably needs to be with his family right now," says Amanda pointedly. "Ellie, I've told you that they're the ones who should be helping him out. There's nothing you can do for him."

"Maybe you should give him some space, Ellie," agrees John.

Ellie rolls her eyes. The playing of that old record is getting old, really fast.

"Mom, he's going to need me," says Ellie. "Maybe not tonight, but eventually."

"Then, tonight, you come home," returns Amanda.

"I can't believe this!" cries Ellie. "You, of all people, should know what it's like to be shaken when you're in a fire! What, did you just forget?"

Amanda's face grows pale, as if the moonlight above is surrounding her cheeks.

"That was totally different!" argues Amanda.

"Yeah, Sean lost somebody!" says Ellie. "We were lucky."

"Okay, let's settle this," says Amanda authoritatively. "Go in and ask him if he wants you to stay. You just go on and do it."

Why? Ellie glances at her parents skeptically. The "why" isn't that hard to decipher, though she'd never confess that to them. She's kind of expecting Sean to say something that will make her mother happy. The truth is that he's already brushed her off. The truth is that he'd rather be alone.

"We'll wait right here," adds Amanda.

Ellie sighs and walks to the automatic doors, which part to reveal that most of the Camerons are seated in the lobby. The sole Cameron who is missing is the very Cameron she came in to ask her question. Iris, flipping through a magazine, spies Ellie and goes to her.

"Is he being looked over?" asks Ellie.

"He just went to the washroom," says Iris.

"I was going to ask if he wanted me to stay," says Ellie.

"Why don't you go on home?" encourages Iris. "I'm sure he'll be more open to talking tomorrow."

"Well...alright," says Ellie.

She can picture her mother's smug, satisfied grin filling her no longer pale face. Ellie would simply look down so she wouldn't have to acknowledge it. Iris offers her a small hug, Ellie awkwardly returning it. This is nice. It's nice to have a mom who's not annoyed with her.

"Thanks, Ellie," says Iris.

Instead of hearing her own voice, Ellie hears the creaky wheels of a gurney. The gurney is being pushed by a male nurse. Dale's groggy expression changes when he sees Ellie, his head shifting on the pillow towards her. He must've just left the emergency room. He appears only half conscious.

"I...I need to talk to Cameron," says Dale, his voice scratchy.

Ellie shoots him a glare. Sean's already as low as he could possibly get. He didn't need Dale's judgements or lies or any other vile comments that usually left his mouth.

"What for?" demands Ellie.

"It's...it's not for me," says Dale weakly. "It's...for Ty."

Dale says no other words, shutting his eyes, and resting his head against the pillow. His head turns the other way as the nurse wheels him to a nearby room.

"I'll tell him," says Iris to Ellie. "I'm sure your parents are waiting."

"They are," says Ellie.

If only they weren't, she tells herself. When she returns, it's to a concerned father and a mother who's already in the car, seatbelt in place. John puts an arm around Ellie and opens the car door for her. She slides in and slams the door.

"I'm not saying anything to you," says Ellie moments before John joins them.

"You didn't have to," says her mother.

Ellie positions her elbow near the window and stares into the night sky. The sky is dark as a shroud while her eyes grow wet.

III.

It seems like it's here where the beeps are loudest. Dale's head is propped against a pillow, his thin body stretched acorss the blue hospital sheet, his ponytail hanging to one of its creases. For the first time they've seen each other that year, Dale is on a lower level than Sean. Literally and metaphorically. He's been caught in a trap Sean helped put into place, and likely has no chance at escape when his case hits the courts. Sean almost hates that he's allowed to be in the hospital instead of jail already. He's breathing in fresh air, aided by no machine, the smoke having left his lungs long ago. He's alive.

And he expects Sean to talk to him. If it was anyone other than his mother who asked, he would not have gone. Since he proved to his mother that he had more than a shred of integrity, he didn't want to get too angry or too cold. He'd been holding a lot of things back...towards the officers who didn't entertain thoughts of anything like this happening, towards Dale for doing most of the damage, towards himself for his part in the guilt. Maybe this was an ill-conceived plan from the get-go. The sad reality is that they'd never know. Then, his mother mentioned that it had to do with Ty. That was the only name that would give him the necessary motivation to move.

Sean positions himself in the doorway. He doesn't want to say the first word. Dale owes him that much. Turning his neck slightly, Dale squints his eyes at Sean and releases a deep breath.

"Come closer, Cameron," says Dale.

While his voice is still pretty weak, it's as clear as when he was barking orders at Sean when he first arrived at Ace's. Dale moans as he attempts to move his head completely to face Sean. He tenderly touches his leg, finally locks eyes with him.

"The nurse said you keep saying no to painkillers," says Sean. "Why?"

"I deserve to feel everything I'm feeling," replies Dale.

Sean frowns at this sudden show of compassion, wonders whether it's genuine or not. But he can't detect a strong or a faint lie in his voice.

"I watched my dad's face go from worry to shock in ten seconds flat," says Dale. "My sight was pretty blurry, but that was clear as a bell."

"Officer Rali told him about the shop?" asks Sean.

"Dad always expected me to slip through the cracks," says Dale, more quietly. "This was...this was just confirmation."

Dale coughs, winces, and robs his thigh under the blanket. Sean glances at a water cooler and a stack of cups in the opposite corner. Should he get him some? He starts towards it.

"No," protests Dale.

"I can get it," says Sean, shrugging.

"I don't want you doing anything for me anymore," says Dale, the loudest thing he's said.

Sean halts and walks to Dale's bed instead, standing at the foot of it. That comment was something new and he wasn't all hopped up on drugs when he said it either.

"You must be thinking, that's pretty refreshing," continues Dale. "I'm not going to lie. It's really bitter to say."

"Is that what you called me in for?" says Sean.

If so, what a waste. Obviously, neither of them would be working in the shop and Dale's authority over him was null and void for the past couple of weeks.

"I thought it was about Ty," says Sean.

"Ty," moans Dale, looking at the ceiling once more.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Sean notices that the left pocket has been so badly burned that his fingers go through a hole. Man, there appeared to be a hole in everything. His clothes, their plans, and consequently, in their hearts. At least, that's the expression Sean reads on Dale's face, which felt like it mirrored his own.

"I remember when I met him," sighs Dale. "He was so small. Quiet. He'd barely talk if it wasn't about numbers."

Sean stares at the floor.

"Then, I was so mad about a lot of stuff," continues Dale. "My best friend left. My mother left right before. My assitant job fell through."

"He had it worse," speaks up Sean, looking at the tiles instead of Dale.

"Why do you think I got him out of that house, huh?" argues Dale. "When Ty broke down and told me? I loaded a gun faster than you could spit. I would've shot his stepfather in a heartbeat."

"You didn't...because?" wonders Sean aloud.

"Ty didn't want me to go to jail," says Dale. "Getting him somewhere safe was the only option. His mom was in denial. She would've protected him over Marcus and Ty. Cheryl...Cheryl was a real piece of work. Constantly under her husband's thumb."

Begrudgingly, Sean allows himself to stare directly into Dale's eyes once more.

"Did he...ever do anything to her?" asks Sean softly.

"I asked that too," replies Dale. "But Ty wouldn't tell me."

Dale searches Sean's demeanor quizzically. He must be fishing.

"I...I know less than you," clarifies Sean.

This provides Dale some sort of pleasure as he nods to himself. Sean wishes it didn't.

"Hated pulling him out of school, but they would've started asking questions since Ty lived with me. Ty would've gone back home and...," muses Dale.

"But he loved school," interjects Sean.

"Wait a minute," says Dale, sitting up with difficulty to glare at Sean. "If he wanted to go back to school, he would've told me."

"Well, he told me," says Sean.

"You put that into his brain," counters Dale. "He was perfectly happy at the shop until you..."

"The kid devoured books, even math textbooks," insists Sean. "He went through a dozen books in days. He wanted to go to Degrassi. He..."

"Shut up!" cries Dale.

"No, you shut up!" exclaims Sean. "You kept him somewhere you thought would be safe. Guess what? It wasn't! His death is all your fault!"

"Cameron!" cries Dale.

Dale attempts to stand, apparently forgetting his injury, hollering in pain. He gnashes his teeth, staring pathetically at his leg. Sean keeps his gaze on him intact, stoic as the bed itself.

"You're the person who brought them to my shop, where Ty was sleeping," seethes Dale. "You. Only you."

Sean flinches, having no response ready. Can he blame Dale for this? More than he can blame himself? He did turn himself in and he did agree to be wired. He agreed to the situation.

"I asked where he was, to make sure Ty was okay, before it all went down," says Sean.

"He's not okay," says Dale. "Is he?"

He steps back, Sean's back against the curtain. The soft material touches his neck and hands. He's right. Dale is right. No precaution in Ty's life was ever good enough. He compromised Ty's well-being just as much as Dale did, didn't he? Sean holds a blackened sleeve to his eyes, trying to keep the sobs from going from his chest to his mouth. There's no fresh air for him either. He can barely utter the words he says next.

"Why am I here?" chokes out Sean.

"I need somebody to tell Cheryl and Marcus," answers Dale.

How could he, when he could barely look Dale in the eye? Especially after this conversation. Sean shakes his head.

"We're the only family who knows anything," says Dale, sniffling.

"I'm not...I'm not...," breathes Sean.

"He thought you were," says Dale. "Believe me, Sean."

Sean lowers his arm.

"There were so many times I hated you, wanted to shoot you," continues Dale. "But then I'd imagine Ty seeing me doing it, and I couldn't. When he actually did see us facing off that day..."

Closing his eyes, Sean recalls the barrel of the gun near his nose, the night of the robbery, Ty crying as deeply as he is now.

"I swore to him I'd never touch you after that," confesses Dale.

"Why?" says Sean.

"Cause he was my Jiminy Cricket," says Dale, looking away. "And we all need one of those."

Sean raises his shirt above his mouth up to nose, smelling the smoke, tears streaming down the top of the shirt.

"You probably struck some deal with the police, right?" asks Dale.

Reluctantly, Sean nods. He lowers the shirt.

"I'm in no position to do this, not at the moment," says Dale. "I'll give you Cheryl's address, the visiting hours for Marcus."

"They'll have no idea who I am," moans Sean.

"Tell them I sent you," says Dale, repeatedly shaking his head. "Tell them I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I...," begins Sean.

"Tell them I did my best," sobs Dale.

Sean's teary eyes look at Dale's shadowy countenance, as it becomes less opaque, more searching and sad.

"God," breathes Dale. "Tell them I did my best. Please, Sean. At least tell them that."

IV.

1406 Clovenhill Avenue. Sean reads the address again, folds it in between his hands.

"How do you tell a mother that her son's dead?" mutters Sean.

Iris takes a seat next to him, holding a cup of hot tea. She takes a sip, then clears her throat.

"She won't be prepared to hear something like that, however it's delivered," says Iris. "But...she has to hear it."

"From me?" sighs Sean.

"I can go with you," offers Iris.

"No, Dale said I should go alone, and I pretty much agree," says Sean.

"Sean, we feel helpless," sighs Iris. "Your father and I were talking. You could let us pay for the funeral. We know how special he was to you."

Sean swallows a lump in his throat, rubs his brow. Funeral. That's the first time the word's been uttered. Even Dale managed to avoid it. They were going to have to plan a funeral for a thirteen-year old. That barely makes sense.

"Thanks, but...," says Sean, letting his voice drop.

"Well, they still have to do the autopsy," says Iris. "And maybe his mother will have different plans. We'll see."

"Okay," mutters Sean.

Iris takes another sip.

"Where's Ellie?" asks Sean.

"Um, her parents came," says Iris, hesitantly glancing at him.

"Right," says Sean.

He can't blame the Nashes for pulling her out of here, and he wouldn't blame Ellie for leaving. They might just hate him as much as he hates himself right now.

Tracker and Ike return to the waiting room, carrying four cartons of food. Sean hopes one of those isn't for him. He has no desire to eat, to pretend to eat, to stare at food.

"Has he been seen yet?" questions Ike, bending next to his wife.

"Not yet," says Iris.

"The service around here is ridiculous!" complains Ike, then going to the receptionist. "My son hasn't been helped yet."

Helped how, thinks Sean. An examination won't erase the pain. Dale doesn't want painkillers and Sean doesn't want assistance.

"I'll see what's keeping the doctor," promises the receptionist, immediately grabbing the phone.

Sean doesn't hear a phone ring in the distance, but rather a scurrying of feet, and the clatter of doors opening. He spies her guitar case before he sees her. Becca moves back her brown bangs, her grandmother inches behind her.

"Sean!" says Becca, her cheeks rosy and her voice breathy.

"Becca," says Sean.

He stands and walks to her, exchanges panicked looks with her grandmother.

"I'm Rebecca Rothschild," says her grandmother. "If you remember. Becca...she's named after me."

"Sean Cameron, ma'am," returns Sean.

"We heard the news on the radio!" cries Becca, shaking her head. "A fire...at Ace's! I came straight from my music lesson. Where is he?"

Becca doesn't have to say his name. Sean hangs his head.

"He's probably been waiting for me, right?" says Becca, her eyes welling up. "They said there was one casualty."

"One fatality, dear," says her grandmother.

"I don't know the difference!" cries Becca.

"Sean, we were hoping it wasn't...," begins her grandmother.

"Does that mean someone's dead?" exclaims Becca. "Is it...is it Dale?"

Rebecca also searches Sean for an answer. Sean shakes his head, a tear going past his lips. Becca seems to watch it fall and with that, her hopes fall too.

"I...I came for nothing, didn't I?" sobs Becca.

"It's Ty?" whispers her grandmother.

"I'm so sorry, Becca," says Sean, taking her into his arms.

"Ty!" screams Becca, every echo in the halls breaking his heart.

Her guitar case drops to the floor, the handle bumping against the top. It's the most shredding scream he's ever heard and it couldn't have come from a sweeter person. Becca starts to slip in his arms, her grandmother raising her and leading her to an empty chair.

"He was my best friend," sobs Becca, trying to catch her breath.

"He's at peace, baby," soothes her grandmother. "Shhhh."

"I should've stayed with him!" says Becca. "I should've stayed."

"He knew you couldn't stay there, okay?" says her grandmother, hugging Becca tight.

This was probably private, guesses Sean. He shouldn't be hanging around. Becca lays against her grandmother's chest, her grandmother looking at him.

"As soon as you make some arragements, you'll tell us?" says her grandmother.

"Yeah," says Sean. "I can."

V.

He presses his fingers against the pages. There's a bearded pirate, a green parrot on his shoulder, standing in the midst of a pile of gold coins. In the ocean, you can see a ship standing still. It's going nowhere. Sean picks up another. In the middle of the book is one picture of boy with war paint smeared on his face. His mouth is so nicely drawn and wide open you could almost hear him whooping. He's on an island, growing more and more rebellious everyday since he wasn't able to go home. Both illustrations are so good, with proud protagonists, yet so lonely in different ways.

His parents offered to stay with him after the doctor gave him the all clear. He didn't see the point in it. Besides, being around them and Tracker or the police officers would be a reminder of last night. He'd rather remove himself from yesterday entirely. But being home isn't doing that for him. As soon as he stepped inside, he was confronted by this box, the box of books that were Ty's. Some were from the book sale and some were the texts given to Sean throughout the years. He never valued them, or gave them a second thought once finals were over. Now, he can do nothing but comb through them, as if they hold some key, some answer to why this turned out the way it did.

Tracker, Ike, and Iris were meeting with Mr. Fletcher to discuss the case. While Mr. Fletcher thought it was best that Sean be there too, Iris stepped in and said he needed the day to rest. That didn't guarantee that Sean would sleep, however. He hasn't. He'd love to sleep, to quiet the loud thoughts in his mind. But he's unable to when he knows that Ty's eyes will be closed forever. He will be resting forever.

And there's so much to do. So much. There are apologizes to make. There are conversations he has to have. There are places to go, places where he'd rather not go.

What follows these situations, he can't begin to see. How will he rebuild the trust he's ruined or view himself the same way? Plus, there were people who were already viewing him negatively: Mr. Hill, Mrs. Nash, Dale. Worse is Dale, who might be telling the truth. If Ty had survived, would he blame Sean for the fire too? Is it his fault that everyone is suffering? He always thought the fault lay with Dale, but maybe not. Maybe he's the bad link in this whole horrible chain.

Sean closes the book, closes the box, and sits on top of it. He won't answer the phone if it rings or answer the door if anybody comes. If he's going to make everyone suffer, he might as well suffer the most.

From beyond the door, he hears a couple of small, delicate steps. He hopes the person is going to any other apartment. They are nearing his door. They stop at his door. A gentle knock raps on the surface.

"Sean?" says Ellie.

Her voice brings forth a more crowded picture in his brain, that of the Nashes rallying against him for dragging their daughter into this mess, and Ellie succumbing to their opinions.

"When I called, Tracker said you were here," says Ellie.

Should he let her in? It's not like she didn't have a key. But he can't face her. It's still too fresh, too difficult.

"I can't not do anything," remarks Ellie.

Her voice is soft and sad. Sean doesn't budge, until there's a weak cry, which turns to more pronounced sobbing.

"Sean, don't shut me out," cries Ellie. "You've done it before."

He stands, slowly heading to the door. Of course he knows what she's talking about. He did close himself off from her after the shooting. This is deeper, though. This situation dealt with his bad choices, his decisions alone.

"This isn't the same," says Sean to the door.

"Yes, it is," protests Ellie weakly. "Because you needed someone as much as you do now."

"I'm dealing with it, on my own," says Sean.

"You're hiding," disagrees Ellie. "But hiding can get lonely...very quickly."

Yeah, it can. Sean glances at the box, tears lining his eyes.

"There's nothing in there that will help, but there's someone out here who can try to help," says Ellie.

No other words stream in from behind the door or under it. His eyes scan the contents of the apartment, where there's no comfort in the empty corners and rooms. So many feet have trod on the floor and the owners of those feet have left, one permanently. When Ty came to stay, he didn't know how it would work out. It more than worked out. Sean had gained a brother, a friend. Ty can't be there for him anymore. That doesn't mean that others can't. He's no pirate with mounds of gold or the boy warrior of an island. Loneliness hasn't mad him happy. He's sad and trying to keep it together. Sean touches the cold knob of the door and turns it.

Ellie, wearing a black sweater and jeans, smiles at him, tears along her nose.

"Supposed to be over Marco's helping him move in," says Ellie. "That's what my parents thnk. And they think I should let your family be there for you. But I can't stay away, Sean. I've never been able to."

"I'm glad you can't," says Sean.

Ellie embraces him, Sean's cheeks brushed by her hair. He smiles in the thickness of it.

VI.

"The lasagna," selects Toby.

With an amused smile, the cafeteria worker shovels a healthy portion of lasagna from the pan and sets it into a small container next to a bread roll. Toby takes it from her and sets it on his tray. Manny quickly grins at him as they slide their trays past mashed potatoes, square brownies, and salad selections. He usually got a salad. But Toby didn't want to get anything that would stick in his teeth. He didn't welcome the idea of getting a piece of parsley stuck up in there, not today of all days. Jello's fine for teeth. He'd get Jello. The whipped cream on top jiggles as he puts the bowl on top of a napkin.

"I forgot how much it was," confesses Manny to him in a whisper.

"Nah, I've got it," assures Toby. "You're my guest."

Truthfully, he'd just use the card every intern received at the start of the term. It was a new luxury because at least three of the interns last year asked for it. Toby was too passive to ask, but he's glad other people did. He hands the card to the cashier, who slides it through.

"Enjoy your meal," says the cashier.

As if there is a chance he wouldn't? Manny walks with him to a table in the center. The cafeteria is one of the smaller rooms yet it appeared more open than it actually was, with long glass windows on the left, high white ceilings, and TV monitors sharing the latest tech savvy news as it scrolled at the bottom of the screen. When the news wasn't being reported, the screen would go quiet and contemporary music from the speakers would fill the room. Toby started routinely coming to lunch after the first week, thanks to Manny's advice.

He was surprised how much he liked it. With the other interns, he discussed topics he could never discuss with the kids at Degrassi, including J.T.: CAD systems, molecular models, the history of FORTRAN. The only computer-related debate in the Degrassi caf was whether Derek was a Mac or a PC guy. During their six months of dating, Manny was willing to listen to a lot of his digital ramblings but he's pretty sure she didn't get half of it, as much as she tried to keep up. That won't be a problem here. They have so many things to talk about.

They sit across from each other, their two bodies filling a table for six. The new interns have sectioned themselves off at a table near the vending machines. Calvin and Kym are three tables away from them, simultaneously chaperoning them and typing on their Blackberrys. Toby and Manny glance to the right, their own chaperones, Officers Patton and Wheaton, playing cards at a table. Manny starts to poke at her lasagna with her plastic fork.

"Okay, just give me a sec," says Toby.

He bows his head to pray, thankful for more than food, thankful for this moment with her. Silence is all there is at the other end of the table, so he assumes she's praying. Or not, he realizes as he opens his eyes. Manny is staring straight at him, with a full grin.

"What?" says Toby.

"Oh, um...I was just admiring your perfectly sculpted Jello mold," stammers Manny, blushing.

"Right," says Toby, face as red as hers. "It's pretty magical."

He pokes it with a knife and they watch it wiggle. They chuckle.

"I haven't been here since...April," recalls Manny.

"With that snazzy orange visitor's badge," adds Toby.

"And now it's puke green," says Manny, touching her badge. "Hello? Downgrade."

Toby grins. "I'm just glad you're here. Puke green or not."

"Officer Patton said it'd be the perfect place," admits Manny. "Beefed up security. We're sort of hidden. It's nowhere near my house. And you're here, which I'm glad about too."

Manny lets her head fall momentarily, enough time for Toby to relish in the comment and to hopefully think of another comment that is just as good. Sadly, he is coming up short.

"Did you say hi to Calvin and Kym?" asks Toby.

Whoa, really romantic, Toby, he chastises himself.

"Yeah, they were kind of scatter-brained, though," replies Manny.

"Kym might be getting a promotion, depending on how she handles the interns," says Toby. "And Calvin has this big business venture to tackle by the end of the month. They're even more stressed than usual."

"They should get a couples massage," says Manny, nodding assertively.

"I bet that never crossed their minds," laughs Toby.

"Obviously," says Manny.

There are a couple of things that has crossed his mind when he arrived. Should he tell her about what he's seen since they were last together? He'd hate to burden her with the horrible discoveries in the house. At the same time, she might be the only person, the _only_ person, who could tell him what to do next. Manny had always been his willing counsellor, even on the darkest of days. Well, it's been the darkest of weeks. Toby releases a deep sigh.

"Manny, has Officer Patton told you anything about the case?" asks Toby.

She freezes her fork, posed over a couple of noodles.

"Not during this visit," answers Manny.

"Ummm, they found where Justin and his group were hiding," shares Toby, locking eyes with her.

Manny leans forwards expectantly, grins. "They found something?"

"More like...I found something," replies Toby.

"What?" says Manny with a hint of excitement in her voice.

She wouldn't be as excited when he told her. Should he? Really, should he? The silence goes on for far longer than Toby would like.

"Are you allowed to tell me?" speaks up Manny.

"I...I don't know," says Toby.

The thought hadn't crossed his mind. He supposes it's somewhat confidential, seeing as everyone was hesitant to let him tag along. It was the police after all who told her about the e-mails Justin sent.

"I don't want to get you in trouble," says Manny, earnestly. "Well, any more, that is."

Toby smiles down at his lunch, Manny doing likewise.

"Maybe I like to live on the edge," says Toby, glancing up at her.

"Listen to you," remarks Manny, running a finger along the table top. "Next thing I know, you'll be going skydiving."

Toby offers her a sheepish grin, watches the news on the monitor for awhile, then runs a finger along the top of hers. It's the first skin to skin contact they've had. He couldn't pass up the opportunity. Manny lays her hand flat and allows him to touch each finger, though she won't meet his gaze. Soft music flows through the room above the falling of items in the vending machines, the loud clinks of the cashier machine, and bits and pieces of Armand telling the other interns the do's and don'ts of business lunches.

_I can hear you thinking what I feel  
I know that what we've got is real  
And all we need to get us through  
Is just to live like lovers do_

"So while you're becoming the next John Lasseter, I auditioned for that role I told you about," shares Manny.

"Cool," says Toby. "And...how'd it go?"

"I think I kinda nailed it," sighs Manny.

"That's amazing," says Toby. "I knew it, though. All you had to do was focus and have confidence, just like you tell me all the time."

"I was focused," comments Manny, agreeably. "On us."

"Don't understand," admits Toby.

"I sang a song that made me think of us," explains Manny, staring into his eyes. "I could hardly think of anything else."

_Just like lovers do  
I wanna feel that way  
Yeah like lovers do  
They loose themselves for days  
Yeah I need to feel, I need to feel that way  
Like lovers do  
Give me the strength  
To give myself to you  
Like lovers lovers do_

Toby squeezes her hand and Manny returns a softer squeeze. She thought of him? Good, because he could hardly think of anything or anyone else. He doesn't have to write on paper what he's feeling anymore, lick the envelope, pray that it reaches her on time. While he loved doing it, it's so much better to hear her and be near her. No stamp on the most expensive envelope in the world could match it.

VII.

With most things nowadays, there's a time limit. They ate, continued to talk, and with one casual glance at his watch once he polished off the Jello, Toby saw that they had only fifteen minutes. Riding the elevator to the ground floor ate five of their minutes. He silently wished everything was on the same floor. Officer Wheaton and Officer Patton were still shadowing them though they'd gotten it down to an art. Toby barely notices them as they walk along the dirt path next to the Kytel building.

"You still haven't told me why we brought bread," says Toby, giving his roll a curious look.

"We can't feed them Jello," says Manny jokingly. "No, I saw it on the way inside."

She points to a duck pond on the right, then holds his hand.

"Ohhhh," says Toby.

One duck swims on the surface on the pond, eyeing the group of four with eager stares. Another duck peeks from behind a bush.

"I'm really sorry about Emma," says Toby as they walk a bit further.

Manny had basically given him the details of Emma's mental anguish and recovery. Like Manny, he was surprised that she was dealing with these feelings she had no idea what to do with, to the point where she couldn't recognize herself. Emma consistently struck him as someone who kept it together but he does remember how rattled she was after the shooting so yeah, maybe another life-changing circumstance would greatly upset her. He'd like to see Snake and Spike work it out, if not for their sake, then for Emma's.

"It was scary, Tobes," says Manny. "Luckily, we reached her when we did. I don't know. Maybe I could've done more along the way."

"What matters is that you're going above the call of duty now," says Toby. "You always do."

"Even it means me being gone a little longer?" reminds Manny.

"You do what you have to do, and you have to do this," reassures Toby.

Manny hugs him from the side and they reach the bench. Yeah, it did suck, but Emma must've let Manny console him when she came for those three days, so he'll suck it up and let Manny console her. When Manny needed consoling? Well, he'd just have to do it from afar if that should ever be the case.

Officer Patton is playing around with his walkie talkie, explaining the features to Officer Wheaton. Toby stifles a laugh. Only at Kytel.

Turning to share his observation with Manny, she whistles instead, waves her hand at the two ducks. The smaller duck, probably the female, leaves the bush, squawks, and seven baby ducks join her, approaching her and Toby in a row.

"Awww, we should've brought more," sighs Manny.

As it is, they have two bread rolls between them, hardly enough for a family of nine. Or eight, since the male duck isn't moving in their direction.

"I haven't done this before," remarks Toby.

"Be kind to your web-footed friends, like the song says," encourages Manny.

Toby starts tearing bits of bread, scattering them among the babies, who make pleased noises and waddle around his feet. Manny concentrates on feeding the mother whose beak is level to her knee.

"These ducks are pigs," laughs Manny.

The mother duck moves her wings and chokes down a bit of bread, releasing a loud noise.

"It's more like a squawk than a quack," observes Toby.

"Yeah," says Manny. "At least they don't spit when they talk like in cartoons."

The babies wander off once Toby's out of bread. They waddle on the lawn as their mother stares at Manny hungrily.

"That's it," says Manny. "Closed for business."

Toby laughs. Squawking again, the mother turns her tail and goes about gathering her children into a group.

"I hope Kytel never goes out of business," adds Manny.

"Then you wouldn't be able to visit me," sighs Toby, frowning.

"Who says I came to visit you?" teases Manny. "I came for the ducks."

Manny playfully lays her head on Toby's shoulder, Toby bringing her closer with his arm. The family's together in a few seconds, swimming on the pond as the sun shines gently through the trees on Toby and Manny's faces.

"I haven't had a peaceful day like this in awhile," says Toby.

"Seriously?" says Manny.

Toby nods, his sight moving to the two officers.

"Not with someone who understands," continues Toby.

Manny lets her forehead fall against his cheek.

"Toby, whatever you were going to say in the cafeteria, you don't have to tell me," says Manny.

That sends relief through his veins as much as it sends a wave of curiousity.

"You sure?" asks Toby.

"I trust you," assures Manny. "You've shown me how smart you are. Today...everyday. Why wouldn't I trust you?"

He can't help but want the day to remain peaceful. She'd be leaving soon and he didn't want to scare her or convince her to stay while he dealt with this. No, he might as well take J.T.'s advice, tell Sergeant Blanchett, and go from there. He'd initiate something that could mean more days like this, with her.

"Thank you," whispers Toby.

Toby turns, kisses her forehead.

"You're getting stubble," laughs Manny, touching his chin. "Right here."

"I would've shaved if I knew you were...," begins Toby apologetically.

"Mmmm," sighs Manny, his words deafeated by a kiss, Manny's mouth moving longingly, her hands against her neck.

Toby grins, feeling her fingers near his ears, the rippling water the single sound in the background, Manny continuing to stroke his chin when she pulls away. Toby leans in for a second kiss, stopped by a persistent ringing. He groans and checks his watch.

"Time to go?" guesses Manny.

"Time to go," says Toby.

Manny's smile fades. "Can I keep the nametag?"

"For what?" says Toby.

"As a memento," says Manny. "I'd like to ask if I can keep it. Just in case. I don't know when I'm coming here again."

That's right. She didn't. Neither of them did. Toby smiles sadly and tugs at it.

"Yeah," says Toby. "We'll ask."


	94. As The World Falls Down

**XCIV. As The World Falls Down**

_There's such a sad love  
Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel  
Open and closed within your eyes  
I'll place the sky within your eyes_

_There's such a fooled heart  
Beating so fast in search of new dreams  
A love that will last within your heart  
I'll place the moon within your heart_

_As the pain sweeps through  
Makes no sense for you  
Every thrill he's caused  
Wasn't too much fun at all  
But I'll be there for you-oo-oo  
As the world falls down_

_Falling  
(As the world) Falling down  
Falling in love_

_I'll paint you mornings of gold  
I'll spin you Valentine evenings  
Though we're strangers till now  
We're choosing the path between the stars  
I'll leave my love between the stars_

_As the pain sweeps through  
Makes no sense for you  
Every thrill he's caused  
Wasn't too much fun at all  
But I'll be there for you-oo-oo  
As the world falls down_

_Falling  
(As the world) Falling down  
Falling  
As the world falls down  
Falling  
Falling  
Falling  
Falling in love  
As the world falls down  
(down) Falling  
Falling  
Falling  
Falling in love  
As the world falls down_

_Falling  
Falling  
Falling_

_Makes no sense at all  
Makes no sense to fall  
Falling  
As the world falls down  
Falling  
Falling  
Falling in love  
As the world falls down  
(down) Falling  
Falling  
Falling in love  
Falling in love (love)  
Falling in love  
Falling in love  
Falling in love_

**As The World Falls Down is the property of David Bowie and appears in the film _Labyrinth._**

**Paint It Black is the property of the Rolling Stones.**

_I see a red door and I want it painted black  
No colors anymore I want them to turn black  
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes  
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes_

Yanking the window's white curtains to the sides, Ashley stares out at the street, full of parked cars, swaying trees, and office buildings. The buildings look low from where she stands. They looked lower from the plane that carried her home. People scurry from place to place, during their lunch hours, after school, as they leave work. She's noticed the same two realtors for the past two days. They arrive in similar light cotton dresses and blue jackets and always laugh when they come out. It'd be nice to be them. It'd be nice to be anyone who isn't in this hotel room.

Ashley drops onto the bed, still hearing the subtle wailings of the Stones from her CD player's headphones. Her ipod is packed. Most of her stuff is still packed. Maybe that's because she's almost expecting it, almost expecting for them to call and say that they needed her. The tour will need her. Wouldn't they? Who was the person that ticket buyers were camping out for? Who was the person who was interviewed, featured, and championed for two weeks? Ashley Kerwin. So that's more than enough merit for them to call her.

But they want a different Ashley, she reminds herself. They want the Ashley they carefully created, conjured up by two men who barely know her. And they didn't want to hear otherwise.

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black  
I see my red door and it has been painted black  
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts  
It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black_

She turns over, the sun making the bottles on the nightstand shine so much that it hurts her eyes. Ashley props herself up by her elbows and reads the labels on the empty bottles, no bigger than her palm. Vodka, rum, scotch. Thank goodness for the honor bar. She smirks. The honors student taking advantage of the honor bar. It was hard not indulging on the plane, when the worries in her head were the loudest. Plus she would've felt weird if Chloe's husband saw her kicking back a few after she manipulated a ticket out of his wife. She didn't necessarily set out to do it at first but it just became...so easy to go for it. It was just about survival. She couldn't go through explaining herself to her dad, Chris, and Craig. No, she was already in a delicate position. She'd talk to them when she got the courage.

Until then, she's keeping to herself. The best activity she could do alone, what with having no shows to prepare for and no desire to talk? Drinking. As soon as she got into the room, she opened the bar and then opened the drinks. She was intent on drinking the memories away. There was vodka for the first time she was booed, rum for the disgusting kiss with Mark, scotch for the disastrous meeting with Liam. Drinking did the trick. She couldn't remember anything once the bourbon was half gone. When room service came around, she put on the Do Not Disturb sign and slept, but by day three, she dizzily left the room and crashed in the lobby, sleeping for hours until the maid had left. The past two days, the maid had been long gone once she awoke and went back up. Whoever came after the maid to refill the honor bar was mysterious, but very appreciated. She would've given that person the biggest tip ever.

Only, she's running low on money. She had no idea when her last check would arrive from Julian or even how much she would receive. He'd probably withhold the check from her because of the bus joyride. She is costing him money, after all. It's too late for him to find a suitable replacement. She has two options, venture out to an ATM, hoping she has enough, or go home. Neither of them sounds good. For very good reasons, she'd texted her mother and father multiple times with news that she'd gone to visit Meredith at the beach. First, if they thought they knew where she was, they'd be at ease and not look for her. Secondly, and most importantly, if they knew she was with Meredith, they knew that she wouldn't be getting into any trouble. If this was a perfect world, they'd realize she was eighteen and let her do what she wants to do, but the world is far from perfect.

She swishes the last of the gin and groans. Great, I'm low on cash and alcohol. She'd even take some cheap beer at this point. Ashley grabs for the remote and shuts on the TV. Flipping through channels, she stops when she sees a familiar figure, clothed in a leather jacket, guitar hanging near his hips. She clinches her jaw tight.

"BB6 New Voices Festival is proud to spotlight two of London's hottest up and coming acts," says a cheery female announcer. "Newly signed Arista artist Mark Kennick..."

Ashley rolls her eyes and hurriedly undoes the cap of the gin.

"And his newest labelmate Mariah Richmond, fresh from headlining the LyricFest tour in New Zealand," continues the announcer.

Mariah? Who's Mariah? The screen shows a tall, pretty redhead, wearing a black version of the red dress Ashley remembers donning by request.

"I'm so thankful for the opportunity," says Mariah, beaming. "My agent called and said there was an opening, so...it's, wow. I'm very grateful."

Her former tour director pops up on the screen next, in the midst of a press conference, Julian wrapping an arm around Mariah.

"We've had some blips along the way, but Mariah is a welcome addition," says Julian.

"Excuse me, but what happened to Ashley Kerwin?" asks a journalist, shoving the microphone into Julian's face.

"She has...family obligations," replies Julian, shifting his gaze. "Next question."

"Will we still see her later on the tour, perhaps at the final gig at the Pitcher and Piano?" inquires the same journalist.

"Ms. Kerwin is no longer with us," says Julian quickly. "That is all."

He's right. That's all she can take. Ashley shuts off the TV and throws the gin bottle across the room. The glass splatters on the wall, the shards falling to the carpet. They replaced her, within a week, because of "family obligations". How could they be that cold? She did so much for them. She sang their stupid songs, she let them order her around, and she devoted her time and work to the tour, and this is how they treat her? They're pathetic, or she is.

"Thanks a lot, Jule," whispers Ashley.

She leaves the bed, finds a trashcan, and angrily sweeps the bottles into the bin. The trash bag is still rattling from glass clinking against glass when her cellphone rings. Glancing at the number, she puts it down. Craig. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. He's been calling more than her dad or Kate. But he's probably with her dad and Kate, too. That's why she fled. He was with her dad. If it was solely him in the airport, she wouldn't have run. If anybody could understand what she's been through, it would've been him. She glances at the ringing phone again, contemplates answering it right before it goes silent. Then, it rings again. Ashley takes a deep breath and holds the phone.

"Paige?" she says, furrowing her brow.

She clicks her phone on to hear her friend's voice on the other end.

"Okay, the one time I'm envious of Lauren Conrad?" says Paige in a huff. "Why can't we have four-star beach bungalows in Toronto?"

"What?" says Ashley.

"Hon, I'm house-hunting with Mom," explains Paige. "For future reference, what was the name of that awful apartment complex you and Craig almost moved into? Hazel's browsing too and seriously avoiding sketchy scenery."'

"Paige, I honestly don't remember," sighs Ashley.

"You are so helpful," says Paige sarcastically.

"Sorry," groans Ashley, touching her forehead.

The hangover's officially kicking in, and Ashley wishes it would've held out a little longer. She's very aware she's not being helpful. If only someone would help her without attacking her at the same time. That would be a change. Ashley stares at her cell momentarily, puts it against her cheek once more.

"Um, Paige, I have this colossal favor to ask...," begins Ashley.

"Whatever it is, it's going to be hard with you in London, Ash," says Paige.

"I'm...not in London," admits Ashley. "Listen, do you know the Calypso Hotel near the airport?"

"You're there?" cries Paige. "What happened?"

"Just come, alright," says Ashley. "And don't tell anyone. Please."

"Fine," says Paige. "I'll be there in a few."

II.

Joey carefully lifts the lid of the white kettle, peers inside, and shrugs. Craig places two cups in front of Joey, watches him pour the tea inside. Angie chomps on a carrot and walks over to Craig.

"For the record, I don't think I've made tea since your mother was around," says Joey.

"It's what they're used to," says Craig, motioning to the doorway where Chris and Robert are seated on the Jeremiah's faded couch.

"Suppose the Brits drink it all the time," muses Joey.

"Do they pee tea?" asks Angie, then giggling.

"Ang, go upstairs," orders Joey.

"I _always _have to go upstairs," moans Angie, disappearing anyway.

"Diane's in my room," calls Joey after her. "Keep her company."

Craig wishes Chris and Robert were simply keeping them company, but they aren't. What's more nerve-wracking, however, is the third person in their living room. Kate Kerwin has her back against the wall, failing to move an inch since she arrived with her ex-husband and his husband. Their house has unofficially become the outpost for operation "What are we going to do with Ashley?" Craig volunteered his house seeing as it was more comfortable than talking in a hotel room or Kate's house. Plus, everyone was so sure that if Ashley was coming home, she'd reach him first. He's not so sure, though he'd like to be that sure.

"Here we go," says Joey, setting the cups of tea on a tray.

"Thanks," says Craig.

He walks to Robert and Chris with the tray. They take the cups.

"Are you sure we're not putting you and Joey out?" asks Chris.

"It's no problem," says Joey, obviously overhearing him from the kitchen.

"It really isn't," assures Craig. "Ms. Kerwin, are you sure you don't want anything?"

"No thanks," says Kate, softly.

This must be hard on her the most, decides Craig. When Kate and Ashley were in contact, they were at each other's throats, and they didn't leave on the best of terms last time they were together. In fact, Craig was Kate's go-to guy for anything involving Ashley. Boy does he feel like he's failed in that department. But there is something that's gnawing at him more than that, and he has yet to say it.

"I can't imagine doing this at my house," sighs Kate. "With the investigation circling around Toby, Jeff has so much on his mind. I can't drag him into this, too."

Robert nods. "I wish she were seventeen again, so we could get the police to drag her home."

"She feels comfortable with Meredith," says Chris. "Maybe she went to talk to her."

"I should've kept up with her more. I wish she came to me...," says Kate, her voice fading.

"I'm just happy she bothered to tell us where she is at all," sighs Robert.

Craig lowers the tray to the table, goes to sit in a chair. All the adults stare at him, including Joey, who trickled in sometime after his son. Craig ruffles his hair and shakes his head. What he's thinking will come to light eventually, so perhaps he should say it, even if it unnerves them.

"Craig?" prompts Robert.

"She's not at Meredith's," says Craig with a simple shrug.

"Are you positive?" says Joey, going behind his chair.

"I wanted to believe it at first, but I can feel it," replies Craig. "She's lying."

"Craig, it's the only word from her we have...," begins Chris.

"She's been lying for weeks," interjects Craig. "I know her. She's trying to throw everyone off."

He sits up a little straighter.

"Ashley's smart, guys," continues Craig. "She'll have us running in circles until she figures out what to do with herself."

"That's a pretty huge lie to tell us," says Robert.

"Well, Ashley's pretty scared," counters Craig. "Scared enough to lie. Look, I know she's an adult..."

"She's certainly not acting like an adult," comments Kate, crossing her arms.

"But the tour stuff split her open," finishes Craig.

Her parents, Chris, and Joey exchange pitying looks, looks that would've let Ashley know they cared, if she were here to see them. Kate is especially moved. There's cause to be. If they had only seen it for themselves, they'd believe that he's the one telling the truth. But apparently Kate does. She approaches him.

"Do you think she's alone?" questions Kate, her eyes becoming wet.

"I'd bet on it," replies Craig.

"What if she hurts herself?" cries Kate, turning from him. "Rob...."

"This may sound tricky, but...it just might work," says Robert. "Chances are the airline ticket cost a pretty sum. After quitting the tour, I'm not sure how much money she has left. I gave her one of my credit cards for emergencies and she'd have to use that card eventually. I'll cancel the card. They'd no doubt call me if she tries to use it."

"There's no telling when she'll run out of money, though," says Chris.

"Which is why we're going to call every area hotel in the mean time," says Robert.

"Feel free to use my phone, too," offers Joey.

"If Ashley's running, we're going to lead her to a dead end," sighs Robert.

While it's a good plan, Craig's not convinced Ashley wouldn't find some way to avoid it all together.

"And if this fails?" says Craig.

"What else can we do, Craig?" moans Kate. "This seems to be the most logical step right now."

He can't argue against it, because he can't think of any alternative. Craig stands, puts his hands in his pockets, and walks to the window, staring out at the street, stretching out farther than he can see from there. Joey joins him.

"Like you said, she's smart," says Joey. "She's probably safe."

Based on the fact that in the past month, she's walked into traffic, drove while drunk, and cut herself off from people left and right, she's far from safe. If she is safe for now, there's no telling if she'll remain that way.

"Joey, how was it?" asks Craig.

"How was what?" says Joey.

"Not knowing if Mom would come home from the hospital with you or not?" says Craig, barely above a whisper. "What was it like for you to live through that? I don't think I've ever asked."

"Like agony," answers Joey, blinking at the window.

"Yeah," says Craig. "That's what this is like."

III.

"I don't like you!" yells Jack, hitting Spinner squarely on the knee with a plastic hammer.

"Oww, dude!" cries Spinner.

Emma smiles faintly from the receptionist's desk, Spike chuckling. Jack smiles at the floor, then at his mother and Emma.

"I'm funny," says Jack.

Spike resumes filling out the insurance form as Snake goes to stop Jack's torment of Spinner.

"I think your brother's figured out why Spinner's been around you so much lately," whispers Spike to Emma. "And he's obviously jealous."

"I'm jealous I can't stay out here with you guys," sighs Emma.

The sessions for the past couple of weeks have been alright, though that was mainly because her parents were in there with her. She was very surprised when Dr. DePauw requested that she meet with Emma alone today. Sharing her feelings was easier with her parents in the same room. Emma knew that they weren't judging her despite her doubts and anxieties. Snake listened to her candid comments about her fear that he'd cheat again and how his actions sent out different signals she didn't like. She could see his shoulders weigh down with each conversation. It was sort of good to see the guilt firsthand. While she didn't enjoy doing that to him, she was starting to understand that he blamed himself more than anyone else. What if Dr. DePauw secretly blames her for something?

"We're all meeting together next week, before we go home," reminds Spike.

"It's just...after all these days, she still comes across as some woman in a big chair with a calm voice," explains Emma.

"Emma, she's a psychiatrist," says Spike. "You can't expect to hear her whole life story."

"Not asking for her life story," insists Emma. "Only...."

Their chat is interrupted by the steady clack-clack of heels, Emma sensing Dr. DePauw's arrival before she turns the corner. Ugh, it's only an hour, she tells herself. Dr. DePauw greets them, clothed in a pearl-white business suit with black lining. Her hair is in a tight bun and she carries her usual notebook.

"Morning, Ms. Nelson, Emma," says Dr. DePauw.

"Good morning, doctor," says Spike.

Emma stays quiet, mentally counting the number of magazines on a side table.

"How are you, Emma?" asks Dr. DePauw.

"Fine, I guess," mutters Emma.

"Ready to go back?" says Dr. DePauw.

"Alright," replies Emma.

Instead of leading Emma there, she allows Emma to go ahead of her. Well, it's not like she doesn't know which office it is. Emma enters and sits in the same chair. Dr. DePauw closes the door and daintily drops into hers. This is going to be a long session. She can tell.

"Have there been any side effects with the medication?" says Dr. DePauw.

"My throat's dry when I first get up," shares Emma. "That's it."

"That's normal," assures Dr. DePauw. "How'd you sleep this past week?"

"I can't stay asleep," replies Emma.

She definitely put effort into it. The night after Manny left, she got dressed in her pajamas, laid on the bed, and shut her eyes. After an hour or so, she woke up and listened to the moans and creaks of the Mason household, to Kendra's light breathing, to the cars moving outside. The whole room seemed amplified, turned up especially for her, and her attempt at sleeping again failed.

"We're still a bit behind the three week mark so that's understandable," says Dr. DePauw, writing in her notebook.

Did she even notice that Emma had torn a piece of paper from her precious notebook? Emma looks away, towards the long couch.

"Could we not do the hypnosis thing?" says Emma.

They did it that once, and Dr. DePauw hadn't suggested it after that. Dr. DePauw may've liked it, but she wasn't a big fan of it, though it wasn't as terrible as she envisioned.

"We don't _have_ to do anything, other than talk," answers Dr. DePauw.

Emma shifts her eyes to stare at her. "Talk about what?"

"The past two years," says Dr. DePauw. "A lot went on, didn't it?"

"Like?" says Emma.

"Did you get into any counselling after the shooting?" says Dr. DePauw.

The shooting? That wasn't mentioned during their sessions with her parents, so why is she throwing that out there?

"No," mumbles Emma.

"Who did you talk about it with?" continues Dr. DePauw. "Your teachers? Your parents? Your friends?"

"I didn't need to talk about it, okay?" snaps Emma. "Some kids, like my friend Toby, needed to, but I..."

"Would rather not discuss it?" poses Dr. DePauw.

Of course, she'd rather not discuss it. She's the single shrink that can't pick up signs? Emma looks at the ceiling then at the doctor.

"What do you want me to tell you?" says Emma, heatedly. "That I'm still freaking out because I had a gun in my face, when I was inches from death? That should, what, get me talking for the full hour?"

"Emma...," starts Dr. DePauw.

"Why do you have to poke and prod everywhere?" exclaims Emma. "You get to see me exposed. Meanwhile, you just sit there and take notes, making snap judgements about me."

"You see me as judging you?" asks Dr. DePauw.

"Yes," says Emma, slumping in her seat.

"Trust me, Emma," says Dr. DePauw. "I'm not."

"Why should I trust you?" says Emma, with clear sarcasm. "I have no clue who you are."

Dr. DePauw releases a deep sigh as she closes her notebook. What, she has no notes to write, no analysis to study later? Emma folds her hands and looks around hurriedly. Is she going to call in her mother or Snake, tell them how obstinate she's being? That would really get her parents agitated and arguing again.

"Let's go talk," says Dr. DePauw. "Outside."

"Like...like outside with my parents?" stammers Emma.

"No," says Dr. DePauw.

She opens her office door and exits the room. Emma stares momentarily at the closed notebook, wondering why it's staying behind and where they're going. Teetering a bit as she stands, Emma goes to the doorway and glances down both ends. Dr. DePauw is on the right.

"Coming?" she asks.

Emma nods, Dr. DePauw walking ahead of her, but not by much.

IV.

There's a lot of things tucked in here, observes Manny silently. She tilts her head in Toby's direction, Toby intent on fulfilling a task she didn't ask him to do. He didn't ask for this either, but she's doing it. Manny finally finds a vacant compartment and slips in the envelope. He sure made it difficult. Toby has everything in his briefcase-- the Kytel manual, his schedule, his folders, and...the arrhae. He actually kept her wedding coins with him when he went to work? Manny smiles and latches it.

She wrote the letter on the plane, where she could think by herself, where she could make it really good. Toby deserved it after he'd sent her that amazing one last time. Pretty soon, they wouldn't need letters. She'd be at home in late August, close to her birthday and close to him. Better yet, if Toby actually discovered a hint to Justin's current whereabouts, they could be together at length after all this torture.

Not that the trying times didn't have its rewards. Look at today. Manny could barely stay in bed, a much softer bed after the sleeping bag she slept in at the Masons'. She woke up early nevertheless, promising every promise under the sun that she'd be so careful and cooperative if they went to Kytel. Her parents gave in more easily than expected, possibly because she should've been home and they were getting used to something they had to deal with. Still, Joseph made J.J. swear to stick with her until she got back on the airplane. Officer Patton would just have to cope with him, and so would Manny. It would be like having two protective older brothers, including one brother who looked nothing like her.

"Are those rock concert tickets?" asks Officer Patton, grinning.

She's not sure why, but Officer Patton always seemed to bring up rock concerts when he was talking with the Santoses. Either he thought every teenager liked them or his own children were really into them.

"Shhh," says Manny, putting a finger to her lips.

Just in time, too, as Toby exits the Kytel building with her prize. Officer Wheaton walks next to him.

"A newly laminated badge," says Toby, giving it to her. "It's not dirty or wrinkled."

"Toby, you're so tidy," kids Manny.

She puts it on anyway and hands him his briefcase.

"I bet you clean your briefcase out every weekend," says Manny.

"I'll clean it out this weekend," says Toby. "Since you mentioned it."

"Thank Berniece for me," insists Manny.

"Berniece said the badge was no trouble," assures Toby. "Oh, there's your brother."

From a distance, they can see J.J.'s car driving to the main entrance, flower bushes moving as the speakers pump out "We Will Rock You." He halts the car and turns down the volume. Manny rolls her eyes.

"I wonder who this car's for?" shouts Manny.

"Keep that up and Patton's sitting shotgun!" returns J.J. "What's up, Toby?"

"Hi," says Toby.

"Have you heard the term disturber of the peace, son?" asks Officer Patton, smiling at Manny and going over to J.J.

J.J. disturbed her peace, that's for sure.

"Aw, man," moans J.J.

Manny chooses not to enter their discussion, choosing to start one of her own. Toby gives her a weak smile, Manny letting her shoulders hang.

"Everytime I lose hope, you come back around," says Toby fondly.

"Everytime you say good-bye, it breaks my heart a little," says Manny.

Toby gently squeezes her hand. "I don't want to be the cause of that."

"I know," says Manny, before putting her lips on his.

The kiss is so soft and seems so deep that she hardly pays attention to the honk of a horn. Honestly, she thought it was one of the ducks they fed at first. Manny brushes her hair away, puts her head into the car.

"We've got shopping to do," says J.J. "Plus, I don't want to see...my sister making out, even if I like the guy."

"Then don't watch," whispers Manny heatedly.

Manny removes her head with a smile for Toby. "Brothers."

"Yeah," says Toby, though he really wouldn't understand.

"Oh, I forgot!" says Manny. "Um, Kendra asked me to ask you if you'd be okay with her asking for a Disney internship."

"She's interested?" says Toby, his eyes widening.

"Yes," says Manny, a hesitant yes she probably shouldn't have said so speedily.

"Would...would you be okay with that?" questions Toby, searching her face.

Would she? Kendra is with Boomer, from the looks of it, and it's not like Kendra hasn't let Toby go, based on her own words. Still...yeah, it'd be weird.

"I'd...learn to be okay with it," admits Manny.

Toby beams, Manny raising her eyebrows.

"I'm not going to take the Disney internship," says Toby.

"That's what I thought," breathes Manny.

"It just wouldn't feel right, not anymore," explains Toby. "Besides, it's not like Kytel doesn't have its own..._appeal_."

Manny winks at him. "You're a flirt."

"Oh, you got that?" says Toby. "Good."

Laughing, Manny hugs him, another honk sounding. She's tempted to stamp her foot, if she wasn't near Toby. Toby lets her go and opens the door for her. J.J. smiles appreciatively and triumphantly, much to her annoyance.

"J.J., I will throw a jewelry box at you," warns Manny under her breath.

"We're going shopping for rings for Rosa," informs J.J., saluting Toby.

"We aren't going to find any rings as priceless as this," says Manny, flashing the finger with Bubbe's ring at Toby.

Toby's cheeks grow red as he closes the door behind her. Officer Patton opens the door to the backseat.

"Take care of her for me?" says Toby, nodding at Manny.

"Every second," vows Officer Patton, sliding in as J.J. starts the car.

The car pulls off, Manny continuing to wave until Toby's as small as a dot. What's hard is seeing him frown as she goes. What's worse is that she feels just as small.

V.

"Eep!" squeals Manny.

"The young lady has found something she likes, hmmm?"

Werner, a white-haired men with whiskers on his cheeks, and the main jeweler of the mall, goes along the glass case until he reaches Manny. Manny covers her mouth to succumb another squeal. This significantly lifted her mood after leaving Toby. You couldn't not be happy at Werner's. Everything is way too gorgeous in here: the way the diamonds drape across the velvet; the purple, pink, and gold precious stones on all the trinkets; the long necklaces, the bracelets lying there in heart-shaped circles, the earrings raised on the small, fuzzy black platforms. Yes, she likes it. Oh, and best of all...

"Tiaras!" cries Manny.

"Like you don't have one of your own," says J.J.

Werner stares at the two of them skeptically. Yes, not many girls have tiaras around these parts. She is Miss Degrassi, though. Well, for a little longer.

"Get your butt over here, Manny," groans J.J. "I'm so confused."

"Okay, Werner," says Manny with pluck. "We don't want the three T's. The ring can't be tacky, tawdry, or too much."

"Ah ha, I knew you were a jewelry girl," says Werner, chuckling.

They walk to J.J., fumbling with a princess-cut ring, shimmering more than the glass case.

"Aren't tacky and tawdry the same thing?" asks J.J.

"No," says Manny. "Something can be expensive and tacky. Not that you have any tacky pieces, Werner."

"That's why it's good you came to me," says Werner. "The dealbreaker seems to be the 'too much', yes?"

"Unfortunately," says J.J., shyly.

"Don't worry, J.J.," soothes Manny, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Ohhh, like this piece," says Werner.

He's not motioning to anything in the case. Manny stares at him dumbfounded, until he gestures to her own hand.

"May I?" says Werner.

She awkwardly presents her hand to him. He tenderly moves her sleeve and raises the finger with Bubbe's ring on it. Taking a small instrument that resembles a microscope, he peers at the ring. J.J. looks on with interest.

"This isn't worth much, monetarily," assesses Werner. "But the garnet is cut very fine. And the silver, while modern in sensibility, is very classic in design. There's a bit of history to it?"

"Um, it was found during the Holocaust," shares Manny.

"I'm German and suspected as much," says Werner with a gleeful laugh.

He releases Manny's hand.

"Toby's Jewish, and it was given to his grandmother," says Manny.

"Please keep it close," says Werner warmly. "So many treasures went missing that some never got back. Music, books, incomparable items...lost in a manner of minutes sometimes. It really is...such a shame."

Werner turns to put his instrument away, Manny tenderly wrapping her hand around her ring finger and smiling. There's nothing tender about the yank J.J. gives her arm, bending to whisper to her.

"Does Dad know you have that?"

"It's only a ring, J.J.," whispers Manny.

"Says the girl who practically jumped on me when I threw out ideas," whispers J.J. "Manny, that's a mighty serious thing you've got on your finger."

"Well, Toby's mighty serious about me," says Manny.

"But you...can't get too serious," says J.J., reluctantly. "Because of the circumstances. I mean, this is scary, Manny. I'm scared for you."

Manny whirls around, noting Officer Patton perusing some brooches.

"The case will be solved when I come home," whispers Manny.

"We don't know that," says J.J. "You're hoping for a lot to happen in two weeks."

Shaking her head repeatedly, Manny can feel the back of her eyes burn. What a thing to say. Never mind that J.J. gets to be with who he wants, freely, with not a crack in their parents' support.

"How could you say that?" breathes Manny.

"Manny...," says J.J.

"It's so easy for you!" exclaims Manny. "God, it's like so easy for you!"

"I worry, alright?" exclaims J.J. "I'm your brother, and somebody has to be smart about this!"

By this time, Werner is watching them, as well as two young women who had come into the store. She doesn't care. Let them stare.

"Since you're so smart, pick out your own stupid ring!" cries Manny.

Manny runs out of the store, growing out of breath and energy with each step she takes. J.J. didn't get it. Nobody could get it unless they were in her shoes. Manny lets her own shoes rest, setting her hand on the edge of a bench. The ring glints in her sight.

"Hey!" says a voice a few feet away from her. "Manny!"

Looking up, she sees Lucie, a plastic bag in her grip. She's very tall up close. Manny realizes she must look fairly silly. This isn't the first time she's cried in this mall, but...

"Hi," says Manny, wiping her eyes.

"Are you okay?" asks Lucie.

"I've had better days," replies Manny.

"I'm sorry," says Lucie. "Um, want to sit down?"

Glancing in the direction of the jewelry store, and of course spying Officer Patton coming towards her, she wagers that she'll be caught eventually so she sits without answering her. Lucie sets her bag in the middle of them and sits.

"So you're not in L.A.?" says Lucie.

"I came to visit, and apparently get harrassed," says Manny, rising up to tuck her dress under her.

"Not by Toby?" says Lucie, looking at her cluelessly.

"No, no," waves off Manny. "Never by Toby."

"This whole thing must unbelievably suck," says Lucie.

"Yeah, it unbelievably sucks," moans Manny, sniffling. "And poor Toby...he gets to be surrounded by it. I, at least, get to go away."

"Is anybody looking out for him?" questions Lucie.

That's kind of an interesting question, especially coming from her.

"I went to J.T.'s party, and we played Charades," explains Lucie. "That's when I told him he should probably talk to somebody."

"You guys played Charades?" says Manny, her voice squeakier than she'd like.

"It was nothing," says Lucie, shrugging and smiling.

Right. It's nothing to her so she's bringing it up out of the blue. Manny uses the top of her jacket to dry her tears.

"We put on the sign for his mural yesterday," goes on Lucie. "Too bad you couldn't come."

Manny stares straight at her.

"But...but Toby wasn't there, either," says Lucie.

"I'll see it when I come back home," says Manny, slowly standing. "Um...I appreciate you being there for him."

"I can keep checking up on him, if you want," says Lucie, blushing. "I mean, after setting up Christmas for you guys, and helping Toby phone you...I'm sort of involved, you know?"

"You helped with the call, too?" asks Manny.

"Manny, it was no biggie," says Lucie. "It was only twenty-five cents, around five minutes."

"No, that meant a lot...," starts Manny.

"Toby's totally worth it," interjects Lucie, grinning.

"He is," says Manny, twisting her lips. "Uhhh, see you around."

"Bye Manny!" says Lucie.

Manny turns, massaging her forehead. She had no idea Lucie was so...involved. But she said she'd learn to live with Kendra being around Toby if it happened, and so she'd deal with Lucie being his new friend. And their relationship was the subject of most of their friendly conversations so that was a good sign, and no cause for concern. Nah, she won't let herself add another worry to the pile. Manny faces the other way again, to say bye back, but Lucie's gone.

"Manuella?" says a person she wouldn't mind saying bye to either.

"J.J.," replies Manny stonily.

J.J. goes to stand by her. He touches her arms and makes her face him.

"The reason I wanted you to come instead of Mom was because...," says J.J.

"This better be good," interrupts Manny.

"The reason I wanted you to come is that you aren't a realist," says J.J. "You let your heart make decisions and you believe in stuff like eternity bands and infinity knot titanium, which are just these weird words to me in magazines. You are a hopeless romantic."

"Then why do you want me to have less hope?" asks Manny.

"Because I don't understand any of this," admits J.J. "Though, maybe I have to. Maybe I can wing it."

With a sweet smile that manages to let J.J. get away with so much in their family, J.J. looks at her. Manny can tell her features are softening.

"Will you help me select my engagement ring, Manny Santos?" says J.J., kneeling before her.

"What are you doing?" sighs Manny.

"I need the practice," says J.J. "You know Rosa's going to make me do it again."

"You are such a loser," says Manny, weakly. "Fine!"

J.J. jumps up, burying Manny in a bear hug. She hits his back twice before he releases her. Officer Patton appears relieved, motioning for them to return to Werner's Jewelry.

"Oh, you're doing this young man a favor!" remarks Werner when they enter. "Two days ago, he asked me if I had any giant rubies, like in the _Pirates of the Carribean_?"

"Pirates are cool!" defends J.J. "Right, Manny?"

"Right," laughs Manny.

VI.

Ashley knocks her ice cubes from side to side with her straw. Her Coke fizzles and then grows silent. She'd rather be upstairs, but she didn't warm to the idea of Paige accidentally finding the bottles in the trash. So she popped some mints into her mouth and told Paige to meet her at the hotel restaurant. They wouldn't eat. She didn't have enough money to eat, which is, of course, her delimma. Paige is certainly taking her time.

Checking her watch, Ashley sighs. Her cell buzzes. This can't be Paige cancelling, can it? No, it's Craig's seventh consecutive call. She throws her phone in her purse and strokes her temples. Dumb hangover, and dumb hotel for not restocking the honor bar more than once a day.

"Hon!" cries Paige, waving as she stands by the maitre'd.

How high-octane is her voice today? Neverthless, Ashley smiles at her friend, clothed in a lime-green power suit with pricey heels on her feet. Paige bumps a waiter with her purse as she goes to Ashley. The waiter sneers.

"Pardon moi," apologizes Paige.

She instantly sits across from Ashley, setting her purse on the table.

"This is like my third adult lunch date," remarks Paige, smiling. "Forgetting the horrible decor of Calypso...come on, chintz pillows and paisley carpeting? It's not too shabby."

Ashley can barely process what she's saying.

"Um, yeah, thanks for coming," says Ashley.

"How was London?" says Paige. "What'd you buy? Where'd you go? What'd you do?"

It's good to have a friend across from her. On the tour, she couldn't tell who her friends were some of the time, and the friends she did have weren't friends for long. Ashley grips the table hard.

"Paige, I'm in a bad spot," says Ashley.

"Okay?" says Paige, her eyes creasing with concern.

Somewhere between coming to the elevator and getting the Coke, she'd crafted what she thought was the most sympathetic story imaginable. She'd have to ignore the small pangs near her heart and the sweat coasting down her neck, but she couldn't go home. Home is not an option for now. So she has to stretch a lot of truths.

"They fired me," says Ashley, leaning towards Paige.

"BB6?" says Paige. "What? When?"

"A week ago," replies Ashley. "This guy, Mark, he practically threw himself at me. I couldn't sleep with him. I couldn't do that to Craig."

Ashley looks to the right, to inspire tears, tears she needs to fall just then. They come, right on cue.

"He and the tour director Julian were tight...so they ganged up on me," says Ashley.

"Does Craig know?" says Paige.

"Nobody does, except you," answers Ashley, staring at her. "I'm...I'm so ashamed."

Sobbing, Ashley grabs for a napkin, Paige scooting her seat closer to Ashley.

"Ashley, there's like laws against that," comforts Paige. "Guys can be such jerks. We have to tell your parents."

"I can't look at anyone, Paige," moans Ashley. "Maybe...maybe in time, I will."

"How much time are we talking?" says Paige.

"A couple of days, but...but I don't have any money," says Ashley, hugging herself. "I...I couldn't ask them, or Craig, or you..."

"You can always ask me," says Paige, wrapping an arm around her.

"Paige, you're my oldest friend," sighs Ashley. "I couldn't do that to you."

"How much does a room cost here?" asks Paige.

"That's...that's covered for the next two days," answers Ashley. "But...I have no money for food or odds and ends...."

"So like grocery money?" says Paige. "Ashley, that's so doable."

Paige removes her wallet from her purse, starts taking out all of her twenties. Ashley gasps, wipes her nose.

"This should cover you for three days, maybe," says Paige.

"Paige, I can't!" cries Ashley.

"Yes, you can," says Paige. "I know this kind of situation is scary. I'll be there for you 'til we string this guy up by the balls, alright?"

Ashley laughs nervously. "That's some adult lunch date talk, you've got there."

"Eh, he deserves it," says Paige, handing her the money.

"I can always count on you," says Ashley.

Guiding Ashley into a firm hug, Paige rocks her from side to side. The movement shakes Ashley's insides for a moment, including her pulsing, guilt-ridden heart. Ashley closes her eyes.

"My mom's friend from Banting is hosting a party....," says Paige apologetically.

"Oh, go," insists Ashley, manuevering out of the hug. "I've taken up enough of your time."

"I hate to leave you like this," says Paige.

"I'll walk you out myself," says Ashley.

The two girls stand and make their way to the lobby.

"Umm, charge the Coke to my room," says Ashley, to the waiter who's still sneering. "Thanks."

Ashley and Paige exit the glass doors, Paige walking to her car after hugging Ashley one last time.

"Love you," says Ashley.

"Love you," says Paige, blowing her a kiss and ducking inside.

Paige's car leisurely rolls down the street, and Ashley wishes it wasn't so leisurely. She crosses the street at the crosswalk. She passes the florist's, the realty building, the grocery. She stands by the fourth door on the street. Okay, now all she has to do is wait. A red pick-up truck parks right in front of her.

"Hi," greets Ashley to the owner of the truck.

"Hey," says the man in a flannel shirt, who looks twenty-one at most.

"If I give you some cash, will you go in and get me something?" asks Ashley.

"You're not nineteen, are you?" asks the man, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

"And you're not a cop," says Ashley, batting her eyelashes at him. "Are you?"

"What do you want, exactly?" says the man, smiling at her.

"I'm game for anything," says Ashley.

"Smart girl," says the man. "Smart girl."

He takes the two twenty-dollar bills, enters the store, Ashley staring and smiling at the black word **Liquor **on the front door.


	95. Elevation

**ICV. Elevation**

_High, higher than the sun  
You shoot me from a gun  
I need you to elevate me here  
At the corner of your lips  
As the orbit of your hips  
Eclipse  
You elevate my soul_

_I've got no self control  
Been living like a mole now  
Going down, excavation  
High and High in the sky  
You make me feel like I can fly  
So high  
Elevation_

_A star  
Lit up like a cigar  
Strung out like a guitar  
Maybe you can educate my mind_

_Explain all these controls  
Can't sing but I've got soul  
The goal is elevation_

_A mole  
Digging in a hole  
Digging up my soul now  
Going down, excavation_

_I and eye in the sky  
You make me feel like I can fly  
So high  
Elevation_

_Love  
Lift me up from out of these blues  
Won't you tell me something true  
I believe in you_

_A mole  
Digging in a hole  
Digging up my soul now  
Going down, excavation_

_High and high in the sky  
You make me feel like I can fly  
So high  
Elevation_

_Elevation  
Elevation  
Elevation_

_Elevaaation_

**Elevation is the property of U2 and appears in the film _Tomb Raider._**

"If you guys are kosher, why do you have Bac-os in your cabinet?" asks J.T.

He fetches a tomato from the vegetable bin in the refrigerator, then grabs a pair of salad tongs. Toby sets down a bowl and a fork.

"Those are Ashley's," replies Toby.

"Oh, you mean the sister that never calls you?" says J.T.

"Touring must take up a bunch of her time," says Toby. "Why are we making salad again?"

"Liberty says it's brain food," explains J.T. "I told you."

Truthfully, Toby wasn't listening that hard. He could only concentrate on the front door, anticipating his father's rehearsal ending right on time. He should be home in the next ten minutes or so and he didn't want to deal with this without Jeff or J.T. They were with him from the start and they knew how high the stakes were. Plus, he's not sure how Officer Wheaton is going to take it, the "it" being him withholding what was under the floorboard in the house.

But something has to be done. He's been quiet for far too long, and if this could make a dent in the case, it would finally mean something good for everybody. Maybe Manny coming home is a sign because if she hadn't, he might not have had the courage. He's got to be courageous now and approach whatever comes, face-on.

"Mr. Reyes said I could write a full script so I need more smart power than Thomas Einstein," says J.T., tosselling lettuce with the tongs.

"You mixed the two up," informs Toby.

"What two up?" says J.T.

"Albert Einstein and Thomas Edi...never mind."

Toby stops finishing the sentence to watch the doorknob turn. Jeff enters with his violin case in hand, his bowtie undone.

"I'm starting to hate Chopin," sighs Jeff. "Which is unfortunate."

Taking a deep breath, Toby nods to J.T., the two of them leaving the kitchen. Jeff falls into the couch and starts going through sheets of music.

"If J.T.'s staying for dinner, we're getting take-out," says Jeff without looking up.

"No thanks," assures J.T. "I'm not hungry."

The whole discussion of dinner curtailed his goal for a minute, Toby quickly retrieving the confidence he'd gotten today. Where to begin? Well, Officer Wheaton has to be here too, right?

"Can you get Officer Wheaton?" whispers Toby to J.T.

"Okay," whispers J.T.

J.T. walks past them and to the guest room to find Officer Wheaton. Toby stands by his father.

"Ummm, so Manny came to Kytel today," begins Toby, swinging his hands back and forth.

Jeff instantly closes his folder to gaze at him. "Really?"

"She's already on her way to Cali, though," continues Toby. "But obviously, I wanted more time with her."

"Toby, I can't buy you another ticket to California," says Jeff. "And she's coming back soon, anyway, isn't she?"

Yes, she's coming home, but what exactly will she be coming home to? That's what truly matters in this conversation. He can almost see it-- days when they're not being watched, dates without supervision, a problem-free senior year. So this is the most important moment where he has to open his mouth.

"That's...that's not what I have to say," says Toby.

Two pairs of feet clamor down the staircase, Officer Wheaton appearing as clueless as his dad. J.T. gestures for Officer Wheaton to sit down. Okay, everybody that has to be in the room is in the room. J.T. gives Toby a reaffirming nod.

"When...when we went to the house, I found a couple of things," says Toby, making his hands stay still.

"What kind of things?" asks Officer Wheaton.

"Things I should've told someone about, like immediately," admits Toby. "Justin's journal...and a photo."

With a weighted breath, Toby removes the picture and hands it to Officer Wheaton. The blonde woman is as erect as she was before. Toby repeatedly reads the words on the back, then shows them to Officer Wheaton.

"Toby," moans Officer Wheaton softly.

"I'm sorry!" cries Toby. "It...it was just so intimidating being there. It was...easier to pretend I didn't see it."

Officer Wheaton stands, and wipes his brow with a hankerchief. He seriously did look bothered. Of course, Toby knows he has a right to be. He, Officer Patton, and Sergeant Blanchett have been working on the investigation for weeks and this may've been another lead to locate Justin, and even other group members. The journal also was sort of a timeline for the troubling events, too.

"Are you sure they were his?" says Officer Wheaton, tucking the hankerchief into his pocket.

"The journal, yes," answers Toby. "The picture, I'm not sure."

"I've got to put in a call," sighs Officer Wheaton.

He exits the living room, J.T. patting Toby on the shoulder and walking after him.

"Come sit by me, Toby," encourages Jeff.

He pats the couch, something he's done so many times that it's comforting even in this very new situation.

"You're mad at me?" guesses Toby, sitting.

"Should you have said it sooner?" says Jeff. "Probably."

Toby closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"But I'm proud of you for coming forward," insists Jeff. "I imagine anything you read was difficult to read."

"This has been a summer of difficult," says Toby, opening his eyes to look at Jeff.

"Well, here's hoping it just got easier," says Jeff.

II.

Cradling the bottle between her legs, Ashley stretches her arms and blinks at the sun, the afternoon sun lolling on her neck, full of beads of sweat. She's not really surprised she's sweating this much. She has yet to move from the parking lot, two liquor bottles still housed in an ordinary paper bag, with her sitting with a very ordinary college-age guy. Honestly, she can barely distinguish the guy since her eyesight is blurry and her senses are playing tricks on her. She can't smell anything or herself, or if she smells attractive enough to garner this attention.

"You must have a boyfriend," says the guy, smiling before sipping his Corona.

"I don't want to talk about boyfriends," says Ashley.

She giggles into the gin bottle, then stares at him. He's getting a bit clearer. He has wavy, straight hair and small brown eyes, wears a red flannel shirt and low jeans, and doesn't resemble Craig in the slightest.

"I can get with that," says the guy. "I'm Ozzie."

"Like the rocker," says Ashley, smiling and shrugging.

"Yeah, yeah," says Ozzie, chuckling. "And you are?"

"I don't know," replies Ashley.

"Come on, I thought we were friends," encourages Ozzie. "I could get in trouble for giving you that."

"Well, then you made a very bad decision," teases Ashley.

"At least tell me if you go to U of T," says Ozzie.

"Do you?" asks Ashley.

"Nope, but I work at a bar near there," replies Ozzie. "Ever heard of Starflys?"

"Nooooooo," says Ashley, drawing the word out longer for her own amusement.

"If you go to U of T, you will," says Ozzie. "We have singing waitresses, and they're...they're pretty hot, I mean onstage and offstage. But yeah, it's a play on words. Barflys who are stars, or some junk."

Oh, great. Singing for a bunch of rowdy college guys so they can notice your goods...that sounds familiar. An image of the guy who groped her flashes in her memory. Ashley raises the bottle to her lips.

"It's not like Hooters or nothing," defends Ozzie.

"Would you get free drinks?" asks Ashley after swallowing.

"I'd get you free anything," says Ozzie, moving to put his arm around her.

Ashley bats his hands away, struggling to stand and managing to right herself. It's a good thing the Calypso is less than a three minute walk. Now she has two bottles of vodka for whenever she feels recreational. She'd definitely take a break, but today was a hard day, with the news of Mark and Mariah fresh in her mind. What did Mark say towards the beginning of the tour? Oh yeah. Points for alliteration. Kennick and Keriwn. It fits them too, Mark and Mariah.

"Sayonara, Kennick and Kerwin," breathes Ashley after swallowing.

"What does that mean?" inquires Ozzie.

"Forget it," says Ashley. "I'm trying to."

She starts down the sidewalk, weaving to the left a hair before stopping completely.

"Need a hand?" calls Ozzie after her. "You look a little smashed...and lost."

"You don't know the half of it," murmurs Ashley to herself, glad to see Ozzie hasn't heard her.

"I'm fine," calls Ashley, saluting him with the bottle. "And I'm Ashley!"

"Oh, okay then," says Ozzie, shyly.

He makes for his truck, Ashley grimacing as he speeds away. She wishes he would've left after he got the alcohol, but she guesses he was expecting a date or would accept the flirtation as payment for his services. Services that took four minutes max, thinks Ashley. Ashley walks towards the hotel, fingers fumbling for the walking signal button. A blurry, glowing man appears in the black box and Ashley walks across the street, merely missing the doorman who holds the door open for her.

"Welcome back, miss," says the doorman.

"_Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back_," sings Ashley.

The doorman blinks at her for a few seconds, resumes staring out into the street.

"Like you're not old enough to remember that song," says Ashley, then walking to the elevator.

"Ms. Kerwin!" calls the manager from the front desk.

Ashley frowns, faces the front desk. The manager is an older man, a white combover covering most of his head.

"You have a message," announces the manager. "A Mr. Kerwin."

Mr. Kerwin? As in, her father, Mr. Kerwin? What? How'd they find her? Ashley hugs the bag to her chest, walks speedily to the desk.

"What message?" whispers Ashley.

The manager appears taken aback, wrinkling his nose from the scent of her breath. Ashley covers her lips.

"They asked if a Ms. Ashley Kerwin was here, and I said that we have had the pleasure of your company this week," says the manager.

"What?" cries Ashley, her voice ringing throughout the lobby. "What possessed you to say that? Ever heard of privacy? Ever heard of anonymity?"

"Why, of course, but....," starts the manager.

"I can't believe you!" interrupts Ashley.

"It was your father," says the manager. "I thought..."

"You weren't thinking!" exclaims Ashley. "You weren't! Do...do you know what you've done?"

Her voice has elicited the attention of other guests by that time, their whispers and confused stares from one end of the lobby to the other. The manager appears speechless, but it's better than being senseless, with Ashley unable to feel anything below her hips. Luckily, her voice hasn't failed her.

"This...this hotel is a disgrace!" yells Ashley. "The rooms are too pricey! Your staff is...is inconsiderate! And, look at the design! I mean, chintz pillows! It's...it's ugly!"

The last statement came courtesy of Paige, and really she didn't care, but if she was being punished for staying here, they should be punished for making things worse for her.

"Now, hold on, young lady," says the manager. "Calm yourself down or..."

"Or what?" says Ashley. "You'll throw me out? Well, I was staying here as a last resort!"

She turns to the other guests milling around.

"That's the only reason anybody should stay here!" remarks Ashley.

A young girl clutches the skirt of her mother's dress and gives Ashley a skittish look. Ashley relaxes her features and turns to the manager.

"That's quite enough, Ms. Kerwin," says the manager. "You're inebriated, rude, and embarrassing yourself."

"More like telling the truth!" cries Ashley. "You can't handle it?"

The manager lowers his voice while signalling the doorman to the desk.

"You don't think I noticed the extravagant charges for your room when I pulled your name up, most notably the use of our honor bar," says the manager. "I'm not sure if you have guests that frequent your room or you're drinking at your own discretion, but when it affects my business publicly, as with your outburst here, I will not allow you to continue your stay at the Calypso."

They're tossing her out? Because she's honest? Because she has the right to be mad that they told someone else her whereabouts? In what universe does that make sense?

"I'm not paying for those other two days then!" insists Ashley.

"I'll remove the charges myself," guarantees the manager. "Evan, call a cab for Ms. Kerwin."

"Yes, sir," says the doorman.

Evan disappears before Ashley can articulate another word.

"You'll have enough time to pack your belongings," says the manager, diligently pulling up Ashley's record.

"You can't kick me out," says Ashley, despising the mildly pathetic tone in her voice. "My father's probably going to come."

"You can meet him at home," says the manager. "Saves you both a bit of trouble, doesn't it?"

This is so ridiculous. Ashley kicks the desk, the hard thump drawing resentful glares from the manager and other employees near the restaurant. They didn't understand. Ugh, nobody ever understands. She's so sick of it.

"Screw this hotel and screw you!" shouts Ashley. "And screw my stuff! I'm leaving now."

"We don't want to be responsible for your belongings, Ms. Ker....," starts the manager.

"Burn them," interrupts Ashley.

She moves the paper bag to the side, goes out the front door and spots a cab just pulling up to the sidewalk. Ashley waits for the business man to leave the car, and instantly jumps in.

"Where we headed?" asks the driver.

"To...to...um, to....," stammers Ashley.

Her forehead throbs, Ashley barely able to read the driver's name on the small blue sign on the backseat. Ugh, drinking and thinking are so not a good combo.

"Don't have all day, sweetie," says the driver.

What are her options? She could go home or to Craig's or maybe even Paige's. But wherever she goes, they'll want to know why the hotel kicked her out and why all she has on her is two bottles of vodka. There's no way to explain those two things. No lie would clear her. The first place that pops into her brain...

"To...to Starfly's!" says Ashley.

"You sure you want to go there, baby doll?" says the driver, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah," says Ashley. "Why?"

"Eh, it's not my place to say," says the driver. "But keep your purse out of sight, 'kay?"

The driver heads in the direction of Starfly's, a direction she knows close to nothing about, a direction where she's going with practically nothing.

III.

A bit of meatloaf, green beans, a baked potato. Jay hasn't touched any of them, and Sean hasn't been hungry since he stepped into the hospital either. This isn't exactly the type of news that would urge anybody to shovel unappetizing hospital food into their mouth.

"So he was gone...like in a matter of minutes?" asks Jay.

"Yep," says Sean, fooling with the cuff of his jean jacket.

"That's messed up," murmurs Jay.

Alex grabs at the string around her neck, rubbing her lacrosse whistle between her fingers. She sits at a table, across from the two boys.

"He had his whole future in front of him," sighs Jay. "And wasn't he gifted or something? Emmitt told me that once."

Sean nods. "He was a smart kid."

"I can't eat," says Jay.

Jay pivots the tray that holds his lunch, the food swinging far from him. Sean wishes he could push or move his problems away so easily. He'd decided to visit Cheryl tomorrow. Things were pretty strange when he called. Cheryl didn't answer, but a woman Sean thinks is Cheryl's mother, or Ty's grandmother, did. She sounded very cheerful and told him that he could visit Cheryl, if he came in the afternoon. Why the afternoon? Why that condition? Initially, he assumed she worked mornings, but he overheard a second person in the room and it must've been Cheryl or about Cheryl because he heard a lot of tension between the two whispered voices. In any case, he wouldn't know for sure until he got there.

"I'm going to tell his mom, tomorrow," shares Sean. "Ellie said she'd walk with me there."

"Well, speaking as someone who's lost family, don't do it immediately," says Jay.

"Trust me," says Sean. "That's the last thing I want to start with."

They both stare over at Alex, absent-mindedly twirling her new whistle.

"You're quiet, Lexi," observes Jay. "You're never this quiet."

"It's sad," says Alex.

"Tragic," says Jay.

"But you know what else is sad?" asks Alex. "I barely have an idea who this kid is. Or what you were doing with him. Or even how Sean knows him, not really."

Every word is true. Sean hadn't really thought of Alex being in the room when he told Jay about Ty, though he couldn't get her to go because she'd made it her daily task to bring him his food and watch him scarf it down. Sean was kind of on a time limit so he elected to stop by quickly and tell him. Maybe he should've come back because now it looks as if he's gotten Jay into his own problem that he can't push away.

"What do you want me to say, Jay?" asks Alex, crossing her arms. "Huh?"

Jay hikes up his blanket with a firm grab.

"Because you should be saying a lot more to me," adds Alex.

Releasing the blanket, he rubs his eyes and eventually meets Alex's gaze.

"Ty is...a boy I met...when I worked in a car ring," confesses Jay. "An illegal car ring I got into, got Sean into. I needed money for rent, for school. Hill's was nice, but...I don't know. I got more money out of the ring."

"So you went for the easy route," says Alex, with a smirk. "Again?"

"What other options did I have?" says Jay.

"To work hard at Hill's, maybe take double shifts," replies Alex quickly.

"The pay still wouldn't....," begins Jay.

"You could've asked me for money," interrupts Alex. "I would've given it to you. Especially for something like school."

"I didn't want another hand-out!" exclaims Jay.

"Instead, you want to get shot? You want the chance to go to jail?" throws back Alex. "Your excuses suck, Jay!"

"Well, things are working out now....," says Jay.

"Working out?" interrupts Alex, rising. "A kid is dead!"

Jay lowers his head, running his hands across the blanket. He has no defense for that sobering fact. Sean doesn't have one either.

"You both could've been dead!" cries Alex.

Sean exhales a deep breath, Alex glancing at the two of them.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who's thought that," says Alex.

Alex puts the strap of her gym bag over her slim shoulders, strolls right past Sean, with not a look at him or Jay, staring at the floor. Sean makes to follow her.

"No," says Jay. "Let her go."

"I'm sorry, man," says Sean.

"She'll cool off after a while," says Jay. "But...she's telling the truth. We got lucky and Ty didn't. Do you...do you think that's fair?"

Sean shrugs. Ty was definitely talented and probably could've done more things with his intelligence. He liked to study, to explore, and Sean hasn't met anybody with as big of a heart. The kid liked Dale, which said a lot. Sean could imagine him being whatever he wanted to be. He's starting to imagine Cheryl, too, her face drawn, then devestated, then defeated. And no, that doesn't seem very fair at all.

"All I know is that I wish he was with us," replies Sean.

"Yeah," says Jay. "Same here."

IV.

"_Hmmm...to last....hmmm," _sings Craig under his breath.

He lets his back slide down against his chair, thumping a fist on top of the front of a drawer. This is the same as every other attempt he's made to write lyrics for his song. None of the words felt right. Maybe because the other parts of his life didn't feel right. Other musicians went through some rough times, too, so can he really use that as an out? If he was older, perhaps it would be easier.

The arrangement of his room shows he's older, already. He has boxes next to his closet, his bed, and his desk. The boxes were bound for the University of Toronto, the college he barely wants to go to. Most people would love to go to a school where most of their friends would be, but most people wouldn't be carrying the weight of this summer with them into dorm rooms, classrooms, and lecture halls. There's been too much unsaid for him to enjoy his first months away from home.

So he thought he could say it in a song. It's useless. For a second, he starts to think he's useless. That must be why Robert and Chris took Kate home when Craig went to the washroom. They left so abruptly, without saying good-bye. Who was he to actually think that they relied on him the most? In fact, he was the one who relied on others the most-- Joey when he first came to Degrassi; his dad when he thought Albert could change; Ashley when he was diagnosed. No wonder they thought he wasn't worthy of the responsibility. They saw a weak guy who'd let Ashley get away with things for weeks, and he was starting to believe them too.

"Hot goulash coming!" calls Joey from the hall.

"I'll eat later," says Craig.

"Pretend it's later," returns Joey, setting down a napkin and a bowl of goulash.

"Whatever," groans Craig. "Thanks."

He picks up the spoon and starts to stir.

"Is there any reason why all the boxes are empty?" asks Joey.

Craig bends his neck so his nose is right over the soup. Joey, not to be outdone, raises the lamp on the desk to light Craig's cheek.

"Ah!" cries Craig.

"Like I said, is there any reason why all the boxes are empty?" says Joey.

"Take a guess," says Craig, lowering the lamp.

Joey raises the lamp once more, halts Craig's spoon.

"I thought you wanted me to eat!" cries Craig.

"Look, I'm concerned about Ashley too," says Joey.

"So what's your point?" says Craig.

"You have to pack for university, Craig," says Joey. "I'm not letting you put your life on hold for this. Ashley is jeopardizing her future, but that doesn't mean you have to do the same."

"It's not that simple, Joey," says Craig.

"In today's world, you're better off with a college degree," argues Joey. "That's pretty simple to me."

"I'll pack next week," says Craig.

"Good," sighs Joey. "And for the record, it's bigger than me just saying go. This was something I've wanted for you, something your mother would've wanted..."

Craig locates his pencil, starts to twirl it, the shadow of the pencil moving across the desktop. He didn't believe his mother would be brought into the conversation, despite bringing her up earlier that day.

"Then, there's the music scholarship," says Joey. "Buddy, you can't throw that away."

"I accepted it, alright?" says Craig, giving him a sharp glance.

Joey goes to the box near the closet, raps its side.

"Today, I'm not sure you're acting like you did," says Joey.

"It's tough to act when your inspiration's running the streets," returns Craig.

Visibly taken aback by his last statement, and clearly resigned to surrendering, Joey nods and walks out of the room. Joey may not know it, but Craig didn't resent him for any word he said. He only hates that he isn't able to please anybody at this rate, prove that he's able to take on what people expect of him. It's hard to make a move when you're stuck in doubt.

Craig walks slowly to the box next to his bed, sighs as he lifts it to set it on top of the comforter.

"What's first?" mumbles Craig.

Instead of an item magically revealing itself to him, he hears the doorbell ring multiple times. Nobody came to their house around this time of night, excluding Diane. Please don't let it be Diane coming back, thinks Craig, his feet pounding the steps as he goes down the stairs two by two. Joey opens the door.

"She...she was at the Calypso," says Kate as soon as she's in the house.

Ashley. She's in Toronto. This is potentially good. She's closer to home. Craig hops over the last step, standing by Kate, tears running steadily on her face.

"The hotel next to the airport?" says Joey.

"Yes," says Kate. "That's why we left here quickly. But she left! Robert went to get her, she left behind her luggage...the manager said she was drinking and went off somewhere."

"No," moans Joey.

"Have you tried Ellie?" questions Craig. "Jimmy? Paige?"

"Nobody's answering," replies Kate.

"I'll try them again," says Craig, grabbing his cellphone from his bookbag.

"My daughter is God knows where!" sobs Kate.

Something Craig never believed would happen happens. Kate lets her body fall against his, her chest shaking, her hand clutching his shirt. This is the closest to a hug they've ever had. She's thinner than he thought, smaller than he thought. Her brown bangs glide across his chin.

"We're going to find her, Kate," says Joey.

"He's right," says Craig, wrapping both arms around her. "I promise."

V.

The yellow tape stretches from column to column. Dusty footprints cover the front porch and the sidewalk. Garbled messages sound from walkie talkies. The air is stifling, the kind of heat that makes your feet sweat under your socks. Toby, Jeff, J.T., and Officer Wheaton walk to the house that's haunted him for days. Seconds later, Sergeant Blanchett ducks under the police tape and greets them with a firm nod of the head.

"We've emptied the house," says Sergeant Blanchett. "Got all the evidence."

Calling it evidence makes it seem so technical, even though it was incredibly emotional to look at it. But they had cleared it away and he's thankful for that. That might make it easier to do this.

"That's just it, Sergeant," sighs Officer Wheaton. "Toby knows where there's some more evidence. Why I called you."

Sergeant Blanchett's mouth parts briefly, though he picks it up speedily. Toby shifts his eyes, hoping not to appear too guilty.

"I want this house cleaned out," says Sergeant Blanchett. "Let's go."

The sergeant lifts the tape for all of them to enter, Toby going in after Officer Wheaton. The house is certainly empty, the creaks of the floorboards under their footsteps more audible. Newspaper no longer covered the area and the furniture is missing. Several areas were sectioned off in the living room and Lieutenant Croft, who he recognized, is dusting for fingerprints with a white mask covering her face. She's very attentive to her work and doesn't look up until Sergeant Blanchett says her name.

"We need this area right now, Croft," says Sergeant Blanchett.

"Be my guest," says Lieutenant Croft. "I'm done."

Sergeant Blanchett signals for Toby to come closer.

"Go ahead," says Sergeant Blanchett.

With four sets of eyes on him, he knows he better find something in there. He'd hate to disappoint the investigation team, his father, and most importantly himself. He glances at J.T., who gives him a small smile. Well, at least if he screwed this up, he would have one friendly face when he lifted his head. Toby flips up the carpet, scans the floorboards, locates the one that lifted so easily last time. He bends and pushes the board up slightly.

"How 'bout that," remarks Lieutenant Croft.

"I found it by accident," says Toby. "Noticed the floor was shaky."

"The whole place is shaky," says Lieutenant Croft. "But good on you for coming across that."

Well, it won't be any good if there's nothing there. Toby lifts the board completely to....see darkness. There's only darkness. The journal is missing. Toby straightens his body and shakes his head. Why? Why didn't he say anything sooner? Now the case would drag on forever and it would be his fault.

"He must've taken it," mutters Toby.

"I don't know how he would've gotten a chance to take it," says Sergeant Blanchett. "This place has been monitored since we came."

"Who's been inside in the past week?" asks Jeff.

"My lieutenants, mainly," answers Sergeant Blanchett. "And we did have some movers for the furniture...."

"That's not everyone, chief," says Lieutenant Croft. "Remember we had the Chernoffs come by? They were visiting the grandfather and his mom came in, insisting to speak with us?"

"She was with us the whole time, though," recalls Sergeant Blanchett.

"Her husband wasn't," says Lieutenant Croft, shrugging.

"It's not like it took Toby long to lift that board," notes Jeff.

"Justin's parents have been very cooperative with us," mulls Sergeant Blanchett.

"I wouldn't want _my _son in juvie," says Lieutenant Croft. "Besides, they might blame themselves. Why is he living with the grandfather anyway?"

"Because his parents couldn't control him," says Sergeant Blanchett. "According to his parents, there have been past incidents where Justin's anger became unbearable."

That sounds vaguely familiar, Toby recalling the conversation between Justin's grandfather and Justin. Justin looked ready to attack the older man, but instead fled to his room to use his computer. However, Toby remembers something else, something in the journal.

"The journal said that his mom and dad tried to get him to come home," shares Toby.

"So they've been in contact?" cries Lieutenant Croft.

"That's certainly news to us!" exclaims Sergeant Blanchett.

"Really cooperative, huh?" groans Lieutenant Croft, sharing a look of disbelief with Officer Wheaton.

"Justin contacted them first," remembers Toby. "He sounded...at the end of his rope."

"Who wants to bet Justin asked Daddy to get his journal?" says Officer Wheaton.

"Get the Chernoffs down to the station ASAP," orders Sergeant Blanchett, staring at Officer Wheaton. "Apparently, they're not telling us everything."

"Yes, sir," says Officer Wheaton.

"Might as well get the grandfather there, too," sighs Sergeant Blanchett. "Mr. Isaacs, I'd appreciate it if you guys came with us. Hopefully, Toby can be of assistance if anything comes up."

"Would you be comfortable with that, Toby?" questions Jeff.

He will be if it gets them closer to Justin, most definitely.

"Yeah," answers Toby.

"I'll get my things together and join you," says Lieutenant Croft.

As Lieutenant Croft goes about gathering her things, Sergeant Blanchett helping her, Jeff steers Toby outside into the dark warmth of the summer evening. The sun has nearly set. J.T. trails behind, momentarily staring at the weak porch.

"Thank goodness you have a good memory, Tobes," says Jeff.

Jeff rubs his son's shoulder, makes his way to the car.

"This place is freaky," says J.T., coming to Toby's side. "I mean, I haven't seen what you've seen, but it's got bad vibes."

"I wish I didn't ignore those bad vibes when I first came here," admits Toby.

"Think about it," says J.T. "If you hadn't waited to say anything about the journal, we never would've known that his parents have something to do with him hiding. Kinda lucky."

"Yeah," says Toby. "And I sure could use some luck right now."

VI.

Eli and Delilah Chernoff. The pair of names top the police report sitting on Sergeant Blanchett's desk. Toby isn't sure what and who to expect when they walk through the door. Would he resemble his father? Would he have the same voice? Would his mother wear glasses? Is she quiet like Maria Santos or vocal like Anne Marie? Until they come in, they're just words on a page.

But if this string of events has taught him anything, it's not to just see words as words anymore. He's seen words cloaked in threats; words that questioned his beliefs; words that tore at his soul. So yes, maybe they're more than words.

Officer Wheaton drags a chair and sets it by Toby. He sits and pulls out the picture.

"What do these words mean?" asks Officer Wheaton. "Is this some type of code?"

Toby glances at the message: _"Dear God, make me dumb, that I may not to Dachau come." _

"Dachau was a Nazi concentration camp in Germany," offers Toby. "I think those words are a warning."

"Do you think this woman is alive?" says Officer Wheaton.

"If that Justin's grandmother, probably not," guesses Toby. "But maybe it isn't her."

Losing their grandparents to the Holocaust was one of the things they had in common. Justin made it a point to hustle him out of house after Toby shared that bit of information. Perhaps he was as put off by the idea that they were similar, in multipe ways, as Toby was, and didn't want to get into it.

"If you ever feel like leaving, give me a wink, okay?" says Officer Wheaton.

Officer Wheaton slowly grins, a grin Toby returns. The grin is short-lived. The station door opens, Justin's tall grandfather entering with a sullen expression. He looks harsh as ever, especially when he spots Sergeant Blanchett.

"I can't tell you anything more," says Justin's grandfather.

"All we'd like you to do today is listen, sir," promises Sergeant Blanchett. "Have a seat."

Justin's grandfather stalls when he sees Toby. He sniffs the air, then reluctantly sits in a chair beside the table.

"I'll go get your dad," whispers Officer Wheaton, handing Toby the picture.

No, moans Toby inwardly. He's going to be left alone with Justin's colder than ice grandfather. He didn't feel comfortable, but it's not like he could wink at Officer Wheaton from behind. Toby lets his eyes stay on the picture, avoiding any pleasantries with Justin's grandfather.

"Where on earth did you get that?" cries Justin's grandfather.

It takes Toby a couple seconds to realize that he'd actually spoken, to him. Toby slowly lifts his eyes.

"Um, this?" says Toby.

"That isn't yours!" says Justin' grandfather. "Give me that!"

Not bothering to question him, Toby surrenders the picture, Justin's grandfather firmly frowning at him.

"Did you go poking around my house?" asks Justin's grandfather, his cheeks reddening.

"No, sir," says Toby. "That was Justin's. I found it in the house where Justin was with that group."

Justin's grandfather's face begins to relax, and he tucks the picture into his front pocket.

"I...I apologize," says Justin's grandfather. "That boy never learned to leave things alone."

Justin clearly didn't have to be in the room for the tension between him and his grandfather to exist. Toby folds his hands together.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir...is that your wife?" asks Toby.

"Yes," replies Justin's grandfather, defensively. "She went into Dachau and didn't come out. I should think that was obvious."

"Yeah, it's not of my business," says Toby. "I'm sorry."

Justin's grandfather cocks his head slightly, evaluating Toby with a long look.

"Heh, a polite kid," says Justin's grandfather. "Hard to come by these days."

Toby suspects that's as good a compliment he can receive from this man. He wonders if he's Justin's father's dad or his mother's dad. There's no sense in wondering. That would be clearer once the Chernoffs arrived. Toby doesn't have long to wait for the answer.

The Chernoffs come into the station, dressed in fine clothes with dazed countenances. Eli wears a fancy blue business suit, a nicely styled brown moustache on his clean-shaven face. Delilah's body is covered by a silk, cornflower blue dress, a matching change purse in her hands. Her blonde hair is tightly curled, the same shade as the woman in Justin's picture. Toby turns away from them, only hearing their voices.

"It's ridiculous that we're here, Sergeant Blanchett!" exclaims Delilah.

"I don't think it is, Mrs. Chernoff," remarks Sergeant Blanchett. "At my desk, please."

Instead of sitting, the Chernoffs remain standing, not too far from Toby and Justin's grandfather.

"We've been questioned twice," says Eli, more calmly. "There's nothing we can add. You're just causing us more stress now! My wife is expecting. She needs rest."

"What she needs to do is tell the truth," says Sergeant Blanchett bluntly.

"We have!" insists Delilah.

By that time, Jeff and J.T. have returned, standing on either side of Toby's chair.

"You said you haven't had contact with Justin in months," sighs Sergeant Blanchett. "Based on some evidence we've found, that isn't the case."

"Where is this so-called evidence?" asks Eli.

"A journal," answers Sergeant Blanchett. "A journal you most likely took."

"Ludicrous!" cries Eli. "What journal? We know nothing about a journal!"

Toby can't help staring at them this time. They were lying, and he wants to see how they can lie without a flicker of a conscience. He wants to know how they can possibly do that. Eli has an immovable grimace on his face.

"Don't make my men search your house!" warns Sergeant Blanchett.

"My son found something of your son's, a journal," speaks up Jeff. "The journal is now missing."

"You're going by a kid's word?" says Eli, gesturing to Toby.

Toby shivers slightly under Eli's condemning stare. Officer Wheaton crosses his arms and stands in front of Toby.

"The kid your son threatened," points out Officer Wheaton.

Eli's face remains stern, though Toby can see Delilah's features fall as she attempts to stare at Toby directly.

"He's mad at Justin," says Eli. "He'll say anything!"

"Oh, shut up, Eli," scolds Justin's grandfather. "You don't know what this boy would do."

"I know my rights, Abe!" yells Eli. "I'm getting my lawyer on the phone!"

"Get him then, because you are not going anywhere anytime soon," asserts Sergeant Blanchett.

Throwing up his arms, Eli walks past two police officers, Officer Wheaton sneering after him. Eli leans on the wall, starts dialing numbers on his cellphone. Sergeant Blanchett indicates that Delilah should have a seat. She demurely goes to the chair and sits.

"I'll ask you point blank," sighs Sergeant Blanchett. "Is Justin staying with you, Mrs. Chernoff?"

"No," says Mrs. Chernoff without blinking.

"Are you providing him with money, food, any means that will keep him from being found?" says Sergeant Blanchett.

"No," repeats Mrs. Chernoff.

"Are you in possession of his journal?" questions Sergeant Blanchett.

"No," says Mrs. Chernoff.

"Do you know you can be charged for withholding information from us?" says Sergeant Blanchett.

Mrs. Chernoff crosses her legs, uncrosses them, crosses them again.

"Lilah," whispers Abe.

Delilah stares at her father, Toby noticing for the first time the lines around her eyes, the slight quiver in her lips, and how similar their noses are under the flourescent lights.

"Dad," chokes out Delilah.

"This could be the best help you ever give the boy," says Justin's grandfather.

Tears fall on Delilah's cheeks, onto her change purse. They dot the blue cloth and the gold clasp. Toby stares at her hopefully, until Delilah stares at him. Toby's uncertain if it's a look of shame or disgust.

"Wouldn't you protect your son?" cries Delilah, turning to Jeff. "I mean, look at him."

Jeff bristles.

"That's quite enough, Mrs. Chernoff!" says Sergeant Blanchett.

"Your son looks just like mine!" says Delilah. "They could be related. Would you want your son in some horrible juvenile facility? My Justin is so small. He'd get ripped apart as easily as your son..."

"Don't you dare compare my son to yours!" shouts Jeff, Officer Wheaton reaching to restrain him.

"You have to understand," says Delilah, sniffling.

She reaches across to tap Toby's knee, Toby too frozen by her teary eyes to notice until she takes it away.

"You _have _to understand," says Delilah.

"My son doesn't have to understand anything!" shouts Jeff. "He isn't in the wrong here!"

"They're...they're children," breathes Delilah. "They make mistakes."

Deliliah glances at Toby again, an arresting glance that makes his body grow cold, so cold he can't move.

"And any way, he's gone," continues Delilah. "He called, said he needed us to do a couple things, and we begged him to come home."

"He's not in Toronto then?" groans Officer Wheaton.

"Not that I know of," says Delilah, weakly. "And...that's the truth, officers."

"You must have the journal, though?" says Sergeant Blanchett.

"Eli got rid of it," confesses Delilah, crying more deeply. "I said we'd get rid of it if he came home. We were going to work it out. Anything to save my son."

"Ma'am, we have so much evidence against your son that a six-year old could convict him," says Sergeant Blanchett stonily. "You've tried my patience and my staff's patience. As soon as your husband comes back, we have a lot more talking to do."

Sobbing, Delilah wipes her cheeks furiously. Her father releases a deep breath and goes to hug her.

"He didn't come home anyway," cries Delilah. "He hates us that much."

Toby feels a hand on his back, his father's.

"We should go home," whispers Jeff to him. "I don't believe you can really add anything else."

His father is right. With Delilah's confession and the journal destroyed, Toby's assitance isn't really needed. Not to mention, he's not sure if he can be any more uncomfortable than he is presently. Toby meets eyes with Officer Wheaton and winks.

"I'll be taking Toby home, sir," announces Officer Wheaton.

"Very well," says Sergeant Blanchett. "I'll be calling you first thing in the morning."

Toby, Jeff, and J.T. head towards the entrance, though Toby pauses to look at Delilah once more. Her shoulders heave as she sobs louder and louder. Her blonde hair grows messy because her father continually strokes it. Her curls appear to be more flat. Her words repeat in his mind, especially her plea to Toby to understand. What is there to understand? That she wants to protect him? Well, he wants to protect Manny, and he wants to protect himself. Does she want him to understand that this is a mistake that went too far? Well, that mistake has made his life horrible and Justin has yet to be caught. Does she want him to understand that Justin is scared of what lies ahead? Toby bites his lip and leaves the station. He's scared of that, too. That's it, probably. Probably.


	96. Tainted Love

**ICVI. Tainted Love**

_Sometimes I feel I've got to_

_Run away I've got to_

_Get away_

_From the pain that you drive into the heart of me_

_The love we share_

_Seems to go nowhere_

_And I've lost my light_

_For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night_

_Once I ran to you (I ran)_

_Now I'll run from you_

_This tainted love you've given_

_I give you all a boy could give you_

_Take my tears and that's not nearly all_

_Oh...tainted love_

_Tainted love_

_Now I know I've got to_

_Run away I've got to_

_Get away_

_You don't really want any more from me_

_To make things right_

_You need someone to hold you tight_

_And you think love is to pray_

_But I'm sorry I don't pray that way_

_Don't touch me please_

_I cannot stand the way you tease_

_I love you though you hurt me so_

_Now I'm going to pack my things and go_

_Tainted love, tainted love_

_Tainted love, tainted love_

_Touch me baby, tainted love_

_Touch me baby, tainted love_

_Tainted love_

_Tainted love_

_Tainted love_

**Tainted Love is the property of Soft Cell and appears in the film _13 Going On 30_.**

**Black Velvet is the property of Alannah Myles.**

The cab stalls at the corner, students across the campus in heavier traffic than the cars on the street. Ordinary cardboard boxes are carried by new first-years, sluggish second-years, and those who'd survived into their third and fourth years. Ashley peers through the windshield at a mom and her daughter moving her personal items, both of them headed towards the quad. A dry-erase board tilts slightly and the mother rights it. The board was empty, fresh, with no markings, nothing wiped away. I should be moving in, too, thinks Ashley. Moving in and moving on with my life. Ashley lays her head against the seat.

"I got into this school," shares Ashley.

"I suppose Starfly's was the closest job you could find next to campus," muses the cabbie.

How wrong he was. Truthfully, she hasn't thought of that possibility. Her hangover is only allowing her so much clarity to think. There's no guarantee of a job, no guarantee of anything. What if Ozzie wasn't at Starfly's? Should she go into a place like that with strangers? Maybe she should rethink this whole thing. The alternative isn't alluring, though. Did she really want to apologize to the manager of the Calypso and have her dad drag her home, where she'd have so much to answer to, where her parents could tell her how severely she'd screwed up? She was so tired of hearing what other people thought of her and tired of people telling her what to do and how to act. That's why she left England. But boy did she leave with regrets...definitely some regrets.

"Just after this light," informs the cabbie.

"Do you know the hours?" asks Ashley.

"Opens at three, but you can bum around for awhile," replies the cabbie. "A lot of students like the shops around it. Well, in the daytime at least."

"I'm in no hurry," whispers Ashley to herself.

"I'll drop you right in front, so you can know where it is before you go exploring," offers the cabbie.

"That's fine," says Ashley.

Turning a couple side streets, the blue and purple sign for Starfly's comes immediately into view. The letters are in a font that resemble lightning bolts, and its windows are tinted. Starfly's is the size of an auditorium, but nowhere near as clean. Glass bits of liquor bottles lay on the pavement. Graffiti, mainly black squiggles, covered the left wall. Liquor labels sit on the sidewalk. One almost sticks to Ashley's foot as she leaves the cab.

"You take cash?" says Ashley.

"Money is money," says the cabbie, heartily. "Ummm, don't go walking around alone after dark, okay?"

Isn't this the second time he's hinted at how unsafe this place is, or is it the first? She doesn't remember.

"Okay," says Ashley after giving him the cash.

Ashley turns as the car speeds away. She checks her watch. Two-thirty. That's time enough to eat, especially since she hasn't had anything in hours.

She has several choices. The square is full of relatively nice restaurants, a CD store, a small movie house, and a pharmacy. She could see why college students hung out here. Well, she's just glad nobody she knows hangs out here. Ashley zeroes in on a pizza place. She could scarf down a couple of slices and then go to Starfly's. Following her mother's advice, despite her mother's absence, Ashley moves her purse to her chest and zips her jacket over it. She crumples the paper bag, making certain the vodka stays hidden, and enters the restaurant.

"Mushroom!" yells the cashier. "Sausage! Double cheese!"

"All on the same?" yells a worker from the kitchen.

"All on the same!" answers the cashier.

Ashley walks past a couple booths, teenagers and twentysomethings focusing on themselves, on their own joys and problems. It's kind of nice to blend in, for once. She approaches the cashier.

"Hi," greets the cashier.

"Can I get pineapple, sausage, and...do you happen to have zucchini?" orders Ashley.

"Best zucchini this side of Toronto," assures the cashier.

"Thanks," says Ashley.

"Pineapple!" yells the cashier. "Sausage! Zucchini!"

"Zucchini?" says a voice from behind Ashley.

At first, she thought it was the cook, or another employee, but the smoothness of the voice is too familiar. Ashley faces him.

"They said zucchini and I knew it was you!" says Jimmy, grinning. "Ashley Kerwin, back from Britain."

Ashley awkwardly says "hey", and bends to hug him.

"Aren't you home a little early?" questions Jimmy as she pulls away.

"Ummm, no, no," lies Ashley. "Some of the tour dates got cancelled. It's...the economy, you know. Less tickets sold."

"That kind of sucks," says Jimmy. "But...at least you went. How was it?"

"Uh....," begins Ashley.

"Ashley!" cries Hazel, going by two tables, her flowy pink summer dress swinging as she goes to them.

"Hi, Hazel," says Ashley. "You're looking...you're looking good."

"Aww, thanks," says Hazel. "Did I tell you that I like your hair? Is that a popular style in England?"

"I just cut it," shrugs Ashley.

"Why don't you come sit with us?" suggests Jimmy. "My mom and Ms. Aden are in the back booth. We're helping Hazel find some housing."

"Nothing so far," pouts Hazel.

"You can tell us about some places maybe?" says Jimmy. "Since this is your mom's expertise."

"And you can tell us all about the tour," adds Hazel.

Or not, groans Ashley inwardly. She already hated lying to Jimmy about the reason she's home. With Paige, she had time to build the lie, shush her conscience enough. These lies have yet to settle her stomach, the lies leaving her mouth so easily that she barely had time to process them.

"I can't stay," says Ashley. "I have...this...this job interview."

"Where?" questions Hazel.

Ashley grins sheepishly, looking hopefully at the counter for her pizza to appear.

"Eh, you don't want to jinx it, do you?" says Jimmy, sharing a sweet look with Hazel. "But you gotta tell us if you get it."

"Anything is better than the Dot," sighs Hazel.

"You guys are working there?" says Ashley, her eyebrows raising.

"For Spinner," explains Jimmy. "Who better get his surf-lovin' butt back here soon."

"Wow, we really haven't kept in touch during the summer...," says Ashley, her voice fading.

She could've sworn Spinner would've been home by now, and she didn't even have a clue about what Marco or Ellie were doing with themselves. Ellie mentioned driver's ed in a postcard, but yeah, that's about it.

"I've been kind of a bad friend," remarks Ashley.

"With the type of excitement surrounding you, it's understandable," assures Hazel.

"Yeah, Ash," says Jimmy. "We get it."

Ashley smiles, smiling more when her plate of pizza is visible on the counter. Ashley removes her purse from under her jacket, counts out some bills. A ringtone plays quietly from under her. Ashley realizes that it's not her phone, but Jimmy's. Good. Ashley pays for the pizza and retrieves some napkins.

"Hello?" answers Jimmy. "Hey Craig!"

Choking on her pizza, Ashley raises a napkin to her mouth, Hazel patting her back.

"Oh, Ashley?" says Jimmy, nodding at her. "She's..."

Ashley shakes her head vigorously, puts a finger to her mouth. Jimmy rubs his forehead, looks at her cluelessly.

"I...um, I haven't seen her," says Jimmy, trying to get a read on her face. "Why?"

Yeah, that's what she'd like to know. Why is he calling Jimmy? Ugh, isn't it obvious? He's in cahoots with her parents. Cahoots? She must be rattled if she's mentally using words like "cahoots".

"Well, if I see her, I'll call you," says Jimmy, rubbing his chin. "Bye."

Jimmy clicks off his phone, stares at Hazel and then at her.

"Okay, that was odd," comments Jimmy. "Why are we...not speaking with Craig?"

Not speaking with Craig, repeats Ashley in her mind. Not speaking with Craig. What excuse can she use to throw Jimmy off? Jimmy was a pretty smart guy and amazingly straight forward so it would have to be a lie that would make him empathize with her.

"Craig and I broke up," replies Ashley.

"Oh noooo," moans Hazel. "You guys are so cute."

"We were," says Ashley, her throat getting scratchy. "But he's...he's not taking it well."

"He said Kate was going out of her mind," mentions Jimmy.

"He'll...he'll like say anything to contact me," lies Ashley. "I shut off my phone. I left the house. He's probably been bugging Paige and Ellie too."

"Did something happen in England?" asks Jimmy.

"We just need space," says Ashley.

She must've said the magic words, because a look of total understanding crosses Jimmy's face. Why wouldn't it? When they were younger, and dating, Jimmy practically smothered her and Ashley did her best to avoid breaking up with him, to avoid hurting him. Jimmy tucks his phone away.

"You've gotta face this, Ash," says Jimmy pointedly.

Ashley releases a deep breath while Hazel puts an arm around her. Disaster averted, for now.

"I know, Jimmy," says Ashley, doing her best to suppress her guilt with a shaky grin. "I know."

II.

"Nice to get some air, isn't it?"

Emma barely registers Dr. DePauw's remark, her sneakers hitting the edge of the wooden deck. They're on a patio, of all places. It's much larger than the Mason's, _much_ larger. In fact, she can scarcely see the other end. But the most interesting aspect of the patio is who is there. There's a dozen girls, ranging from probably twelve to seventeen, spread out among wooden tables, painted white.

None of them are talking. The sole sounds are coming from what they're doing-- sculpting, drawing, tracing, painting, and writing. Three girls move their pens rapidly, the covers of their journals flapping in the light beach breezes. A girl with longer hair, black hair thicker than Manny's, molds clay into a thick circle, what looks to be a base for something else. Easels stand in front of four other girls, a girl with a blonde pixie cut dipping a paintbrush into a can of orange paint. Nobody's idle or distracted or half as nervous as she is, which she hopes Dr. DePauw won't be able to detect.

"What is this?" asks Emma, hugging herself.

"Therapy," answers Dr. DePauw, her voice low.

Therapy? She must be pulling her leg, gauging her for a reaction to what she just said. This isn't therapy. They're not in an office or having conversations with doctors.

"But they're not talking," says Emma, keeping her voice down too.

"Let's sit over there," says Dr. DePauw.

She gestures to an empty white bench on the side, a couple feet away from the other girls. Emma sighs and takes a seat. At least this is better than being on a couch or talking about things she doesn't feel like talking about. Dr. DePauw sits on the other side.

"I started this program, a year ago," says Dr. DePauw, retightening her bun.

Emma gives her a skeptical glance, not sure why she'd want to be any more tightly wound than she already is and not sure what she means exactly.

"What program?" asks Emma.

"Art therapy," says Dr. DePauw. "There's a belief, in psychology, that art is a good way to express yourself as you weather certain difficulties in your life. It helps people, particularly artistic people, deal with underlying thoughts or repressed emotions. And many times, it can lead to a sort of fulfillment, more self-confidence, for the patient. Have you ever heard of it before?"

Running a finger along the edge of the bench, Emma shakes her head.

"What are your thoughts about it?" continues Dr. DePauw.

"Well, I guess...Manny's more confident after she found acting," says Emma wearily.

"Yeah, I think it's a really nice outlet for girls your age to have," says Dr. DePauw, lowering her hands and letting them rest on the table. "Your mom told me you quit dance class?"

Emma shrugs. Yes, she quit. There were too many responsibilities at home. Sure, it broke into Spinner's funds, and broke her heart, but she couldn't do it anymore.

"My mom made sacrifices for me," says Emma. "It's only right that I make one for her. Snake disappointed her. I didn't want to."

"And he disappointed you?" questions Dr. DePauw.

"I never thought he would do something like that," sighs Emma. "I never thought he wouldn't be there."

"You mentioned that you did most of the chores at home?" says Dr. DePauw.

"I'm the oldest," answers Emma. "I don't mind. But sometimes...."

She presses her lips together to stop talking. She didn't want to complain. What if it got back to Snake, who might blame her mom, or maybe her mom would blame Snake, or maybe...

"Um," mumbles Emma, rubbing the edges of her eyes persistently, trying to fend off tears.

"It's alright," consoles Dr. DePauw.

"Sometimes you do things, because you expect other things to happen," says Emma, with a small sob. "But then they don't. There's no reward. There's nothing to show for it."

"You expect your parents to get back together," poses Dr. DePauw.

"Yes?" says Emma, wiping her cheeks. "No? I don't know."

Dr. DePauw nods, turns her neck to look at the ocean. The waves bound along the surface until they reach the muddy edge, where seagulls cry and hop along the shore. Emma's own eyes drop to the table, where the bracelet of gold and black beads Dr. DePauw wears religiously glints in the sun.

Emma sniffles. "Did one of your patients make that?"

"Oh, this?" says Dr. DePauw, facing Emma again.

"Yeah, the bracelet," replies Emma.

Dr. DePauw grows silent for a moment. The edges of her mouth turn up and down, her perfectly applied pink lipstick shining in the sun. I'm too forward, thinks Emma. I shouldn't have asked that question.

"My daughter made it," says Dr. DePauw with a coy smile.

"It's nice," says Emma.

"It's very nice," says Dr. DePauw.

Elongating her body, and letting her palms fall to touch the table, Dr. DePauw looks warmly at Emma.

"You see, Emma, I started this program for a very selfish reason," says Dr. DePauw. "My daughter's autistic. Often, she doesn't tell me that she loves me, because she can't."

Emma touches her neck briefly and lets her hand drop.

"But then she'll make me something beautiful, absolutely beautiful, and those are all the feelings that I need," goes on Dr. DePauw. "That is all she needs to tell me. And a lot of other girls have profitted from the program, so that is my reward."

"Does your daughter live with you?" questions Emma.

"Her father and I are separated," says Dr. DePauw. "She's staying with him this summer."

She's separated. Emma shifts in her seat. Who would've thought? So Dr. DePauw isn't totally removed from the situation. She's going through it herself and her daughter has a challenge all her own.

"I shouldn't have pried," says Emma. "I'm sorry."

"It's not like you haven't told me some private things," says Dr. DePauw.

"Listen," sighs Emma. "I didn't mean to be resistant. Well, maybe I did. But I'll try to be less resistant."

"That includes leaving the pages in my notebook alone?" says Dr. DePauw with a smirk.

Emma puts her hands against her cheeks, Dr. DePauw chuckling.

"So embarrassed," mumbles Emma.

"That's quite alright," says Dr. DePauw. "I figured I better meet you halfway or it'd get tossed out of the window."

Emma laughs.

"Exactly," plays along Emma. "No, I apologize for that, too."

"Okay, you don't like hypnosis, I take it?" broaches Dr. DePauw.

"It's not as bad as I thought, but...I'd be willing to give this art therapy thing a go," says Emma. "I do...I do miss dancing."

"Why?" says Dr. DePauw.

Hmmm, she wouldn't be writing anything down. Emma closes her eyes, reimagines herself in ballet class with Manny. She's leaping across the floor. Then, the image is replaced by her dancing at the community center, where she was alive, uninhibited. Then, she sees herself with Rashad and his friends. She was powerful and in control, allowing herself to burst.

"I can feel what I want to feel," breathes Emma, opening her eyes. "And I show it."

Dr. DePauw smiles, clasps her hands together.

"I show it," sighs Emma, nodding.

"We have fifteen minutes left," says Dr. DePauw. "Would you like to sculpt? Draw?"

"Draw," says Emma with confidence.

They both stand together. Dr. DePauw ushers Emma to the collection of easels and chairs, Emma sitting down next to the girl with the orange paint she'd seen earlier.

"Hi," greets the girl. "I'm Nadine."

"Emma," says Emma, reluctantly.

"Emma's visiting us from Toronto," provides Dr. DePauw. "She's a dancer."

Dr. DePauw leaves them after that, ducking into the hospital again after a couple seconds.

"Dr. DePauw's really awesome," compliments Nadine. "I've been in this program for two years."

"Did she do hypnosis with you?" asks Emma.

"With some people, it really helps, like with my friend Vida," answers Nadine. "But this is more me."

Nadine hands Emma a paintbrush. The smell of the paint tickles her nose. All the other girls are working diligently, Nadine halfway done with a stunning picture of a countryside with horses grazing in the fields under a pink and orange sky.

"You must have good coordination for dance," says Nadine, shaking out her pixie hair before painting again. "I'm a total klutz."

"Oh?" says Emma.

Emma shyly lifts the page on the easel, aiming her brush and then taking it away.

"Excuse me?" says Emma.

"Hmmm?" says Nadine.

"What do you think about, like before you start?" asks Emma.

"I used to only paint relaxing places," replies Nadine. "The beach. The park. But...I feel best when I paint things that mean the most to me."

"That makes sense," sighs Emma.

Emma locates a can of blue paint, carefully taking off the lid of the can.

"Blue," notes Nadine. "I haven't used that in awhile actually."

Dipping her paintbrush into the can, Emma lifts it and poises the brush next to the page.

"I'm hoping I get to a place where I won't have to use it much," confesses Emma, doing her first stroke. "If that makes any sense."

Nadine beams. "That makes perfect sense."

III.

She's getting far more sympathy than she would like. Jimmy and Hazel accompanied her out of the restaurant, continually watching her for any sign of frustration or sadness. She has both of those emotions but she's doing her best to hide them, and the vodka in her hands.

"Let us know if there's anything we can do," insists Hazel.

"First, the cancelled tour dates and now this," groans Jimmy. "You should let us take you out one of these days."

"For sure," echoes Hazel.

"You really don't have to," reassures Ashley. "Um, so I'll guess I'll see you on campus."

"I'll e-mail you my address...when I find out what it is," says Hazel.

There's a joint moment of laughter, slightly lifting her spirits. Ashley begins to walk away.

"You can't just go without a hug," protests Hazel, gently taking Ashley's arm.

Unfortunately, the gentleness of Hazel's grip is enough to surprise her, Ashley accidentally dropping the paper bag. There's a round of clinks, and the release of a strong scent. Ashley closes her eyes.

"That doesn't smell like root beer," observes Jimmy. "Ash?"

There's no way to deny it. The proof is in the pungent aroma between them.

"I'm having a hard time, okay?" says Ashley, gazing at Jimmy. "I haven't had a sip. Honest."

"You're drinking over a break-up?" says Jimmy. "That's not like you."

"You brought booze to the luau party!" cries Ashley.

"Ashley!" chastises Hazel, making sure Mrs. Brooks is nowhere around.

"I don't usually touch the stuff, alright?" whispers Ashley. "Believe me, guys."

Hazel bites her lip, then throws her hands up.

"I believe you," says Hazel.

"Jimmy?" says Ashley.

She can already tell Jimmy's less gullible, watching him search her with his eyes. He's known her for so long that it would be twice as difficult than it is with Hazel. Ashley crosses her arms to hopefully come across as more truthful.

"Yeah...okay, Ash," says Jimmy, running a hand along his shaved head.

"Okay what?" prods Ashley.

"Okay, I...believe you," clarifies Jimmy.

"Good," sighs Ashley. "I have the interview so I'll catch you guys later."

"Good luck!" says Hazel cheerfully.

Ashley starts down the sidewalk, towards Starflys. As soon as she reaches the streetlight, going by a bus stop, she breaks into a brisk jog, her purse bumping against her breasts. She's not entirely sure why she's jogging. What it does do, thankfully, is push down the voice in her head that tells her that she's lied to not one, not two, but three good friends in one day. If only they weren't so concerned, so caring, though good friends should be that way, shouldn't they? Ashley presses her body against the door of Starflys, letting her cheeks cool.

She moves her foot, her shoe touching something. It's a cracked beer bottle, next to a used condom. Ashley shudders, quickly pushing through the door. She enters the room, full of dim lighting and cigarette smoke. The smoke is coming from a table of three men playing cards, a waitress in a T-shirt and jeans serving them sandwiches. The T-shirt had a guitar, with blue stripes, on it, probably the Starflys logo. A burly, bald man wipes the bar counter down, humming to a rock song playing throughout the building. No sign of Ozzie, thinks Ashley, straightening her clothes as she goes to the man at the bar.

"Hi," says Ashley.

"Bar opens at five, sweetie," says the man. "Unless you're here for lunch."

"I'm not, actually," says Ashley. "I'm here to ask if there are any available positions."

The man laughs, a long laugh that makes his belly go up and down.

"Darling, you look scared out of your mind to be here, and it ain't even busy yet," says the man. "I hear there's some jobs at the college bookstore. You go along and ask them."

She didn't have the energy to go to the bookstore, and at Starflys, she'd get to sing if she landed a waitress gig.

"I'll wash dishes," offers Ashley. "Sweep the floor. Pick up peanut shells. Anything."

The man gives her a puzzled frown. "You must really be desperate. Do you sing?"

"I...I was on tour," shares Ashley.

"Huh," says the man, wringing out his rag. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen!" says Ashley quickly.

This is one instance where it was absolutely crucial to lie.

"Where's your I.D.?" says the man, holding out his hand.

She can't give him her I.D. Then, he'll see that she's eighteen, not nineteen. Ashley stares at him, panicked.

"My wallet was stolen," lies Ashley.

"I can vouch for her, Amos!" calls a voice from the rear of the bar.

Ashley locates Ozzie coming towards her, the collar of his flannel shirt raised.

"I'm the one that told her to come down," says Ozzie. "We met at O'Malley's Liquor, where she must've got robbed. She even helped me get supplies for the place."

"Some scum hang out by O'Malley's," cringes Amos.

"I hang out at O'Malley's," jokes Ozzie.

Here's a friend who didn't mind lying as much as her. Ashley grins at him. They both look innocently at Amos.

"Bonnie did call in sick," mutters Amos. "Alright, I'll let you clear tables for tonight. If things go well tonight, we'll see. If things go well for a couple weeks, I'll let you audition to be one of the permanent girls. Make sure you get another I.D. in the mean time."

"Thank you!" cries Ashley. "Thank you so much!"

"Ehhh, I hate being a softie," groans Amos, waving a rag at Ozzie and leaving the bar.

"That means he likes you," whispers Ozzie to Ashley.

"I sooo like you right now," says Ashley. "Thanks, Ozzie. You're a stand up guy."

"No prob," shrugs Ozzie. "So, do you live on campus?"

"I don't have a place," fibs Ashley. "That's the next problem I have to solve."

""There's a spare room in the back, where I crash," says Ozzie, his dimples on full display.

"Uhhhh...," says Ashley.

"No worries," interjects Ozzie. "I can sleep over my friend's tonight, help you find a place for tomorrow."

This guy is being extra nice. But of course, the last guy who was extra nice to her, Mark, was trying to jam his tongue into her mouth as soon as he felt like it. On the other hand, where else is she going to go? Her parents are searching for her and would find her at any of her friends' houses. The back room doesn't seem so bad.

"I'll take it," says Ashley.

"Cool," says Ozzie. "I'll get you a Starflys shirt."

Ashley sits on a stool, her sight following Ozzie with a blank stare. She recalls how excited the students were as they transferred their things to the dorms, and how much effort Hazel was putting into finding a new place to live. Now, look where she's ended up. Ashley whirls the stool around, gazing at the completely full bottles of alcohol. She briefly thinks it's a shame that this is the most familiar thing in the room, but only briefly.

IV.

"The one time I'll cheat on my diet," mutters Kate.

"You don't put on weight," says Craig.

Kate Kerwin situates the lid of her styrofoam carton to close it, hiding her half-finished hamburger from Craig. They're in Kate's car, and since she was too rattled to drive, he suggested that he should. He's surprised she didn't fuss about it. Once an hour went by, he also suggested that they stop and get her something to eat at the Dot. He was less surprised that she didn't fuss about that. They were hoping that Jimmy or Hazel were there, and better yet that Ashley was there. Their hopes were dashed.

"Pardon?" says Kate.

Ick, maybe that was a dumb observation to make. Maybe she thought it meant he'd been checking out their bodies and comparing them.

"You and Ashley, both of you, don't put on weight," says Craig cautiously, turning the car to the left. "She's never been on a diet."

"You're right," says Kate as she peers through the windshield.

Phew. Craig's eyes wander to the rear view mirror, to the radio, to the wheel, anywhere other than Ashley's mother. Their conversation has been sparse, though not terrible. Robert and Chris spread out to check other hotels. Joey and Diane were searching locations near Degrassi and haven't reported any news in the past hour. He's certain they're talking way more than he is with Kate.

"Do you want me to lower your window?" asks Craig.

"No thank you," replies Kate.

A red light halts them from moving any further. He's praying it's a short pause.

"I'm worried," says Kate softly.

Craig tosses her a glance. "Me too."

"Robert and I are beside ourselves," admits Kate. "My nerves are shot."

"That's normal...for moms to worry," says Craig. "I mean, my mom worried about me when...."

He closes his mouth, a lump forming in his throat. The last conversation he'd had with Julia Jeremiah revolved around her worry, an insistence that he go to Joey's if ever Albert snapped. The memory of her kind insistence is lodged in his brain, even as Kate speaks.

"Ashley's told me a little about your past," says Kate.

"I got through it," says Craig, gripping the wheel.

"Did you let your mother help you?" asks Kate.

"Yes," answers Craig. "She never steered me wrong."

Kate frowns. "Do you think Ashley will let me help her?"

"I hope she does," replies Craig.

"We should be a united front," says Kate, looking at him. "For her sake."

Craig forces himself to look directly at her. It's tough and takes a shorter time than he realizes. He exhales.

"I'll be on your team," says Craig.

"I appreciate it," says Kate.

The green light shines fully on the hood of Kate's car, Craig's cellphone ringing right after the car goes into motion. He opens it speedily and puts it against his ear.

"Hello?" says Craig.

"Craig?" says the caller. "It's Jimmy. I know where she is."

"Where?" exclaims Craig.

"Near the campus," says Jimmy. "I saw her head off to a place called Starflys. She told us not to call, but something's not right..."

Craig nods at Kate, who puts a hand against her heart.

"Something's definitely not right, man," sighs Jimmy.

V.

Walking around Degrassi Mall near closing time is new to him. Toby usually went right after school or during the weekends, and in the afternoons on his summer breaks. At the same time, going to Degrassi Mall before it fully opened was new to him, too, the morning he went to contact Manny. J.T. was with him for each outing and his dad appeared with each instance, but he had only felt down this time.

Officer Wheaton said that he'd be willing to treat them to dinner. He must've felt down too, or guilty because Toby had to sit through the questioning.

Toby, Jeff, Officer Wheaton, and J.T. stand in the middle of the mall, the many smells of the food court filling the air. Despite the hunger-inducing scents of curry, burritos, and giant cookies, Toby can't focus on the dinner he still hasn't eaten. Meeting the Chernoffs took away his hunger pains. Knowing that Justin has left Toronto killed his appetite.

"I'm getting fries with barbeque sauce," announces J.T., going to stand in line.

"Yuck," mumbles Jeff. "Toby, what do you want?"

Rather than answer, Toby starts going through his briefcase.

"I want to change what I've done this whole summer," replies Toby, walking away.

His father's footsteps catch up to him, Jeff steering Toby to a bench near a shoe repair shop. They sit. Officer Wheaton parks himself at a food court table.

"This is why I didn't want to get you too involved with the case," sighs Jeff. "First, the house. Now, this...this latest disappointment."

He hasn't voiced what this disappointment meant to him. Being beside his mother? Justin's mother? Hearing her talk about him, comparing her son to him? It was annoying, annoying because she knew what card to play. She knew it would poke at his heart and he'd start to hate Justin less. Then, that if she had her way, he'd be less willing to fight. Toby shakes his head.

"If I give you your phone back, will that cheer you up a bit?" asks Jeff.

No, because he wouldn't be able to call Manny, and if he called, he'd have to tell her the bad news. His life is turning into a lot of "if"s.

"Here," says Jeff, removing it from his pocket.

Toby accepts the phone with little fanfare, hears the cheerful tune when he presses Power.

"Thanks," mumbles Toby.

"I'll tell Wheaton you want Chinese," says Jeff, ruffling Toby's hair.

Toby instantly pats it down again, then stares after him. His father, try as he might, couldn't give him the amount of solace he needed. No one could.

He rifles through his briefcase, his finger catching on the edge of an envelope. The envelope is tucked way in there. Was it a paycheck he forgot? No, he always cashed those in every other Friday. He thinks he would've remembered if he put a solitary envelope inside. Toby shakes his entire briefcase, trying to free the foreign object, but the force, maybe because he's so upset, is too much. His folders fly out, as well as the papers in them. They spread across the hard linoleum mall floor.

"Why?" groans Toby.

Toby bends, starting to collect the dropped items. He's going to throw half of this stuff out anyway, but he liked giving them a final look just to make sure they weren't necessary to keep. Toby reaches for two papers under the bench.

"I got three or four!" says someone from above.

That wasn't J.T., or his dad. Toby stands quickly.

"Hi," says Toby.

"Hey," says Lucie, handing him the papers.

Lucie's appearance is very much the same as when he first saw her. She's in a plain white T-shirt and jeans. Her wavy brown hair is tucked under a baseball cap, with a pen right behind her ear. Her smile stretches from the pen-holding ear to the other one.

"My briefcase blew up, basically," explains Toby.

"Did you get everything?" questions Lucie.

"Ummm," says Toby, gingerly stepping past her to check.

There are a few more papers near a stand selling sunglasses. The girl vendor didn't bother to notice them. Lucie spots them too, snatches them up before the girl can figure out what she's doing. Toby spies a final sheet, going behind the bench for a few seconds.

"All present and accounted for," says Lucie.

Toby goes to her, takes them and returns them to a folder. "Thanks."

"So what's going on with you?" asks Lucie.

"Not much," answers Toby.

If he isn't able to tell Manny what's going on, he didn't want to tell a new friend about it.

"I saw Manny earlier today," informs Lucie. "She was very emotional."

"Emotional?" says Toby, raising his eyebrows.

"Sad," clarifies Lucie.

"Sad?" repeats Toby, his own face mirroring the word.

"I think this is too much for her," sighs Lucie. "It would be for any girl."

Or any boy, muses Toby inwardly. Poor Manny. She has no idea that when she comes home, it'll be virtually the same.

"Manny's so focused on being there for me," says Toby. "I mean, she came to Kytel today. Out of the blue."

He smiles, remembering the soft ripples of the lake, the light noise of the ducks' feet padding the grass and dirt, the slow and sweet movement of her lips.

"And she's been really faithful with the whole letter thing," continues Toby.

"What letters?" says Lucie, patting her pocket.

Mmmm, he should've kept that private. J.T. isn't aware, so why did he let it slip out with Lucie? She is pretty easy to talk to, and she has been a good friend lately, but it is a secret to most people.

"I won't tell," vows Lucie.

Well, she's been pretty good about keeping her mouth closed.

"It's how we're keeping in touch," provides Toby. "I write her. She writes me."

"You send her letters?" sighs Lucie.

She looks impressed. Toby's cheeks flush while zipping his suitcase.

"Anyway, Manny came out to visit," says Toby. "I guess that's kind of a replacement letter. So it's my turn. But I feel like...I have nothing to tell her. The case is stuck. Should I tell her that?"

"Of course not," insists Lucie. "I mean, she's already sad."

"True," moans Toby.

"There's got to be a way to cheer her up," mulls Lucie.

Toby mulls the problem himself, brightening and almost cursing himself for not remembering it sooner.

"She's coming home, and she wants me there for her birthday," says Toby. "There's time to get her a really great gift! She says she just wants to see me, but...I know she'd freak out if I got her the best gift possible."

"Sounds like a winning strategy," asserts Lucie.

"But...I'm not sure what to get," says Toby.

"Why not?" says Lucie.

"It's different now that we're dating," says Toby. "This is her first birthday where I'm a boyfriend, not a friend. "

"Yeah, that's a world of difference, I guess," supposes Lucie. "Maybe a girl should go with you?"

"Liberty's busy with her debate prep," sighs Toby. "Emma's in California. If I asked Clara, it might be weird....."

"Here's an idea," poses Lucie. "I'll go."

Toby grins. "Really?"

"You don't have to beg," kids Lucie.

"Awesome," says Toby.

"Here's my cell number," says Lucie.

She removes the pen from her ear and flips over Toby's hand. She writes her phone number carefully, Toby doing his best to read each number. They all look legible. He could read them and copy it to his phone later. Lucie doesn't let his wrist go immediately, grinning at him suddenly. Toby clears his throat.

"I can read it," says Toby.

"Right," says Lucie, releasing him. "Call me. Anytime."

Toby clutches the briefcase with his newly free hand, waves at Lucie with the other.

"Bye Toby," says Lucie.

She saunters off, Toby lowering himself to the bench as soon as she's gone. What was that about? Nah, she's being helpful, like always. She personally saw how distressed Manny was and was moved to do something about it. She's not doing anything J.T. and Liberty wouldn't do for him. Toby rubs his wrist, glances at the number a final time, and resumes searching in his briefcase.

"What you looking for, Tobes?" asks J.T., a cup of fries appearing in Toby's face.

"An envelope," says Toby. "I don't see it anymore."

"Who was it from?" says J.T.

"I don't remember putting it in," says Toby. "If I don't remember, it must've not been that important."

J.T. shrugs "Probably."

Toby accepts a couple of fries, J.T. munching on a couple at a time.

"Your dad said you wanted to change everything you did this summer," says J.T. "Is that true?"

The girl at the sunglasses hut jumps up and down. Her boyfriend walks to her, presenting her with a _Happy Anniversary_ balloon and a stuffed Donald Duck. They hug and share a kiss that lasts a second.

"Well," says Toby. "Not everything."

VI.

The plates pop up in soapy water, a heavy sloshing noise sounding as the bin moves. Ashley blows a purple hair away from her brow and puts the bin against her black apron. She's already cleared ten tables and she's come to this consensus: the customers are punishing her. They're filthy. Some left cigarette butts among the scraps of their food. Somebody made a trail of gravy and stuck pieces of straw wrappers on different parts of it. Pretzels and nutshells were all over the floor. She has to look at it, wipe it, and in the worst case scenario, touch it. Amos didn't want cigarette butts on the dinnerware so she personally had to pick them out. She felt sorry for her fingers.

Her co-workers were pros in comparison. Ashley figured she should watch them in case there was a time for upward mobility, going from a busgirl to a singing waitress. They cheerfully engaged in conversations with college students and businessmen alike, asking about their classes or their jobs. She hopes no customer catches her and asks her about school or a job. I'm a quitter who's avoiding everyone, she'd have to say. Ashley turns a cup over, soaking in the label she's created for herself.

"Chop chop, new girl," says Ilene, pretty much the sole singer-waitress who had reached out to her.

Ilene assisted Ozzie in making the backroom presentable "for a young woman", saying there was "only so much she could do". Ozzie griped about Ilene rearranging things in his little nook, but Ashley thanked him again and his pout gave way to a smile.

"Sorry, Ilene," says Ashley, dropping the cup into the bin.

"I'm scheduled to go on next," says Ilene, cracking her knuckles. "They're giving me the glory spot."

Ashley supposes that means that she's the last act of the night. She fixes her eyes on the stage. Spotlights shine on the house band, three guys, playing a drumkit, an electric guitar, and a keyboard, in the middle of a black circular surface. The keyboard has to be the same model as hers. What if the Calypso manager did burn it, just to spite her? Ashley grits her teeth and starts mopping the table with a wet rag.

"And now...the musical stylings of the innovative, always remarkably creative Ilene," announces a voice over the speakers.

Bunching the rag in her hands, Ashley turns to watch Ilene take the stage. Her hair is streaked too, though not purple. She had ruby red on the right, and blue on the left, her natural blonde hair peeking out in some places. While the Starflys shirt isn't too attractive by itself, the stage lights really did make the guitar emblem stand out.

"I'll be singing Black Velvet, cause I know you guys like it," says Ilene demurely.

"Whoooo whooo!" yells a guy with a bandana at the center table.

Four of his friends hoot their agreement.

"Great song," whispers Ashley, throwing the rag into the bin so much that the mucky water splashes onto her apron.

This is a great song she wishes she were singing. She hasn't been on stage in over a week, her heart quickening as the steady rhythm from the drum starts, as Ilene raises the microphone to her mouth. The guitar begins the melody. Ilene sings:

_Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell  
Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high  
Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder  
The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky _

Ugh, and her voice is good too, so Ashley can't hate this rendition either. She could match this, though. It's not like she'd be out of place with Ilene and the others.

_The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything  
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for _

Ashley moves to the next table. She wrinkles her nose. Terrific. Somebody drew three pairs of breasts, only breasts, on a placemat. Luckily, she can toss those. She crinkles them up, throws them in the trash, and returns to clear the silverware.

_Black velvet and that little boy's smile  
Black velvet with that slow southern style  
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees  
Black velvet if you please _

Decent delivery of the chorus, admits Ashley inwardly. She could draw out the final note. What would Amos like?

_Up in Memphis the music's like a heatwave  
White lightening, bound to drive you wild  
Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl  
"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle _

Ashley can't hear the song as clearly, the parting of the door bringing in a warm gust of air from outside. She repositions a salt shaker, the shaking grains covered by footsteps. The footsteps are coming in her direction. Ashley rolls her eyes and drudges up a smile for the new customers.

"I'm almost done clearing...," begins Ashley, lifting her eyes.

Her train of thought is overcome by a whirl of thoughts going through her brain. Craig and her mother are right here. She can touch them, after having not seen them for days, for weeks in her mother's case. They're silent. They've found her. They're waiting for her to say something, anything.

"What are you doing here?" says Ashley.

"I should ask you the same thing," says Kate, cocking her head to the side.

Her mother's clothes are wrinkled. Ashley can't recall a time when her clothes have ever been wrinkled. What really gets her is the red eyes, though. Whether they're red because she's been crying or because she's exhausted, Ashley can't tell.

"Jimmy squealed," sighs Ashley, completey sure of the culprit.

She drops the bin on the table, turning her back to them.

"Ashley Kerwin, you will stay and talk to me," says Kate forcefully.

Ashley smooths her apron and faces them.

"We have nothing to talk about," says Ashley, smoothing her apron a second time.

Kate breathes deeply, pulls out a chair, and sits. Craig does the same.

"I have tables to clear," complains Ashley.

"We can talk while you clear it," says Craig, nodding at her.

It's strange, but Craig has the same demeanor he had at the airport, like his expression hasn't changed in that width of time. He's not disgusted with her after lying to him, ditching him and her parents? Craig taps the table with his hand, eyeing her from head to toe. She can't get rid of him, or her mom, based on their actions.

"Fine!" cries Ashley, dropping into a chair at the opposite side of the table.

Of course, she has no one of her side, and they have each other. How unfair is that.

"You are hurting right now, Ashley," says Kate. "We understand. But this drinking and deceit has to end now. You'll just hurt yourself more."

"You have to listen to us, for your own good," adds Craig.

"What did you two do?" asks Ashley, smirking. "Work together on this speech? You two don't even like each other!"

"But it should be obvious that the two of us care about you," insists Kate.

"I am an adult!" says Ashley. "An adult!"

"Then, be an adult, and do the mature thing," counters Kate. "Let us take you home."

"A home where I'd be supervised twenty-four seven?" says Ashley. "That's not a home. That's a prison."

Kate massages her forehead.

"With you as the warden," adds Ashley.

Gripping the table hard, Kate glances at Craig.

"You're being stubborn, Ash," speaks up Craig. "And you're a waitress now? That's better?"

"Being a waitress is a respectable job," defends Ashley.

"If you actually wanted to be one!" argues Craig. "You don't belong here! We start school in three weeks."

"I'll go to school when I'm ready," says Ashley.

"Oh, Ashley," groans Kate.

"And I can sing at Starflys," continues Ashley. "That's what I'm going to school for anyway. To be a musician. Is this the ideal? No, but it's reality. I quit the tour so that option's gone..."

"Why?" says Craig.

Bleh. Telling Craig that he was right about Mark might give him some leverage, and it would show she's in a fragile state of mind. They'd totally call her out on it, too.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," says Ashley. "To _either_ of you."

Her neck muscles tensing, Kate pushes her chair away from the table.

"Ashley, I will drag you out of here if I have to," says Kate. "Do not make me do that."

So she'd make her look like child in front of her peers, her boss? Forget that.

"I grew up on this tour, Mom," says Ashley, folding her arms. "I'm sorry that it's not to your liking. I'm even sorry I'm not the way you wanted me to be. But I'm not sorry I'm making decisions for myself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not getting paid to sit and talk with you."

Ashley stands hurriedly, hitting her thigh against another chair. She busily dumps plates into the bin, traces of a conversation between Craig and Kate carrying to her ears.

"This place is disgusting," says Kate tearfully. "It's like a dive. I can't let her stay here."

"I'll stay," reassures Craig. "I'll keep talking to her, get her to come home."

There's a small jangle, probably car keys being passed. Ashley moans and stares into the dirty water. Why can't they accept what she's doing? Her mother didn't try to understand her for most of the summer, particularly her relationship with Craig, who she hated until about a minute ago. They should go. They tried, failed, and they should go. She's convinced and will tell them exactly that.

"Mom...," starts Ashley, turning around.

"Your mom left," says Craig, positioning himself firmly in the chair.

That surprisingly stung, Ashley glancing at the entrance, and then at him.

"And you can follow her," says Ashley.

"No," says Craig.

Ashley's lips part. "What?"

"I made a decision too," replies Craig. "I haven't had a thing to eat...and I'd like to be served."

"Well, I'm not a waitress," throws back Ashley. "Yet."

What is his deal? Ashley holds the bin to her chest, walks to the bar, staring aimlessly at Amos on the other end, putting a beer mug under a tap.

"Tough, eh?" says Amos. "The first night's always tough."

He had no idea how much.

VII.

Midnight isn't that far away. The music has ended. Craig twirls his spoon against his plate, which formerly held a roast beef sandwich and chips. The light scrapes of the twirling spoon go unnoticed as he watches Ashley go from table to table, ignoring him whenever she could. Her uniform is ill-fitting, probably fetched at the last minute, and this job doesn't fit her.

As soon as he saw her, he wanted to hug her, to tell her not to be afraid and that everything would be fine. But she's making it clearer and clearer that she'd rather not see him.

"Anything else, hon?" says Ilene.

"How about another glass of water?" replies Craig.

"Aqua coming right up," says Ilene.

Craig sighs, wiping his face with a napkin. Sitting next to the door brought in a lot of heat. Once he removes it, he finds that Ashley is inches away.

"That's your fourth water," sighs Ashley.

She has been paying attention to him. Okay, that part of his plan was complete. He kind of has to wing the rest. Putting on a brave front for Kate didn't necessarily mean he knew what he was doing. Craig grins.

"I'm just really thirsty," says Craig, shaking his empty water glass.

"You're being a giant pain," moans Ashley.

"I haven't said two words to you since your mom left," says Craig.

"When did you and her get so buddy buddy?" demands Ashley. "Ganging up on me? Silly me. I thought you were with me, not against me."

"You have a problem, Ashley," says Craig, gazing at her intently.

"That's getting so tired!" says Ashley. "Am I drunk right now?"

"Did you drink at all today?" questions Craig.

Ashley darts her eyes, and puts a hand on her hip. Well, that answers that question.

"How much?" says Craig.

"Leave me alone!" cries Ashley, then pushing past an exiting couple.

The couple looks bothered, but neglect to say anything. Craig wedges his way between them, locating Ashley pick up an unattended beer at the bar. Craig squints his eyes. Ashley stares at him, toasts him, and drinks, swallowing twice.

"Ah, refreshing," says Ashley. "I was really thirsty."

"You're mocking me?" cries Craig.

"And what do you call you and your four waters, huh?" cries Ashley.

"Hey!" exclaims Ilene. "Take it out back, kids."

Ashley hands Ilene the beer, starting towards the back. Craig trails her in hot pursuit. She finds a door, throws it open, Craig managing to sneak inside and close it.

Where are they? Craig takes in the slashed rock n' roll posters, the medium-sized bed with cracking wood posts, an overturned trashcan, and the closet with a swinging men's calendar. There's no closet for her to put her apron in as she takes it off. The room itself is pretty much like a closet.

"You're going to live here?" exclaims Craig.

"So you did come here to judge?" argues Ashley.

"Look where you are, Ashley!" says Craig. "Your dad has all your stuff from the hotel room! You have no phone so nobody can contact you! There's no bathroom...."

"There's a bathroom," interrupts Ashley softly.

She takes off her shoes, lays on the pea-green blanket on the bed.

"Come home with me," says Craig.

"No," says Ashley, raising her head slightly to glare at him.

This tough love? Not working. He'll have to be honest, tell her how he's felt for the past week. Craig bends next to the bed. Here goes.

"I've missed you, Ashley," whispers Craig.

Ashley buries her nose in the blanket.

"Not knowing where you were?" says Craig. "It drove me crazy."

A sob is released after that, a soft sob, but a sob. Ashley bunches the blanket in her grip, staring at him with what he hopes is remorse.

"I left you," says Ashley, sitting up.

Craig stands. "Yeah...yeah, you did."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," chokes out Ashley, staring up at him. "I didn't mean to lie. To any of you."

Please don't tell me this is another lie, thinks Craig. Tell me I can believe you.

"It's part of the drinking," says Craig.

"I know," says Ashley.

Ashley shakily rises, putting her palms against his chest. Craig wraps his arms around her shoulders.

"I wanted to answer your calls," whispers Ashley. "I wanted _you _to be the one who found me. Nobody else."

She breathes soundly, tracing his shirt collar under his neck. Sighing, she kisses him there, Craig still searching her eyes to find any hint of a lie.

"You're amazing," whispers Ashley.

"Amazing?" says Craig, bringing her even closer.

"Uh-huh," says Ashley. "I missed you, too."

"I love you so much, Ashley," sighs Craig.

"I love you too," says Ashley, grabbing his shirt. "Swear."

Craig opens his mouth to speak, Ashley pulling his shirt over his head before he can. No, they should be talking. They should talk. She moans against his shoulder, then grabs a hold of his belt buckle.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," says Ashley.

Wow. She did miss him. Craig locks eyes with her, breathing rapidly into her hair as he yanks off her Starflys shirt and tosses it to the floor. Ashley falls back onto the bed, her chest heaving under her bra. He moves his lips down her chest, fidding with the zipper on her pants. Craig groans, climbs to her face, his legs tangling with hers as she struggles to slide off her jeans.

"Wait," says Ashley.

"Yes?" says Craig as he catches his breath.

"Do you have one?" says Ashley.

Surprisingly, he did. It was a spare, but he did. Craig removes his wallet, above Ashley as he takes it out and nods.

"Mmmm, you're perfect," sighs Ashley.

He doesn't argue, touching her where he hasn't touched her in the longest time, being beside her where she hasn't let him be, and letting him love her tonight, with a freedom they both could feel.

Freedom is relaxation. That could be the reason why he falls asleep afterwards. He held her against him, breathing in her scent, recalling days when this was impossible. When Craig wakes up, he hears the door open and close. Sweat is still on his chest, his mind in an early morning euphoria. He fluffs the pillow behind his back, then stares at the entrant. Ashley holds a towel.

"You didn't wake me," says Craig.

"It's only two a.m.," says Ashley.

"Where'd you go?" asks Craig.

"We did it on my break," says Ashley, shyly gazing at him. "Now, we're closed."

"I should call Joey," mumbles Craig.

Craig scoots to the other side of the bed, grabs his boxers and starts to get dressed. He runs an inventory of what he had on after donning his shirt. His wallet.

"Have you seen my...," starts Craig.

"Your wallet?" says Ashley, dangling it in front of him with her hand.

"Gimme it," says Craig.

He chuckles as Ashley continually snaps it away from him, their game ending when the wallet drops into the trashcan. Craig puts his hand inside.

"Wait!" cries Ashley.

Ashley was too late. Craig rolls his eyes and takes out not only his wallet, but a beer can.

"The girls wanted to celeberate my first day on the job," says Ashley, barely above a whisper.

"Ashley!" exclaims Craig.

"That's the truth!" exclaims Ashley. "I'm not lying!"

"It's more than that!" cries Craig. "You say you don't drink, and you do it anyway! I can't even count the times anymore."

"Who asked you to count?" shouts Ashley.

"Nobody, that's who," replies Craig, heatedly.

"I had one beer!" cries Ashley.

"We both know it was more than one beer!" says Craig. "You were drunk at the hotel this afternoon! Who knows how many in between! Who knows how much you've had the week you've been gone!"

"That's great, Craig," says Ashley, shaking her head. "Don't believe me. Follow me around with a Breathalyzer, why don't you?"

"Give me a reason to believe you and maybe I would!" cries Craig.

"I love you!" replies Ashley. "That should be enough! You're the last person I would lie to."

Craig pockets his wallet, the sweat of their lovemaking sticking to the back of his shirt. He wishes it meant more to her, that their love wasn't some distraction she could use to throw him off balance. He walks to the door, his hand on the knob.

"Ash, it's gotten to the point where you're living in lies," says Craig. "And where I don't know your love from a lie."

"How can...how can you say that?" says Ashley, the shadow of her body against the door.

"I don't know," says Craig. "But I did."

He opens the door, hearing her call his name when he shuts it tight. He can't lie to himself as her anguished cries sound through the door. He feels smashed to pieces.


	97. Nothing My Love Can't Fix

**ICVII. Nothing My Love Can't Fix**

_Why is my baby blue_  
_Can't see the colors_  
_Of a sunny day_  
_Stuck in that point of view_  
_What can I do to take your tears away_

_I'm not denying_  
_There's a time for crying_  
_Just tell me why you look so sad tonight_  
_I know its crazy_  
_Living in a world these days but_  
_If you take me by the hand_

_Oh oh oh_  
_There's nothing my love can't fix_  
_For you baby_  
_I'm positive of this_  
_I tell you_  
_Oh oh oh_  
_There's nothing my love can't fix_  
_For you baby_

_Aw girl_  
_Please look in my caring eyes_

_I'll take you up so high_  
_You'll start forgetting_  
_You were ever down_  
_Kisses will dry your eyes_  
_This is the way to_  
_Turn your world around_

_We all get lonely_  
_But if you just hold me_  
_We both can go beyond the stars tonight_  
_Oh, once you have it_  
_Love works like magic_  
_Just open_  
_Open up your heart_

_Oh oh oh_  
_Theres nothing my love can't fix_  
_For you baby_  
_I'm positive of this_  
_I'll tell you_  
_There's nothing my love can't fix_  
_For you baby_

_Love is the glue that binds us_  
_When we get lost it finds us_  
_You'll lose your blues soon_  
_Cuz baby my love is true_  
_Break it_

_1 2 3_  
_Oh, once you have it_  
_Love works like magic_  
_Just open up your heart_

_Oh oh oh_  
_There's nothin my love can't fix_  
_For you baby_  
_I'm positive of this_  
_I'll tell you_  
_Oh oh oh_  
_Theres nothing my love cant fix_  
_For you baby_

_Oh oh oh_  
_There's nothin my love cant fix_  
_For you baby_  
_I'm positive of this_  
_I'll tell you_  
_Oh oh oh_  
_Theres nothing my love cant fix_  
_For you baby_

_Aw you know its true_  
_All I gotta say is_  
_Baby baby_  
_I love you in every way_  
_Cuz lady_  
_Ya gotta get away with me_  
_Ya gotta get away with me today_  
_Cuz our love has got to shine through_  
_And baby you got to see it too_  
_That we were meant girl me and you_  
_But lately you been acting_  
_Like I smell like a zoo_  
_Philly zoo to be exact_  
_And hey Philly's my origin_  
_As a matter of fact_  
_But lets get back to the subject at hand_  
_Baby baby baby_  
_Oh you is back in demand_  
_When I look at you girl_  
_My heart goes right into a whirl_  
_And all I gotta say about the situation_

_Oh oh oh yeah_  
_There's nothin my love can't fix_

**Nothing My Love Can't Fix ****_is the property of Joey Lawrence and appears in the film Cop and a Half._**

AN: The first two scenes take place in the same time frame as ch. 96. After the asterisk, the scenes take place towards the end of August, two days before Manny's birthday. I fill in what happens in between both portions.

The blanket is against his nostrils as he breathes in and out. It must be morning still, feels like the morning. Craig opens his eyes to see it firsthand. Murmurs of Japanese float across the room. A juicer sounds after that. He lifts the blanket a bit, just making out two pretty thin girls grabbing handbags. They're in tight clothing, light blue and green minidresses.

"Sorry," says the one with longer hair. "Sorry."

Craig grants them a nervous smile. "Heh."

Normally, he'd be more pleasant company, but he can't today. Marco and Dylan's housemates wouldn't be getting the chipper version of himself. Luckily, they don't seem to care and leave the house, shutting the door behind them. The juicer whirs again. He's guessing it's Marco's. Craig sighs heavily, managing to stand and walk to the kitchen. Despite his socks, the floor is cold against his feet.

"Tropicana?" wonders Craig aloud.

"Morning," greets Marco, turning off the machine. "No. Simply Orange."

Sniffing the air for oranges, he notices a stranger smell as well. He raises an eyebrow at Marco.

"Dylan's power shake," provides Marco. "Don't ask what's in it."

"I saw your housemates," says Craig.

"I don't think their dad knows about us," says Marco. "I wouldn't be surprised if he sends them right back to Tokyo once he finds out. Those two are boy crazy."

Craig slouches over the counter. So Ashley's not the only girl keeping secrets. After he left her, he paid the bill, said nothing to Ilene before he walked out, and hailed a cab in the dead of night. He called Joey and then Marco in the cab, and Marco being Marco said yes immediately. Marco probably wanted the chance to catch up since they hadn't kept in touch for the past month but Craig just needed to get away to think.

Who is Ashley turning into? She's a frequent liar, an undercover waitress, and someone who will do anything to avoid facing any responsibility. He remembers when she'd be the first one to offer sensible advice in their group of friends, when she'd practice on her keyboard until her fingers were red and sore. Now, she's not playing, not talking, and not able to come to grips with herself, hanging out on a dangerous limb where she could fall again at any minute.

"You haven't told me about England at all," says Marco, pouring juice into a glass.

For good reason, thinks Craig, accepting the cup.

"It's cold, dreary, and people talk in funny accents?" supplies Craig wearily.

"Even in the summer?" says Marco.

"Well, it's not like accents go away," kids Craig as he turns in another direction.

"Craig, what's going on?" asks Marco.

"Nothing," answers Craig.

"Okay, you show up in the middle of the night, and you expect me to believe nothing is going on?" says Marco.

While Marco is one of his closest friends, he's not sure it's his place to tell him what's really going on with Ashley. How could he, anyways, when the pain is so fresh? She basically got him into bed so she wouldn't have to go back home. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He should've known he was going to get hurt.

"Joey's probably worried," sighs Craig, facing Marco. "Thanks for everything, Marco. I'll call you?"

"Fine," moans Marco.

Craig finishes the juice, slips his shoes on, and folds the blanket. Marco made sure to give him a bagel on the way out. Craig hailed a cab, and attempted to prepare what he was going to say to Kate. Of course, it doesn't take many words to say that you failed. Or any words really, since she'd see that Ashley wasn't with him. Maybe Joey could go with him, offer him some strength.

The cab slinks next to the sidewalk and stops in front of his house. Craig forks over the cash and opens the door with his house key. As soon as he's in the foyer, he can hear conversation. Once inside, he views Joey, Kate, Chris, Robert, and Diane, the five filling the couch and three chairs circling around it. Craig closes the door though it's not quiet enough to go undetected. Every adult turns to him. Craig lowers his gaze.

"She's not with me," says Craig.

"Come join us, Craig," says Robert softly.

He was hoping to shower, get a fresh change of clothes, but this is vastly more important. He nods and sits next to Kate.

"Thanks for trying," whispers Kate to Craig.

"You're welcome," whispers Craig.

"We've been on the phone all morning," says Robert, receiving everyone's attention. "And..."

Chris puts a hand on Craig's shoulder. "We really think this next step is necessary."

"What...what next step?" asks Craig, looking at each of them.

Diane slides a ring up and down her finger. Chris plays with his tie. Kate clasps her hands together. Robert breathes deeply.

"Joey?" prompts Craig.

"Robert and Kate have explained Ashley's situation to a counsellor, who works with addicts," replies Joey. "Because of Ashley's reluctance to let us help, and the serious nature of her problem, the counsellor has urged us to do an intervention."

"What?" cries Craig.

"The counsellor, Riva Tenley, is one of the best," says Robert. "Especially with college students. It's a carefully planned process. Luckily, we know where Ashley is now so it's not dire and we have the time to help her."

"This is going to make her hate us!" says Craig. "More than she does already."

"Craig, you said that we have to act," points out Robert. "This is what we've chosen to do."

"But..," begins Craig.

"She refuses to come home to the point that she has nothing," interrupts Kate. "She's resentful, she's scared, and she's alone. An intervention would at least let her know that a lot of us care about her."

"Look, I can keep talking to her, and I can get through to her," insists Craig. "Joey, you don't agree with them, right?"

"I'm not her parent, Craig," sighs Joey. "Put yourself in their shoes."

Wordlessly staring at Kate, Robert, and Chris, he can tell they're in agreement, a sad agreement that's left them tired and defeated. Craig grips the armrest of his chair.

"Craig, she didn't come through that door with you," says Diane sympathetically. "She loves you, but she didn't come through that door with you."

It's hard to hear, and it's correct. Deep down, he knows that the same would be true if the destination was Ashley's home. She'd hidden herself for a week, and a week would probably turn into a month, and nobody would know what was happening. The next step might have to be the toughest, even if he's not fully with it.

"How are we going to get her to come?" says Craig.

Kate puts a hand on his back.

"We're meeting with Riva on Friday," says Kate. "We'll go from there."

Friday is awhile away. Though, this isn't the first time they've had to wait, certainly.

"Can I go shower?" asks Craig.

"Yeah," says Joey.

Craig stands, faces them all briefly, and slowly ascends the stairs. This is weird. This summer, he would've pictured a party, a cookout, or a date to hallmark their homecoming. The last thing would've been an intervention. What would he say? What's the right thing to say? Would Ashley even listen? What if he fails another time, when she needs help the most?

He reaches his room, and slowly lowers himself onto his bed. The bare boxes stare back at him. He's as still and quiet as them. That is, until a knock sounds on his door.

"Hey, Ang," greets Craig.

His sister walks to him, pink sweatpants covering her legs and her bushy dark hair in a braid.

"Are you okay?" says Angie.

Why bother to mask it anymore? He's exhausted, emotional, eager to sit here and tune things out. He blinks back tears, sniffling, eyes on the wall.

"No," replies Craig.

"Do you want to be alone?" asks Angie.

"Only if you want me to be," says Craig.

"No," says Angie, laying her head on his shoulder. "I want to be here."

II.

"Did you know that most of the early automobiles in America were black?" reads Ellie. "Specifically Ford Model Ts."

Sean smiles at her, unzipping the hoodie he decided to wear for today. The hoodie is grey, clean, respectable. He has a white T-shirt underneath and selected a pair of nice jeans he washed hours ago. They're unwrinkled despite the fact that they'd been walking for the past ten minutes.

Ellie raises the book to her nose. "It was also the first global car."

She isn't saying any information he could really use or take in, but it's clear she's trying to distract him with a complimentary fun fact sheet she got with her driver's manual. Likewise, at his apartment, his parents and Tracker made it a point to visit once a day. They didn't mean to and for sure couldn't help it, but they brought in a lot of memories he didn't want to deal with. He took Ty to Wasaga, where they lived. Tracker was there when they couldn't locate Ty. His mother made Ty breakfast. Consequently, they were linked to a person that's gone. Ellie fit under this category too. However, he couldn't let Ellie go after she put so much on the line for him. That included today, when he'd meet Cheryl Cunningham for the first time.

Sean glances at the mailboxes as they go down the street. As the numbers get bigger, they grower nearer and he grows nervous. He hates not being aware of who he's going to meet. He didn't always do well with adults either. Mrs. Nash is a prime example. He also wasn't so articulate or friendly with Mr. Simpson or his teachers. In fact, anybody who wasn't a customer asking for car advice made him antsy. He's definitely not going to be talking cars with Cheryl, even if that's how he got Ty to talk.

In a daze, Sean almost walks into a blue mailbox. He stops and reads the number. 1406 Clovenhill Avenue.

"Some of the Model Ts cost less than a thousand dollars," says Ellie, obviously impressed.

"You can stop trying to distract me," says Sean warmly. "We're here."

"Oh," says Ellie, gazing at the house.

The house is typical, white with green shutters, two levels, with four windows and a beige car parked in the driveway. The only atypical thing about the house is a looming structure in the back of it. Sean isn't able to figure out what it is, Ellie speaking after the silence.

"Sure you're prepared to do this by yourself?" questions Ellie.

"I wouldn't say prepared," admits Sean. "But it feels right to do it this way."

"You'll know what to say," says Ellie, massaging his shoulder. "Whatever words come out will feel right too."

"Thanks," says Sean.

"There's a bookstore a couple blocks away," sighs Ellie. "We can meet there?"

"I remember where it is," assures Sean.

"Dale wouldn't have asked if he didn't think you could do it," notes Ellie. "You know that, right?"

"I'll do my best," says Sean.

"Which is worth a lot," says Ellie, kissing his cheek.

She starts off towards the store, giving him a short wave and then walking once more. Sean straightens his hoodie and goes to the door. He rings the doorbell. There's some gentle squeaking, Sean wondering if they have a puppy, but he realizes it was a pair of house slippers once the door is opened. A woman with grey, wavy hair and skin the color of mahogany stands in front of him. She's in a pink house dress with lace on the top of her sleeves. She instantly smiles.

"Sean Cameron?" says the woman.

"Yes, ma'am," says Sean. "Hello."

"Oh, come on in," says the woman. "I'm Sandra Cunningham, though everyone calls me Sandy and you can too."

Sean enters, Sandy ushering him to her living room. Wow, nice house, he thinks. The furniture is covered with plastic, and there's a candy dish on a table, but other than that, the whole room is young, colorful, and bright, seemingly like Sandy herself. Sean goes across the mauve carpet and bends to check out a glass cabinet full of photographs and knick knacks. Two photographs really stand out. There's one of a younger Sandy, a man with a grey beard in a tan suit, and a teenage girl posed against a blue backdrop. The teenager must be Cheryl, and the man must be her father, realizes Sean. Cheryl is the single person in the picture not smiling. Her thick black hair hangs around her face. The second photo is what freezes Sean's view. There's an older Cheryl in a dress with floral print, and two boys are on either side of her. Ty's on the right, with a closed-lip grin. Marcus is on the left, not smiling along with Cheryl. He's never seen Marcus before this. He has curly hair near his brow, the rest of his head shaved. Both he and Ty have soft features and good posture, and based on their expressions, a lot on their minds.

"Cheryl is out back," says Sandy.

"I'm not in a rush," says Sean, looking away from the cabinet.

"How did you cross paths with Ty, if you don't mind me asking?" says Sandy.

"Um, through Dale," answers Sean, his voice dropping.

Yeah, Dale and a bunch of illegal activity, adds Sean inwardly. He couldn't tell Ty's grandmother that.

"Dale? Yes, he used to come with Marcus on Thanksgivings," recalls Sandy, frowning. "He and Cheryl still talk, I believe."

Dale's letting me do the talking, thinks Sean. His stomach clinches into itself, expands afterwards. This house is so welcoming and he has to deliver this dark news that will devestate Ty's loved ones. Maybe Ellie should've come.

"Would you like to have a seat?" asks Sandy.

"That'd be nice," says Sean.

He could relax instead of worrying about throwing up or ditching what he set out to do. He sits on the couch, the plastic rustling under him.

"Are you from here?" says Sandy.

"Toronto?" says Sean, then nodding. "I live near Degrassi Community School."

"That is a good school," praises Sandy. "If Cheryl didn't get remarried, I wouldn't have been surprised if Marcus and Tyrone ended up there."

Sean swallows, the lump in his throat staying there anyway. Ty at Degrassi...another dream that died this summer.

"Ty," says Sean, lowering his shoulders while looking at his hands. "A smart, smart, _smart_ kid."

"He got that from my husband," insists Sandy. "He taught physics. Now that I think about it, both Ty and Marcus were good at math. Ty moreso, though. I remember the look of shock on his face when they announced he'd won the Grade 4 Decalculon. It was the school's math tournament."

"He beat everyone in the grade?" says Sean, grinning.

"Just as sure as I've got grey hair on my head," laughs Sandy. "Cheryl has the trophy somewhere. I'll go get her and maybe we can ask where it went."

Sandy starts to rise, Sean thrusting out a hand to stop her.

"Wait," says Sean.

She sits in the chair, Sean inhaling and exhaling. He couldn't let her be any sweeter to him without telling her the truth. Sandy scoots to the tip of her chair.

"Somebody doesn't come to a stranger's home out of the blue," says Sandy quietly.

"Is that why you're being so nice to me?" says Sean.

"You looked nervous," offers Sandy.

"I am," confesses Sean, pulling at his sleeve and then glancing at her. "Still."

Sandy stares at him kindly, bites her lip before speaking.

"I asked you to come in the afternoon, because....well, because Cheryl isn't in the best condition during the mornings," says Sandy. "After her husband died, she was put on medication. She came to live with me. Has...has Dale told you how he died?"

"Unfortunately," says Sean, running a hand over his knee.

"The whole thing was unfortunate," goes on Sandy. "I didn't want her to marry that man. Nobody did. But Cheryl has always done things that she wanted to do, regardless of our reservations."

"I imagine...imagine it'd be hard...to talk to Marcus," stammers Sean.

"They don't talk," says Sandy.

That makes sense, though Sean won't say it out loud. There are more pressing things to say out loud. Sean's eyes drift to the photograph of Cheryl, Marcus, and Ty. He looks so lively, even in his little business suit. He looks so young. How? How can he tell Cheryl that she wouldn't be able to talk to Ty either? Not anymore. Sean rubs at a tear forming in his eye.

"I'm going to hate telling you this," says Sean.

Sandy straightens her body, breathes slowly.

"Telling anyone this," adds Sean. "But Ty would want someone to tell them."

"Are you ready to tell me?" questions Sandy.

"You can't be ready for this," says Sean, tears finally breaking. "Cause...cause I'm not. I've been doing things that aren't honorable for months, and here's my chance to do something honorable and...and I suck. I can't...can't get words out. I cry when...when I should be strong for you. Everyone's like...you can do it, Sean, but...I can't."

"Sean, you don't have to be strong for me," whispers Sandy. "Not if you care this much."

Sean barely hears her, wiping his tears furiously with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Our family's been through a lot," says Sandy. "A lot."

"I wish I didn't have to put you through more," whispers Sean. "I came because Ty...I'm sorry, but Ty..."

Sandy raises a hand to her nose, an audible sob coming up through her throat. She shakes her head and gazes at the ceiling. Sean sighs.

"I suppose if it were possible, Ty would've come here with you," says Sandy, eyes remaining raised. "Is that true?"

"It's...it's not possible," chokes out Sean.

Sandy's lips quiver, a small movement while the rest of the room is frozen, including Sean, staring at her for some sign of what to do or say next. There's no sign so he slides across the couch, the squeaking quieter than the sobs from Sandy that follow it.

"When?" breathes Sandy.

"A week from today," answers Sean, sniffling. "There was a fire at Ace's, Dale's shop. The fire started because of an investigation around the shop, and I was wired to try and get information from Dale. Nobody knew Ty was upstairs."

"A fire?" says Sandy, placing a hand against her heart.

"I would've gotten him out if I knew," says Sean, putting his hand over hers. "I promise."

Momentarily lowering her eyes to him, she sighs.

"I know," says Sandy.

"Dale wanted me to tell Cheryl and Marcus so.....," says Sean.

Getting up, she walks out of the room, and Sean isn't sure what to do until she calls his name. He reaches her, is beside her at a glass door that leads to the backyard. The tall structure he couldn't figure out from the front is a greenhouse. Its glass walls highlight tall plants, blooming flowers, and brown pots on the floor. The greenhouse door is open. Sean breathes softly as the beauty of the house fills his vision.

Sandy shifts the glass door and he hears the twittering of birds and the work of garden tools.

"I'll stay here," says Sandy. "I'm not sure how she's going to take it."

He'll be alone again. Well, he's gotten it out once and he didn't relish the idea of Sandy hearing it from his own mouth a second time.

"Just holler if you need me," says Sandy.

"Alright," says Sean.

He crosses the yard, the glinting silver windows of the greenhouse picking up more of the sunlight as he gets closer. Reaching the door, he peeks inside. He hears the light clinking of metal, the sound mirroring what he's heard at the shop. But he's most swept away by the aisles of flowers: pink tulips, white and red roses, purple rhodendrons, marigolds. The aisles are the width of a row of chairs at Degrassi, though they smell much better. He follows the row where the sound is clearest, finally arriving at the source.

Sweat forming around her forehead, her frail frame hidden by a flattering white tank under a blue work shirt, Ty's mother is planting lilies into a pot. A bag of soil rests beside Cheryl's legs, as well as a spade and a watering can. The more effort she puts in, the more the angel pendant necklace she has over her neck swings back and forth. Sean wonders if Ty gave her that necklace. His heart is beating so fast that he's sure she'd be able to hear it. Whether it was this or not, Cheryl looks up at him a second later. She's prettier in person and has more lines near her eyes than in the photograph. Cheryl certainly didn't look like the clueless mom Dale painted her out to be.

"If you're here for catalog seeds, I'm fresh out," says Cheryl, her voice light and lyrical.

"Oh, um....no," says Sean. "Your mom...Sandy? She said I could come back."

"Do you need an order form?" asks Cheryl.

"I'm not here for flowers," answers Sean quickly. "I mean, they're great! Just...."

Sean silently curses himself, taking a step forward. This is going well. He hasn't even introduced himself.

"My name's Sean," says Sean. "Sean Cameron. I knew your son."

"Marcus?" says Cheryl.

"Ty," replies Sean.

A faint smile appears on her face, which makes her look rosy, young. She was maybe in her early forties. Sean's disappointed that he can't return the smile. He doesn't try to because he knows he can't.

"You must know Dale then, too," wagers Cheryl.

"Yes," says Sean, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I worked at his shop."

"You probably think that's weird, that Ty's there," says Cheryl, nodding at him. "He and my husband didn't get along. It was best for him. I had a hard time letting him go and live somewhere else but it was the only way there'd be some peace in the house."

So Dale did have Cheryl's permission. While the situation is very strange, he can see why it happened that way, and why Dale went to great measures to keep Ty in sight.

"Then, Marcus would make up these horrible lies," sighs Cheryl. "He was into drugs, guns. I hated seeing him get that troubled. I ask myself where I went wrong."

She honestly believed that they were lies? Like honestly? Sean sticks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, which tastes bitter. This is what Dale was talking about, unfortunately. This is the Cheryl who couldn't see it for herself.

"Why am I telling you this?" says Cheryl. "I shouldn't burden you with this drama."

"It's fine," says Sean.

"You're a nice-looking boy,' compliments Cheryl, walking away with the potted flowers.

"Thanks," says Sean as he follows her.

"I could use a boy to help me around here," shares Cheryl. "Started this business about two months ago. I was always good at getting things to grow. Thinking I might be a genuine florist someday. Just watched Mama when I was little and picked up things. That's what Ty did with Marcus' job. He'd pick up things in no time flat at that garage."

For the first time, Sean grateful for it, he's able to smile.

"He told me about that," recalls Sean.

"It's a shame I couldn't nurture my boys like I could these flowers," whispers Cheryl, setting the pot on a table.

Cheryl reaches for a bag of soil under the table, Sean quickly getting it for her. She thanks him and puts it next to the pot.

"Then Ty can memorize anything," compliments Cheryl. "That's a gift from his grandfather, and maybe hos own father too. His father died when Ty was very small. Emphysema. And that's another shame."

This is another shame, the bad news he's about to utter. Cheryl is about to dig the soil with her spade, Sean muttering a low "um' to start. Cheryl steadies her spade.

"I wish I was here for a happier reason," sighs Sean. "But...I'm not."

"What do you mean, Sean?" says Cheryl.

She drops the spade, speedily takes off her garden gloves as if she were simply removing seeds from her shirt.

"What..what I mean is...there was a fire," says Sean.

"What fire?" asks Cheryl.

"At Dale's shop," replies Sean. "Dale's shop is kind of a crooked business, not like yours...at all. The car parts we got were stolen..."

"Stolen?" cries Cheryl. "You must be mistaken. Dale wouldn't..."

"I helped steal them, Ms. Cunningham," insists Sean. "We went to the docks. Ty came with us the few times we went."

"Dale hasn't told me any of this!" says Cheryl.

"He covered it really well," says Sean. "Anyway, last week, I went to the police and told them everything. I made a deal to wear a wire and help expose Dale. A fire started and Ty was upstairs."

"No," says Cheryl softly, glaring at him.

Any traces of the youth in her cheeks and eyes are replaced by a steady stare of anger, of disbelief. She'd hate him even more with the next words.

"His...his lungs couldn't take it," stammers Sean, sniffling. "We tried to get him out, but...he's gone."

The petals of the flowers rustle, and Sean can almost hear the water in the watering can swish in the quiet when Cheryl moves, her head going under, her back bending. Her cries fill every corner of the greenhouse from the cracked pavement near the entrance to the triangular top. Cheryl thrusts her body forward, shaking Sean by the shoulders.

"You are lying!" exclaims Cheryl. "You are lying to me...you are ly...God!"

No matter how much she repeats it, some part of her must believe it. If only he were lying. Sean begins to silently cry too as soon as Cheryl lets him go.

"Don't tell me that," whimpers Cheryl, stroking his cheek.

Sean shakes his head, his head turning towards the entrance when the small squeaking of shoes enters his ears.

"Cheryl," says Sandy, stepping inside.

"Mama," moans Cheryl, walking to her, her body hunched.

Sandy collects her daughter into her arms, letting her hands stroke her back.

"Mama, tell me he's lying!" cries Cheryl.

Sandy says nothing, letting her daughter rest in the crook of her neck, her work shirt falling. Sean approaches them, his eyes locked on Cheryl's backside. Her brown back is slim, but he can see thin marks, deep and more brown than the stems on some of the plants. He raises his wet eyes. Again, Sandy says nothing when she catches him staring. She raises the shirt. Sean looks away.

"We're going to help each other through this," reassures Sandy.

"I can't lose him," murmurs Cheryl into her mother's chest. "I can't lose anyone else. I'm so tired of losing."

Maybe he should leave, leave them to talk. There's nothing left to say, is there? Ty would hate him for breaking his mother's heart. That's why Dale really wanted him to do it, so he wouldn't have to see what he's seeing now. While trying to think of a good enough goodbye, he spies an outstretched hand. It's Sandy's, similar to how he held out his hand to stop her before. The hand is opened, and waiting. Sean gently places his hand inside of hers.

"We're not losing anybody else," says Sandy, firmly gripping Sean's hand. "Nobody."

III.

Her rolling suitcase falls sideways, and Manny's tempted to do the same. Instead, she parks her rump on its black surface, her body above her hidden clothes. They're in baggage claim, patiently waiting for Emma's bag to appear, Toronto a few mere steps away. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Spinner had to switch flights, and fly home on a different flight so they weren't coming home together. The weather coming in was choppy because of a summer storm. Whenever the two girls talked, they were interrupted by a call from Spike or Snake checking on Emma. Emma would be visiting for three days for Manny's birthday and then returning to Santa Clara for treatment. She got the one convenience, clearance from Dr. DePauw. But now, Emma's suitcase is M.I.A. To give Emma credit, she isn't freaking out about it at all, calmly sketching in a notebook she'd recently acquired. Emma caps a red marker and sets it inside her new, color-coded supply case.

"What other craft store has this much?" asks Emma cheerfully.

"So are you in love with Michaels now?" says Manny.

"I...just like it," sighs Emma.

"Mike. Mikey. Michaelangelo," teases Manny.

"Hey, it's the one great thing we've done today," points out Emma. "Right across from the airport."

"But I'm ready to go," says Manny, hanging her head. "Ugh."

"We told the guy about my suitcase. There's nothing we can do," shrugs Emma.

"You're getting totally Zen," remarks Manny. "You know that?"

"Thanks," says Emma, grinning.

Manny opens the Michael's bag, and starts sorting through the supplies. There were books on papier mache, origami, pottery, and something that's more than familiar. Manny beams and pulls the book out.

"Remember when we did this a year ago?" cries Manny.

"Yeah, that's why I got it," informs Emma. "My yard stunk for a week."

"The stinky surroundings are part of it, yeah," says Manny. "But the final product? Worth it!"

"I can see right through your thought bubble," says Emma, laughing.

"It's the perfect summer activity!" praises Manny. "We could invite Liberty, Darcy....it can be a party! It's so art therapy."

"I don't think art therapy is a trend," says Emma.

"That's only cause yours truly hasn't done it yet," says Manny, rubbing her hands together. "All we need is a clean-smelling backyard..."

"Maybe the front of your apartment complex?" suggests Emma.

"Uh.....," says Manny, allowing her voice to drop.

For the past three weeks, it'd been easy to avoid the subject. Emma's routine became her routine. Manny would watch Jack while Emma and her parents went back to Dr. DePauw's. During the afternoons, she and Spinner would develop some fun things the three of them could do and each of them kept a watchful eye on Emma as they did them. If she was annoyed, she never let it show. Manny also secretly hoped this would obliterate any fears Emma had about her and Spinner's very brief physical relationship. Spinner was completely into Emma and not only could she see it, but so could the Masons, Snake, and Spike. Manny senses that when they're actually home, Spinner would be spending a lot more time at the Nelsons. But throughout all that time, Manny hasn't told Emma about her own problems at home.

"We can't do it there," sighs Manny.

"You were making it sound appealing," says Emma, frowning slightly.

Oh no, I'm disappointing her again, thinks Manny. No, just blurt it out. She'll find out eventually.

"I haven't told you who's coming with my parents to pick us up," says Manny.

"Toby?" guesses Emma.

"No, it's a cop," says Manny. "Officer Patton. He's really nice."

"Why is he coming?" asks Emma.

"When I came home to visit Toby, after Lia stole the part from me?" says Manny. "I went to his house and Toby and I were being watched. By Justin and some hate group he's a part of."

"What?" whispers Emma.

Emma sets her purse and notebook next to the suitcase, where she joins Manny and puts an arm around her.

"He threatened Toby through e-mail," continues Manny. "J.T. and Toby went to the cops. Toby sent me back to protect me. I didn't find out what was wrong until Jeff called. That's why I left with Anne Marie."

"Have they caught them?" questions Emma.

"By now?" wonders Manny aloud. "I hope so."

"Me too," says Emma.

"They had a program for Toby," says Manny good-naturedly. "It was so sweet. Then, when Justin spray-painted something awful on the synagogue wall, we painted a mural there and the wall's Toby's wall."

"I can't believe I missed this," sighs Emma. "What a friend I am..."

"Emma, don't," says Manny, wrapping an arm around her. "You helped pay for a trip for me to go see him. You let me go see him when we weren't fighting."

"Well, I don't want to compete with him anymore," says Emma. "I want to be there for him."

"Thanks," says Manny.

The two of them hug, lazily getting up after they've parted.

"I've got a good feeling about the next time you see him," says Emma.

Manny props up her suitcase. "Me too. What else can happen?"

"Nothing," assures Emma. "Hey, and look what they found!

A young guy in an air traffic control uniform walks to them, the clasp of Emma's suitcase in his hand. The suitcase comes to a stop and he signals for them to come over. Emma and Manny exchange smiles and walk to him.

"Just our luck," beams Manny.

"Thanks," says Emma, checking her luggage tag. "We really appreciate it."

"No...no problem," says the guy. "Do you guys go to university?"

"No," say Emma and Manny at the same time.

"Oh," says the guy. "Are you really mature? Are you single?"

"Um, isn't it your job to deliver our bags safely and on time?" says Emma, rolling her eyes.

"Instead of scamming on us?" adds Manny.

"I'm gonna need a tip," says the guy, scowling and holding out his hand.

"Welcome to Toronto," groans Manny, digging into her pocket.

IV.

Ten white T-shirts lay on the table, next to large gray trays filled with dye. The trays have become the subject of interest for their frequent hoverer. Clare Edwards hovers over the area, going from tray to tray, inspecting the contents. Her glasses nearly fall into a puddle of purple dye.

"What's in this?" asks Clare.

"Chromophores, among other necessities," answers Liberty, shifting the purple tray to put down an orange one.

"Is that why it smells?" says Clare.

Manny smiles into the sink. Despite Clare's dislike of the smell, the Edwards were very kind to let them host their tie-dye party here. When she first mentioned the possibility to Emma, she could tell her best friend was into the idea. That fed her energy. She called the same guests they had at their last tie-dye party and Liberty, who sounded thankful for the chance to do something on a sunny Saturday instead of agonizing over the formats of debate. Emma's face brightened a few notches when they all agreed to come. She'd been so used to being alone that it must've meant more than she could say. So what if it remained unsaid? Emma looked at her and it was understood.

Her parents were also understanding. Manny arrived at her home mid-afternoon yesterday, Officer Patton walking with them to the door. He had some business at the station so he checked the locks on the doors and windows and the surrounding area before he left. Throughout his time there, Manny argued with herself. Should she ask him? Or should she wait to ask Toby? Truthfully, she just wanted to see Toby. He hadn't been keeping up with the letters, which was so unlike him. Only now is she thinking that that might mean bad news for them. He said he found something, but no one ever said they found Justin. Maybe he was busy with Kytel or Student Council. His schedule was a lot more demanding with school on the horizon. He always tries, though. It's possible he sent the letter to Lia's but she told him in the note she put in his briefcase that he should send any mail to the Masons. Something didn't add up.

This morning, they had breakfast, where Manny told her parents about Emma's battle with depression and her newest form of therapy while Emma slept. Since Emma was like a daughter to them, they okayed Manny spending the day at Darcy's. What's more it was an unknown location and Joseph endorsed it more than Maria. It might be the reward for some residual guilt he had about not letting Manny go to the mural painting initially. Whatever it was, she's simply pumped to be with her friends doing something normal.

"I love craft projects!" says Ms. Edwards, her pretty dark hair in a French braid, coming into the kitchen.

Darcy, smoothing her white smock, follows her with a package of rubber bands.

"We're about to take these outside, Ms. Edwards," reassures Liberty.

"Can I do one?" asks Clare demurely.

"This is an activity for high school girls," replies Darcy. "You know, _my _friends."

"But it's not like it's anything bad," moans Clare. "Please."

"Why don't you go do your devotionals?" says Darcy.

"Why don't you go do _your_ devotionals?" counters Clare. "I already did mine."

"You haven't done yours, Darcy?" asks Ms. Edwards.

"Moooooom!" whines Darcy. "We've got company."

"Fine, fine," sighs Ms. Edwards. "But later?"

Darcy slowly nods. Ms. Edwards gives her a pointed look, leaving the girls before Emma enters the room with a confused expression.

Clare smiles widely. "Maybe next time you'll let me do something."

Darcy sticks her tongue out at her sister, taking a tray of yellow dye out to the yard. Liberty takes the purple, Emma takes the blue, and Manny retrieves the red, the four of them crossing the yard and setting the trays on the grass. The blades tickle Manny's bare ankles. She routinely wore flip-flops during outdoor activities, no matter where she was, and Officer Patton routinely was in her line of sight. Officer Patton stares at them, amused for a while, then sips a lemonade he finagled out of Darcy.

"This is like a preview to your birthday bash weekend," notes Darcy.

Yes, they'd finally come to a consensus on her birthday plans, sighs Manny inwardly. The big problem was that whatever they did, it'd be pretty public and they'd be drawing attention to herself, her family, and her home. Maria quietly suggested an alternative-- Rosa could host Manny and her friends for the weekend. That way, they wouldn't have multiple people coming in and out of the Santos residence. It'd be extremely different from her karaoke party last year. They had it in the rec room at her complex.

"Please," says Emma. "Manny's party is going to be tons more fun. They always are."

That's what she'd like to believe. She'd be spending Sunday with her parents, with some mystery gift to be revealed. J.J. kind of spoiled it and said it was big. He probably felt that he owed some clue to her after the mall fight. She is excited about it, but it would be weird, and it'd be especially weird if Toby didn't show for either. It may not be his choice and he may not be able to, but she's crossing her fingers. Manny's birthday ponderings are interrupted by a burst of Mozart from Liberty's cellphone.

"J.T. texted me that he wants a headband," reads Liberty, smirking.

Right, says Manny, staring at Liberty's phone for awhile. Constant contact with your boyfriend. Must be nice. Manny bites her lip, goes to kneel on the grass.

"I say we make him a tri-colored thong," says Emma.

Darcy lets out a mix between a squeal and a laugh, then covers her mouth. Everyone else laughs, including Manny.

"What's so funny?"

The question is directed at them though most of the girls aren't able to detect who said the words. Manny quickly stands and positions herself between Liberty and Emma.

"Are the fumes that strong or am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" whispers Liberty to Manny.

"Maybe if we toss her pom-poms into the woods, she'll go in there and never come out," mutters Emma, sharing a smile with Liberty.

"Guys," protests Manny weakly. "She helped with Toby's mural."

Chante awkwardly approaches the girls. She has on a large shirt in lieu of a smock. Manny clears her throat and fetches a smock for Chante.

"Glad you could make it," says Manny.

"Me too," says Darcy nervously.

"I wasn't sure I was welcome," admits Chante. "I had fun tie-dying with you guys last time."

"Yeah," speaks up Liberty. "It's more fun than composing vicious cheers."

"In the middle of variety shows to a roomful of people," adds Emma.

Emma and Liberty trade glances, softly bump past Chante to retrieve plain white shirts.

"They're a tad protective," whispers Manny, patting Chante's shoulder.

"I can leave if you want," whispers Chante. "I don't want to ruin anything else for you."

"Nah, you're harmless," says Manny.

Chante grins and begins putting on her smock. Luckily, there isn't any disagreement after that. Sure, Liberty and Emma were more keen to talk to Darcy or herself, but they worked effortlessly on their tie-dye masterpieces. They all had respective tasks. Darcy, who had the highest tolerance for strong scents, soaked the shirts in the soda ash. Emma wound the shirts with the rubber bands because she'd done it last time. Liberty carefully filled the squirt bottles with the dye. Manny timed the process. Before they knew it, they'd gotten into the throws of an assembly line.

Talking to each other about their summer activities made the time fly. She found out that J.T., Liberty, Darcy, Nate, and Toby had gone mini golfing. She would've liked to have gone. Toby was probably lonely on that small excursion what with the two couples and all. Liberty went into great detail about J.T.'s party at the studio. It was yet another event she thought she should've been there for. Well, it's becoming clearer and clearer. This is the most topsy-turvy summer of her entire life, soon to be seventeen years, a summer that was amazing and sucked at the same time.

"If Liberty's making something for J.T., I'm making something for Nate," decides Darcy.

"I guess Spin would like a shirt," muses Emma, tapping her chin and glancing at the blue dye.

"I could...," starts Manny, then catching herself.

The other girls look at her knowingly and clam up. She didn't love having that effect on them. Although, she's kind of glad they aren't talking boyfriends anymore. Chante looks partly grateful too.

"It's kind of like you're wearing an Easter Egg, isn't it?" says Chante, setting her shirt down to dry.

Silence accompanies the comment. Emma stares at Darcy who stares at Manny. They jointly laugh, looking at Chante, who's visibly appreciating that she's being appreciated.

"I heard they finalized the Degrassi budget yesterday," says Liberty.

Manny raises her eyebrows. This was Liberty's form of small talk so they went with it. They were all a part of a club, or two, or more in Liberty's case last year.

"There should be an e-mail coming from Toby," says Liberty.

"Manny, you don't have to worry about Drama Club," says Darcy. "Nate fought very valiantly for it."

She grins, Liberty giving Manny a dubious glance. That glance doesn't look good, thinks Manny. Either Nate's efforts hadn't paid off or Manny couldn't do anything either.

"Toby was fair," says Liberty with a sigh. "That's what matters."

Darcy scrunches her nose, shrugs and dips her shirt into the purple.

"Could we get...like hard copies of the budget?" says Chante.

"Sure," says Liberty.

"I...um, have to call my mom," says Chante. "I think she's picking me up, but I'm not sure."

"_You know where the phone is_," sing-songs Darcy.

Chante stands and heads for the kitchen. Emma steps over a tray to lay her shirt across from Chante's on the picnic table.

"I don't know where I'm going to wear mine," confesses Liberty.

"During your debates, of course," says Emma. "Distract the opposing team with dyed craziness."

"It'd be like staring into a kaleidoscope," adds Manny.

"That's one tactic I didn't think of," says Liberty sarcastically. "Where are you guys wearing yours?"

"Church camp," replies Darcy.

"Mmmm, around the house," offers Manny.

"Dance practice," offers Emma.

"You know, these are about as impractical as leg warmers," says Liberty.

"Yeah, so is eye glitter," returns Darcy. "But it's cute. Can I get an Amen?"

"Amen," say Emma and Manny simultaneously.

Liberty unfurls her shirt and puts it against her body. The blue, purple, and red splotches came out nicely and she hesitantly shows her admiration. From far away, Manny can spy Clare admiring the shirt from the kitchen window.

"Well, I do like glitter," says Liberty.

"Ask Manny to stitch you some snazzy letters on the back," jokes Emma.

Darcy and Liberty chuckle.

"Don't you still have that vest?" questions Emma.

She practically made Christian surrender it to her. Her Hollywood Video Hut vest is tucked away. Although, she has no way of getting to it now, because she's not sure where they placed it when her things were moved. Like so many other things, its location is up in the air. Manny smiles slowly and stares at each of them for a moment.

"I still have it," answers Manny.

"Awwww," says Darcy, leaning into her. "Let's group hug Manny!"

"What?" cries Manny.

She's left with no choice, Liberty, Emma, and Darcy surrounding her and toppling her to the grass. Manny's chest shakes from the pressure and her laughter. The other girls continue to squish the life of her. The smell of dye fills her nose. She barely notices it while she tries to shove them off. This was for Emma, but it was for her too, a little.

"This doesn't look like a high school girl activity to me!" yells Clare.

V.

Toby presses the phone to his ear to verify the address on his voicemail. He goes up the walkway, flanked by two rows of stones. Reaching the door, his tennis shoes cover the Bless This House doormat. Glancing at his car, Toby watches Officer Wheaton checking his own voicemail. Toby raises his glasses and then his hand to ring the doorbell. However, he doesn't get the chance to, almost falling onto the mat when the door is flung open.

"Whoa," says Toby, steadying himself. "You came out of nowhere."

"Don't ring the doorbell!" whispers Chante fiercely. "You'll ruin everything."

"What am I ruining?" asks Toby.

Chante grips his arm, closes the door behind her.

"We're going around back," says Chante.

"Around back?" says Toby, alternately looking at her and then Officer Wheaton in the distance. "Why can't we go through the front door?"

"Because this isn't my house, silly," replies Chante.

"The address sounded familiar, though," says Toby.

"It's Darcy's," fills in Chante. "No offense to her, but her neighborhood's pretty lame. My neighborhood's cool. We have block parties."

"Oh," says Toby.

Chante pauses and exhales. Toby's able to hear a couple voices a few feet away. One is definitely Liberty's. Why is Liberty at Darcy's house? They were friends, but as far as he knew, they weren't _close_ close.

"Anyway, I brought the budget," says Toby, removing the stack of paper from under his arm. "I can go over anything you don't understand, or....."

"This isn't about your stupid budget," says Chante.

"Weren't you talking about it more than half the.....," begins Toby.

"Well, actually, I was gossiping about it," interjects Chante.

"Yeah, I was trying to be polite," says Toby, presenting her with the paperwork. "I made a special trip. I have somewhere to be at seven."

Lucie suggested the time two days ago. So far, they'd come up empty with gift selections. They combed through the clothing store for Manny's present. Nothing. He wasn't a real help since he didn't know her sizes or anything. A lack of knowledge had cost him before. The dead cat perfume? Bleh. Toby nixed Lucie's jewelry ideas. He'd gotten her tons of it and the novelty must be wearing off, no matter how much Manny loved it. Lucie mentioned a sewing machine and he shamefully admitted he couldn't afford one for her. That was a really good idea too. Bleh. Today. They'd definitely find something today. Manny's birthday is in two days and she's not home yet.

"Manny's here," says Chante.

"What?" blanks Toby.

"Yep, crafty little me got you here to see her," informs Chante happily. "Okay, so I did the whole mural thing, but like that still leaves Manny for me to do something nice for, you know? So I got on Darcy's computer, and please don't tell her I did cause she's anal about that, and logged into the Degrassi student directory. Liberty told us you were e-mailing the budget and I was like, well, then he's probably home. Let me see what the haps is. Found your number and bam, you're here, and hopefully her friends will stop hating me and you'll stop hating me and we can move on because my life so does not need this drama. Capiche?"

This is the same Chante who ridiculed Manny at the beginning of the summer? He's heard about female bonding, but this is something else.

"Wow," replies Toby.

"Just go see her," nudges Chante. "I've gotta wash my hands."

"Thank you," says Toby.

"Uh-huh," says Chante, leaving him with a smile.

Manny's in Toronto, a walk away, practically inches away. Toby straightens his shoulders and peers into the window, hopeful to get a clear reflection of how he looks. He smooths his hair down though his reflection is covered by a very real girl catching him looking inside. Clare's mouth parts into a long O, and she speedily covers the window with the curtains. Ugh, bad move. He'll just have to go as is.

"Manny, bottled water?" calls a far off voice.

That's Emma. If Emma's here, Manny's definitely here. Toby beams.

"I'm good!" shouts Manny back.

Toby goes around the corner, halts in his tracks. Manny is wringing out a rag, her hair bound in a glossy ponytail, her body covered in a smock and denim shorts. He bets she wasn't checking herself out in windows in anticipation of him, mainly because she didn't have to do it. She has never looked less than beautiful.

Officer Patton notices him, is about to speak until Toby shakes his head. Toby walks as quietly as possible, removes his glasses and puts them in front of Manny's face.

"What is.....," begins Manny.

"More like who," says Toby.

Manny sighs softly, turning her body to him. She jumps up and down, clutches his polo shirt.

"You appeared out of thin air," says Manny, remaining still. "Why can't it always be like that?"

"I ask myself the same question," says Toby.

Toby puts his arms around her tightly. She hugs him with as much force. He's missed these hugs.

"Doesn't it look like Rainbow Brite threw up around here?" says Manny after letting him go.

Toby laughs, repositions his glasses to stare at the multiple trays of dye and four laid out shirts. He should've tried to figure out the smell earlier. It's just now hitting him.

"You guys' wardrobe will be way more interesting than mine," wagers Toby.

"Before I forget," says Manny.

She leaves his side to fetch a shirt on the side, the single neatly folded shirt among the group. Manny unfolds it quickly and holds it up to Toby.

"Liberty was doing something for J.T., and Emma for Spinner, and...well, I did one for you," says Manny. "Obviously, there's blue. Then purple, cause it's like a leadership-ish color. I know leadership-ish is not a word but...oh, and yellow. I heard yellow makes people happy, and you could use some happy."

Toby takes the shirt from her and holds it to his own chest.

"We both could use some happy," adds Manny. "This will be the most colorful cotton you've ever worn. Warm wash recommended."

His cheeks grow warm and that required no recommendation from a clothing tag.

"It's not the coolest thing in the world. You can wear it whenever, or not," says Manny.

"I love it," reassures Toby, cupping her chin.

"I didn't think I'd get to see you until my birthday," says Manny as she touches his hand.

"Me either," says Toby.

"So you are coming?" questions Manny.

Man, he'd been so caught up in finding a gift that he hadn't gone over the logistics with his father and Officer Wheaton, and he hadn't talked to the Santos either. He would've mentioned it in a letter but Manny hadn't sent him anything about her birthday plans.

"I'll ask my dad tonight," promises Toby.

"You don't have to leave yet, though?" asks Manny. "You can cop a squat and talk with me?"

Manny lowers herself to the ground. Toby does the same.

"Yeah, you're worth a grass stain," kids Toby.

"Or two," argues Manny, playfully hitting his knee. "What have you been doing the past three weeks?"

"Council. Kytel. Council. Kytel," repeats Toby.

"What'd you do on the weekends?" says Manny.

That's when he and Lucie went shopping mainly, but he didn't want her to know that. It wasn't because it was with Lucie; he just didn't want her to know he was having that much trouble.

"Thinking about me?" wonders Manny hopefully.

"Thinking of you has become a daily thing, yes," answers Toby.

"How about hourly?" says Manny.

"Minutely," replies Toby.

"You're supposed to be the genius," says Manny, giggling. "What kind of word is minutely?"

"What kind of word is leadershipish?" asks Toby.

"The most awesome word ever," proclaims Manny, saluting him.

"No argument there," concedes Toby.

He lays his new shirt across his lap, moving closer to brush his lips against hers. Manny slides her fingers under his shirt collar, kneading his neck as their mouths meet. This may be a surprise meeting but nothing he's feeling is a surprise. He feels like this shouldn't end. Unfortunately, his cellphone starts to vibrate and that surprises them both. Manny separates from him reluctantly.

"I have somewhere to go," says Toby.

"Toby," says Manny, then dropping her eyes.

"I'm sorry," sighs Toby. "If I knew you were coming home today, I wouldn't have scheduled anything."

"I came home yesterday. I mentioned it in my letter," says Manny.

"I didn't get a letter," says Toby, rubbing his forehead. "You sent it to the post office box?"

Truthfully, he hasn't been to the post office box in awhile. He's been so busy with work, Degrassi tasks, and Lucie to stop by before the post office closed.

"That's my fault," says Toby. "I haven't been checking."

"I put it in your briefcase," shares Manny. "As a surprise. Actually, that's probably my fault."

Manny frowns, her shoulders bunching up under her smock. Toby lowers them with his hands.

"There's an informal Council meeting tomorrow, for club leaders," says Toby. "Three o' clock sharp."

"I get to see you in presidential mode?" asks Manny, grinning fully.

"I wouldn't be there without you," recalls Toby. "I don't want to be anywhere without you."

"Any time with you is enough time," says Manny. "I'll come. And we can talk more."

Toby bends, kisses her lips softly once more, his nose bumping against hers.

"You gave me an accidental Eskimo kiss," laughs Manny.

"Who says it was accidental?" says Toby, standing straight.

Manny shrugs and smiles at the grass. He gently pulls her ponytail, goes across the yard and around the house. Officer Wheaton waits near the stones, looking flummoxed at the shirt Toby holds. Toby turns off his phone. He wants Manny's voice to be the last thing he hears so he can hold onto that, too.


	98. Sixteen, Going On Seventeen

**ICVIII. Sixteen, Going On Seventeen**

_**[**Rolf:]_  
_You wait, little girl, on an empty stage_  
_For fate to turn the light on_  
_Your life, little girl, is an empty page_  
_That men will want to write on_

_[Liesl:]_  
_To write on_

_[Rolf:]_  
_You are sixteen going on seventeen_  
_Baby, it's time to think_  
_Better beware, be canny and careful_  
_Baby, you're on the brink_

_You are sixteen going on seventeen_  
_Fellows will fall in line_  
_Eager young lads and rogues and cads_  
_Will offer you food and wine_

_Totally unprepared are you_  
_To face a world of men_  
_Timid and shy and scared are you_  
_Of things beyond your ken_

_You need someone older and wiser_  
_Telling you what to do_  
_I am seventeen going on eighteen_  
_I'll take care of you_

_[Liesl:]_  
_I am sixteen going on seventeen_  
_I know that I'm naive_  
_Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet_  
_And willingly I believe_

_I am sixteen going on seventeen_  
_Innocent as a rose_  
_Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies_  
_What do I know of those_

_Totally unprepared am I_  
_To face a world of men_  
_Timid and shy and scared am I_  
_Of things beyond my ken_

_I need someone older and wiser_  
_Telling me what to do_  
_You are seventeen going on eighteen_  
_I'll depend on you_

**Sixteen, Going On Seventeen is the property of Rodgers and Hammerstein, and comes from the musical _The Sound of Music._**

**Loverly is the property of Alan Lerner and Frederick Loewe and comes from the musical _My Fair Lady_.**

**Love Story is the property of Taylor Swift; Locomotion is the property of Kylie Minogue; I Believe I Can Fly is the property of R. Kelly.**

"You can tell them to eat cake."

She actually means it, or half means it at the very least. This bit of advice is followed by Lucie angling her bendy straw and slurping her strawberry banana milkshake. Toby laughs it off and continues to play with his own straw.

"I don't think that'll go over well," says Toby. "Besides, half of them are my friends."

"It's not your fault finances are low," points out Lucie.

"I know, but kids have enough on their plates," says Toby. "Classes, family obligations, college applications, relationships..."

Toby halts there. He grins at the smooth tabletop, his mind returning to the memory of Manny in the backyard. He still couldn't believe she was talking to him in person about thirty minutes ago. Sadly, it wasn't enough for his personal plate. He could've done anything to ask when she was coming home, like asking J.T. to call her or getting in contact with her parents somehow. It would've been pretty easy. But on second thought, he did want Manny to focus on Emma and step aside for that. He said that he would be understanding about it and it seems to have paid off.

"You're more patient than I am," assures Lucie. "That's why I never ran for office at Bardell."

Patient, definitely, thinks Toby, sitting up straight. Officer Wheaton is at the table behind them. It had been a landmark week for him. He'd learned how to text. Toby got bored one day and showed him how to do it. Ever since then, he was smiling at his phone and typing away with new fervor.

There is something new about Lucie too, though he couldn't put his finger on it. She's wearing jeans as usual. Her brown hair is wavy as usual. Toby nods to himself. He sees what's missing.

"You're not wearing a hat," says Toby.

"Ummm, yeah," says Lucie, shrugging and smiling. "I decided my brain needed to breathe. That, and hat hair is annoying."

"Well, you don't have hat hair now," says Toby. "It's nice."

"Thanks," says Lucie demurely. "I...I don't get a lot of compliments."

"Really?" says Toby.

"Really," confesses Lucie.

"Guys at Bardell must be idiots then," says Toby, resituating the lid of the shake and grabbing his briefcase. "You ready?"

For a moment, Lucie's silent, staring at him. Toby looks around awkwardly. Instead of Lucie saying anything, Officer Wheaton scoots out his chair and Lucie's collecting her green knapsack and is up soon afterwards.

"Let's go shop," says Lucie finally.

They bypass a family of four, loaded with bags full of school supplies, and this is a clear reminder that the summer is nearly over. Wow, it's like everything that could've happened this summer happened. The truth is that he thought it would never end. He travelled. He reconnected with his mother. He made peace with Kendra. He lost his virginity. He became news, the center of an investigation. J.T. was on the money that one night in Los Angeles. This is the summer where he grew up, whether he was ready for it or not.

"How you doing back there, Officer Wheaton?" asks Lucie, throwing him a quick glance.

This had turned into a game of sorts. Lucie called Officer Wheaton out one day for saying "just peachy", condemning it as too corny. Toby smiled back at him.

"Just peachy," says Officer Wheaton with a thumbs up.

Lucie chuckles. He took the bait. Besides getting on Officer Wheaton for his expressions, Lucie was also incredibly useful for their main objective. She knew the mall inside and out-- the hours, the sales, and the stores to keep away from and the stores they should visit. She had a lot of knowledge for someone who worked there less than a year. Their problem was that Toby was picky. He ran gift ideas past his mother because she was also picky. But Anne Marie liked about four of them. In their last conversation, she just told him to go with his gut. His gut wasn't nearly as helpful as Lucie so that idea tanked. Toby scrapped the list and put his trust in his newest friend.

"I'm feeling more and more clueless," admits Toby.

"_Clueless_?" teases Lucie. "Isn't that Manny's favorite movie?"

"Shut up," says Toby jokingly.

Laughing, Lucie hits him lightly with her knapsack.

"Yeah, it's one of her favorites," says Toby. "What about you?"

"Nah...nah, you'll think less of me," says Lucie.

"I won't," insists Toby.

"Alright," sighs Lucie. "Alright. It's..._The Secret of NIMH_."

"What?" cries Toby. "That's not embarrassing. I thought you were going to say _Freddy Got Fingered _or something."

"With Tom Green? Meh," says Lucie.

They exchange a smile, Lucie asking him to wait so she can tie her shoe. Toby stares at an opposite window, starts to go towards it. He strokes his chin and continues to read the gold letters on the glass. Like a movie being rewound, he recalls one of the most important conversations he's had this summer. It was before the worries, before the drama. Toby walks briskly to the door. Lucie rights herself and goes to Toby's side.

"This...this is it!" exclaims Toby.

"What is it?" says Lucie. "A travel agency?"

Toby nods enthusiastically. "You asked me where I wanted to take Manny."

"Oh, yeah," says Lucie. "That was eons ago."

"We could go on a trip," explains Toby. "During spring break. To Manila. I could plan an itenirary...I'm good with those, and pay for tickets when I get the money. Meanwhile, I can give the itenirary to her for her birthday."

He says this all in a rush. Overhearing, Officer Wheaton appears tickled by it and grins at the glass window. It's perfect. That way, he and Manny can experience the mountains she spoke so lovingly about and she'd feel that connection to her culture she was having difficulty with when they were in California.

"Nobody can beat that," says Toby with confidence.

Apparently, Lucie thinks otherwise. She bites her lip and gives him a weary look.

"The agency's closed," says Lucie.

"They're open on Mondays," says Toby. "I can come in the morning before Kytel."

"Plus," says Lucie, crossing her arms as it to emphasize the point, "Aren't Manny's parents really strict?"

"Uh-huh," says Toby, rubbing his neck.

"So I can't imagine they'd like you going on a vacation, with just you and her," says Lucie. "My dad is strict too. He'd freak if I went somewhere alone with a boy."

He didn't consider that part. There's no way he can afford to take a third person with them, like J.J. or Maria or Joseph. Did the Santoses like him enough to let only the two of them go halfway across the world?

"I can buy her a ticket to go alone," wonders Toby aloud.

Although, he was genuinely hoping he could accompany her.

"That's way too extravagant, Toby," says Lucie. "I mean, it's serious. Not even twenty-year olds buy airplane tickets for their boyfriends or girlfriends. That's like honeymoon level. How could Manny ever live up to that?"

"She's already lived up to that," replies Toby. "She's done so much for me."

Lucie shakes her head. Her bemused expression refuses to change. She obviously thought it was too much and too soon. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm Manny. Wasn't she emotional in this very mall, overcome by the situation they were already in? He looks at Officer Wheaton who is staring off into space.

"Toby, trust me, okay?" says Lucie. "Maybe wait until Christmas."

Christmas seems like a lifetime away, moans Toby inwardly. But he would surely have the money. Toby begins walking again.

"You know I'm helping you, right?" reassures Lucie, following him.

"Eh, it was just a thought," says Toby.

"We'll find her something fantastic," says Lucie. "Mind if we stop by Campanelli's? I want to check the days I'm working in September."

The disappointment leaves him briefly. Campanelli's was a location he liked, that held a lot of warm Manny memories.

"Sure," says Toby.

Campanelli's Hardware isn't too far, and isn't too crowded. There is a group of burly men near piles of wood, and a mother and a daughter evaluating a cuckoo clock, which pops out to cheep. Lucie goes behind the front desk immediately and starts chatting with a co-worker.

"I have to call my dad to get permission to go to Manny's," says Toby, fetching his phone.

"A little birdie told me that she's having her party at her future sister-in-law's," informs Officer Wheaton. "A birdie named Patton."

Toby smirks. "You wouldn't happen to know the address?"

"Oh, that's easy to get," says Officer Wheaton with a smile.

Toby dials his dad, leaning against a writing desk. Jeff answers on the third ring.

"Hello, Dad?" says Toby.

"Hey Tobes," says Jeff.

"I was going to ask if I could go visit Manny tomorrow," shares Toby. "For her birthday. She's going to be at Rosa's, her future sister-in-law's."

"Did Wheaton give the okay?" says Jeff.

"Yep," says Toby.

"Well, a birthday is a birthday," sighs Jeff. "And this one's gotta be tough on her. We'll talk logistics tonight."

"Thanks," says Toby. "Bye."

"Bye, son," says Jeff.

Toby clicks the phone off. That was easy, though he imagines it was easy mainly because Toby had had so many disappointments lately. Lucie has returned. He doesn't believe she heard his conversation.

"No Saturdays next month!" says Lucie, lifting her arms in triumph. "Sweet!"

"Cool," agrees Toby.

"Toby, we have to be back home soon," reminds Officer Wheaton. "Your curfew."

Ugh, the stupid curfew. Justin may not even be in Toronto and he still has to follow it. Toby rolls his eyes.

"We _have_ to get her present today," says Lucie, exactly mirroring his own thoughts. "Okay, think, Lucie. Think."

Lucie whirls around in a circle, doing an overview of the store. Just when he's about to suggest going to the clothing store, she snaps her fingers. Taking a hold of his arm, Lucie drags him down an aisle of Campanelli's. She gestures to a display in front of them. The small boxes aren't as loud as a cuckoo clock but they do make noise. Toby touches the red top of a music box.

"She likes musicals, right?" says Lucie.

"Yeah," says Toby brightly. "She does. She loves romances too."

"I don't do romances," says Lucie, putting a tongue against her teeth.

"Why not?" asks Toby.

"Because they're unrealistic," says Lucie. "They go through all this sadness and at the end, they're magically happy. It's cheesy."

"Or...maybe it's a reward," offers Toby. "A reward for all that stuff they went through."

"Hmm, well, my last reward had my boyfriend cheating on me," sighs Lucie, turning to the side.

"I'm sorry," says Toby to her back.

"Eh, it's okay," says Lucie. "I didn't like him much anyway. It was two years ago. My dad introduced us. Amazing start, huh? We don't keep in touch anyhow."

Lucie fails to continue. She gingerly starts opening music boxes, Toby doing the same. Most of the music boxes are cheerful, which is an asset in his opinion. Then there were the prices. Not bad. In fact, they're cheaper than he thought they'd be. Toby lifts the lid of a green box and stares into the square mirror. A melancholic tune plays throughout the aisle.

"Bleh," notes Lucie. "My Heart Will Go On."

"Something more original," dismisses Toby.

"Let's get her a combo," suggests Lucie. "Music and jewelry."

"I like it," says Toby.

He sets down the green one and spies a purple one right in the center. It has two white roses on the top, criss-crossing at the stems. There are blue swirls to suggest water and lines to suggest ripples. The varnish of the box shines under his glasses. Toby lifts the lid, a bouncy rhythm meeting his ears. Toby grins.

_All I want is a room somewhere, _  
_Far away from the cold night air._  
_With one enormous chair, _  
_Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?_

Looking over his shoulder, Lucie touches the black velvet inside. She isn't the only one listening. The mother and daughter wandered to them, probably anxious to see the source of the music. They clearly find it charming because they're grinning too.

_Lots of choc'lates for me to eat, _  
_Lots of coal makin' lots of 'eat._  
_Warm face, warm 'ands, warm feet,_  
_Aow, wouldn't it be loverly? _

"That's the Audrey Hepburn version," says Lucie. "I didn't know we had this."

"Manny loves Audrey," says Toby.

"Let's see," says Lucie, taking the box. "Rose inlay, compartments for rings and bracelets, painted rosewood. In other words, kind of perfect. It's up to you, though."

It is pretty perfect, and how fitting that they'd find it in Campanelli's, the store that had been so good to them. He can imagine Manny primping in the mirror, keeping all the trinkets he'd given her in here, setting her very special silver ring in the center to give her finger a break once in a while. Then, she'd sing along and be the happiest she's been in a long time. He could hear her humming now.

"Why didn't we come here first?" kids Toby, laughing.

"I have no idea," laughs Lucie.

In any case, Lucie had been understanding with him, even if she didn't feel like she was a patient person. He glances down the aisle, locking his gaze on a small display near the end. Plucking one off the shelf, he returns with a glass paperweight, with a small globe on the top.

"Is this a good thank-you gift?" says Toby.

"For who?" says Lucie.

"For you," replies Toby. "Without you, I would've been lost."

"You don't have to," insists Lucie.

"I want to, okay?" says Toby. "You can use this to hold down your maps, or your sketches for houses. Or plot world domination."

"So you know my evil plans?" says Lucie, blushing. "Thank you, Toby."

"You're welcome," says Toby.

"Okay, I'm an excellent wrapper, and I'll ring you up personally," says Lucie, taking the two objects. "This is such a great gift. Prepare yourself for unabashed girlfriend praise."

"I'd say this is a happy ending to our search," says Toby pointedly as he hands her the money.

"Toby," sighs Lucie deeply. "You're so in love with love."

Like there's anything wrong with that, thinks Toby, making sure all the music boxes are in their properly placed and closed. Officer Wheaton, who has remained quiet, stands beside him.

"Do you think that's true?" asks Toby. "What she said?"

"What I think is...I think you should go back and plan that trip," says Officer Wheaton, clapping him softly on the back.

Toby smiles and fastens the last box, the music whimpering its last beat.

II.

Before today, he's never seen so many girls on a field before. He's seen them in gym, and on the bleachers, but never so many on the field beside Degrassi Community School. Their gold practice jerseys glint in the sun as a white ball skips across the grass, the two teams chasing it towards the goal on the right. Sean sighs, shifting the piece of paper to the other hand. Why did his best friend rope him into this? Oh yeah, Jay and Alex are not talking.

Actually, they are talking, or rather Alex comes into Jay's room for his physical therapy sessions and blows him off once they're done. She has achieved a rare feat: continuing to coach him while freezing him out simultaneously. Even Jay was confused about the whole thing. He resorted to asking Inga, who he still didn't like all that much. She said, if you have to ask, you'll never know. Sean and Jay agreed that Inga had no idea what she was talking about. Jay chose to tell Alex about his court date regardless of the tension, only Sean would be doing the talking. Whatever.

Telling Cheryl about Ty was torture compared to this. He went over there steadily for the past three weeks. The house looked smaller each time. He could tell anybody where the photographs were because he continued to stare at those; where the windows were because whenever things got strange, he'd peer outside at the lawn; where the cookie jar was because Sandy made him eat because her daughter wasn't eating much and you could tell she wanted to feed someone who was more able to eat. Cheryl had completely shut herself down. She steered clear of Sean and pretended he wasn't there if they happened to be in the same room. It was hard.

It was so hard that he had avoided going to visit Marcus during the jail's visiting hours, or going back to Dale to tell him how Cheryl was doing. Dale had stuck him with the most difficult jobs while he sat and did nothing. Some things don't change. Then, you had Marcus who was already angry about his family. He's been trying to work up the nerve and hasn't done so.

Sean advances to the field and catches sight of Alex. She's in a black and white-striped shirt and black sweatpants, her hair hanging to her shoulders. She holds a clipboard and a bullhorn is in her other hand. She swats away a fly and keeps a keen eye on the field. The lacrosse team scurries past her. One blonde girl sits perched on the bench, staring at her painted nails. The girl had noticed Sean first.

"Hi," says the girl, standing and putting her hands on her hips.

"Uh, hi," greets Sean.

"What the?" says Alex, then spotting Sean. "Liza, get on the field. You're in for Serena."

"Man," moans Liza. "It's too hot. And I just got my hair done."

She flips her blonde mane, possibly for Sean's benefit. Sean raises an eyebrow.

"Let me introduce you to something called a helmet," says Alex, digging one out of a bag. "Helmet, Liza. Liza, helmet."

Liza looks at it with disinterest. "Ewww."

"Protects your brains from spilling out if you get clocked in the face," says Alex, tossing it.

"Double ewww," says Liza.

Liza carefully situates the helmet on top of her hair, trudges out onto the field with hesitance. Serena, a thin girl with pretty brown braids, glowers at her when she's tagged, runs to sit on the bench.

"Hatzilakos' niece," says Alex, gesturing to Liza.

"Oh, the humanity," says Sean with sarcasm.

That causes Alex to crack a smile, so he figures now's the best moment to whip out the paper. Ellie has already seen his and has pledged to go. He wasn't concerned about that. He's more concerned that her parents will find out that she's going.

"Jay asked...," begins Sean.

"Wait a sec," says Alex, then bellowing into the bullhorn, "Ladies, just cause I'm talking doesn't mean you should start gawking. I wanna see some hussle! Drea, your cradling's looking sloppy! Don't blow that crease roll!"

Alex blows her whistle and the girls go for the ball once more. They really go for the ball. Sean shakes himself out of watching them.

"You were saying?" prompts Alex.

"Jay's being indicted on the thirtieth," says Sean. "He's probably going to plead no contest. That way, he'll get sentenced and be able to finish therapy before he has to serve it."

Taking a deep breath, Alex pulls at her shirt as Sean presents her with a photocopy of the document. Jay snuck it out of his father's folder when he was at lunch with Cindy and Sean made the copy and returned the original to Jay. She reads it, folds it.

"What's he looking at?" asks Alex quietly.

"Not sure," replies Sean. "But Dale threatened Jay into going the night he was shot. Did he tell you that?"

"No," says Alex, swallowing a lump in her throat. "He didn't."

"Dale also made me lie about you to him, to tell Jay you were in the hospital," adds Sean. "That's the truth. And Jay didn't ask me to tell you that."

"Why didn't _he _tell me?" says Alex.

"I honestly believe he's sick of getting people's sympathy," replies Sean. "I mean, hopefully the judge will be sympathetic but..."

The thing Sean can't tell is if Alex is grinning or not. There's a hint of a grin, maybe. Alex doesn't give him the satisfaction of debating any longer, frowning at Serena who is nearly off the bench.

"Let me in, Coach Nunez!" pleads Serena. "I want to kick some butt!"

"She's my superstar," whispers Alex with pride.

Sean gazes at Serena.

"What are you looking at?" demands Serena.

"No...nothing," stammers Sean, turning away. "Alex, are you going to go?"

Liza and the other girls reach the middle of the field, Liza jogging slowly past Alex and Sean. She smiles sweetly at Sean.

"Hiiii," she says, waving and almost tripping.

Serena snickers while Sean scrunches up his face. Alex taps her whistle against her mouth, before blowing it and granting him any attention. He's hoping this hasn't been in vain and that the semi-smile was a clue. Sean nods for her to say something, anything. Alex smacks her lips together.

"Get off my field."

III.

"This is a crime against nature!" cries Darcy, holding a can of soda to her forehead. "It's five million degrees in here!"

"Toby said the MI lab is air-conditioned," comforts Manny.

"It's only the hallways that are stifling," assures Liberty. "I can't believe there's so much apathy among our peers. I'll glady step in for the role of temporary treasurer, but it's disheartening."

The four girls walk down the Degrassi corridors, Emma silently stuffing her knitting needles into her bag. Manny tried to catch glimpses of whatever she was knitting, but Emma has been steadfast in hiding it. Birthday present, decides Manny, mentally patting herself on the back. That's not the only cause for her good mood. She gets to be with Toby, possibly two times today. Okay, so she has to share him in the meeting, but they'd be in the same room and she could support him like in the old carefree days. Old...right. No, she won't let it ruin her high. She even wore one of her nicest outfits-- a red and white plaid babydoll dress, black pumps, and chandelier earrings. She thought she looked really pretty, if her mind didn't mind her saying so. Today, the day preceding her birthday, will be a real treat.

"Oh snap!" cries a voice behind them. "He's carrying the gun today!"

Manny offers an apologetic glance at Officer Patton, calmly wiping his mouth after drinking from the water fountain. Danny and Derek are appreciating his accessory. Officer Patton nods at the boys and joins Manny's group.

"After you," says Officer Patton, holding the door to the MI lab for the girls.

He does the same for Derek and Danny, who continue to stare at him in awe. It's a little hilarious. Manny doesn't rest on watching them. Instead, she grins as she comes into the lab where several of the group leaders are already behind computer monitors. Her eyes glide past the monitors, past the heads of students, past Principal Hatzilakos' shapely form, to find Toby standing near Mr. Simpson's desk. Principal Hatzilakos steps aside to get a notepad and Toby meets her gaze. He's wearing the tie-dye shirt, his first chance to wear it. Manny smiles widely and starts to find a chair near him.

"Oh no," says Nate, catching hold of Manny's purse strap. "We drama kids have to stick together."

Ugh, she didn't even see Nate. Manny blows a piece of hair out of her face and slumps into a chair next to him.

"Did you take a gander at the budget?" asks Nate.

"Ummmm....no," says Manny honestly. "And gander?"

"I heard Ms. Edwards say it once, and liked it," says Nate, squeezing Darcy's shoulder as she sits to his right.

Of course Nate gets to sit with Darcy. She should call him out on it, but the meeting's starting. Toby hits his gavel, formerly Liberty's, against the lectern, and goes to sit with Emma, Liberty, and Jenna, his vice president, at the front table. The monitors are on and to everybody's relief, the air on full blast.

"This informal meeting for club leaders and Council members is called to order," says Toby, glancing around the room. "The two matters we wish to discuss today are the use of the auditorium throughout the year, and the newly approved budget. I think we should get to know each other so let's all go around the room and introduce ourselves. I'm Toby Isaacs, Student Council president for this year."

Manny rests her chin against her elbow, smiling in his direction.

"Jenna Mortenson, Council vice president," says Jenna.

"Emma Nelson, Council secretary," says Emma.

"Liberty Van Zandt, acting treasurer for Council, and Mock Debate team president," says Liberty.

"Nadia Jamir, editor-in-chief of the _Grapevine_," says Nadia, waving to everyone.

The introductions continue for the editor-in-chief of the yearbook, the president of the French Club, the captains of the floor hockey and gymnastics teams, until they reach Clara.

"Clara Michaels, president of the Computer Club," says Clara.

She and Derek give each other shy looks, with Derek speaking after her.

"Derek Haig, sports rep for a _second _year," says Derek, almost bragging.

Danny's next, though he's yet to stop being transfixed by Officer Patton standing in the rear of the lab. Or maybe it was Officer Wheaton, who is absent-mindedly twirling his tie. Regardless, Derek forces him to listen up by hitting him upside the head.

"Owww," says Danny. "Oh, Danny Van Zandt. AV club chair."

"Darcy Edwards, Spirit Squad captain," says Darcy cheerfully.

"Nate Booth," says Nate. "Drama Club Co-Chair."

"Manny Santos, Drama Club Co-Chair," says Manny, throwing Toby a private smile she hopes he returns.

Toby does, and waits for the rest of the students to finish. Introducing everybody actually became a bit interesting. The last person to speak was Renada Laney, chair of the Miss Degrassi Committee, possibly the newest position out of all of them. The Degrassi Arts Assocation wasn't kidding. They really did want Miss Degrassi to be a tradition. Although, Renada admitted that the former Arts Association members were still hammering out the financial details. Maybe Manny should introduce herself. Oh yeah, she already did, sort of.

"Welcome, Renada," says Toby. "Okay, we'll start. This is an open forum for any questions or comments you have regarding the two topics, specifically the budget, which was e-mailed to all of you by myself or Jenna."

Jenna must've emailed her, if she had access to a computer. Manny frowns at the likelihood of that. She hasn't gotten Toby mail in so long.

"I'm assuming you all got a chance to look at it," says Toby.

"Boy did we," speaks up Nate.

"Nate, go ahead," encourages Principal Hatzilakos. "We know there are some concerns..."

"Concerns?" cries Nate. "The Drama Club is getting half of what it got last year! It's an insult!"

"Yes," says Toby, calmly. "But think about last year. You had double the productions. Two plays, the schoolwide festival, and the variety show. The Degrassi Arts Association chipped in for the pagaent and the variety show. They're no longer active. That means less money."

"And the faculty, along with Toby, were insistent that you get that much," adds Principal Hatzilakos.

Manny says hi and scoots closer to Renada to peruse her copy of the budget. That sounds alright to her. While the sum isn't amazing, they could make do with it.

"Nate, classic Shakespeare barely used props," says Manny. "We'll just have to use our imaginations."

"No, what we have to do is surrender to the athletes, who get a healthy sum from the administration!" argues Nate. "I wonder why?"

"Hey!" cries Derek. "We have a chance at regionals this year! Why don't you shut it!"

"How about us AVers, huh? Our equipment sucks!" says Danny.

"Like the Grapevine office is state of the art," speaks up Nadia. "The Computer Club gets to go on field trips. Is that fair?"

"Don't drag us into your argument," says Clara testily. "We go for educational purposes! Besides, where are you going to go? The _Core_? You guys get co-ops through the guidance office and we have to fight for competitive internships during the field trips, the two conferences."

"That's quite enough, everybody!" says Principal Hatzilakos, her voice carrying over everyone else.

"All this fighting is giving me a headache," groans Darcy, putting her head down.

She's not the only one rattled. Emma's eyes are wide as she records the events of the meeting. Jenna is gripping what Manny believes is a stress ball. Liberty is repeatedly shaking her head. And poor Toby's cheeks are as red as tomatoes.

"These are different times, guys," says Principal Hatzilakos. "I'm sorry some of you are disappointed, but it is what it is. Toby did a remarkable job with the budget and I'm sure you'll find that when the school year starts, our efforts were for your best interests."

Some eyes roll. Others look to the side. Manny pounds the table hard.

"What's you guys' problem?" asks Manny, revolving her chair to face them. "You trusted Toby to be your treasurer, when he was doling out the money, but you can't trust him as president? You elected him so you obviously thought you could. I've never heard him say no to a fundraiser so if you guys want the extra cash, then get off your butts and work for it. It's not rocket science."

"Hear hear," says Liberty.

"I second that," says Emma, moving her pen along.

"Speaking as a student who has no idea yet what my committee is getting," says Renada. "I trust Toby. The budget looks sound."

"And no offense to Liberty, but none of our past presidents were as good in math as Toby," assures Jenna.

"That's an undeniable truth, though the timing is suspect since I'm your treasurer for about a month and a half," returns Liberty.

"Heh," says Jenna, shielding herself slightly with her handbook.

Thankfully, Toby has received their confidence and built it on top of his, lowering his shoulders and speaking authoritatively.

"I said I would work for all of you," says Toby. "I won't go back on my word."

Clara gives him a crooked smile.

"We're just passionate," says Clara. "Sorry. We trust you."

She's met with scattered applause. Principal Hatzilakos and Toby seem to relax, the subject of auditorium schedules replacing the much debated budget. The rest of the meeting runs smoothly. You wouldn't recognize it as the same room that was griping at each other at the top of the hour. Any discontent was doing a good job of staying hidden, like Toby was doing a good job going through the rules, regulations, and holidays the clubs had to remember. When the bell rang, signalling the top of the hour, Toby adjourned the meeting.

"Rosa's meeting us in the parking lot," reminds Emma, stumbling past people to get to Manny.

"Didn't Toby do an excellent job?" says Manny.

"Yes," says Emma, playfully nudging her with her eraser.

"He looks too busy to talk to me," sighs Manny.

In the midst of the many club leaders, Toby is shaking hands and asking others how their summer vacation went. Who knows how long he'd be tied up? Then, the most beautiful collection of rings flow through the lab window.

"Ice cream!" says Darcy joyfully. "Oh, my prayers have been answered!"

"Ice cream!" cry Danny and Derek.

Emma and Manny stare after the herd of teenagers as they make for the door, Nadia and Renada the last leaders to leave. Or not. Nate is staring at a monitor, whirls to face Manny.

"Talk to your boy, Manny," whispers Nate.

"Nate...," sighs Manny.

"If you asked, we wouldn't have to do a thing," whispers Nate, rubbing her shoulder. "Bye."

Nate walks to the door, Emma jokingly pushing him from behind. Good. He deserves to be pushed. Principal Hatzilakos is the last, non-police officer to exit, besides her and Toby. Before leaving, she bends down and tells Manny "that she liked what she said." That's all well and good, but Manny could care less. Toby has his back to her and she's not sure what to say. Where does she start? He came up to her last time. Maybe if she does something, acts, it will come. Manny stares around her in frustration. Then, she rips the chord from an outlet, watches the monitor go black.

"Ooops," chirps Manny.

That was stupid. Why'd she do that? Nevertheless, it causes Toby to go to her and ask what's wrong.

"Did you lose anything?" says Toby, his arms reaching over her shoulders to try to reboot the computer.

"Just...my cool," confesses Manny. "I yanked the chord out, accidentally."

Yeah, accidentally. Not. Toby grins at her, hunches down to plug the chord in, his ear near her knee. He's as close as he can get now.

"I like you in that shirt," says Manny. "I...didn't think you'd wear it today."

"Of course I wore it today," says Toby with an unflinching smile.

He plugs the chord in, rises to press the power button. The computer sputters to life in the silence.

"You were cool as a cucumber up there," compliments Manny as the screen changes.

"More like red as a beet," counters Toby. "But...thanks, for earlier, for the small speech."

"You can always work harder," waves off Manny. "I wish most people thought that way."

"Most people don't run sold out plays and original variety shows," says Toby, setting a hand on her shoulder.

The hand is much softer than Nate's. Manny tugs at her chandelier earring.

"Okay," says Manny as her cheeks flush.

"My dad says I can go to Rosa's," shares Toby. "I was going to check with you on time."

"Awesome!" says Manny. "Umm, we're spending the night. How about eight or earlier?"

"I think eight's okay, if not a little after," replies Toby.

Things are so working in her favor today. She's praying for no unforseen slip-ups or hold-ups or screw-ups, except for the chord thing, but even that worked. Manny stands and buzzes his cheek. He grabs his briefcase and goes to her again.

"I was really impressed," says Manny.

"That was all for you," jokes Toby, pushing in her chair for her.

"They should name this lab after you," says Manny. "It was that good. I'm going to start calling it the Mr. Isaacs Lab, instead of the M.I. Lab."

"Or the Manny Isaacs Lab," says Toby, his voice dropping after that.

Manny Isaacs. Whoa, that was a ways away, but not impossible. She grabs for her books and loops her arm through Toby's.

"Hmm," says Manny. "Only if they install an HDTV in here."

Toby laughs, and though it's soft, she's partly certain Officer Wheaton and Patton were chuckling too. HDTVs are awesome, though, and if it ever did happen, she'd want to put her stamp on the place.

One of Degrassi's janitors sticks his hand inside the door and Toby moans that they have to exit the lab. The four of them filter out of the lab, the two officers keeping a safe distance from her and Toby. It's not total privacy, but it's a little. She'd like to have a lot of it.

"Can I carry your books?" asks Toby. "I haven't done it in awhile."

"You most certainly can," says Manny, surrendering her notebook and folders.

He cradles them in his right arm and fumbles for her hand. She slips hers inside his, smoothly. They haven't done a lot of normal things in awhile. She's glad this is the first, and anxious for this to be the first of many. That's when it hits her that she should ask something else, if there's been any progress with the case. Toby asks her something instead.

"Do you want some ice cream?" says Toby.

They're at the top of Degrassi's front steps. A white ice cream truck with images of popsicles, creamsicles, and every kind of "sicle" on the sides, stands in the street. Derek is polishing off a snowcone, alternately showing Clara his green tongue. Clara giggles. How romantic. Toby's expression is romantic, warm, directed at her.

"Yeah," answers Manny. "Thank you."

They go down the steps, pass Nadia and Liberty eating ice cream sandwiches. The heat has remained steady. Manny can already feel sweat on her bare elbows. The ice cream driver, in his crisp white uniform, would probably make a bucketload today.

"We're out of Klondike bars," says the driver. "I got every flavor of popsicle, though."

Toby turns to Manny.

"Uhhhh, I'm jonesing for...a creamsicle," affirms Manny.

"One creamsicle and one...Strawberry Shortcake," orders Toby, quickly reading the truck menu.

"Two twenty-five please," says the driver.

He disappears into the back of the truck, sorting through his collection of cool snacks. That's when Manny realizes that Officer Patton and Officer Wheaton have disappeared from view. Now, that? Was sweet. She definitely wants to take advantage of it. His hand still tucked in hers, she leads him to the other side of the truck, where there are only cars and telephone poles. He steps back against the wall of the truck where Manny kisses him until the books fall to the hot pavement and he's kissing her just as much.

"One creamsicle and one Strawberry Shortcake!" calls the driver.

"Eight tonight," breathes Manny after he speaks.

"Eight," reassures Toby.

Eagerly collecting her books, he follows Manny to the other side of the truck. The driver presents them with their ice cream. Officer Wheaton and Officer Patton were now a few feet away, staring hard at the two of them.

"Were you two hiding?" teases the driver.

"Only for a second," admits Manny.

The driver tips his hat and winks. "A lot can happen in a second."

IV.

**Ashley Renee Kerwin. **Brown hair, blue eyes**. **Five foot seven. Date of birth...the year brings her to 19.

It's too bad she doesn't look a bit like herself. Ashley turns the fake ID to the side and tilts her head. She can almost see it. No, not really. Her face looks massive and when did she get a tan? When's the last time she _was_ herself? Ashley sighs and walks to the full-length mirror attached to the closet.

With her first paycheck, she bought some clothes, but they weren't performing clothes. Ilene lent her these. Performing clothes equal mildly revealing, apparently. Ashley wears a black mini, a studded belt, a tight red top with _Morrissey_ emblazoned on the front, and her own boots. Despite a love for Morrissey, he's not a comfort to her today. He's English and that fact brings a whole host of depressing images. The most pressing image is the realization that she's done this before. She's stood by a mirror and turned herself inside out to be different. Maybe that's just how it is; maybe it's the price she has to pay.

Maybe I should pay, thinks Ashley solemnly. She's said countless words she'd take back in an instant, and alienated the people she cares most about. Her mom tracked her down to tell her that she cared. Craig stayed for as long as he could, before she botched it. Their hurt expressions cut a hole through her, cut her deep. She barely slept. She rarely smiled at the customers, even with Amos giving her the eye. Then, whenever she had a free moment, she drank.

No part of her wanted to prove that her mother and Craig were right. Ashley took quick sips throughout the day and made sure to only drink heavily on the days she had off. All the rest of the girls did it without remorse and truth be told, she was glad to finally fit in with a group of young adults. Most of the girls prodded her for tour details and she'd mention the highlights and avoid the rest. She'd get sad when her fellow waitresses would talk about school but she didn't hate hearing about it. Ashley told them, and her mother, that she was going to go to school, just not now. Ilene, her unmatched favorite among the girls, had the same plan. That's probably why Ilene convinced Amos to let her try out today. If Ashley did her best, she'd be a singing waitress and that was loads better than being a simple busboy, or girl really.

Ozzie was her other ally. He supplied the fake ID two days ago. Plus, over the weeks, he'd started adding odds and ends to the back room. He rescued the mirror from a garage sale, donated his boombox, swept the floor, and convinced Amos to feed her on the weekends. He was sweet and eager, though Ashley couldn't put her full trust in him. After Mark, she knew she shouldn't. To be nice for the sake of being nice seems like a foreign concept. She had her guard up the first time she met Ozzie and she still has it up. Besides, he is no Craig. When they made love, it was genuine. She touched him like she always did and told him how much he meant to her like she always did. Why didn't he believe her then? Is he going to ever believe her anymore?

What would he say if he saw her like this? Here's a fake Ashley with a fake ID. She's a false person with the false identification to prove it. She's someone else entirely. Ashley blinks at her reflection, growing shadowy in her teary eyes. Her life has slipped into a sham. Craig hit it on the nose.

There's a round of knocks on the door, four to be exact. Ashley wipes her eyes and sits on the bed.

"Come in, Ozzie," says Ashley.

"Hey!" greets Ozzie, opening and closing the door behind him.

He carries a six-pack of beer, the edges of the cans poking his dark brown shirt under a white and brown flannel shirt. Ashley's never met a person who wears so much flannel.

"One of these days, we have to have cocktails," says Ozzie. "You like olives?"

"I'm happy with a beer," replies Ashley. "We went through a six-pack Friday. You're making good on the free booze. I don't need cocktails, too."

"Oh," says Ozzie, a little flustered. "I figured you were the classy type so...well, anyway, here's to you having a good audition later tonight."

Taking two cans from the six-pack, he hands a can to Ashley and pops open a can for himself. Ashley opens hers. They click cans.

"Sometimes I'd have pick me ups before my shows in England," says Ashley, after taking a sip.

"I don't get why you're here instead of getting ready for another tour," says Ozzie. "Unless you want to be here."

Ozzie puts an arm around her. Ashley glances at the gold lid of the can, tears welling up again.

"I don't want to be here," confesses Ashley.

Ozzie frowns. She could tell he was expecting a different response. He had been great to her and all, but she's being honest with him.

"No other girl's mother has come here," says Ozzie softly.

That isn't surprising. The more she's at Starflys, the more little interactions she sees. Some were pretty much funny, like couples ducking into the men or women's washrooms. Others were less amusing-- verbal and physical fights between guys in the parking lots; men yelling at their dates during the dinner rush, with the women quivering afterwards; patrons grabbing the apron strings of the waitresses. Ashley wasn't in the thick of things and she was glad to bus the tables and dodge the grotesque going-ons of the bar she only slightly wanted to sing for. As much as she hates to admit it, seeing a familiar face like her mother and Craig is far less annoying in hindsight.

"Who told you?" says Ashley.

"Ilene," answers Ozzie. "Your mom and some boy, right?"

"My boyfriend," says Ashley, nodding. "Or ex. I'm not sure what he is. I kind of ruined it."

"But you didn't mean to?" asks Ozzie.

"I didn't mean to, but I wouldn't be shocked if that was it," says Ashley. "I wouldn't forgive me."

She sniffles, proceeds to drink the beer until it's empty, disappointed that it doesn't fill her up like she needs it to.

"Moms...are complicated," says Ozzie. "Mine married some punk who cheated on her. She turned a blind eye to the affair."

"Mine's sort of easy," confesses Ashley.

Kate Kerwin isn't that complicated. She made her opinions clear and she said what she thought. Ashley just wouldn't listen.

"I left my house at sixteen and made my way since," says Ozzie. "I'm twenty-one now. You get older...you mature. You could do that, too. It's hard, but worth it."

Ashley laughs softly. "I can't take care of myself."

Ozzie raises his eyebrows.

"You're taking care of me," says Ashley, looking at him momentarily. "Ilene's taking care of me. Amos is taking care of me. I...lost everybody. While trying to grow up, I lost everything. I'm not an adult. I'm a joke."

"You aren't...," begins Ozzie.

"This audition is going to make me or break me, because I have no other option," interjects Ashley. "That's how it is, right?"

Clearly rattled by her choice of words, Ozzie says nothing. What can he say when she's saying the truth? He drinks his beer silently.

"That's how it is," says Ashley.

She crunches the can and drops it into the trash. It's one can nobody will find.

V.

"Wait, wait!" says Chante. "I have to...break it down for a minute."

This would be less hilarious, if Chante wasn't channelling Barry White. She moves her head around, closing her eyes, doing her best Stevie Wonder for good measure.

"Stop!" says Darcy, laughing as she grips her sides.

"_I believe I can fly_," sings Chante. "_I believe I can touch the sky_...."

"Woo!" says Manny, clapping alongside Emma.

"_I think about it every night and day_," continues Chante. "_Spread my wings and fly away_...."

Chante, and the rest of them, are the entertainment for tonight. So far, their soundtrack has included hits from Whitney Houston, Pink, Justin Timberlake, and Jason Mraz. Emma nailed "I'm Every Woman" a few moments ago, and by nailed, that means that she didn't screw up the words. Manny flips through the handbook as Chante warbles. She has yet to sing.

Too many things were on her mind to volunteer to go first. As she was packing for the sleepover, the strange quality of the act hit her. Birthdays, normal teenage birthdays, are celebrated with family and friends. She loves Rosa, and J.J. couldn't do better, but she's not family, her mom or dad or her cousins. Ever since she was born, she'd spent the night before with her family. Additionally, there wasn't a cop in the vicinity. Officer Patton was napping on a couch in the vicinity. The whole night felt foreign despite the many warm, familiar faces surrounding her. Manny wishes she could enjoy herself one hundred percent; it's more like eighty percent.

It's nice to relax, though. Her friends are definitely making the most out of their last minute decision to have a sleepover. The floor is packed with junk food: Oreos, M&Ms, Skittles, Hostess cupcakes, and Pixi Stixs, some of Manny's faves. Darcy's long hair winds around pink curlers, her lime-green nightgown hanging to her ankles. Chante's in red silk pajamas. Emma wears cotton white pajamas, a short top and shorts combo. Manny elected for her yellow, frilly nightgown under a light blue robe, hair bound in a high ponytail with a yellow ribbon. Emma talked her into wearing her Miss Degrassi tiara for the night. She agreed, mainly because Toby might get a kick out of it. Although, she hasn't told any of the girls he's coming. Only Rosa and Officer Patton knew, and she was fine with that being the case.

Chante begins a series of runs, the song closing with her repetitions. The girls cheer whole-heartedly.

"Your turn, Liberty," says Emma, pausing the karaoke machine.

Manny realizes she has the songbook and surrenders it to Liberty.

"Anything but Play That Funky Music," says Liberty, flipping through it. "I don't have the range."

"Liberty's being modest," says Manny. "I've heard her sing backstage."

"There's a difference between backstage and onstage," demurs Liberty.

"You wrote a musical for onstage," points out Manny.

"Manny's going to be in a musical," says Emma, handing the small microphone to Liberty.

"For real!" cries Darcy. "Ooooh, is it like _Glee_? You could be the next Quinn Fabray."

"Nah, it's edgy, like _Nine," _guesses Chante.

"Guys!" interjects Manny. "It's not definite. I auditioned for this project about a month ago for this New York colony, and I haven't heard back from the director. Nothing to get excited about."

Emma shrugs. She didn't seem to think it mattered. Manny would love to be that sure.

"When do you find out about it?" says Liberty.

"Day after my birthday," answers Manny. "I may not accept, anyways."

"What are you, crazy?" cries Chante. "Musicals are totally in style right now. I keep up with that sort of thing. Also, metallics. Little hint for prom, seniors!"

Manny and Emma exchange a smile. They're both pretty sure they're not rocking the metallics come May. While she wouldn't miss prom for the New York colony, she would miss a whole chunk of her last year in high school. That's hard to fathom, especially if the investigation is solved. This could be a normal, uncomplicated year with Toby. She'd love to have that.

"Toby could visit you, if you're worried about that," says Darcy.

"New York isn't that far away," agrees Liberty.

Emma puts a hand on Manny's shoulder.

"Whatever Manny decides, I'm sure it will be good," says Emma.

Manny hugs Emma from the side.

"Well, we'd definitely miss you if you left," says Liberty. "Okay, who's in the mood for a little Locomotion, courtesy of Liberty Van Zandt?"

"Me!" cries Darcy hurriedly.

Pressing the red button on the machine, a stream of peppy music fills Rosa's second bedroom. The most plentiful thing in the room is photographs. Manny spotted a few of J.J., J.J. and Rosa, and Rosa's favorite basketball players. Rosa and her brother are such a perfect match. She would bet anyone that they would name their first baby after an athlete.

Liberty starts to clap, the rest of the girls doing the same. She sings:

"_Everybody's doin' a brand new dance now_  
_(C'mon baby do the loco-motion)_  
_I know you'll get to like it_  
_If you give it a chance now_  
_(C'mon baby do the loco-motion)_  
_My little baby sister can do it with ease_  
_It's easier than learning your a b c's_  
_So come on, come on, _  
_Do the loco-motion with me..."_

"_You gotta swing your hips now_," joins in Darcy, hopping up and moving her hips.

"_Come on baby_," sings Chante, mirroring her.

"_Jump up, jump back_," says Liberty, hopping a bit. "_Oh, well, I think you got the knack_!"

Okay, she's seen a lot this summer, most of which she wasn't prepared for, but Liberty Van Zandt leaping to Kylie Minogue is one of the more enjoyable sights. Manny giggles loudly, her face flushed. Emma's laughing so much her head sinks to the floor.

"_Ooooh ohhh_," sing Chante and Darcy, their backs against each other as they shimmy.

"_Chug-a chug-a motion like a railway train now_**," **sings Liberty.

The door to Rosa's room parts a hair, the separation getting wider as Rosa enters, her feet dancing to the beat. She rocks her shoulders pretty well despite carrying what she has in her hands. Manny covers her mouth. Seventeen pink candles adorn a small, but tasty looking white cake, _Happy Birthday Manny _written in the center. Emma rushes to turn off the player.

"Rosa, you shouldn't have!" says Manny.

"Your seventeenth birthday comes once," says Rosa, checking to see if any icing has rubbed off on her jeans. "Okay, we're good."

"Best sister-in-law ever!" exclaims Manny.

Rosa lowers the cake to a coffee table near the closet. The girls walk over to the table.

"I promised your parents we wouldn't sing Happy Birthday until tomorrow," shares Rosa. "But...let's all think it."

She does a dramatic breath, the girls remaining quiet, then chuckling. Manny positions herself in front of the candles.

"Make a wish," advises Darcy.

"Duh, Darcy," says Chante, rolling her eyes.

"Nate didn't make a birthday wish last year, and nothing exciting happened to him," says Darcy. "So there."

Darcy says it with so much conviction that Manny is almost afraid not to make a wish. But the truth is she has a wish, and it's been her wish since they told her about Justin. It is a huge request, but it's like Rosa said...seventeenth birthdays come once in a lifetime. Manny closes her eyes and manages to kill the flames with one blow.

"Score!" exclaims Darcy happily.

"Don't give this girl any more sugar," says Chante.

With a sheepish grin, Darcy zips her lips. Rosa hands Manny the knife. That's when Manny gets a really good look at her ring finger.

"Look at this, ladies," says Manny, touching the ring after receiving the knife.

A round of gushing follows, Rosa blushing. Yep, I do good work, thinks Manny with pride. The ring is a princess cut, with an oval diamond, and two sapphires on the sides of the diamond. It cost a pretty penny, but J.J. is paying in installments and it would be paid off sometime around Valentine's, when Manny told her brother to give his fiancee the final receipt. Genius.

"This is the reward for putting up with her brother," kids Rosa.

"Diamonds never go out of style," says Chante. "At least, that's what I'm telling my next boyfriend."

"Was it love at first sight?" asks Liberty.

It is applicable for Liberty to ask this question, of course. She definitely fell for J.T. that quickly.

"No," says Rosa. "We were friends. Then, it got very strange all of a sudden, very new."

That's the beginning of the best romances, mulls Manny, readjusting her tiara. The beginning of my best romance.

"What was new?" says Chante.

"Hormones," replies Rosa.

"Ewww!" grimaces Manny, shaking herself. "J.J. having hormones? Ick."

"Point taken," laughs Rosa. "Enjoy the cake, girls."

Rosa walks away, shutting the door behind her. Manny starts to cut the cake, dispensing the pieces.

"I want to save the T," announces Manny.

"Why?" says Emma, taking her piece.

"Just cause," replies Manny. "Who wants a big piece?"

VI.

She lays down her card. Officer Patton slides the card to his side.

"Any sixes?" says Officer Patton.

"Go fish," says Manny, beaming.

"This?" says Officer Patton, twisting his lips. "Is a humbling experience."

Manny smiles. "I'm up for some poker."

"That's cause you're winning," sighs Officer Patton. "Plus I wouldn't be able to look your father in the eye if we did."

"He doesn't have to know."

"I'd know," asks Officer Patton.

"Any eights?" says Manny.

"Ugh," says Officer Patton, surrendering a card.

The clock reads eight o' five. Those last five minutes felt like an hour. She's a patient person, but pretty impatient when it comes to this.

"Where is he?" sighs Manny.

"Behind an ice cream truck, probably," replies Officer Patton.

Gasping, Manny buries her head in her hand. She straightens herself as Officer Patton straightens his cards and chuckles. Okay, okay. So they saw. She's been caught in far more embarrassing situations.

Speaking of embarrassment, Darcy has selected the most overplayed song in the world to sing during karaoke, which was continuing without Manny. Darcy's a good singer and Manny likes the actual song, but she's very loud. Her voice carries throughout the townhouse:

_We were both young when I first saw you_  
_I close my eyes_  
_And the flashback starts_  
_I'm standing there_  
_On a balcony in summer air_

"Do you like my tiara?" says Manny, anxious to change the subject.

"I do," comments Officer Patton. "Any twos?"

"Nope," says Manny.

"I don't like it anymore," says Officer Patton.

"Crybaby," comments Manny.

The two of them are in the living room. She thought up a great excuse, that she had to call her parents and that it was advantageous to do it here since nobody would recognize a call from Rosa's. Emma looked like she suspected it wasn't true, but thankfully, she didn't say so. Of course, it's all for naught if Toby doesn't come.

Then, there's a rap on the door, a clear, purposeful rap. Manny abruptly stands, her cards wafting to the floor as a result of her excitement.

"There goes that game," says Officer Patton.

Bounding to the door, Manny turns the knob, Officer Patton calmly standing by her side. The door inches open to reveal Toby in a blue jacket and jeans. Manny grins, stares at him fondly. Officer Wheaton also stands on the stoop in full uniform.

"Can you stay on the stoop?" asks Toby, glancing at Officer Wheaton.

"If you stay where I can see you," says Officer Wheaton. "I mean it."

"We will," says Manny breezily.

The three of them step aside into the chilly summer night. Summer's unpredictable like that, with hot days and cold nights. They were pretty unpredictable too. She didn't predict that she'd fall for him or that he'd fall just as hard for her. If this is fate, let it keep coming. Toby walks ahead of her and she's about to join them until Officer Patton taps her shoulder and slips her something. Oh, she almost forgot the piece of cake.

"Where we can see you," reminds Officer Patton.

It takes her a few seconds to find Toby in the mix of darkness and light. Rosa's townhouse is less well-lit than her parents' complex, probably because more adults lived around here and there are more families living at Manny's. One feature Rosa's neighborhood has that she likes is the gazebo, where her eyes travel. The gazebo is white, old-fashioned, and very beautiful. She could picture a wedding reception here, if not a wedding. That becomes more apparent as she finds Toby at the edge of it. At best, she'd throw a wedding joke at him and see his reaction. Or not, since Darcy's caterwauling is sneaking through a window.

_That you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles_  
_And my daddy said stay away from Juliet_  
_And I was crying on the staircase_  
_Begging you please don't go, and I said_

_Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone_  
_I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run_  
_You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess_  
_It's a love story baby just say yes_

"Is that Darcy?" asks Toby from the shadows.

"Yeah, she's been possessed by Taylor Swift," says Manny.

_So I sneak out to the garden to see you_  
_We keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they knew_  
_So close your eyes_  
_Escape this town for a little while_

Manny advances to him, holds out the plate of cake, covered in Saran Wrap. Rosa swore by the stuff.

"You've had ice cream, and can have cake," says Manny. "Yay birthdays!"

Toby takes it. "Nice."

"I saved the T piece for you," informs Manny. "To toot my own horn, no one can carve a cake like me."

"I might need your services at graduation," says Toby.

"Here's hoping it's chocolate," says Manny.

_Romeo save me, they try to tell me how to feel_  
_This love is difficult, but it's real_  
_Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess_  
_It's a love story baby just say yes_  
_Oh oh_

Toby gestures for her to go into the gazebo first, since it's actually quiet there. Manny walks inside, leans against the structured white wall. There were honeysuckle petals on the floor, a trail of honeysuckle on the fence near the opposite wall, where Toby stands. Toby pulls out a present, wrapped in shiny pink paper with silver stars. She hadn't noticed it until they came here.

"Happy birthday, Manny," says Toby, kissing her cheek.

Shredding the paper, Manny holds it in the light of a far off streetlamp, sees the gleam of the purple wood. It's a jewelry box, a beautiful jewelry box.

"It plays music," says Toby.

He puts the box against his chest so he can open it. There must be something in there. He parts the box a smidge, Manny reaching in and yanking it out when Toby closes it again. Toby laughs.

"A _Pretty Woman _moment," says Toby. "I...just had to."

Manny playfully pinches his waist. "You bozo."

"Okay, for real," says Toby. "Go ahead."

Lifting the lid, a buoyant tune plays, all around the gazebo. Summer breezes seem to carry Audrey's voice everywhere, including into her heart. Her voice is better than Darcy's, that's for sure. Manny touches the small mirror, whose four corners are filled with white. She reaches inside further and takes out a piece of paper.

"Is this a warranty?" asks Manny.

"It's a promise," replies Toby. "The warranty's taped to the bottom, though."

Talking about warranties is kind of dampening the mood, so she has no trouble not talking about it and reading the paper. It's an itinerary, for a trip during Spring Break...

"To Manila," finishes Manny out loud.

"I think you should see those mountains again," says Toby. "And maybe you can e-mail me some pictures."

Wow, he really never forgot, did he? So much happened the weekend she came, and it was definitely not as happy as this weekend. But she's happy he remembered and that she's in love with him. Manny closes the lid and sets it on the bench of the side of the gazebo, next to the piece of cake.

"I love you so much, Toby," says Manny as she comes back to him.

She wonders why she hasn't said it to him, not at the tie-dye party, or at the Council meeting or when they were on the stoop. It wasn't something you had to be behind an ice cream truck to say.

"I love you, Manny," says Toby.

He guides her towards him and she firmly plants her mouth on his, taking in his lips, the scent of honeysuckle, the strength in his hold. She'd like to turn seventeen every year if it ends up being like this. Manny sighs, rests her forehead against his.

"I don't want to go there without you," whispers Manny.

"I was hoping you'd say that," admits Toby.

"You'd love it," sighs Manny. "I'd love it. I love you."

Toby strokes her back gently.

"I don't want to stop saying it," continues Manny. "I don't want you to leave."

But he has to. They don't have the same freedom or time. It's not fair. This isn't fair. Why haven't they made any headway yet? They've been putting up with so much. Where is their reward? It doesn't have to be a ring. All she wants is a few precious moments where they're not being watched. Manny forces herself not to cry, ultimately failing as her neck bends to the floor.

"Manny," soothes Toby.

"There's no news?" asks Manny.

Toby stares at the floor too, lifting her head and hugging her.

"No," whispers Toby. "I didn't want to tell you."

Manny shivers against him. She sobs into his shoulder. This isn't going to end. Her wishing for anything else is useless.

"You're wearing your crown, huh?" says Toby, wiping the tears under her eyes.

"Yeah," says Manny.

"You were so strong that night," says Toby, smiling sadly. "In front of everybody. But I wasn't the least bit shocked. In fact, the only shock I got that night was...you saying you loved me in the hall."

Manny pulls away. They had been through quite a bit of trouble then, though it was nowhere near what they're currently struggling with. She was so proud when she said it. So proud.

"I'm not ashamed to be in love with you," says Manny.

She cries more deeply. Toby leads her to the bench and sits with her.

"We both know that," says Toby. "It's only this group that doesn't care."

"These last three weeks have been the hardest," says Manny. "Because of the waiting."

"They have," says Toby, rubbing her knee.

"What's behind this trip?" says Manny, placing her own hand on knee. "If we can, why do you think we should go?"

"Cause we wouldn't have to hide," says Toby. "Not our feelings, not anything. If I can take you."

Raising her hand, she brushes back a strand of hair near his ear. Up close, she can see his cheeks reddening, the ends of his glasses, everything.

"Take me around the world, Toby," says Manny.

Her mouth trembles and she can see the start of tears in her eyes. The only difference is that they're tears of joy, the type of tears she'd hate to hide from him. Toby winds an arm around her and she buries herself in him until the tears leave her sight.


	99. The Beginning Is The End

**CIX. The Beginning Is The End is The Beginning**

_Send a heartbeat to _  
_The void that cries through you _  
_Relive the pictures that have come to pass _  
_For now we stand alone _  
_The world is lost and blown _  
_And we are flesh and blood disintegrate _  
_With no more to hate_

_Is it bright where you are _  
_And have the people changed _  
_Does it make you happy you're so strange _  
_And in your darkest hour _  
_My old secrets laid_  
_We can watch the world devoured in its pain_

_Delivered from the blast _  
_The last of a line of lasts _  
_The pale princess of a palace cracked _  
_And now the kingdom comes _  
_Crashing down undone _  
_And I am a master of a nothing place _  
_Of recoil and grace_

_Is it bright where you are _  
_And have the people changed _  
_Does it make you happy you're so strange _  
_And in your darkest hour _  
_I hold secrets flame _  
_We can watch the world devoured in its pain_

_Time has stopped before us _  
_The sky cannot ignore us _  
_No one can separate us _  
_For we are all that is left _  
_The echo bounces off me _  
_The shadow lost beside me _  
_There's no more need to pretend _  
_Cause now I can begin again_

_Is it bright where you are _  
_And have the people changed _  
_Does it make you happy you're so strange _  
_And in your darkest hour _  
_my old secrets laid_  
_We can watch the world devoured in its hate _  
_Strange _  
_Strange _  
_Strange_  
_(strange)_  
_(strange)_

**The Beginning is The End is the Beginning is the property of The Smashing Pumpkins and appears in the film _Watchmen._**

**Scars is the property of Alison Iraheta.**

**A Rose Is Still A Rose is the property of Aretha Franklin.**

Tonight's a full house, she thinks. Ashley couldn't have asked for more people to come and watch her triumph, or fail. Bending over the bar, with Ilene setting three martinis on a tray, Ashley accidentally bites the left side of her jaw and instantly regrets it. Great. She'll just chew her mouth to bits so she won't have to sing.

"Good crowd," assesses Ilene.

They're certainly rollicking and diverse, but she doesn't know whether to call them good or not. Three university guys are slinging scoops of ice cream with their spoons until they hit their fellow friends. A burly guy in the middle of the room is unsuccessfully trying to get his hand under a girl's skirt. Another man, maybe Amos' age, stamps out his cigar on the surface of the table instead of the ashtray. This is exactly how she wants to make her musical comeback. Ashley groans and taps the top of the bar.

"Explain to me why I couldn't have performed for just Amos?" says Ashley.

"Ash, we all had to do this," replies Ilene. "You need to prove that you can perform in front of people. The public's the best judge. Besides, Amos is still stuck back in the day so he has to rely on other people. His fave band is Lynyrd Skynyrd? Not that I don't love them too."

"I do miss singing for people," confesses Ashley. "But I thought I'd be..."

Her voice leaves her. Ilene gives her a knowing stare.

"Touring throughout Europe? Singing in upscale joints?" guesses Ilene.

"Basically," says Ashley, feeling slightly guilty.

"We all have those dreams, Ashley," says Ilene. "We just have to make do with this for now."

Ashley sighs. "I don't know."

Rather than take the tray away, Ilene sets a soft hand on Ashley's shoulder. Ashley looks at her expectantly.

"You look so lost sometimes," says Ilene in a sweet whisper.

She says nothing else and walks away with the tray. Lost? Both Ilene and Ozzie had said that. Does two of her friends saying it make it true?

Ashley walks to a stool and sits, staring at the band setting up their instruments. She was introduced to them earlier by Ozzie. They were pretty nice guys, and they treated the waitresses a lot better than the customers. What's better is that they were open to playing any song she threw at them. The song she is singing tonight is a song she heard on the radio. She was with Craig when they heard it, the two of them driving to a birthday party Hazel was throwing for Jimmy. Now, she'll be singing it in front of a bunch of listening strangers, and all she had of Craig was his leather jacket, laying on her bed in the backroom. Maybe she's lost because she's lost almost everything.

"Hey, superstar!" calls someone from the front door.

Hopping off a stool, Ashley greets Ozzie and another man walking to her. The man looks unwashed, his hair black and greasy and the whiskers of his beard shining with sweat. His Poison T-shirt has white letters and paint on the bottom. He has dark eyes and dark bags under his eyes.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," says Ashley, making sure to only keep eye contact with Ozzie.

"Me miss your debut?" cries Ozzie. "No way! Wheeler, this is Ashley. Ashley, this is Wheeler."

Ashley hesitantly meets Wheeler's gaze. He grunts.

"Hi, Wheeler," says Ashley.

"So, are you ready?" asks Ozzie. "If so, I'll get Amos."

"Ready as I'll ever be," sighs Ashley.

Before she can join him, Ozzie takes off, leaving her alone with Wheeler. Ashley privately curses Ozzie in her head.

"How old are you?" says Wheeler, more of a growl than anything.

Way to start with a personal question, thinks Ashley. Fine. She'll bite.

"Nineteen," answers Ashley.

"You lie," laughs Wheeler.

His laugh sounds like a horse with indigestion. Ashley scrunches up her nose when he comes a little closer. He smells like a horse stall too.

"I'm the one that made that I.D.," says Wheeler proudly. "You're way prettier than the picture I provided."

"Oh," says Ashley. "Well...thanks."

She guesses she should be a little thankful, seeing as he went to the trouble to provide her with the I.D., but honestly she doesn't want to talk to him after thanking him.

"Did you pay Ozzie back for his hospitality?" asks Wheeler.

"He didn't ask me to," replies Ashley.

"You girls are hilarious," says Wheeler, smirking. "Take and take and take. Ozzie's a throw pillow so he won't say nothing, but you ought to give him a little something. You can't take advantage of the poor guy."

Okay, yeah, yeah. She may be too dependent on Ozzie, but she has every intention of returning the favors when her pocketbook balances out. Plus she'd much rather discuss it with Ozzie and not his friend.

"You owe me, too," continues Wheeler.

"I'll pay you after I go to the bank," says Ashley.

"It's not like you don't have nothing to offer," says Wheeler, his gaze dropping to her legs.

Ashley raises her eyebrows and curls her lip. This guy is a real treat. Thank goodness Amos and Ozzie appear. Spying Amos, Wheeler skulks off and takes a seat at a side table. His hair resembles the body of a cockroach from where Ashley stands.

"No pressure, sweetie," says Amos, sliding onto a stool.

"If anybody pelts you with tomatoes, I'll pound them," jokes Ozzie. "No, you're gonna be awesome."

She gives them a pathetic nod as she advances to the stage. The stage is a lot darker than any she performed on during the tour. Maybe that's a good thing. No, with the likes of Wheeler here, that's definitely a good thing. The band members provide her with polite smiles and get into place. Ashley steps up to the microphone. She can spy the other waitresses gathering in the back to hear her perform. No pressure, huh?

"Hi...I mean, hello," says Ashley into the microphone. "My name...is Ashley Kerwin."

"Strip!" yells one of the university guys.

All the men in the crowd laugh, including Wheeler and his horsey guffaw. Amos and Ilene shake their heads in the one guy's direction. Ashley shakes herself. If she could perform after being groped, she can perform after an immature comment from some guy who doesn't matter.

"I'm singing Scars, by Allison Iraheta," says Ashley.

Come on, you can do this, she tells herself after the acoustic guitar starts to churn out the rhythm. She closes her eyes, opens them again.

A small sliver of light shines in the distance behind the waitresses. It's a guy, but it's not a stranger. No, in fact, it's a guy she knows has heard this song before. But can it be him? It wouldn't be, not after the aggravation she caused him, especially at this place. Ashley swallows a lump in her throat and raises the microphone to her mouth. She sings:

_Did I say something stupid?_  
_There goes one more mistake_  
_Do I bore you with my problems?_  
_Is that why you turn away?_

She remembers Craig at the door, how his bent back matched the sadness of the crestfallen expression on her own face, how her shadow fell over his against the door. That's the last thing she saw before he turned and walked out. He'd had enough. He'd had enough of her. She's only imagining a wish, a wish that he would be here as she sings.

_Do you know how hard I tried _  
_To become what you want me to be?_

If he was in the room, she would apologize for making him feel secondary. He was never secondary. She should've shown him that while he was around. But no, she was too busy pleasing Julian or Mark or herself, or a version of herself she didn't like. Her friends would go off to college. Craig would go off to college and meet someone else. She'd do her best to be happy for him if they ever crossed paths. He deserves that and much more.

_Take me_  
_This is all that I've got_  
_This is all that I'm not_  
_All that I'll ever be_  
_I've got flaws, I've got faults_  
_Keep searching for your perfect heart_  
_It doesn't matter who you are_  
_We all have our scars_  
_We all have our scars_

She'd try to act like she wasn't wounded after having no contact with her parents, her family, and her friends. They probably don't think about her the same, if they think about her at all. Her father would see her as a liar. Her mother would see her as a brat. Anyone and everyone else would view her as a failure. She wasn't the Ashley they wanted anymore.

_You say don't act like a child_  
_But what if its a father I need?_  
_Its not like you don't know what you got yourself into_  
_Dont tell me I'm the one who's naive_

The drum beats grow faster, the keyboard offering a supporting, wailing melody. She momentarily glances at Amos tapping his fingers against the bar and Ozzie beaming. Well, they're enjoying her voice, her pain. As it turns out, so is the audience, whistling and clapping as the bridge starts. Their pleasure holds no pleasure for her. She's too into the song to care that much. Ashley blinks back tears, removes the microphone from its stand, rocking the stand with her drooping body.

_Do you know how hard I've tried _  
_To become who you want me to be?_

Ashley moves to the end of the stage, staring from person to person, desperate to see somebody who knew her long ago. She wants somebody who saw when she believed in herself before the tour. She wants somebody to tell her that they forgive her and that they've made mistakes too. There's no one, not a one. Ashley closes her eyes and lets the tears stream down.

_Come on, just let it go_  
_These are things you can't control_  
_Your expectations, your explainations_  
_Don't make sense to me_  
_You and your alternatives_  
_Don't send me to your therapists_  
_Deep down, I know what you mean_  
_And I'm not sure that's what I wanna be_  
_No_

They hoot and holler, empty echos soaring past her ears and to the wall behind her. She feels like she's hit the wall. She releases a deep breath as the song comes to a close.

"_Did I say something stupid_?" sings Ashley, softly. "_There goes one more mistake..._"

The house lights go black, loud applause filling the darkness. The one sliver of light she held on to in the back vanishes without a trace. Ashley nods and accepts it.

"Thank you," says Ashley, then repositioning the microphone.

She wipes her eyes. The reception is nice, but Amos' verdict is the opinion that counts. Ashley rejoins Amos and Ozzie at the bar.

"I haven't loved a song that much since Ilene first sang four years ago," says Amos, placing a hand on his heart.

"Really?" says Ashley, her mood brightening a little.

"Tons of emotion," praises Ozzie. "Where'd all of _that_ come from?"

"I...I pretended I was singing to somebody," says Ashley. "Or...somebody in particular."

"Well, whoever it is earned you a place here," says Amos. "I'll call Ilene over to see if we can't hammer out a schedule tonight."

"I'm in?" cries Ashley.

"You're in," replies Amos.

Whoa. She has somewhere to sing. It's not perfect, but at least she could use it as a outlet for what she's experiencing. Maybe she did have a way to pull through, to survive.

"Ilene!" shouts Amos, going to the end of the bar to meet her.

"Let's celebrate," whispers Ozzie.

He tosses Amos a quick glance, and holds up a six-pack that only Ashley can see. Where is he getting these? Eh, should she? She just got hired.

"We'll have them later," says Ashley. "Meanwhile, I can buy you a martini. I owe you...big."

"I thank you," says Ozzie, granting a short bow.

"I'll pay," says Ashley.

She goes to the backroom, accidentally knocking down two beer cans that Ozzie put on her drawer next to her wallet. Something shiny glints in the background, and it's not a beer can. Ashley locks her now dry eyes on Craig's leather jacket, but shuts them after a few seconds. She can't look at it for long. It will stir up the thoughts she had on stage. Ashley walks quickly out of the room and to the bar.

"I need to go to the bank, but I do have plastic," says Ashley, handing Ozzie her emergency credit card.

"Easy going," says Ozzie, swiping it through and then frowning. "Or not so easy. It's not taking it."

"What?" says Ashley.

He runs it through once more. "Huh."

"That's an emergency card," whispers Ashley.

"Your mom or dad gave it to you?" guesses Ozzie.

"My...my dad," stammers Ashley. "He...he must've cut me off."

"Oh, man," sighs Ozzie sympathetically.

That's the only explanation she can think of, and also the most offensive. Her mom left her and her father cut her off. What kind of parents do that? Disappointed parents. Her mind supplies the answer to her own question. She might as well be dead to them. Three weeks without phone calls, visits, and then this?

"Ozzie?" says Ashley.

"Yes?" says Ozzie.

"Let's go celebrate...now," says Ashley, crossing her arms. "Bring whatever beer you can find."

II.

As soon as the Starfly's door shuts, Craig lands a forceful fist against an advertisement for all-natural soap and a flier for a freshmen fro-yo social. The summer wind blows against his stinging fingers. At least the force of his hand wasn't enough to bring down the papers. He ruffles his hair and attempts to calm himself as he returns to his car. Craig knocks on his car window.

"Well?" says Paige, after unlocking the door and Craig opening it.

"Judging by the reaction of the crowd, she's officially a singing waitress," says Craig.

He shuts the door and shakes his head.

"I can't believe you've been coming here for three weeks," says Paige.

Neither could he. After their fight, he told himself that he wouldn't. It's not like he didn't have things to do - packing, contacting his new roommate, helping Joey at the lot. Still, at eight o' clock, he'd always kick the car into gear and find himself right outside the bus stop near Starfly's. He'd always find himself jumping out of the car and strolling across the lawn towards Ashley's new "home". But tonight was when his willpower was lowest and he actually took a peek inside. This was definitely the wrong night to do it.

"I can't believe we've been planning an intervention for three weeks," says Craig.

"Same," sighs Paige. "But there's no need to torture yourself in the interim, hon."

"Two nights from now," mumbles Craig as if he hadn't heard Paige.

"I'm still waffling between not telling Ellie or telling Ellie," says Paige. "Did you know she was in the hospital for an absurd amount of stress?"

"This is going to make her feel _much _better," says Craig sarcastically.

"But she's her best friend," points out Paige. "Well, after me."

"I guess we could go over tonight," muses Craig.

"Have you done your letter yet?" asks Paige.

A little over two weeks ago, Craig met Riva Tenley, along with Ashley's parents, Paige, Joey, Jimmy, Hazel, and Marco, who Craig finally spilled the beans to the day after he crashed at his college apartment. Jeff knew about it and Toby would eventually know about it within the next two days. Apparently, Kate and Jeff agreed that Toby should be in the dark until it was absolutely necessary for him to be involved. Craig hasn't decided whether that's the best way to do it but Toby sure had enough drama in his life this summer prior to this. Riva was kind, young, and very pretty. Craig thought she was one of Diane's friends when he opened the door for her. She was also very intelligent, continually asking all of them about Ashley's actions, shifts in attitude, and her surroundings. Craig found out that Mark and Aja were "enablers." They not only provided her with the alcohol, but denied that Ashley had a problem. Craig liked Aja a great deal but he had to agree with the definition. He also started to notice that the telltale symptoms of alcoholism was more than just drinking more and more- feeling guilty about drinking; avoiding people so that you can drink alone; having morning drinks to get over hangovers; money problems; disrupting work and personal relationships. It all stacked up and Ashley was linked to every one of them. Based on their worried faces, Craig could tell that her parents were thinking the same.

Riva told them that they had to find a neutral environment and Craig immediately suggested his house. Nobody challenged him. They knew he was the last person to have any contact with her and the first person that Ashley would reach if she ever wanted to reach anyone. The knowledge of this is a huge responsibility, but he knows what he signed up for. Besides, each of them has a responsibility. Riva tasked them with writing letters to Ashley. The letters would include how much they care about Ashley and how hard it is to see her lose herself to the problem she denies. Craig understands the goodwill that goes with the letters, but that doesn't make them any less hard to write. Writing a song is nowhere near as difficult.

"I keep trying to start...and I end up coming here," replies Craig.

"Craig, if this intervention doesn't go well, she won't be here," says Paige, putting a hand on his arm. "She won't be anywhere."

"None of you were on tour with us," says Craig, glancing over at her. "It was horrible. What's more horrible is...I didn't do anything when it first started."

"She drunk-dialed me and I didn't do anything," says Paige. "That was before the tour started."

"But...you couldn't have known," insists Craig.

"Neither could you," returns Paige. "We're not Riva. We're high school graduates, not counsellors or psychics."

Something tells him even a psychic couldn't have foreseen all of this.

"As long as Ashley isn't past all hope...," begins Craig.

"She isn't," interjects Paige.

"She was singing onstage tonight," shares Craig. "I saw her face and...she's scared. And... I'm scared we'll do this wrong."

Her face was a mix of panic, pain, and almost acceptance. She seemed like she was accepting that this was the life for her and that she was resigned to living that way. He's not entirely sure he'll be able to convince her to leave, even though the chance for her old life depends on it.

"I can't picture Ashley being anything else except how she was three months ago," admits Paige.

"I could use a little of that," says Craig.

They smile at each other and hug awkwardly, with Craig's elbow hitting the steering wheel. He roars the car to get it going, and does a U-turn until Starfly's is no longer visible. The bar sits and silently waits behind him.

III.

It may be the only room with a traffic light attached to the wall. Scratch that. It _is_ the only room with a traffic light stuck to the wall. Ellie has noticed this and other tidbits for the past couple of weeks. She thought it would be strange attending a Degrassi class again after graduating but since the class started at five and ended at seven, and since it only met three days a week, it didn't really feel like she was a real student anymore. Plus it's nice to be in a room with twenty other students who have the same commitment to learn how to do one thing, drive. Well, with one possible exception.

"Are we going to get behind the wheel tomorrow?" asks Amy, putting her hands on her hips, under a studded belt.

The rest of the students are gone. Mr. Ehl was handing back their first attempts at demo written drivers' tests. Amy, of course, is delaying Ellie getting her results back.

"We have to learn the basics first," replies Mr. Ehl.

"Screw this class," says Amy.

She turns and walks past Ellie's desk.

"Amy," chastises Mr. Ehl.

"I'll get my boyfriend to take me places," says Amy, facing Mr. Ehl.

"Wouldn't you much rather drive yourself?" returns Mr. Ehl.

"Uhhhhhh, no," says Amy.

"Too bad you're quitting now," sighs Mr. Ehl. "We have another instructional PSA movie coming up on Friday."

Ellie throws a smirk at Mr. Ehl, who doesn't seem at all bothered by Amy's disinterest. Somehow, Ellie thinks this is a common occurence.

"I do like to watch the blood splatter on the windshield," mulls Amy. "I might be here. I don't know."

Walking breezily from the room, already pulling out her cellphone, Ellie can hear Amy chatting on her phone as Mr. Ehl searches diligently for Ellie's paper. Usually, she's in the middle of the pack, with the "N" last name and all. Not this time. She hopes she hasn't bombed on the test. Although, if she did, who could blame her? She has tons on her mind. Sean was scurrying between meetings with lawyers, visits to Ty's grandmother's house, and has taken on the extra task of chauffering Sandy everywhere. Meanwhile, she was being chauffered from place to place by her parents, buying last minute items for her dorm room and her college courses.

That's why she really can't wait to drive. She won't have to sit on an uncomfortable backseat and look at her mother's completely sullen expression in the rear view mirror. Amanda has yet to say that she will miss her daughter, but can't stop insinuating that Sean isn't worth her time and energy. While she has no idea that Ellie has been seeing Sean on the sly, her mother had to know that he wasn't completely out of the picture, especially after the night of the fire. It would be a long four days before she'd leave for university. Very long.

"She quit last year and came back," mumbles Mr. Ehl into his manila folder, though loud enough for Ellie to hear.

Ellie smiles down at her desk, patiently puts her hands together.

"Here we are," says Mr. Ehl.

Rather than keep her cool, Ellie hustles to stand and go quickly to the other side of the teacher's desk. Mr. Ehl chuckles.

"Good as ever, Ellie," says Mr. Ehl.

A circled, red one hundred sits on the top of the page. She releases a huge breath.

"The questions on parallel parking almost threw me for a loop," sighs Ellie. "Driving's way harder than writing."

"I know half the kids in here probably feel the opposite," chuckles Mr. Ehl. "Your two quizzes were outstanding. You just have to relax, take it in."

She has had too much to take in this summer, which is the problem. Her parents were careful not to bring up the fainting spell. However, they were less hesitant about asking about her moods and her journal writing. Ellie chose to write on the days when she wasn't in class, to prepare herself for the creative writing workshop she would take at the end of September. Amanda was "pleased as punch" when she found a class right next to the U of T campus where Ellie wouldn't have to worry about grades or "extracurricular activities". Why did Ellie get the feeling that Sean was _the _inferred extracurricular activity Amanda wanted her to steer clear from? So transparent.

"So," says Mr. Ehl, looking straight at Ellie. "How's Sean?"

Wow, it didn't take long for that anvil to drop. This must be why hers was the last name called. She and Mr. Ehl have been cordial to each other, since Ellie sat down the first day of class as a matter of fact. It wasn't too off-putting. Mr. Ehl was Sean's guardian, not hers, and she's talked to the man maybe six times in her life. Sean was where they met in the middle so it's understandable that he's the subject of this meeting as well.

"Post-fire?" says Ellie. "A little better."

"I talked to Mr. Hill," shares Mr. Ehl.

"Dale's dad?" says Ellie.

Mr. Ehl nods. "He told me what happened at Ace's, at least what the news wouldn't say."

Ellie hangs her head. It's still hard to think of that night as it's connected to almost every piece of recent troubles.

"Sean saves another life," says Mr. Ehl, a glint in his eyes. "I wasn't surprised."

"Yeah," says Ellie, raising her eyes and smiling.

"Has he gotten anything about court dates?" asks Mr. Ehl.

"He's being indicted on the twenty-ninth, a day before Jay, one o' clock," replies Ellie. "His parents will be there, but I'm sure he'd love having you there too."

"I'll be there," affirms Mr. Ehl.

He writes the information on a scrap piece of paper, then backs up his wheelchair to go to the side of the desk. Ellie's not sure what she should be doing so she slips her test into her backpack. She's somewhat rattled when she spies Mr. Ehl several inches from her.

"I hope Sean doesn't think I'm disappointed in him," says Mr. Ehl.

"He's just...disappointed he's let people down, I guess," says Ellie. "He never meant to get trapped like this, and he definitely never meant for anyone to get hurt."

"Well, I was disappointed at first," admits Mr. Ehl. "But when there's a lot of good in someone...you can't forget that. It deserves consideration too."

Hmm, it figures that the teacher who gave Sean another shot almost three years ago wouldn't bail this time either.

"Thanks, Mr. Ehl," says Ellie.

"Tell him to hang in there," says Mr. Ehl. "Good night."

Ellie swings her backpack around, goes through the empty hallways of Degrassi until she's left the building. In her mother's mind, Ellie is boarding the bus and on her way home. In her own mind, she's heading to the bleachers, where a few stray driver's ed students have collected under the planks and where Ellie's boyfriend has been waiting for her. Ellie's boots plod against the metal boards, a steady clang sounding in the vicinity.

"You missed a pep rally demonstration," says Sean, standing to help her up to the bleacher he was sitting on.

"Rah rah rah, sis boom bah," says Ellie, sarcastically. "Hey."

She kisses him on the cheek. Sean removes his phone and sighs deeply.

"Sandy picked out a casket today," whispers Sean as the two of them sit.

"Wow," breathes Ellie. "How's his mom?"

"She wants to go over autopsy reports," says Sean. "That's what Sandy told me on the phone. She...she just won't accept it."

Slouching his shoulders, Sean leans forward. Ellie rubs his back in smooth circles.

"And she still won't talk to me," continues Sean. "I wonder if she's mad at me, for not saving him."

"She could be mad at herself, too, for letting him go," says Ellie.

"She's mad at something," supposes Sean, shaking his head. "They don't know this, but..I wanted a lot for him too."

"More than yourself?" questions Ellie.

"Maybe," sighs Sean. "I mean, I wanted him to graduate. And I promised Ty I would graduate."

Ellie lets a sweet smile run across her lips and sets her cheek on his shoulder. "Awwww."

"Don't get sentimental on me," says Sean, kissing her forehead.

"What? It's nice," says Ellie.

"I wish he was going to be at Degrassi to see it, if it happens," says Sean, staring off at the field.

"It's going to happen," insists Ellie.

Sean grins at her and sits up straighter as three driver's ed students start to chase each other on the grass. Amy is on the side, rolling her eyes at them.

"Did you tell Cheryl how close you two were?" asks Ellie.

"Not everything," says Sean. "I haven't told her he lived with me, or that he met my family, or...well, I guess she hasn't heard most of it."

"The right time will come," says Ellie.

"I think I'm going to have to ask Sandy about Marcus," supposes Sean. "Especially since the talk with Cheryl ended up being pretty strange."

"Did somebody say strange, as in Eleanor Nash is uber strange?" yells an annoying voice a few feet away.

Ellie smacks her lips, her smile falling at the mere sight of the probable driver's ed drop-out.

"We're having a private conversation," snaps Ellie. "You know, private? Even a six-year old knows what that means."

"At least I didn't come back to a school I graduated from!" exclaims Amy.

"Yeah, graduation?" returns Ellie. "How's that working for you?"

Amy's inability to graduate on time is clearly a sore spot as she delicately lifts the finger in the middle of her hand, aiming it right at Ellie. Almost instantly, Principal Hatzilakos' voice carries across the bleachers. She is standing on the gravel path leading to the bleachers.

"Put that away, Amy," orders Principal Hatzilakos.

"It...it was a reflex," says Amy, blushing profusely and lowering her finger.

"Let's see if we can't curb that reflex in summer school detention," says Principal Hatzilakos.

"We're not in class, though!" cries Amy.

"You're on school grounds, aren't you?" points out Principal Hatzilakos. "You know the place and time."

"I hate this school," mumbles Amy.

She kicks a patch of grass and sets off in a huff. Principal Hatzilakos blows some hair from her face and starts towards her own car. Ellie and Sean look at each other and laugh.

"I love this school," kids Ellie.

IV.

"So what are you guys doing in there?" asks Toby.

"Oh, the usual," waves off Manny. "Cupcake bowling. Mud mask relays. Pimple popping. Slumber party sports."

"I can't believe I'm missing it," says Toby, gently squeezing Manny's wrist.

Their conversation is halted once they reach the car. Toby walked as slowly as possible, and Manny mirrored his steps. Manny frowns at the fender and touches her crown.

"What happens when you miss curfew?" sighs Manny. "Do you turn into a pumpkin?"

"Yeah, and my dad will squash me if I'm late," replies Toby half-heartedly.

"Well, my parents and J.J. have something planned for tomorrow evening, and maybe you're involved?" says Manny hopefully.

"I haven't heard anything," replies Toby.

"That can change," says Manny, absent-mindedly pulling at the handle of her jewelry box.

Toby grins. "What?"

"I'll work something out," says Manny, staring at him with confidence. "Just go home and rest. You're coming."

"We'll see," says Toby.

"No, _you'll _see," insists Manny.

Any protests remain unsaid as Officer Wheaton unlocks the door. He points to his watch and to Toby's driver's seat. Toby checks his watch. Eight-thirty. Ugh, it would take less than thirty minutes to get home from Rosa's. But if he is going anywhere tomorrow, he guesses he should get on his dad's good side.

"Save me a place next to you tomorrow," says Toby, inching her closer.

"Done and done," promises Manny.

He holds her, letting his nose, then his lips graze her neck.

"Mmm, bye Tobes," whispers Manny.

Toby sluggishly goes to the other side, giving her a small smile before getting in. Officer Patton indicates for Manny to come inside and Toby won't pull off until she does. He closes the door after Rosa's door closes.

"Home?" sighs Officer Wheaton.

"Home," agrees Toby.

He begins to start his car, but his cellphone starts to ring instead. Picking up, he doesn't even speak before his father begins talking.

"This isn't dire or anything, but...but I do need a favor," says Jeff.

"What, Dad?" says Toby.

"Kate and I got to talking, and I lost track of time," says Jeff. "We're visiting with the Jeremiahs."

Bleh, he wishes he called five minutes earlier so he could've lingered with Manny since his father wouldn't be home. Plus, why is his dad at Joey's? Weird.

"I put in an order for kishka at the corner deli, near the mall?" says Jeff. "Could you swing by with Wheaton and pick it up? Natalia says it's there waiting. I'll pay you back."

"I don't like kishka," groans Toby, bunching up his face.

"No, Tobes, it's for a pot luck my orchestra's having Saturday," says Jeff.

"Oh," says Toby with relief.

"We're going to be here awhile," says Jeff. "Can you?"

Picking up a dish he hates for his father? Advantage? Toby.

"Sure, but I want a favor instead of you paying me back," replies Toby.

"Fine, fine," says Jeff. "Thanks."

Jeff clicks off and Toby puts the car in drive. I'm so going to ask to go to Manny's celebration, thinks Toby.

"What is kishka?" asks Officer Wheaton from the rear.

"Cow intestines, with matzo meal and spices," answers Toby.

"Wowwwww," says Officer Wheaton with a low whistle.

Toby watches him turn almost green and smiles to himself. They take off, passing dark playgrounds, unlit office buildings, and a couple busy restaurants. He'd only been to the deli twice to retrieve something for Jeff and it was right after school. He can scarcely remember Natalia so he figures he should let her talk first. Toby parks the car and walks into the deli with Officer Wheaton.

And Officer Wheaton's grumbling belly. He releases a small burp.

"Excuse me," says Officer Wheaton.

"Um, are you okay?" says Toby.

"I...," says Officer Wheaton, another burp crawling out of his mouth.

"Yeah?" encourages Toby.

"I kinda need the bathroom," says Officer Wheaton. "I can look at a corpse and be fine. But eating intestines is...man, this happened when I had to dissect a frog in ninth grade too."

A cheerful girl with blonde pigtails waves at Toby.

"I think I see Natalia," says Toby. "Go ahead."

Officer Wheaton belches what sounds like a thanks and jogs to the washroom. Maybe I shouldn't have told him, muses Toby. He goes to the counter.

"You look taller," proclaims Natalia.

"That's a lie, but thank you," says Toby with a chuckle. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nine fifty, please," says Natalia.

The door to the kitchen props open, a blonde man in a white apron sneering.

"Natalia, where's that brisket sandwich with the kosher barbeque sauce?" yells the man.

"In a second, Daddy," groans Natalia. "That customer hasn't even shown up yet."

"Mehhhhh," waves off the man, going into the kitchen.

"Dads," groans Natalia, giving Toby his change. "Well, tell _your_ dad we're happy to serve him."

"I will," promises Toby.

He figures he should pop his head into the washroom and check on Officer Wheaton. He hopes he doesn't open the door to the smell of puke. Toby leans against the door. He hears rowfling. Great. What's sort of funny is that loads of people like kishka, but he doubts Wheaton cares. Toby thinks he hears another door open, the front door based on the small tinkle of the bell. The bell reminds him of Hollywood Video Hut's bell. Another round of rowfling follows the bell. Ick.

"I wanted pickles on this brisket sandwich, you dumb blonde!" yells a loud voice behind Toby.

Natalia is so nice. He didn't want to see a rude customer chewing her out. Toby rolls his eyes.

"An Italian girl trying to cook Jewish food is like a guy trying to give birth!" cries the customer.

Toby's mouth drops. What on earth...no, who on earth would say something like that? The color floods out of his face.

"You don't talk like that here!" shouts Natalia's father. "You get out or I'll call the police!"

"Loser!" cries the customer before slamming through the door.

That's him. It has to be.

Pushing his body from the washroom door, Toby rushes to the counter, watches the glass door swing from a quick exit out of the deli. Without a second thought, Toby runs out into the parking lot, then to the sidewalk. The only thing he can see is a grey sweatshirt, the hood up, running off into the night. Pretty soon, he can see and hear nothing but his own heart rapidly drumming.

Toby strokes his forehead, sweat touching his palm. He returns to the deli where he views a crying Natalia shaking in her father's arms. He carefully approaches them.

"Did...did...did he have blonde hair?" says Toby in between breaths.

Natalia sniffles and nods.

Toby leans against the counter, his elbow next to the package of kishka, his mind almost completely numb.

V.

At two o'clock at night, they make the most of the bus stop. Throughout the rest of the day, Ashley can picture people coming and going, coming and going, with suitcases, clutching the hands of their loved ones. That's far from what they're doing tonight. Everyone's sitting still, beers to their lips. The band members are enjoying the quiet. The waitresses are relaxing after a grueling day. Ashley, herself the newest waitress, is nursing her sixth beer and trying to make out their faces. Ilene's red and blue tendrils are the most recognizable and another waitress named Irulan has black braids down to her waist. Ozzie's among the group but his face is so shady she can't separate him from the pack.

"Salud to Ashley!" says Ilene, holding up her can.

"Salud!" repeat the others.

Ashley toasts herself and hiccups. She staggers to the edge of the sidewalk, Ilene catching her before she trips on her own boots. Ashley pulls at her Morrissey shirt and giggles.

"You are a mess," laughs Ilene. "Here, sit."

Feeling for the curb, Ashley parks herself there and stares at Ilene and Irulan.

"You guys...are awesome!" exclaims Ashley.

The girls smirk.

"No, I was feeling...terrible earlier," continues Ashley. "My parents cut me off. My...my boyfriend probably hates me."

"You're letting a guy make you feel bad?" says Irulan with a snort.

"Learn from someone who's older, Ashley," speaks up Ilene. "They aren't worth it. "

"Oh, don't get her to hate us, Ilene!" groans Ozzie, sounding farther than he probably is.

"It's the truth," insists Irulan. "The guys around here are some trash. I mean, Ozzie's a panda bear..."

"Hey, I'm not a panda bear!" interrupts Ozzie.

"Got that right, man," says another male voice Ashley can scarcely recognizes. "Hand me a beer."

Ashley notices Ilene and Irulan slide closer to her and away from the new member of the throng. Whoever it is isn't getting a warm welcome. Ashley shrugs and downs the rest of her beer.

"How's that song go, Ir?" says Irulan.

"Somebody stop her!" says Ozzie.

Irulan goes on anyway, releasing a string of beautiful, throaty riffs.

"Whoo, sing it, girl!" encourages Ilene.

"_Cause a rose is still a rose_," sings Irulan, dancing to an inaudible rhythm. "_Baby girl, you're still a flower. He can leave you and then take you, make you and then break you. Baby girl, you're still a flower._"

"Awww, yeah," praises Irulan.

"_Baby girl, you're still a flower_," sings an off-key voice, two arms rocking Ashley from side to side.

Ashley makes out Ozzie's face and laughs until Ozzie removes his arms.

"_What I am is what I am_," continues Irulan. "You hearin' me, Ashley?"

She dutifully nods and stands, eventually gaining some balance. Irulan and Ilene are no longer paying attention to Ashley, trying to outsing the other with Ozzie no longer interested and chatting with the band. While they're still a bit blurry, she can at least see that there's no one on the sidewalk. What's that expression? Walk it off. It's not like Ozzie and the others aren't there to watch her back. Ashley hums the tune to herself and lets her boots do the walking.

"_Let your life beat in the sunshine, not the darkness of your sorrow_," sings Ashley. "_You may feel lost today, but new love will come tomorrow..._"

Coughing, Ashley's knee hits the corner of a building. She rubs her knee and walks a couple steps to check if there's any blood or if she's damaged her stockings. Nope. She's good.

"Uhhh," groans Ashley, her head starting to throb.

Her head aches as she goes forward, not sure if she's been pushed or not. It was a pretty big distance to fall. Ashley scrambles to her feet. There's another pair of feet, with brown shoes and black shoelaces. A wad of spit shoots to the side. Ashley looks up, seeing white letters she can't read and the rough knuckles of a hand. She had been pushed.

"Ozzie?" she says in disbelief.

The knuckles go out of view, a hand yanking her up roughly by the shoulders. Ashley moans lowly. She tries to pierce the hand with her nails. That simply elicits more yanking and her back being thrown to the wall.

"What are you doing?" cries Ashley.

"Guess," whispers a voice fiercely.

It was the other male who joined the circle. She runs voices in her head, trying to pinpoint the voice, desperate to find it to tell him to stop.

"Get off me!" exclaims Ashley. "Get off me!"

But he doesn't talk anymore, instead shredding the shirt with his other hand, the **ssey **of her shirt falling to reveal her white bra. He places the same hand over her mouth. Ashley screams against it. He starts to kiss her neck. His face is so close, so close, but it's not becoming clearer. His own shirt turns out to be the clearest thing in the alley. **Poison.**

Tears rush from her eyes, the only movement she's able to summon against his great weight. Why did she walk away? Why did she drink to the point where she could barely see?

She didn't have to see to do this. Ashley parts her lips to clamp down on his finger.

"You greedy slut!" shouts Wheeler, removing his hand and rapping her against the mouth.

Ashley's cheek falls into brick as she hears Wheeler groan and rustle towards her again.

"Ashley!" calls a distant voice. "Ashley?"

Ilene. Ashley starts to respond, until she spies blood dripping onto her chin. She shivers and pushes herself away from Wheeler. Wheeler glances from left to right, takes off to the other end of the alley and vanishes.

Releasing a loud scream, Ashley hugs herself, her body against the dusty pavement. If Ilene didn't come...God, she was lucky. She was so lucky.

"Ashley!" exclaims Ilene, Ashley hearing the echo of running feet making their way to her.

She's never been so glad to see a third pair of shoes, hear a voice she hears at Starfly's. Ashley's chest heaves as Ilene turns her over.

"Oh my God," whispers Ilene, then yelling. "Ozzie! Ozzie!"

When Ozzie arrives, all she can detect are his small, smooth hands. Ashley grasps for one to hold.

"What happened, babe?" cries Ozzie.

"Call 911, Ozzie!" shouts Ilene. "Just...go!"

Ozzie rushes off, releasing Ashley's trembling hand.

Ilene settles Ashley's head into her lap, stroking her blood-stained cheek. Ashley instinctively pulls the piece of ripped shirt up, unable to do anything else.


	100. Come Away With Me

**C. Come Away With Me**

_Come away with me in the night_  
_Come away with me_  
_And I will write you a song_

_Come away with me on a bus_  
_Come away where they can't tempt us_  
_With their lies_

_And I want to walk with you_  
_On a cloudy day_  
_In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high_  
_So won't you try to come?_

_Come away with me and we'll kiss_  
_On a mountaintop_  
_Come away with me_  
_And I'll never stop loving you_

_And I want to wake up with the rain_  
_Falling on a tin roof_  
_While I'm safe there in your arms_  
_So all I ask is for you_  
_To come away with me in the night_  
_Come away with me_

**Come Away With Me is the property of Norah Jones and appears in the film _Maid In Manhattan_.**

**Poor Sweet Baby is the property of Larry Grossman and Hal Hackady. The lyrics and the dialogue are not my property, and have not been changed.**

**No One is the property of Alicia Keys.**

Reading lamp, Scotch tape, tick tacks, gluesticks, and mechanical pencils. Ellie puts the last few items into a medium-sized box and carries them to the den. The final one joins about twenty-one others and she's not enthusiastic about moving them to the U-Haul in three days. People were so excited when telling you about going to college but they made sure not to mention this part too much. Ellie closes the door to the soon to be cause of exhaustion and retreats to the kitchen for some water.

"Have you ever heard of a Snuggie?" asks Amanda when her daughter enters the room.

"What?" exclaims Ellie, opening the refrigerator.

"It's kind of like a sleeping bag, or something," says Amanda uncertainly. "Amberley recommended it."

"I don't want a Snuggie, Mom," insists Ellie.

"I thought you liked sleeping bags," says Amanda with a sigh.

"I like sleeping bags that look like sleeping bags," counters Ellie. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Did Amberley tell you that she's majoring in economics?" says Amanda.

Ellie wasn't even aware that Amberley called again. What was this, the fourth time? She understood that Amberley may be eager to erase any awkward tension before they meet, but she was a little too eager. Ellie grabs a cup from the cabinet and drops in three ice cubes, and then goes to the sink.

"I'll take that as a no," guesses Amanda.

"How is it that you know more about my roommate than I do?" asks Ellie.

"My thinking exactly," says Amanda. "That's why I arranged for you, her, me, your father, and her parents to have lunch after you guys get settled in."

"Why?" cries Ellie.

"We'll be seeing them throughout the year," defends Amanda. "Might as well get to know them better."

Entertaining the thought of asking for the check five minutes in, Ellie quickly nixes the idea when she sees her mother staring at her.

"I made sure it was on a day when you didn't have any classes," says Amanda.

She could hit herself for not being home when her mother made these arrangements. Now she has to grin and bear a lunch with her perky roommate and her parents, who are probably also perky. You would need two perky parents to produce an extra perky kid like Amberley. This better be the shortest lunch ever, thinks Ellie. She rolls her eyes.

"When?" says Ellie.

"The twenty-ninth," replies Amanda.

"Of this month?" cries Ellie.

"Yes," says Amanda. "Is that a problem?"

Yeah, it's a problem I can't say, mulls Ellie. Sean's indictment is on the same day. She could make it to court, but she couldn't go over early with the Camerons, which she initially planned. Plus, what if her parents asked where she was going after the lunch? Saying that she was going to court with Sean is out.

"Ellie?" prompts Amanda.

Ellie turns on the sink to cover the silence, the rush of the tap filling the room. Luckily, the doorbell draws her mother's attention away, also waiting to be answered. Amanda leaves the kitchen and Ellie widens her eyes. Like she needs something else to worry about. No, she can handle this.

"Craig!" cries Amanda. "And...hello."

Drinking a bit of her water, Ellie turns to face the entrance as Craig and Paige walk inside. Interesting duo, notes Ellie. Both of them appear tired, and not the kind of tired that resulted from carrying anything, except perhaps bad news. Ellie's stomach starts to turn. Marco? They were his other two close friends. If anything happened to Marco, she'd...

"Hey, Ellie," says Craig after clearing his throat.

Paige gives her an awkward wave.

"Hey," says Ellie.

"Could we...," starts Craig, nodding to the backyard patio.

Ellie sets the glass of water on the counter, trying to read their faces. She turns to Amanda, who looks just as clueless.

"Yeah," says Ellie hesitantly.

"I'll be here if you need anything," says Amanda.

Well, that was one offer that sat well with her. Ellie opens the glass door of the patio, and her two friends take seats at the bench while she flips on the porch light. Ellie slides the door closed and stands by the bench.

"You should probably sit down for this, Ellie," says Paige, patting a spot on the bench next to her.

"Okay?" says Ellie, sitting.

Their expressions give her no comfort. There were no trademark, cheerful "hons" from Paige and Craig's shoulders were slouched, a typical gesture she remembers from group whenever Craig had to share a painful memory.

"It's Ashley," says Paige after a deep breath.

Every extremity of her body tingles, like fireworks going off in her limbs. Ashley can't be dead, right? She saw her weeks ago. Though, she hasn't called or mailed her anything in quite some time. Ellie's left hand starts to shake and she holds it with her right. Craig leans forward on the opposite side of the bench.

"She's got a drinking problem," says Craig softly.

Ellie shakes her head repeatedly, sizing the two of them up. Are they serious? Ashley is the most responsible, level-headed girl she's ever come in contact with, and not to mention one of the smartest. She was perfectly fine the last time she saw her, at Toby's synagogue.

"This better not be some sick joke," says Ellie. "Ashley? No."

"It's for real, Ellie," insists Paige.

"We wouldn't joke about this, especially not with you," adds Craig.

"How...why...she...," stammers Ellie.

"Ashley started drinking in England, on tour," explains Craig, hanging his head. "A lot of disappointing things, stressful things happened, and she got drunk to deal with it. We tried to talk to her there, and she came back to Toronto. She went into hiding and then got a job at this bar near campus."

"She's like literally living at the bar," chimes in Paige.

"Ellie, it's bad," says Craig, his gaze growing teary. "She lies about how much alcohol she has. She's cut off contact with every last one of us. She won't let us help her at all."

Her mind feels almost empty. There's only the image of her best friend, enthusiastically saying good-bye to them at the airport, acting normal at the synagogue service, being the same practical Ashley who thought things over, sometimes too much. To have that Ashley vanish is utterly strange. But she's still there; they just have to get her back.

"We were scared to tell you," admits Paige. "But...in a way, you might be our greatest asset."

Ellie offers Paige a confused stare.

"We're having an intervention," clarifies Craig. "Maybe if you tell her how your mom got sober, she'll actually listen."

"An intervention," mumbles Ellie to herself.

For every twist and turn her mother put her through, they'd never been through or considered an intervention.

"Excuse me," says Ellie.

She walks to a different part of the yard, a place that's darker and colder. She's fairly sure Craig and Paige are looking at her, flummoxed. Still, don't they know that this would be hard for her too? She got to witness the severity of her mother's addiction, but not Ashley's. She got to keep tabs on her mother and take care of her, but not Ashley. She had a bargaining chip with Amanda, to return home and start fresh, but she has nothing to give Ashley except her support which she's not sure Ashley will take. But..if she can get through what she got through this summer, what's one more supportive shoulder, one more problem to battle against? Her best friend needs her, simple as that.

Ellie comes out of the dark and rests her hands firmly on the edge of the table.

"During it, I want to talk to her alone," says Ellie.

"Should we talk to Reva to check if that's a good idea?" whispers Paige to Craig, Ellie hearing every word.

"We'll check...," begins Craig.

Ellie shrugs and nods.

"But as far as I'm concerned," continues Craig, putting a hand over Ellie's, "You've got it."

II.

"Arrived five minutes ago," rattles off a distant voice. "Nineteen years of age. Facial wound. Ripped clothing..."

There's a metallic snap, some short squeaks, and she puts her knees together. A head of blonde hair positions itself in front of her, and a blinding light travels from pupil to pupil. The paper sheet under her remains stationary.

"Ashley?" says a soothing voice. "Ashley?"

Ashley gazes at a large chart, starts reading, each letter growing clearer, clearer.

"Has she responded to her name since coming in?" asks the second woman who spoke.

"No, Dr. Sutton," says the first.

The light travels across her eyes once more.

"Definite signs of shock," sighs Dr. Sutton. "Petra, get me a rape kit."

Some footsteps sound against the floor, somebody going away, somebody leaving her alone. And somebody coming back.

"Dr. Sutton, the young man and the young woman that were with her...," starts a third voice.

The voice is deep, calm, male. Ashley moans loudly, grips the sheet under her, until it tears. She shakes, the paper shaking with her. Dr. Sutton puts a hand on her knee.

"Uri, I'm busy," says Dr. Sutton coldly. "They'll have to wait."

"Yes, Dr. Sutton," sighs Uri, leaving the room.

It's so clear now she can notice Uri turn and walk away. Ashley shivers and lets the sheet go.

"I have to ask you some important questions, Ashley," says Dr. Sutton.

She says it warmly. She didn't know a doctor could be this warm. The last doctor she saw was for an annual check-up. He knew her since she was a toddler. Dr. Sutton is thirty-ish, slim, in blue scrubs and a white coat.

"You can nod or shake your head, okay?" says Dr. Sutton.

Ashley glares at the eye chart on the wall, remembers the wall she was flung against, the hard kisses, the heavy breathing, the strange man.

"Did somebody force themselves on you?" asks Dr. Sutton.

She shrugs, which can't be right since Dr. Sutton's face falls.

"Your friends said you were drinking," says Dr. Sutton. "Did you leave any drinks unattended tonight?"

Ashley covers her eyes, lets her hand go down her nose and her mouth. She can't explain it, but she had to, had to make sure she was really there. Ashley winces when her finger touches the edge of her lips.

"Did your boyfriend hit you?" asks Dr. Sutton.

What boy? Where are her friends? Ashley sniffles.

Petra returns to the room, a white box in her hands, and sets the kit next to Ashley. She's also young, though dark-skinned with long black hair. The box has a list of contents: glass slides, plastic bags, sterile swabs, and envelopes. Dr. Sutton pulls Petra over to a corner.

"Did she say she was raped?" whispers Petra.

Ashley can hear her. Her ears are strangely sensitive in here, tonight, perhaps because it feels like her four other senses are dying. There's no taste in her mouth; it's only wet. She can't smell anything. Her hands can only feel the sheet.

"No," says Dr. Sutton. "And we can't do the kit without her consent."

"Her shirt's ripped," sighs Petra sympathetically. "What else could've happened?"

"Attempted sexual assault," says Dr. Sutton quickly. "A mugging. A domestic dispute. Quite a few things, Petra."

Petra nods slowly. "You're right."

"The alcohol may be impairing her memory," says Dr. Sutton. "I'm going to chat with her friends for a bit and let her rest."

"Some friends," whispers Petra. "The one girl had to check her I.D. to confirm the poor thing's date of birth. And what kind of friends let you wander off drunk and alone?"

"Based on what I've seen over the years?" replies Dr. Sutton. "Too many."

Dr. Sutton pushes through the door with a loud thud, the door rattling. Ashley's insides rattle too. She lowers her shoulders and starts to cry. She's just grateful she can finally feel the tears touching her cheeks. Petra pushes the kit aside and puts an arm around Ashley.

"Shhhh," hushes Petra, rubbing her arm. "It's alright. Shhhh."

III.

Manny readjusts her seatbelt, the book readjusting itself in her lap. On any other day, she would've said something about this being cruel and unusual punishment. But any other day isn't her birthday. Yes, it's five thirty-five, the moment that she came into this world exactly seventeen years ago. It's very official and she's very excited.

Officer Patton is to her left, and Emma is to her right. Her father and mother are in the front seats, leisurely going towards their apartment complex. She immediately embraced them when they arrived at Rosa's. She thinks all of them were relieved that she made it to this birthday. Considering the threats, the fear, and the inability to catch the culprits who brought about both, it could've gone the other way. It didn't.

"I wonder what I'm getting," says Manny jokingly.

"So do I," throws back Joseph.

Her mother laughs slightly, the car turning into the parking lot. Manny closes the origami book, which she was reading mostly for Emma's sake, and Emma holds up a poorly done paper swan.

"Can I see yours again?" mutters Emma.

Manny presents a perfectly done paper swan, and Emma sighs as she compares them.

"If you do the wings wrong, start over," advises Manny.

"Bleh," moans Emma. "You can sew, you can do origami, you can act...what can't you do?"

"Wait!" exclaims Manny as the car pulls to a stop.

"Okay, okay," says Joseph chuckling, unlocking the car.

Everyone exits the car, charges up the stairs, none so more than Manny. She asked for her gift awhile ago, before Emma went into therapy, before Toby started back at Kytel, before she auditioned for the New York Academy project. She's been very patient. The rest of them just didn't understand. Joseph fetches his apartment keys.

"Are you sure you're ready?" teases Joseph.

"Dad!" groans Manny.

Joseph smirks, opening the door in a flash. Manny follows her parents to her bedroom, Emma and Officer Patton trailing behind.

The vanity stands right across from her window, in its tall, wooden glory. There are three raised mirrors with carved roses at the bottom. The stool is Victorian Style with Queen Anne style legs, a velvet pink cushion on top. It's so classic and elegant, and she definitely likes it more than Lia's since she selected the features. Manny puts her hands against her cheeks.

"Check the drawers," encourages Maria.

Manny quickly glances at her mother, and then goes through the six drawers on either side. Each drawer holds a little beautiful item: a powder box; a gold perfume bottle; an ivory-colored tissue box holder; a silver compact; a pink lotion dispenser; a rose-colored handheld mirror. She claps her hands.

"This is tight!" exclaims Manny, hugging her parents at the same time.

"I'm going to assume that's good," says Joseph, laughing and patting her on the back.

"Trust me, it is," says Emma, exchanging a look with Officer Patton.

"I can't believe you built this," says Manny, separating from Joseph and Maria. "And Mom, you found all these little trinkets?"

"It was fun, like a treasure hunt," waves off Maria.

"I had nothing to do on Saturday mornings," demurs Joseph.

"Thank you, guys," says Manny, smiling fully. "This...means a lot."

"You did a beautiful job," adds Emma.

"You deserve it for being such a good girl, Manuella," says Joseph.

"Your father is right," says Maria.

Her parents give her a final hug and leave, Officer Patton going over to the vanity and appreciating it privately. That's when Manny notices Emma providing him with a sly glance.

"Oh," says Officer Patton.

He follows her parents out of the bedroom. Emma takes a huge breath and hands Manny a small white gift bag.

"Awwww," says Manny. "I love your timing."

"Well, besides your family, I wanted to be first," says Emma. "Then, Toby kind of cheated last night."

Manny laughs and reaches inside the bag. She removes a knit white beret with red and blue yarn near the tips. Emma may've struggled with origami, but not this. Manny beams.

"This is all kinds of cute," praises Manny, throwing her arms around Emma.

"You shouldn't catch any head colds when you're in New York," says Emma as she returns the hug. "That's why I used American colors."

"Right," says Manny softly. "New York."

She releases Emma and goes to her desk, flipping on the computer. It hasn't escaped her that she'll be hearing from Eric Hegel tomorrow. Only she's not sure if she's as excited to hear from him as she is right now with her family. She put her whole heart out on stage during the audition yet she might be fine with not getting it. She'd disappoint a lot of people if she wasn't cast, though she'd miss a lot of people if she was cast.

Manny can tell Emma is silently assessing from afar. Rather than get into it, Manny enters her e-mail and releases an amused sigh.

"Check out Hannah's evite for her birthday," says Manny, waving Emma over.

Emma peers over her shoulder and reads.

"You are cordially invited to Hannah Andrews' Costume/ Princess Party on the eve of the fifth of September," says Emma. "Bring your royal manners, and please dress accordingly. The directions to my castle are in the attachment. Gifts, except for spinning wheels and poison apples, are encouraged. Trained dogs are most welcome."

"So adorable," says Manny.

"That's Hannah for you," shrugs Emma. "Let's confirm."

"The guest list...is pretty sparse," notes Manny.

Their eyes gloss over the list - Edwina, Colin, Lia, Jade, and somebody named Jayla.

"Jayla?" says Emma, massaging her forehead. "They don't even like each other."

"Who's Jayla?" asks Manny.

"This mean little girl," says Emma. "I wish there was a way to get an invite to Marty and Nikeyeh. Hmmm."

"Okay, you've definitely lost me," says Manny. "How about I confirm and you plot whatever it is you're talking about?"

Manny confirms their presence at Hannah's party, and clicks out of the window.

"Ahem," says Emma. "Speaking of plots, aren't you trying to get Toby to go somewhere with your family tonight?"

She raises an eyebrow, looks over her shoulder. "Oh Dad!"

IV.

Of all the things Toby expected to come out of a churning color printer, he would have to say that this is the most unexpected. Inch by inch, Justin is created. There's his tousled blonde hair, his black eyeglasses, his pale skin, and his round nose. He's not smiling and Toby couldn't take him smiling. The missing persons ad lays flat on the printer tray.

"If he is lurking around, we'll find him," assures Sergeant Blanchett, patting Toby's shoulder.

Jeff sighs and leans towards his son. Toby didn't expect to be back at the police station either. But it's for a good reason, right? Justin is here. He could potentially be caught any day now.

"I can't believe I missed him!" exclaims Officer Wheaton, banging the table with a fist.

"You were ill, officer," says Sergeant Blanchett, brushing past Officer Wheaton. "He's evaded all of us. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"What about his parents?" asks Jeff. "You did question them after we left? They were tampering with evidence."

"They escaped with a fine," shares Sergeant Blanchett. "A hefty fine, but just a fine. Very good lawyer. They can thank their country club connections for that, I bet."

"At least we're monitoring their house," says Lieutenant Croft, presenting Officer Wheaton with a cup of coffee.

"His grandfather's house too?" speaks up Toby.

"There, too," assures Sergeant Blanchett. "Toby, are you absolutely sure it was him last night?"

He thought about his mind playing tricks on him, especially after Manny's tearful realization that things had come to a standstill. He very well could've invented it. However, the hurt look in Natalia's eyes matched Manny's during Confirmation, and he would never forget that voice as long as he lived.

"It was him," replies Toby confidently.

"So be it," says Sergeant Blanchett. "Croft, I need you and your men to comb the neighborhoods, with the greatest concentration near his grandfather's home. I'll have my deputies put up these posters. Meanwhile, I'm going to interrogate some families."

"Some families, Sergeant?" says Jeff.

"That's what we've been doing the past few weeks," explains Sergeant Blanchett. "We've been compiling testimonies of the families of teenagers that met in this group. Some of them refuse to talk, and for reasons we understand, but that hasn't stopped us from getting the answers we need."

"A lot of these kids were outcasts, and several actually come from good families," says Lieutenant Croft. "School was a different story for them."

This sounds close to home. This sounds close to Rick. While he did put in the effort with Rick, Toby was just so consumed with bitterness towards Justin to truly go there or get to know him. Toby bites his lip.

"You could see it in these kids' parents' eyes," sighs Sergeant Blanchett.

"What, sir?" says Officer Wheaton.

"The shame," replies Sergeant Blanchett. "Get some sleep, eh?"

The day is young, six-thirty according to Toby's watch. As the digital light fades, his cellphone goes off. Who could be calling this early in the morning? Jeff and Officer Wheaton appear curious too. Please let Manny be safe, he thinks. He's granted no solace when he reads Joseph Santos' cell number on his phone. Joseph has never called him this early. Ever. Toby hurriedly rises from his chair and starts towards the entrance, Jeff trailing him.

"Wheaton," says Sergeant Blanchett.

"On it, sir," says Officer Wheaton, jogging after him without delay.

"Hello? Mr. Santos?" says Toby, gripping the phone tight against his ear.

"Toby!" cries Joseph cheerfully.

Toby stops to let his heart gradually slow down. Not serious...good.

"How are you?" says Toby, glad that he's probably doing fine.

"Good, thanks," answers Joseph. "Listen, do you know where Henderson and Baker Street is?"

"Yeah, it's near the bank?" recalls Toby.

"That's it. My crew's working on a building there," says Joseph. "Could you stop by? Sorry it's so early, but I'll be travelling for most of the day."

"I can stop by," says Toby.

"Excellent," says Joseph. "See you soon."

He hangs up, truly stupified about what that meant. Maybe Manny's dad wanted to break it to him in person that he couldn't join them tonight. That would be a task you'd want to do in person. He did say he would go to the construction site, though. He reluctantly tells Officer Wheaton and his father where they're going and the reason why they were going.

"I'm sure it's not that, Tobes," says Jeff, as he pulls the car out of the parking lot.

Like they were sure Justin had permanently split? There are no certainties anymore, not for him.

Jeff drives to the intersection of Henderson and Baker, and Jeff unlocks the door for Toby. Toby spots the bank, closed and lit by the first moments of sunlight. Then, he hears a saw cutting its teeth through wood. With Officer Wheaton, he turns and walks to a door frame without a door in the midst of steel planks and whirring machinery. A wooden block flies in front of him, and Toby jumps back. Officer Wheaton steadies him.

"Sharp reflexes," says Joseph, observing them through the air-filled door. "Do you still have all your limbs?"

Toby checks.

"Just a little construction humor, Toby," assures Joseph.

Toby laughs nervously. "Yeah."

"Manny used to go around these things like they were playgrounds," says Joseph, knocking on the wooden block and then tossing it to the side. "It used to drive me nuts."

He could definitely picture that. Of course, he pictured himself at her celebration tonight too. Toby gives Joseph a sad smile.

"How about you go around with her tonight?" asks Joseph.

Removing a rectangular ticket from his pocket, he presents it to Toby, who can't stop blinking at it.

"At a play, not a playground," clarifies Joseph.

Joseph and Officer Wheaton chuckle to themselves. This is what he was hoping for, secretly. Still, he doesn't want it without Joseph having the full information about what took place last night.

"I saw Justin at a deli last night," says Toby, speedily so he can get it out and not check himself. "He ran off, but he hasn't left and we've told the police. I don't want to worry Manny or you."

Wrinkling his brow, Joseph looks at Officer Wheaton for confirmation. Officer Wheaton nods and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I do want to go," admits Toby. "But not if you don't want me to, especially after hearing that."

He solemnly returns the ticket, the seat and row number gleaming in the rays of sun peeking through the planks. Instead of saying anything, Joseph strokes his moustache thoughtfully. Two of his crew members set down a folding table in front of him, the crew member on the right spreading out blueprints for Joseph to peruse. He does so, ignoring Toby. That's as good an answer as any, thinks Toby, turning away himself.

"Can you check the dimensions in the rear?" asks a crew member.

"Yes," says Joseph. "I'll give my okay."

"Thanks, sir," says the crew member.

"Toby," says Joseph.

Toby faces him again, or rather, his back. Joseph is already heading to the other side of the site. The blueprints lay on the table, and so does the ticket.

"Mr. Santos, you forgot the ticket!" calls Toby.

"No, I didn't!" calls Joseph over his shoulder. "We're going over early so meet us there."

Grinning, Toby scoops it up and checks the time. It could never be too early to accept this.

V.

White lights adorn the trees, stretching to the top and winding around the trunks. Busts of Shakespeare, Chekov, and Ibsen sit placidly on white columns near the red, double doors. The Orillium Theatre is old, though not so old that the snack bar isn't filled with modern concessions: gum, large pretzels, nachoes, and candy Shakespeare probably couldn't spell. The carpet is clean and the color of goldenrods. It's a fairly pristine theatre and Manny made it a priority to look pristine. She wears a yellow kimono sleeve dress with gold flats, her hair trailing to her waist. Emma's in a sleek blue number with black lace on the edges. They were dressed up to the nines, or so her mother called it. Still, her parents have neglected to tell her what play they're watching tonight.

There's no memorabilia so that can't be a clue. The audience is made up of both kids and adults so that doesn't help. She tried to grill Emma, but that was a waste. Toby can't be grilled. He has yet to arrive. All that matters is that he is coming and she only had to slightly twist her father's arm.

"It'sssssssss showtime," says J.J., looking extra sharp in a blue suit.

Rosa leaves the coat room right after him, wearing a pink silk dress Manny secretly envied.

Showtime? Showtime and no Toby? Why does this sound familiar? Oh yeah. Manny glances at the circular clock on the wall. There's still five minutes. It's feasible for him to show up within five minutes.

The red doors part, the audience members moving to them. Red-vested ushers stand on either side, tearing tickets. They had to show up early to guarantee that Joseph would get another ticket since he had given Toby his. They were lucky. An hour later, the show was sold out. Manny complimented her father's great planning skills and he look pleased.

Manny reaches the usher, who exchanges a few words with her father and smiles at her. She's too much in her head to smile back. Where is he? What if he had to go somewhere else? What if Jeff didn't think it was such a good idea? The show was at five-thirty so Toby would be home before curfew. She ran that concern past her dad. Ugh, what's keeping him?

They walk to their seats, nice, red, plush. The whole atmosphere reminds her of the theatre where they premiered her film, only there are more kids under sixteen. Her family, Rosa, and Manny scoot in, Emma sitting in a chair at the very end of the row. There's a chair between her and Emma. Emma starts to put her sweater on the chair.

"No!" whispers Manny strongly.

"Huh?" says Emma, clearly baffled.

"When you put your sweater on the chair last time, he didn't come," says Manny.

"Manny, that was when there was an emergency," reminds Emma.

A Kendra-related emergency, thinks Manny, frowning. She blinks at the cherry red curtain, staring at that and the white sweater intermittenly. The house music starts, filling the theatre. Manny grips her armrests tightly.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Manuella?" whispers Joseph, who sits on her other side.

"Yeah," says Manny with a pained smile. "Thanks."

Manny balls up both hands and sets them in her lap. Joseph gently shakes them and then tucks the tickets into his coat pocket.

"How many more minutes?" she whispers to Emma.

"Two," whispers Emma.

Yeah, two times, twice she'll be disappointed in a theater, waiting for Toby. At least she's not performing tonight. Manny groans as the theatre lights dim, the music swelling, the chatter of the audience rising above the notes. Manny glances at the empty chair a final time and then stares forward. She's not revolving around anymore. She'll enjoy the play, or try to enjoy it.

Well, she can't enjoy it with a light flashing on her face. The light falls to the floor and someone mutters twelve J to someone else. Twelve? That's her row. And she's in chair K. Manny whirls around to see the light go past Emma's knees and spotlight seat J. Emma yanks the sweater off. Manny smiles.

"Thank you," says Toby to the usher.

He mouths a "hi" to Emma, scoots past her to sit in seat J. Seat J is officially occupied.

"Hi," says Toby.

"I told you you'd be here," says Manny, trying her best to show that she wasn't worried at all.

Toby laughs quietly and says hi to her parents, J.J., and Rosa. He wears a black suit and a maroon tie, a great fit even in the darkness.

"Wheaton's standing in the back with Patton," whispers Toby.

Officer Patton left them to go talk to the manager, and Manny hasn't seen him since, until now. The two men are in uniform, and in a quiet conference despite the curtain parting and the audience clapping. A man in a suit with tails walks to center stage and bows. People stop clapping.

"Keep it going," encourages the man. "Keep it going."

With scattered laughs, the audience claps again and waits until the man signals them to stop. He does with a flourish of his hands.

"I am extremely proud to present this production," announces the man. "Made up of fine young actors who are students at the renown New York Arts Academy, the Adams Acting Troupe is currently on tour and playing in illustrious theatres across the country."

Manny throws a grin at her parents, who grin back, and then at Toby, who bumps her playfully with his elbow.

"I'm honored to introduce their annual Theater Summer Showcase!" finishes the man.

He motions for them to applaud, many cheers and yells following the man as he exits stage left. The stagelights come on, revealing a fake oak tree and two teenagers sitting under it. One is a girl with short, stringy brown hair, wearing black flip-flops. The other is a boy with light hair, in a yellow and black zigzag shirt. This scene is familiar to a lot of the audience, some laughing immediately.

"You know what I don't understand, Chuck?" says the girl. "I don't understand love."

"Who does?" says Charlie Brown, laying his head on the tree.

"Explain love to me, Chuck," says Peppermint Patty.

"You can't explain love," replies Charlie Brown. "I could recommend a book, or a painting, or a song, or a poem, but I can't explain love..."

"Well, try Chuck," encourages Peppermint Patty. "Try to explain love."

"Well, say I happen to see this cute little girl walk by and I...," begins Charlie Brown.

"Why does she have to be cute, Chuck?" interrupts Pepperment Patty. "Can't someone fall in love with a girl who isn't cute, who has freckles and a big nose?"

A chorus of laughs sound, Manny laughing as well.

"Explain that, Chuck," says Peppermint Patty, crossing her arms.

"Maybe you're right," says Charlie Brown. "Let's just say I happen to see this girl walk by who has a great big nose and..."

"I didn't say a _great _big nose_, _Chuck," says Peppermint Patty.

Charlie Brown sighs. "You cannot only explain love. Actually, you can't talk about it either."

More laughs follow this comment, including Toby's. You had to feel for Charlie Brown, thinks Manny. You really did.

"There's something else I'm sort of curious about," confesses Peppermint Patty. "Do you think you'll ever get married, Chuck?"

"Oh, I suppose so," answers Charlie Brown. "Just about everyone does."

Manny's, Emma's, Joseph's, Toby's, and Maria's eyes travel to J.J., who stares back at them eerily.

"What?" whispers J.J. "Oh man!"

Rosa covers her mouth and snickers.

"What kind of girl do you think you'll marry?" asks Peppermint Patty.

"Well, I always kind of hate to talk about it," replies Charlie Brown. "Because I'm afraid it might sound silly. But I'd like the kind of girl who would call me poor sweet baby."

"Poor sweet baby?" exclaims Peppermint Patty.

She says it with a squeak, resulting in more chuckling from the audience. Charlie Brown appears petrified, but then shrugs.

"Uh-huh," continues Charlie Brown, closing his eyes. "If I was feeling tired, or depressed or something...she'd cuddle up close to me, kiss me on the ear, and whisper, 'poor sweet baby'. "

A flute starts to play, a light lyrical song, the piano taking the melody and soaring with it. Peppermint Patty sits beside Charlie Brown, and urges him to set his head on her shoulder. She begins to sing:

_Poor, sweet baby _  
_Poor, poor, sweet, sweet baby _  
_Show me where it hurts, I'll tell you how to make it well _  
_I've won lots of loving cups for playing show and tell _

It's sung so beautifully, and the girl looks about two years younger than Manny. She'd love to go to the academy if she could sing that well. The actress' voice is mature, emotional, and obviously trained. Wow. She casts a glance at Toby, who seems immersed it in well. She remembers how she told him that she liked Charlie Brown in the Degrassi hallway, after she told him that she loved him and that they could make it work. They have made it work, through everything. Something tells her they could survive her stint in New York if she got in.

_My poor, sweet baby _  
_Poor, poor, sweet, sweet baby _  
_When you neeed a shoulder come and try mine on for size _  
_I'm real good at holding hands and _  
_Really great at drying eyes _

Manny tenderly touches the top of Toby's hand on the armrest. Toby stares at her hand, folds it in his, kneading her knuckles with his thumb. Manny shifts her weight slightly so that her stockinged leg is against his pants leg. Toby tickles her ankle with the soft edge of his dress shoe. Manny blushes.

_Just try me _  
_Cry me all your tears _  
_Why deny me _  
_The pleasure of dryin'em _  
_Stoppin' you cryin'em _

She's having difficulty thinking who else would benefit her from going to New York, though. Emma is at the beginning of her recovery. Manny's just gone back home to be with her parents. Toby is at the center of a stalled investigation. Even the Drama Club would love to have her around, especially if Nate was still disgruntled due to the budget. Manny loosens her grip on Toby's hand.

_Don't despair for _  
_Smiles are what I'm there for _  
_You won't have to look for me, I'll always be right near _  
_Near to kiss and cuddle you and _  
_Whisper in your little ear _  
_Don't fear _

Toby, apparently feeling her hand go slack, tightens his end of things, his palm to her palm, his thumb to her thumb. It's so warm and the warmth goes through her entire body. Manny smiles as she stares at the spotlight's reflection in the lenses of his glasses.

"I love you," she whispers.

_There, there, Baby _  
_Poor, sweet baby _  
_Poor, sweet baby _  
_Mama's near_

She lays her head on his shouler, the fabric of his suit jacket caressing her cheek, as the song ends and the rapturous applause echoes in every corner.

VI.

Just when she thought the Santoses were out of surprises, her father made a U-turn and they ended up here, a very pretty, pretty tiny restaurant. It was so tiny, in fact, Manny's certain that the other theatergoers have no idea that it exists. She doesn't mind that aspect. The whole place is cozy, with the appearance of a slightly larger cottage. The interior is wood, and so are the booths, which must've attracted Joseph when he first found it. There were homey touches everywhere - family photographs with the owner and his family; license plates lining the area behind the bar; berry-scented candles; fresh flowers in glassware near the front. It's very peaceful, serene.

"I can't wait to give Manny some birthday spankings," says J.J., joyfully rubbing his hands together.

Okay, no longer serene. Manny crosses her legs and looks down the table at her brother.

"Try it and I'll spank your eye out," retorts Manny.

"I grew up with _The Karate Kid_," says J.J. "You don't want none of this, sis."

"So you're telling me you're ancient," mulls Manny. "I'll be careful not to break any bones."

"To think you two were acting so civilized in the theatre," sighs Maria. "See, this is what you missed when they were growing up, Toby."

Toby shyly grins at Manny, then drops his eyes.

"I was not that bad," protests Manny.

"You hit me with plastic nunchucks," recalls J.J. "That really hurt."

"I do not know of which you speak," kids Manny, playing with her placemat.

Maria, Toby, and Emma laugh, J.J. getting a sympathetic pat on the cheek from Rosa. Joseph isn't there to do anything. He disappeared as soon as the rest of the family was seated.

"Your father asked my father for my hand in marriage here," shares Maria.

"Awwww," say Manny and Emma simultaneously.

"Really?" says Rosa.

"Grandpa came here?" remarks J.J. "This doesn't seem like his kind of scene."

"He hated it," continues Maria. "He didn't like the food. He didn't like that it was small. But he did love that your father asked for his permission."

Toby and Manny exchange a smile, J.J. still clearly puzzled.

"I hope he didn't leave a tip," says J.J. "If the food sucked."

"Uh, so romantic, J.J.," says Rosa, hitting him in the chest with her napkin.

"Where is Dad, anyway?" asks Manny, setting her own napkin into her lap.

She's soon answered by several voices, singing in perfect harmony, as her father and four waiters approach the table. One waiter holds a large white cake with seventeen candles in his hands. Manny's jaw drops.

"_Happy birthday to you_," sings the head waiter, everybody in the restaurant joining in. "_Happy birthday to you_..."

_"Happ birthday, dear Manuella_," sings her family, Rosa, Emma, and Toby.

"_Happy birthday to you_!" finishes the whole of the restaurant.

Everybody claps. Manny stands, does a graceful curtsy, which results in them laughing.

"Make a wish!" cries Joseph as he positions her in front of the cake.

Rosa guiltily hides behind her napkin. Well, it's not like her other wish came true, not yet anyway. What to wish for? Manny considers her options as she stares at the nicely written **Happy Birthday Manny **in pink frosting. There is the matter of the trip to Manila with Toby that she hasn't mentioned to her father. She's one hundred percent willing to go there, unlike with the Academy. That works. Manny blows out all but two candles, which she quickly kills with one more blow.

The restaurant claps again and then goes back to eating. Figures. Manny hugs her father from the side. That's when she views a couple of tears lining his eyes.

"You'll be eighteen next year," says Joseph softly. "An adult."

Right, and she has no idea where she'll be next year, but she believes she'll be just as happy if the same people are with her.

"Adults never get tired of cake either," says Manny, looking up at him. "Do they?"

"No," replies Joseph, grinning. "They don't."

VII.

"You're not texting Officer Wheaton, are you?" says Manny, sliding into the booth. "Something tells me he'd be satisfied with a smiley face."

Toby closes his phone and stares across the table at her. He'd like it to be that simple. Officer Wheaton is keeping track of him, watching from afar, but he was texting his father. He was anxious to hear if any news had come in. He would love to say that there was, to give a second gift to Manny by telling her that Justin had been apprehended. This is unfortunately not the case. Jeff has not heard anything. And Toby's decided not to tell her what transpired at the deli. His last great discovery went up in smoke and with Justin on the run, there's a decent chance that won't pan out either. Plus he can't say the thought of not mentioning Justin on her birthday isn't appealing.

"My dad," explains Toby.

"Oh," says Manny.

"The musical revue was awesome," says Toby, reaching for a new subject. "I mean, you hear about Broadway, but there's a lot of talent off-Broadway too."

"There's actually a whole division of theater called off-Broadway, Tobes," giggles Manny.

"Right," says Toby with a faint chuckle. "I...I knew that."

"Toby, in your letter, you said you'd follow me anywhere my career took me," says Manny. "I read that right before my audition for the colony."

She did? He aimed for her to get it then, though he'd never asked.

"So?" prompts Toby.

"So...would you still do that?" asks Manny.

He thought they'd be talking about this later, around graduation. Like many things, though, this was unplanned. He can only be honest.

"I would want to because I'm still in love with you," answers Toby.

Manny's face brightens and she settles herself more comfortably in the booth seat. Releasing a happy sigh, Toby relaxes too and undoes his tie. Music plays throughout the restaurant, Toby catching the Santoses and Rosa in deep discussion, possibly wedding planning.

_I just want you close_  
_Where you can stay forever_  
_You can be sure_  
_That it will only get better_  
_You and me together_  
_Through the days and nights_  
_I don't worry 'cuz_  
_Everything's going to be alright_

"I've scarfed down two pieces of cake," says Manny. "You?"

"I gave my piece to Emma," confesses Toby. "I'm not that hungry."

"We can't send you home with no food to digest," says Manny. "I'm ordering you something."

Despite his reluctant expression, he is sort of hungry. He missed breakfast because they were at the station and lunch consisted of half a sandwich at Kytel. He really only gave his piece to Emma because his father called and he was too anxious to eat.

"Check out the menu," instructs Manny, handing him one.

Toby scans the dishes, the soft drinks, and the desserts. He wouldn't mind some dessert, since he missed out on tonight's.

"Did you miss breakfast too?" asks Manny. "You can order any dish at any time."

"Yeah," confesses Toby. "But I'd like something sweet."

"Pancakes?" suggests Manny. "Ooooh, topped with ice cream."

"What?" laughs Toby.

"Don't tell me you haven't had pancakes with ice cream!" cries Manny. "You're gonna flip."

Manny raises her arm, waving at a nearby waitress. The waitress reaches them with a smile, pen poised over her notepad.

"We're going to need some flapjacks with vanilla Ben and Jerry on top," says Manny.

Toby buries a laugh by holding the menu close to his nose. The waitress stares at her quizzically, repeats it to herself, and then taps her chin.

"We have Haagen Daazs?" says the waitress.

"That'll do, doll," says Manny with a wink.

The waitress leaves, Toby releasing the laugh.

"What?" says Manny defensively. "That's how they talk to waitresses in the movies."

"I believe you," says Toby.

Manny smiles with pride, lowers Toby's menu, and goes in for a kiss. Toby does his part by leaning in and letting his lips cross hers. The side of Toby's tie nearly falls into a dripping, berry-scented candle. Manny halts and holds it away from the flame.

"Burning love," she jokes, then continuing to kiss him until his pancakes arrive.

_I know some people search the world_  
_To find something like what we have_  
_I know people will try try to divide something so real_  
_So til the end of time I'm telling you there is no one_

He begins carving his pancakes, the ice cream sliding onto the edge of the knife. He also notices Manny's no longer speaking and staring at him.

"What?" says Toby. "Am I almost on fire again?"

"No," replies Manny. "I..."

Her voice trails off, the music filling the quiet.

_No one, no one, no one_  
_Can get in the way of what I'm feeling_  
_No one, no one, no one_  
_Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you_  
_Can get in the way of what I feel for you_

"You what?" prompts Toby.

"I was just thinking," says Manny, the candlight flickering in her eyes, "One of these days, I'd like to wind up following you too."

VIII.

Every other channel has a talk show. There's fathers talking, mothers talking, kids talking. She presses mute and locks her gaze on the ceiling. A brown spot is right in the middle.

"We have to call one of these numbers!" whispers Ilene fiercely. "Look, there's her dad, her mom..."

"She doesn't talk to her parents!" insists Ozzie, barely above a whisper.

"I don't care!" says Ilene. "She won't speak to the police. She won't speak to the doctors. She won't speak to us."

They must have her phone. Ashley stretches herself further out on the couch. She's at Ilene's. The apartment isn't much, enough room for one. She couldn't go back to Starfly's, not now, not ever. She wouldn't leave the hospital room until they promised her they weren't going there. So she allowed them to situate her in the car and drive wherever they thought best. Dr. Sutton and Petra wanted her to come back in sometime in the afternoon. Fat chance of that, no matter how nice they were.

"Okay, who's this guy?" sighs Ozzie after pressing some buttons. "Craig?"

"He might be the guy that was with her mother that one time," says Ilene. "Let's...let's ask her."

The denim of Ilene's jeans come into her sight and then Ilene's face materializes. Ashley stares at her.

"Would you mind if we called Craig?" asks Ilene. "Would that be alright?"

Alright? More than alright. If he would take a call from her.

"What if he's a jerk?" says Ozzie to Ilene.

"No," cries Ashley, sitting up straight. "He is not a jerk!"

Ilene's eyes grow big, Ozzie apologetically looking at the floor. Ashley hugs her arms.

"Um, I've got your last box of stuff downstairs, so I'll get that," says Ozzie.

Ilene doesn't speak, quietly dialing the number and going off to the side. Ashley stands and walks to the bathroom. She leans against the sink, stifles her cries with her arm. Her first instinct is to stay there and she listens to it because she can't motivate herself to do anything else. She's near the sink for ten minutes that turn into fifteen that turn into twenty. Ashley has the number of bathroom tiles memorized by the time there's a knock at the door. She doesn't want to chew out Ozzie again or Ilene, but she doesn't want to talk to them either. So she resolves not to talk anymore. Talking didn't stop Wheeler. Talking didn't make her feel any better. She'll look at them, pass them and fall onto the couch.

Ashley parts the door and inches back. Craig stands in the hallway, car keys still in hand, his mouth slightly trembling. He moves some purple hairs that have fallen into one half of her face.

"Do you still hate me?" chokes out Ashley.

He brings her to him, her body shuddering against him as she cries, moans his name over and over, until her lips are dry.


	101. Remember

**CI. Remember**

_Remember, I will still be here  
As long as you hold me, in your memory_

_Remember, when your dreams have ended_  
_Time can be transcended_  
_Just remember me_

_I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly,_  
_It is the last light, to fade into the rising sun_

_I'm with you_  
_Whenever you tell, my story_  
_For I am all I've done_

_Remember, I will still be here_  
_As long as you hold me, in your memory_  
_Remember me_

_I am the one voice in the cold wind, that whispers_  
_And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky_

_As long as I still can reach out, and touch you_  
_Then I will never die_

_Remember, I'll never leave you_  
_If you will only_  
_Remember me_

_Remember me..._

_Remember, I will still be here_  
_As long as you hold me_  
_In your memory_

_Remember, when your dreams have ended_  
_Time can be transcended_  
_I live forever_  
_Remember me_

_Remember me_  
_Remember... me..._

**Remember is the property of Josh Groban and appears in the film _Troy._**

**Carry Out is the property of Timbaland.**

**AN: I'm changing the last name of Ty's family from Cunningham to Mitchum. I don't want people to confuse Arissa Cunningham with any member of this family.**

The waitress sets the forks on top of the remnants of frosting, easily setting the two plates on a single thin tray. There's only a small portion of cake left, and it's now in a box, sitting snugly against J.J.'s chest. She can't believe that her celebration is nearly over. If she had a choice, she'd love to lace three consecutive nights together, trading one long night with her family, Emma, and Toby over whatever happens in one weekend. Maybe that's what she should've wished for. That escaped her and unfortunately Toby would be making his escape in a manner of minutes.

Manny prolongs it by parking herself in his lap, Toby encircling her waist with his arm. Joseph is taking care of the bill, and her mother, Rosa, and Emma were discussing whether J.J. should get a haircut before his engagement party. Manny didn't feel too compelled to vote.

"I'm so much older and wiser," says Manny, rocking her feet back and forth.

"Well, you have been seventeen for a whole day," affirms Toby. "A woman of the world."

"Can't be tamed," agrees Manny. "Hello? Miley Cyrus."

"Complete with being naughty next to ice cream transportation," mentions Toby.

"Look who's been keeping up," laughs Manny. "Wow."

"I heard it from J.T.," explains Toby, smiling.

"What _won't_ that boy say?" says Manny with a shrug.

"I think you're more talented than Miley, for the record," adds Toby.

"I think you're cute," says Manny. "For the record."

"Are you nervous...about tomorrow?" asks Toby, slightly hesitant.

Tomorrow, she would be getting the call, and not just any call. She has no idea when Eric Hegel will dial her number, say that she's in or not in the Academy. After witnessing the talent there firsthand, with music that flooded her heart, and left her speechless, the call means so much more. She'd say the equivalent would be Toby, Emma, Liberty, and the rest of her friends getting their college acceptance and rejection letters this spring. The future is headed their way and other people are controlling it, for better or for worse. What if they don't think she's good enough? What if she finds herself on a path to nowhere? Manny's stomach flutters.

"You shouldn't be," says Toby.

"Nothing's for certain," moans Manny.

"If they don't say yes, they don't deserve you," says Toby.

"I usually go by my gut, but my stomach's all weird and it's the night before," admits Manny.

"Then, we'll go by my gut," says Toby. "And it's saying you're going to be celebrating for a different reason tomorrow night."

"I haven't heard yes in a long while," says Manny. "I'm used to not hearing it."

"You should get used to having your name on a marquee," counters Toby.

Manny runs a hand across his cheek and kisses him squarely on the lips.

"Sometimes what you say is so epic," sighs Manny. "I love it."

Their waitress returns to the table, plops down two mints, and leaves with a grin. Manny automatically pops one into her mouth and starts to rummage through her purse for tip money. She'd been a really good waitress and didn't smirk at the evening pancake order. But Toby is quicker and sets a few dollars next to the salt and pepper shakers.

"What do you have in there?" questions Toby, looking down at her purse with interest.

"Date essentials," says Manny as she displays her items. "A cute hair tie. Cell, complete with crystal cover. Miniscule mirror for make-up. Hand cream, a little brush, a little comb. The all-important wallet...and a little flavored lip gloss."

Toby reaches for the lip gloss and Manny lightly hits his hand.

"Just because you're the one I'm kissing doesn't mean you get to touch it," says Manny.

"I was wondering what I was tasting," says Toby, touching his mouth.

"Cotton candy," provides Manny.

"Ohhhh," says Toby, arching his eyebrows and smiling.

"Ohhhh," repeats Manny with a nod.

They hear someone clear their throat, Emma and J.J. staring at them as they walk to the front of their booth. Manny and Toby demurely get out of position and stand.

"Did someone mention cotton candy?" says J.J. cluelessly.

"How much sugar can you eat?" says Emma.

"A lot," replies J.J. proudly. "But yeah, we gotta head out, guys. Toby's curfew and everything."

Toby stares apologetically at the floor and Manny clasps her purse with a frown. The four of them join her parents, Rosa, and Officers Patton and Wheaton. Joseph leads the way out of the restaurant, all of them walking into a cool night. Joseph unlocks the car doors, the locks bounding up with heavy clicks. J.J.'s car is right next to Joseph's. Toby's car is on the other side of the parking lot.

"We really enjoyed your company," says Joseph, addressing Toby and Officer Wheaton. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for having us," says Officer Wheaton.

"It was one of the best nights ever," says Toby, staring at Manny.

Manny's cheeks change color in the low light of the parking lot, and she's betting only her mother can see since she notices things like that. But Maria is too busy giving Toby a hug to notice.

"I guess we'll see you in school the next time we see you," says Joseph.

"Why is summer always so short?" asks Emma to a chorus of amused laughs.

"Just wait 'til you're out of college," says Rosa.

"Oh yeah, I can't wait," says Emma, clearly not anticipating it.

"Good night," says Joseph, waving at Toby.

"Good night," returns Toby.

The Santoses start to get into their car, all but Manny, slyly giving Emma a pointed look. Officer Wheaton walks over to the other side of the vehicle to chat with Officer Patton.

"Oh!" cries Emma, getting speedily into the backseat and shutting the door.

"You look beautiful under parking lot lights," says Toby.

"You nerd," says Manny, giggling and wrapping her arms around him. "This tops all my birthdays."

"Can't wait for your birthday trip," whispers Toby against her ear. "I love you."

"I love you just as much," whispers Manny.

She drops her arms and retreats to the backseat with Emma and Officer Patton. Joseph fires up the engine as Manny buckles her seatbelt. He pulls the car out of the space and Manny lowers her window to stick her hand out and wave until Toby's as faint as the lot where he's standing.

Though it's only fifteen minutes after eight, she closes her eyes and is surprised by the image that arrests her mind. There's so much greenery around that it can't be Toronto. There's the rustle of lake water, the sway of light winds, and the whisper of blades of grass as feet tromp through a path. They are her feet. That's when she realizes that this is a memory, and not a dream.

_She was five, small in stature, excited. Manny was behind her mom and another mom, her aunt, and so are her female cousins. They passed an area under the cabbage terraces of the mountains, Manny's eyes fixed on the rows of leafy green plants. Hikers and tourists trek past them, eagerly snapping pictures. Kids from the nearby elementary school were hearing a lecture on the history of the mountain, Tagalog filling Manny's little ears. She picked up a couple words, but her ears were so trained to hearing English that she soon gave up. Her cousins were fluent in English too. They were arguing about who could run faster._

_"I'm like a jet!" said Amihan. "I'm like Wonder Woman."_

_"Wonder Woman can't fly, dumbo," countered Amihan's sister, Marikit._

_Amihan was seven, the eldest, and was always messing up her pigtails to make herself look older. Marikit was five and considered herself an expert at everything, including a thorough, made-up story on why the Tooth Fairy didn't exist._

_"Can't Wonder Woman fly, Manny?" asked Amihan._

_They'd only consult Manny if the debate wasn't going anywhere. _

_"I think so," said Manny. _

_Amihan whistled the theme song in triumph. Marikit scowled and picked up a twig to throw at her sister later._

_"This is such a beautiful day," commented Maria._

_She held out her hand for Manny to grasp, which she did willingly. Unlike her cousins, she didn't mind motherly affection. Her aunt Melody was always talking and too into it to really pay attention to what her daughters were doing._

_"So I said, James, the only time I'd ever consider dating you is a leap year day," chuckled Melody. "I think he got the point, but I'm never going on eHarmony again. You just can't let technology do the job for you. Is it so wrong to go online and have standards?"_

_Aunt Melody was so modern and chatty compared to her own mom. She was on her second divorce and both men were pretty good stepdads to her daughters; they just weren't pretty good husbands, or good enough husbands. Manny wasn't too sure back then why the marriages didn't work. In any case, she owned a boutique in Chicago and was set on finding a handsome Filipino man in any way possible._

_"What was wrong with this one?" sighed Maria._

_"Love handles," groaned Melody._

_"Are love handles good?" asked Manny, glancing up at her aunt._

_"You're such a pretty girl," sighed Melody, stroking Manny's hair. "Maria, you don't tell this girl anything."_

_"I don't want her to know everything," says Maria with a smile aimed at her daughter. "At least, not yet."_

_Manny smiled back and skipped ahead. They were almost to her favorite part of the mountainside, the strawberry plots. She enjoyed the farm's natural aromas and the red glow of the fruit. She would like to get lost in there forever, or at least for fifteen minutes. Her cousins beat her to it, racing to the rows of strawberries. Marikit threw the twig at her sister._

_"Mom, I'm gonna go too!" cried Manny, letting go of her mother's hand._

_"Be careful, Manuella!" called Maria after her._

_"Go Speed Racer!" sang Amihan, running along the row. "Go Speed Racer! Go Speed Racer...gooooo!"_

_"There you go, Astroboy!" sang Marikit, with her arm punched in the air as she ran. "On your flight into space..."_

_Manny paused, scratched her head, and tried to think of her own theme song to match her cousins. They seemed a lot more well-versed in superheroes than her, and she had to compensate for her lack of knowledge. Manny thought of one and forged ahead._

_"We're the Planeteers, you can be one too," sang Manny. "Because saving our planet is the thing to do. Looting and polluting is not the way..."_

_Her voice faded fast as her cousins stopped and gave her shocked expressions. _

_"Um," said Manny, stopping too. _

_She and Emma used to sing it, Emma especially. Bad choice. Very bad choice, she thought. _

_"We're...um, gonna go over there," said Amihan, tugging her sister to another row._

_Manny bit her lip and sat. But it wasn't so bad. The sunshine was tickling her nose and the wind was stroking her brow. She let her back hit the front of a strawberry plant and sighed. The leaves were soft against her body. She was glad she could shut her eyes, and not know what she was feeling. She was glad she didn't know everything. Here, everything felt right, anyway. She felt young, pretty, and smart, even if nobody else felt that way._

_"Manny, we're ready to play with you again!" shouted Amihan from another row._

_"Okay!" said Manny, bounding up._

_She reached them in a flash._

_"This place is sick!" proclaimed Marikit._

_"Huh?" said Manny._

_"That's how they talk in Chicago," said Amihan. "But it's totally sick. My favorite. We can do whatever we want here."_

_"I saw a boy poop in here once," mentioned Marikit._

_"Ewwww," said Manny. "Why?"_

_"When you gotta go, you gotta go," laughed Amihan. "I saw a boy kiss a girl here once."_

_"Ewwww," said Marikit._

_That didn't sound so bad, thought Manny. She thought kissing was kind of gross, but usually the girl smiled afterwards, so it couldn't be that bad. _

_"I saw a boy chase a butterfly once," offered Manny._

_"Did he smush it?" asked Amihan._

_No, remembered Manny. That wasn't "ewww"-inducing, however._

_"Yeah," lied Manny._

_"Ewwww," said her cousins._

_"Let's play hide and seek," suggested Manny. "I'll find you guys. It's going to be hard, since you guys move fast."_

_The compliment made her cousins' faces light up, which was her intention. Amihan and Marikit ran in opposite directions, their feet pounding the ground. Before Manny started counting, she glanced up at the sun a final time and let the rays wash over her face and small shoulders. As much as she didn't have much to compare with her cousins, she was in total agreement that this was one of her favorite places too._

Manny opens her eyes, taps the window softly with her thumb and exhales. The trip with Toby isn't a guarantee. Several factors can nix it- her parents, the investigation, money. If only she could race past the troubles to get to the sun. That's harder when you don't know what's up ahead.

II.

"Fare thee well, my little waitress pad," says Hazel.

"Who ordered Pretty Pretty sweatpants?" reads Spinner.

"I did!" says Hazel happily, hopping off the stool. "Premature shopping list for university!"

Hazel scoops up her no longer necessary pad and walks over to Jimmy, having a long handshake with Pat. Honestly, he got back here just in time. Spinner definitely got the vibe that Jimmy was not a bad substitute. In fact, Pat had honored Jimmy with his own nickname - Jimbo. Okay, yeah, maybe he heard Spinner call Jimmy that once, but he got why Pat called him that too. Though, of course, Jimmy was there for him and he can't hate on that. Maybe burger grease brings people together. Spinner scrunches his nose. Ick.

Also kind of ick? J.T. and Liberty are cuddling in a booth and making out when they think no one's looking. They have to go, and not just because it's closing time.

"Not to kill the mood...," starts Spinner.

"We know," sighs J.T. "We don't have to go home, but we have to get the heck out of here."

"Well, the Dot's summer hours have never been sweeter," says Liberty, patting J.T.'s knee and rising.

"We left you a tip, my good man," says J.T., pounding Spinner on the back.

Spinner goes over the bill, and looks under a plastic cup.

"A dollar!" cries Spinner. "Dude!"

By the time he says anything, J.T. and Liberty are out the door. Great, his first day back working, and he gets stiffed.

"Can you guys close?" says Pat, standing in the center of the Dot. "I've got to take Kelsey home."

"No prob, Pat," says Jimmy.

"What Jimbo said," mumbles Spinner under his breath.

"Thanks," says Pat. "Appreciate it. Kelsey?"

Kelsey leaves the girls' washroom with a handful of paper towels.

"I'm going to make a hat," proclaims Kelsey.

She runs out of the Dot, the bell clanging behind her.

"Those towels don't look too sanitary," says Pat.

He jogs to the door after tossing Spinner the keys. Spinner shrugs and starts to clear J.T. and Liberty's table.

"Finally, the boss is gone," says Hazel.

She flips the switch on the Dot's stereo, and begins to dance. Something tells Spinner that Hazel didn't enjoy this job as much as Jimmy. And it wasn't just because Hazel screamed in delight when Spinner returned.

_Eh eh eh_  
_Baby, you're looking fine_  
_I have you open all night like an iHop_

"Did you miss us, man?" says Jimmy, dancing a little in his chair.

"Because we are so miss-worthy," says Hazel as she rocks to the beat.

"What what!" says Jimmy, shimmying his shoulders.

Spinner laughs. "I'll cop that I did."

"Seriously, Spin," says Jimmy. "It wasn't the same without you."

The two friends bump fists, Hazel hugging both from the side.

"I never want to see another onion ring again," admits Hazel.

_I take you home baby let you keep me company_  
_You gimme some of you, I give you some of me_  
_You look good, baby must taste heavenly_  
_I'm pretty sure that you got your own recipe_  
_So pick it up, pick it up, yeah I like you_

They all chuckle, Hazel going over again to raise the volume. Things were going well so he let her indulge in the music. It was nice to return to the Dot and not find it destroyed or shut down by the health inspector. Not that he thought it would. He wanted to get back in Pat's good graces, though, and decided to create a new beverage menu. Jimmy told him that more and more customers were coming in to ask for smoothies and disappointed when they saw that the menu only offered two, strawberry and peach. So he created a brilliant list of more possibilities. He already had three.

"Heh," says Spinner to himself as he gets behind the counter and retrieves the menu. "Oh yeah."

He couldn't be proud for too long as the door to the Dot opens. Ugh, he does not want to tell someone else to go home. Or not, thinks Spinner as he raises his head. Emma stands in the doorway in an amazing blue dress with her blonde hair carefully combed and styled. He unfortunately hasn't seen her since he switched his flight. He had to take care of things on the home turf - cancelling the stop on the mail, sorting mail, watching the house, and anything his mother added over the phone. Emma was definitely a priority and he sent texts, but she hadn't contacted him. He's definitely able to contact her now.

"Emma Nelson!" exclaims Spinner. "I thought you went extinct!"

"A band of angry hunters almost took me down," says Emma, heading towards the counter. "Mr. Santos dropped me off."

Spinner leaves the counter and goes to hug her, kissing her on the side of the head.

"Time out!" cries Hazel.

Her cry interrupts their hug, Emma keeping her arm on Spinner's back.

"So what are we dating now?" teases Jimmy, beaming at Spinner.

"No, see, I'm dating Emma," replies Spinner.

"You're too late, Jimmy," adds Emma.

"Say what?" cries Jimmy.

"Oooh, I want to hear deets!" says Hazel. "I watch _The Bachelor _so I know L.A.'s a good spot to start up a romance."

"We haven't spoken in days...," begins Spinner, sharing a small smile with Emma.

"Alright, but we're bugging you later," says Hazel.

"Trust," promises Jimmy.

They return to dancing, while Emma hops up on a stool and Spinner gets behind the counter. Up close, she's even prettier, and even more prettier when he thinks of how he hasn't seen her in so long.

_I just can't get enough I got to drive through_  
_Cause it's me, you, you, me, me, you all night_  
_Have it your, way, foreplay_  
_Before I feed your appetite_  
_Let me get my ticket baby, let me get in line_  
_I can tell the way you like, baby, supersize_

"Hannah e-vited me to her party," announces Emma.

"Awesome," says Spinner. "I miss her sweet little self. She's way calmer than Kelsey."

"The guest list is pretty slim," shares Emma.

"Poor Hannah," sighs Spinner.

"Manny's celebration was so much fun," says Emma. "I want that for Hannah. But the last time I arranged something for her..."

"I never saw her happier," interjects Spinner.

Emma raises his hand and kisses it.

"I'm really sorry I haven't called," says Emma.

"I would've called, but figured you were sick of people calling you," says Spinner faintly.

"Mom calls all the time," says Emma. "And Dad, even moreso..."

Emma closes her lips, seems to register something. Spinner registers it too.

"I used Dad, didn't I?" says Emma.

Spinner nods.

"I haven't said it much this summer, like casually," says Emma. "That's good, I think."

"Yeah," says Spinner, putting his hand over hers.

Emma grins. "I missed you, Spin."

"Goes both ways," assures Spinner. "Where were you? Looking all fresh and whatnot."

She laughs, and it's wonderful to hear.

"We went out for Manny's birthday," says Emma. "To a play, and then dinner."

"Nice," says Spinner.

"What's been happening with you?" asks Emma.

"Getting back into the grind," replies Spinner. "Oh dude, when I went to friend Lia, guess who found me?"

"Who?" says Emma.

"Rashad, the leader of that crew?" says Spinner.

"No way!" cries Emma.

"Dude, would I lie?" says Spinner. "There aren't that many Spinners on there...I don't think. I got a message where he asked me how I was and if I found any rhythm."

"Sounds like him," says Emma, patting his hand compassionately.

"Nobody appreciates the groove," says Spinner, working his shoulders to the bass of the music.

"I appreciate the groove," assures Emma.

"Well, that's all that matters," says Spinner.

_Come over here (what's your name?)_  
_Come closer (what's your number?)_  
_I'm over here (I'm glad I came)_  
_A little closer (can you take my order?)_

Spinner releases a heavy breath, glances over the menu, and twists his lips.

"I'd appreciate your opinion on something else, too," decides Spinner.

He lays the menu in front of Emma, who reads it and squints her eyes.

"Smoothies?" says Emma. "Do you want...like, more variety?"

"Exactly!" says Spinner. "I'm thinking like watermelon and banana and raspberry, and some other types of berries and stuff."

"Or combos, like strawberry banana!" offers Emma.

"Yes!" cries Spinner. "And we could call it like Smoothies R' Us, or the Blend Brigrade!"

"And maybe carrot for veggie fiends?" says Emma. "Personally speaking, of course."

"I am so getting a pen," says Spinner.

He takes the pen from Hazel's apron. She wouldn't be using it anymore. Spinner writes down the ideas they came up with, smiling over the menu at Emma after he's done.

_Hold on, you got yours, let me get mine_  
_I aint leavin until they turn over the closed sign_  
_Check it_  
_Take my order cause your body like a_  
_Carry out_  
_Let me walk into your body until you hear me out_  
_Turn me on, my baby dont you_  
_Cut me out_  
_Turn me on, my baby dont you_  
_Cut me out_

"You know, what about passion fruit?" says Spinner with a grin.

"You are so obvious," says Emma, leaning over to kiss him. "But definitely write it down."

III.

Sweet scents encircle him. He sits in the center of peonies, gardenias, yellow and white roses, lilies and chrysanthemums. The brightness of the colors bothers his eyes, or maybe he's tearing up for another reason, the reason being that these are burial flower displays and nothing else. These flowers couldn't have been grown specifically for this reason, could they? What a gruesome way to start a garden if they were, cruel but probably necessary.

Sean boosts himself up from the soft, red carpeted stairs. He came in the side room to double check the displays for Sandy. Some flowers came courtesy of Cheryl's greenhouse and some didn't. He doesn't know if Cheryl gave her consent but she didn't say anything when she saw them in the church either. Sean counts twelve sets of flowers and releases a deep breath. Time to deliver the verdict.

His whole family is keeping busy until the other verdict comes into play. Ike was in constant meetings with Syrus Fletcher after Sean gave Mr. Fletcher every last detail that he could. They were dead set on proving that Dale physically coerced Sean into criminal activity and threatened him when that didn't work, which was basically the truth. It wasn't one hundred percent truth, however. Sean knows he did quite a few things voluntarily to keep himself afloat. Meanwhile, Iris reached out to Sandy and went with her to the minister conducting the memorial service. Sometimes it was better to have another woman to talk to so Sean struck up what he hoped would be a beneficial friendship for her. He ferried Sandy everywhere but consoling her verbally was a different story. Tracker aided Sean with the grunt work. They helped the church members move the pulpit, the speakers, the communion table, microphones, and a piano yesterday afternoon. Ellie volunteered to type up the program Sandy wrote and would be delivering them before she took off for driver's ed. Ellie sounded worried on the phone, though maybe she was just tired. He'd check on her today, when he wasn't checking on Cheryl.

Cheryl sits in the middle of the church, partially bent over, blankly staring at the screen that would eventually roll pictures of Ty. Becca volunteered to sing a song while the pictures changed. Sean wonders if Cheryl and Becca have ever met. He wonders if Ty wanted them to.

"Sweltering heat out there!" cries Sandy from the rear of the church.

She walks forward in a pea green dress and white gloves on her hands. Sandy wrests the gloves off.

"And we're supposed to be out of the dog days of summer already," continues Sandy. "All the flowers here?"

"A dozen like you asked," confirms Sean, removing his gaze from Cheryl.

"I'm going to call the caterer, see about the menu for the reception," says Sandy. "Don't want Cobb salad instead of chicken salad."

"Umm...," begins Sean.

Sandy's on her way, oblivious to Sean's mutterings. Shoot. He wanted to ask her about Marcus. The memorial service is in a week and if there was any time to tell him about Ty, it was this one. He shouldn't be such a wimp. At the same time, Dale was a bigger wimp by laying up in the hospital and expecting Sean to do all of this. If Ty didn't mean this much to him, then...

Sean silences his head, and turns to view a single photo of Ty. It rests on a stand, the size of a computer monitor, Ty with his trademark closed-lipped grin on his face as he sits there in his school uniform. He had to be about eight and there were no lines near his eyes or mouth. He looks like a catalog kid instead of a kid waiting to be buried. Sean sniffles and walks quickly up the church's aisle.

When he reaches the entrance, the door flies open, Alex leaning on the door with her eyes directed outside and not at Sean.

"Keep the momentum!" calls over Alex.

"I am!" yells a voice Sean identifies as Jay's. "And remember you're in a church, alright?"

"Sorry!" calls Alex, then more quietly upon seeing Sean. "Sorry."

Peering past her, Sean watches Jay move slowly up a wheelchair ramp to the church's front doors. He's having a bit of trouble, though he finds a rhythm and speeds up the ramp after a few seconds.

"It's all about the angles," says Jay, more to himself than anyone.

"Thank goodness they have a ramp," says Alex.

"Thank goodness they let me out of the hospital," sighs Jay. "Two hours max, but still..."

"What are you guys doing here?" asks Sean.

"Ellie told us she was doing something," replies Alex. "And we wanted to do something."

"Seriously," says Jay. "You didn't think we'd want to help, man?"

Sean offers them a faint smile and holds the door open for Jay as he comes into the church.

"You guys can help," says Sean. "Umm, Alex, do you think you could pick up some food for Ty's grandmother and mother? They're in the sanctuary."

"No prob," says Alex.

"Anything edible really," continues Sean. "Emmitt and Delonte already said they'd be pallbearers. We need four more. Emmitt gave me a list of the guys in the ring. Jay, do you think you could call them? We could use pallbearers, people to pass out programs, people to clean up after the reception, that sort of thing. I'm not sure how many are going to come through, though. With the investigation and all."

Sean removes the list and hands it to Jay.

"I'm on it," says Jay. "Who doesn't want to hear my lovely voice on the other line?"

"Oh, I can think of a lot of girls," says Alex, tossing her keys once and heading out of the door.

"She's still mad and she still won't tell me if she's going to my indictment," whispers Jay to Sean. "Could you..."

"Dude, I've got enough to handle," says Sean.

"Lemme find the phone," sighs Jay, rolling towards the church lobby.

This is pretty great. His friends were saving him some work, and here was a good chance to talk to Sandy. He sees Cheryl duck into the ladies' room and Sandy exit a backroom. Sean nods to himself and walks to meet Sandy in the aisle.

"Can we talk?" says Sean.

"Sure can," says Sandy.

They move down a pew, and sit on the hard wood. The wood can't be harder than having the guts to start this conversation. Sean runs a hand over his knee, a gesture that must look familiar to her now. This is what he did before he told her about Ty and the fire. She must be expecting something else awful based on her worried expression. Better to blurt it out and spare Sandy the anxiety.

"I...I haven't told Marcus," says Sean.

Sandy exhales, a calm breath.

"I figured...figured after Cheryl shut down...," stammers Sean. "That's...anyway, that's not an excuse."

"You don't need one," says Sandy with a thinly veiled smile.

Sean arches his eyebrows in confusion.

"How much do you know about Marcus and Dale?" says Sandy softly.

"They were friends," says Sean. "Marcus promised Dale he'd come back for Ty. Ty...died believing that. I know Dale was upset that Marcus didn't tell Ty good-bye."

"Well, Dale stayed with Cheryl for awhile," shares Sandy. "When Mrs. Hill left. Around...six months."

"Is this when...," says Sean.

"It's when Marcus started acting out," interjects Sandy. "He took Dale along for the ride. Dale's father and Cheryl got together one night to discuss the boys. They found a gun under Marcus' mattress. Dale went back to his father's and when Cheryl confronted Marcus...that was the night Marcus took off. I'm not privy to what promises the boys made to each other."

Settling his hands on top of the pew, Sean grips it so tightly he can view his veins.

"But Marcus did come back...to Cheryl's apartment," says Sandy. "He came back years later with that same gun. He came back and shot his stepfather right in the heart, right in the same bed as Cheryl. Thank God Ty was with Dale. How do you explain that to a sensitive boy like that? So...we didn't. We never did."

"I don't blame you," says Sean.

He meant it. It's not like he ever wanted to tell anybody outside of his close circle about watching Rick die.

"If what you say is true, Ty was waiting for nothing for a whole year," says Sandy, her eyes filling with tears.

Sean's throat grows tight, and his feet start to go numb.

"Or maybe he was waiting for you," says Sandy, putting her left hand on top of his, on the pew.

Like he's someone to wait for? He let Ty stay locked upstairs while he went against Dale. So intent on calling Dale out, he lost someone he was fighting for and not against. Tears stream past his nose.

"I'm nothing to wait for," says Sean as he stares at her.

"You should give yourself some credit," insists Sandy.

"Sandy, I hated Dale," says Sean. "I hate him. We've had so many arguments that I've lost track. This anger... Ty told me...he told me to let it go and I couldn't. I couldn't even let it go...to protect him."

"Sean, you sound so familiar," says Sandy.

Sean shrugs at her, trying to search for clarity past his wet gaze.

"Didn't you know Marcus wanted to do the same thing?" says Sandy. "To put away his anger and be there for his brother. He just let it build up inside him and it got so it had no place else to go. Ty's at peace now. Nobody can hurt him anymore and nobody should blame themselves. You, Dale, or Marcus."

Wiping his eyes, Sean focuses on the picture of Ty, motionless, blown up. Then he can imagine Marcus, motionless, having nowhere to go inside his prison cell, wrestling with an anger that he didn't follow through on his promise. He must be suffering. The people connected to him are, definitely.

"Whenever I got angry, my mom used to tell me a story about two lions fighting over a lamb," continues Sandy. "It was the last lamb left and they each wanted it, so they pulled and pulled."

"And?" prompts Sean.

"Nobody won," says Sandy. "Because they tore the lamb apart."

She didn't have to elaborate. Sean nods.

"I have somewhere to go," says Sean, standing. "My friends are here and will be happy to help."

Sandy stands too, gingerly removing a tissue and wiping her eyes with it.

They walk to the back of the church, Alex having returned with the food and Jay holding Sean's list.

"Finished?" asks Sean.

"Yep," answers Jay.

"Good," says Sean. "Who said they'd come?"

Jay and Alex glance at each other. Jay smiles and returns the list to Sean.

"Everybody," says Jay.

IV.

Craig folds the sides of the jacket, making them touch. She's so small in this jacket. He never noticed. He notices the small cut next to her lip and the dark pockets under her closed lids. She sleeps on Ilene's living room couch, soundly for now. There's barely any sound in the apartment as both Ilene and Ozzie left a few minutes ago. They thanked Craig for coming and then abruptly left.

Why did he leave her? He knew that she'd be alone, or he wouldn't have driven to Starfly's for three weeks straight. It was like watching a rat scurry around a cage and waiting for the snake to pounce and swallow it whole. Ashley's soul was devoured, and no one, including him, can tell who went after her body. Craig immediately took Ashley back to Dr. Sutton and they had a nice, long talk...a confidential talk. While he respected the rules, he couldn't sit in the chair and not speculate. It could be something as simple as a drunken trip, but why didn't she say so? It could be something as serious as rape, but why didn't she look dejected when she left the examination room? He's out of the loop and he hates that.

"Tell me...anything," says Craig, leaning over Ashley.

She continues to sleep, her mouth parting and then closing again.

Ashley did talk to him, which is more than what she did with them, Ilene confessed. She told him she wanted to keep her appointment with Dr. Sutton and come back to Ilene's afterwards. He expected her to say that she wanted him to bring her home. When he opened the bathroom door, he was horrified. He hadn't seen her this close in weeks and this is the first sight that finds him? Of course she should go home. Why wasn't that a request? And if it wasn't, why didn't he drag her? She isn't in her right mind. He is, and he should listen to it.

Craig leaves the couch and stares out of the window, at Joey's car. Joey wasn't working today and Craig has yet to call him and explain his or the car's absence. He'd probably be okay with Ashley staying the night. Tomorrow night, she would be over there anyway for...

The intervention! Ugh, he completely stamped the crucial event into the bottom of his mind. How could he bring an emotionally fragile Ashley to his house and then spring this on her? Too brutal is an understatement. Okay, he'd phone Joey and not only explain where he was, but why they shouldn't do the intervention, not now at least. He'd be perfectly understanding.

Craig dials on his cell. Joey answers on the second ring, with a loud "Craig?"

"I'm fine, Joey," assures Craig in a whisper. "I'm with Ashley."

"Where?" says Joey.

"I... I'm alright, okay?" replies Craig.

"Give me the address," says Joey.

"Why, Joey?" sighs Craig. "I'm not sure she can take another visitor."

"Give me the address," repeats Joey, more sternly. "I can take Diane's car."

"Can I trust you not to phone Kate?" whispers Craig.

He hears a shuffle, turning to view Ashley's leg moving left and right, before staying put.

"You're putting me in an awkward position," says Joey. "You get that?"

Why is he making this difficult? He just called to tell him a couple things.

"You take my car," continues Joey. "You don't want me to tell her parents. You don't explain what's going on..."

"I will!" insists Craig. "Look, I'll...I'll meet you at home. In half an hour."

"Fine," sighs Joey. "Fine."

Joey hangs up on him. He's ticked, which Craig understands, but he honestly thought Joey would understand where he's coming from. Ilene told him that she called because Ashley trusted him. She's so out of it that another breach of trust might push her over the edge. This intervention would quadrupe her lack of trust.

Craig smooths Ashley's brow and kisses her forehead. She moans and shifts until she's turned away from him. He doesn't want her turning away from him any longer.

The knob to the front door clicks. He quickly goes to the door and slides out. Ilene and Ozzie are sitting on the top of the stairs.

"Is she awake?" says Ozzie.

"No," replies Craig. "I'm going to meet my dad and be right back here as soon as I can."

He starts down the steps, until Ozzie's voice reaches him in his descent.

"We're here, too!" speaks up Ozzie.

"Ozzie!" shushes Ilene.

"No," says Ozzie, his voice echoing in the stairwell. "We're her friends. We care about her. I've done a lot for her!"

Ilene offers Ozzie a sympathetic glance and gives Craig a reluctant glare.

"It's true," adds Ilene.

"Does that include an endless supply of alcohol?" says Craig.

Ilene chews on her lip and Ozzie crosses his arms.

"Excuse me if I don't thank you for that," says Craig, sarcastically. "Pounding drinks with someone who has a problem? That's really friendly."

"Who could've known that she had a problem?" exclaims Ozzie.

"I don't know," says Craig. "A friend?"

Ozzie grimaces and falls onto a step, murmuring something into his hands. Ilene puts an arm around him, rolling her eyes.

V.

"I swear if I had hair, you'd make me lose it!" cries Joey, throwing the door wide open for Craig.

"Joey," groans Craig.

Rather than face him directly, Craig starts rummaging through the main closet. He spies a yellow T-shirt and a jean skirt, which formerly belonged to his mother. Julia asked them to tuck away some clothes for Angie before she died. Joey eyes the skirt sadly and wills himself out of his silent stupor.

"So you're doing what exactly?" says Joey.

"I need fresh clothes," says Craig. "In case she's run out of clean ones. Ilene may've given her some, but I'm over her brand of hospitality. I'll return the skirt."

"Who is Ilene?" cries Joey.

"Don't worry, Joey," says Craig, revolving around to him. "I've got this under control."

"I doubt that," says Joey.

He might as well tell him that he has doubts...about the intervention. It really makes sense. With the added stress, and Ashley's inability to talk, why wouldn't they put it off? Clearly Kate, Robert, and Chris would see that.

"Um...I'm thinking we shouldn't do the intervention," says Craig with shaky confidence.

"What?" exclaims Joey.

"It's what's best!" insists Craig.

"What's best is putting her in a room with a trained professional!" counters Joey. "You went along with this plan for three weeks and a few hours changes things?"

"A few hours ago, I didn't see her," says Craig.

"And it sounds like you're not going to let anyone else see her," says Joey. "This isn't fair to her parents, her friends, and especially not to her!"

Craig forcibly removes the shirt and skirt, tossing Joey annoyed glances occasionally.

"I've got news for you, Joey," exclaims Craig. "The last sit down we had with her parents sucked! We didn't see her for weeks after she left England! She finally contacts me and everybody else wants to do it one more time?"

"Nobody was prepared last time," says Joey. "Robert told me about it."

"Did he tell you she ditched us at the airport?" asks Craig.

Throwing the clothes over his arm, he passes Joey and goes through the door, towards the car. Joey follows, preventing Craig's escape.

"She lied," says Joey.

"Joey," says Craig, shaking his head.

"She'll lie again," goes on Joey. "She'll flee again. She'll tell you she needs you again. This pattern won't end, if you don't do this for her."

"She...," begins Craig.

"She's not the same person," interjects Joey. "She's an addict. You can't do it by yourself! You can't save her!"

He reaches past Joey to throw the clothes in the back seat. That's Joey's problem. He can't get past logic and what you're supposed to do. He can't acknowledge Ashley's emotions and what his love can do for her. His love matters in some way or else he wouldn't be the person she turned to continually. His love has to make a difference because last time it didn't. Last time, it failed. The hospital visits, the vows to come home, the skirt. Last time, he couldn't...

"I have to save Mom and you have to accept it!" shouts Craig.

Joey's mouth falls and his face creases with concern. Craig utters a low cry.

"Is this what this is about?" asks Joey.

"I couldn't do anything for her," sighs Craig through his tears. "She lied and said the love she had for us would get her out of the hospital."

"That wasn't a lie, Craig," says Joey, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That was a hope."

"It didn't work either way," insists Craig. "Plans didn't work. Chemo didn't work. Those were trained professionals."

"They're also human," says Joey.

"I have to save Ashley," says Craig. "I can't go through that again."

"Craig, you're letting your emotions take over...," begins Joey.

"Ashley's waiting," says Craig.

He shirks away from Joey's touch and goes to the driver's seat, quickly positioning himself behind the wheel. Joey bends to view Craig from the other window.

"Love is powerful," says Joey over the roar of the car. "But it can break your heart too."

He presses his foot on the pedal, flying away from any shadows that might cloud his judgement. He's not sure where that came from, despite having had several memories of his mother and father pop up in his brain during the summer. Her funeral, his last visit, his conversations revolving around her. Still, everything he said to Joey was right. But everything Joey said to him was completely possible. Which side should he choose?

Ilene's apartment comes into sight after twenty confusing minutes. Craig leaves the car, the clothes pressed against his chest. He climbs the stairwell and knocks on the door. He thinks he hears the echoes of knocks, but he's wrong. It's knocking and slamming and clattering. Craig tries for the knob. The door's unlocked. Craig goes inside.

Ashley is in the kitchen. She's alone and intent, intent on pulling on each drawer, each cupboard door, and each appliance she can reach. Drawers drop to the floor. Utensils slide against the kitchen tiles. Paper towels roll from one end of the floor to the other. Ashley's hair is over most of her face, more unkempt than when he left her.

"Ashley!" calls Craig, dropping the clothes and running to the kitchen.

"Where...where is it?" exclaims Ashley to herself.

Crying out in disgust, she flings another drawer from its place, oven mittens and tupperware tumbling to a spot in front of the refrigerator.

"What are you searching for?" yells Craig above the noise.

"I need it!" yells Ashley to herself. "Ilene, stop cleaning out your car and get back up here! I need..."

Ashley slams the refrigerator, her fingers noticeably red from the pressure.

"What do you want?" shouts Craig.

"She can't not have any!" cries Ashley, with streaming tears. "She's the last person who wouldn't have any!"

Of course, thinks Craig. He shuts his eyes to the constant flow of sound, far more heart-breaking than a broken song or guitar. Isn't it obvious what she's asking for?

"You don't need it!" says Craig, opening his eyes and going to her.

"Somebody hid it!" says Ashley, putting up a finger. "Tell me where it is! I need it!"

"Why?" demands Craig.

"I don't want to think what I'm thinking!" moans Ashley.

She crumples to the floor, among the silverware, the paper towels, the bowls, and bangs on the floor repeatedly. Craig slowly walks to her and sits beside her. He cries with her. This isn't the first instance of her sitting helpless on the floor. The pattern Joey talked about...it's pretty clear which side he should choose, has to choose. Whatever secrets she's holding and whatever demons she's facing won't be solved by staying away from the others.

"I'm trying to forget...," says Ashley, her voice breaking off.

"What are you trying to forget?" whispers Craig.

"So much," sobs Ashley.

Craig attempts to guide her to his lap. Ashley inches away from him.

"I don't want you to see me like this," sobs Ashley, choking on her tears. "With no control."

"None of us are in control, Ash," says Craig.

She finally lets him move her head on his bunched up knees, Craig sobbing into her hair, wild and loose.

VI.

Different flowers, different place. Mayhurst Correctional Facility is the width of two football fields, iron gates standing tall outside the brick walls with barbed tape near the top. A basketball court is located to the left and a small hospital is to the right. The rest of the buildings are grey, large, and structural. The only source of color are the flowers near the entrance, orange, red, and yellow. They look they haven't had the best care. It might not matter to the non-visitors but they are the one cheery thing Sean latches onto as he buzzes the door.

Latches flip and a black door staggers open. He's visiting in the middle of visiting hours and he threw on a pair of nice pants and a short-sleeved blue shirt. While dressing, he weighed Marcus' possible perceptions of him. He didn't want him to think he was too preppy, or too nerdy, or snobby, yet he didn't want him to think he was too casual, too savvy, or a hoodlum either. Sean thought he found a nice balance by the third outfit and his landlord Ray, who had an uncle in prison, approved.

Sean enters and sees several officers behind the desk. When he called, he said he was a representative of the family. He received a lecture about how that didn't count and how they'd need official documentation from him, unless Marcus cleared him. When they called back, Sean was surprised that Marcus did just that. They said he was added to Marcus' approved visitors list. He must've thought he was Dale, under another name. He hopes that doesn't cause problems.

The officers continue to stare at him.

"Hi," says Sean, making certain that his voice is loud. "I'm Sean Cameron."

"Take out everything in your pockets, Mr. Cameron," commands a female in uniform. "Remove your shoes, any watches, body jewelry, eyeglasses..."

He isn't wearing half that stuff, but rules are rules. Sean removes his watch and empties his pockets into a plastic bin. That's when he notices the large metal detector, off to the side, when the officer puts the bin on the conveyor belt. Another officer scans the items as the first officer drags a hand-held metal detector over Sean's arms, legs, waist, and backside. It's far from pleasant.

"Checks out," calls over the second officer.

"Here too," says the first officer. "Please step through, Mr. Cameron."

Sean does as he's told and puts his feet into his shoes.

"Name?" says the second officer.

"Sean Cameron," says Sean.

"ID?" says the second officer.

Both officers assess his driver's license and hand it to him after they're done.

She scrawls his name on top of a slip and situates it inside a laminated badge, placing it over his head.

"You'll get your other things when you come back," informs the first officer. "Who are you here to see?"

"Marcus Mitchum," says Sean.

The officers check the list anyway. It seems like whatever he says needs to be checked. The glory of jail. He can't imagine living this type of life, day in and day out. There's the confined space, the constant monitoring, and being alone with your guilt at night. It's humane torture or inhumane depending on who you ask.

"I'm Officer Rowley," says the first officer. "I'll be escorting you to the visitation area. You will speak with the inmate through the partition. Do not touch the glass. Do not slide anything under the glass. You must remain seated. Lewd conduct is grounds for dismissal. Is that clear?"

Wow, that was a lot, though it's all doable.

"Yes," says Sean.

"Marcus is quiet," says Officer Rowley, the first sign that he's aware of his individuality. "Reads a lot."

Like Ty, finishes Sean mentally. He doesn't share this with her, however.

"Have a seat while I buzz Marcus' escort," says Officer Rowley.

Sean situates himself on an uncomfortable, deep green chair and rubs his hands together. Okay, that's done. Now comes the hard part. He struggles to string preliminary words together. It's probably more difficult to think for himself since he's had to act as an obedient monkey since he got here. Sean massages his brow, stares absent-mindedly down the hall.

A large officer, tall and lean, is escorting someone who's not Marcus. It's a boy, who looks around ten. He's paler than Sean and quietly weeps. Then, Sean takes in the full view. The boy's in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffs behind his back. He's made to sit opposite Sean. The boy won't look at him, or the officers, only the floor. He's tempted to comfort the small, shaking figure, despite having no idea what crime a ten-year old could possibly commit. What if he were in here next? He'd be older, but still young at seventeen. Sean opens his mouth to speak.

"We're ready," says Officer Rowley, overshadowing anything Sean could say.

"Thanks," says Sean, staring at the boy one last time, and rising.

He follows Officer Rowley to a grey room with partitioned sections, a wall of glass the sole seperation between his side and the other side. Officer Rowley gestures to the third chair. The chair is black and is like many he's seen at Degrassi school meetings. It's nothing special though he likes that it's familiar. Sean takes a seat. There's another visitor and another inmate in the first partition. The inmate has a scraggly beard and is asking how his children are, and the woman, obviously his wife, cries in response. Sean stops spying and stares forward.

Five minutes pass until the door in the center on the other side parts. When it does, a man in an orange jumpsuit confidently steps through. Sean instantly identifies Marcus. He's got the same deep dark eyes that Ty had and now the same shaved head Ty had. His nose isn't the same; it's like Cheryl's. What sticks out most, though, is what he's carrying - a book.

Marcus catches sight of Sean, immediately grins. The grin isn't welcoming. Sean feels a lump form in his throat as Marcus' escort undoes his handcuffs. Sean taps the table in front of him with two restless fingers. Marcus stands on the other side, grinning through the glass. What did that mean? He tosses the book he's reading onto the table. It spins a couple of times before Sean can read the title. _On The Road_. Jack Kerouac. Marcus chuckles.

"I'm going to take a wild guess," says Marcus. "You're here to witness to me."

"Uhhh..," blanks Sean.

"God," says Marcus, shaking his head. "These religious types are getting desperate. They say they're 'representatives' of the family to hook you, and I waltz out and the joke's on me. Thumbs up for trying."

Sean glances cluelessly around, trying to figure out if Marcus is talking to somebody else.

"And of course they sent a white boy," adds Marcus.

"Actually, my name is Sean and Dale said...," says Sean.

"Where's Dale?" interrupts Marcus. "Huh? Cause if you're legit, you're probably from his little clan of groupies."

Whoa, back up. He's far from Dale's "groupie."

"I worked for him, but...," begins Sean.

"Well, that's that," interjects Marcus. "Take this message to him for me. If he was a real man, he'd face me instead of hiding somewhere with his tail between his legs like a coward. That's assuming he's got anything between his legs."

Marcus slump in his chair, awkwardly fumbling with his book. This isn't good. He was somewhat prepared for this, especially hearing the few stories about Marcus from Sandy, Dale, and Emmitt. The chip on his shoulder is very much alive and fueled by the past, fueled by whatever fate lead him here and Ty elsewhere. Sean wagers that he's going to have to knock it off himself, if not temporarily. The best method would be to use something that won't upset him as much.

"I took Ty for a joyride," says Sean, doing his best to hide his nerves. "Like..around a parking lot. I mean, it was quick."

Leaning forward, Marcus' entire face scrunches up. Sean can't tell whether it's good or bad.

"Who _are_ you?" says Marcus finally.

"Marcus, I didn't come to fight," sighs Sean. "Believe me, I'm sick of that. My name's Sean Cameron and I was a friend of your brother's."

Marcus cracks his knuckles.

"It was appropriate," clarifies Sean quickly. "I'm...I'm aware of what he went through. He told me."

"Why would he tell you?" says Marcus.

"'Cause he thought of me as a brother," replies Sean. "And...that meant a lot to me."

"I didn't get to take him anywhere," says Marcus, slumping down again.

That truth is understandably hard to swallow, Marcus' mouth moving in a low moan.

"It got to a point where all I saw was that man's face," says Marcus, aiming his eyes at Sean. "Are you the oldest?"

His voice is growing distant, angrier.

"Younger brother," replies Sean.

"That stuff weighs down on you when you're the oldest," continues Marcus. "I'm laying in bed and I hear the sheets on my younger brother's bed rustle. I hear the stuff that man says. I go to my mom the next day and she won't hear a word. Ty asked me why. I said, because she brought that monster into the house and won't believe he's a monster."

Sean lets his gaze fall.

"It's funny how guns can find you if you're looking for them," says Marcus. "After the first year, I wondered if it was worth it."

"Worth being in here?" says Sean softly.

"Yeah, and I don't think it was," says Marcus, raising his eyes towards the ceiling.

He isn't set on steering the conversation somewhere else until both of them grow quiet.

"What are you reading?" asks Sean.

"_On The Road," _says Marcus. "It's the best way to travel when you've got nowhere to go."

"I couldn't imagine being here," says Sean, then instantly regreting it.

"Are you coming for a prolonged visit?" asks Marcus.

"Maybe," admits Sean.

"You don't wanna be in here," says Marcus, crossing his arms and setting his chin on them. "They tell you when to eat, sleep, play ball. You eighteen?"

"Close to it," says Sean.

"That's when life tastes fresh," says Marcus. "When the day is long and you don't care. I'd trade my books for a taste of that."

Marcus probably expects him to reply, but Sean can't muster up the confidence. He breaks, breaks hard. Maybe it is the realization that Ty won't reach eighteen or that he can't trade anything for his life. Tears topple down his cheeks and his breath goes more and more unsteady. Marcus sits up, sizes Sean up.

"I failed," sighs Sean.

"Failed at what?" says Marcus.

"Failed at protecting your brother," groans Sean. "Marcus, if I could change what happened to your brother..."

He watches Marcus stand resolutely, hit the glass once, twice. The glass shudders. Both officers move forward, Marcus' escort getting a hold of him. Marcus shivers in the hold, gritting his teeth. He screams, a throaty shout that bounces against the glass.

"Give us a minute!" begs Sean.

The officers exchange weary glances and he lets Marcus go. Marcus exhales twice and sits, tears on the edges of his eyes.

"I came for Sandy, for Cheryl...," says Sean.

"No, you came to tell me my brother's dead!" exclaims Marcus. "How?"

"A fire, at Dale's business," answers Sean quickly.

"Dale!" yells Marcus, slamming the table with a fist. "He was supposed to watch him! How'd this happen?"

"There was a fire...," starts Sean.

"Who started it?" says Marcus.

Sean averts his eyes.

"Who?" yells Marcus. "Was it you? Was it Dale?"

"Dale...I...guess," stammers Sean.

"That's why he isn't here!" yells Marcus, slamming the table again. "He is a snake! If he crosses paths with me again, I'm gonna..."

"Marcus!" says his escort. "That's it. Time to go."

"Wait!" cries Sean.

"You'll have to visit him another time, when he's calmed down," says his escort, reaching for Marcus' arm.

"Get off me, man!" exclaims Marcus. "My brother's dead! You hear me? My brother's dead!"

"Marcus, I will restrain you," insists his escort.

Marcus continues to yell, and it's painful to hear him. He repeats the same three words, the cold hard fact Sean came to tell him. Every single person in the visitation area is staring at him as his escort puts on the handcuffs.

"The funeral," says Sean to himself and then to Marcus. "The funeral is a week from today!"

"I'm getting furlough and spitting in his face!" says Marcus, a vow that's said as his escort leads him away.

"I'm sorry!" says Sean before the door closes.

"I don't think he heard you, sweetie," says Officer Rowley.

Sean wipes his face furiously, tearing off the visitor's badge and letting it fall to the floor. He leaves the room, reenters the spot where he had to wait, wait for this horror. Sean rubs his eyes repeatedly. The first thing he sees when his eyes go clear is the same ten-year old boy, being fingerprinted in an office. The boys' eyes meet Sean's and they narrow with sadness. They're blue and deep.


	102. Jump

**CII. Jump**

_There's only so much you can learn in one place_  
_The more that I wait, the more time that I waste_

_I haven't got much time to waste, it's time to make my way_  
_I'm not afraid of what I'll face, but I'm afraid to stay_  
_I'm going down my own road and I can make it alone_  
_I'll work and I'll fight til I find a place of my own_

_Are you ready to jump_  
_Get ready to jump_  
_Don't ever look back, oh baby_  
_Yes, I'm ready to jump_  
_Just take my hands_  
_Get ready to jump_

_We learned our lesson from the start, my sisters and me_  
_The only thing you can depend on is your family_  
_And life's gonna drop you down like the limbs of a tree_  
_It sways and it swings and it bends until it makes you see_

_Are you ready to jump_  
_Get ready to jump_  
_Don't ever look back, oh baby_  
_Yes, I'm ready to jump_  
_Just take my hands_  
_Get ready to, are you ready_

_There's only so much you can learn in one place_  
_The more that you wait, the more time that you waste_

_I'll work and I'll fight til I find a place of my own_  
_It sways and it swings and it bends until you make it your own_

_I can make it alone_  
_I can make it alone_  
_I can make it alone [my sisters and me]_  
_I can make it alone [my sisters and me]_

**Jump is the property of Madonna and appears in the film_ The Devil Wears Prada._**

**This is How a Heart Breaks is the property of Rob Thomas.**

"It's hard to read a magazine when you don't touch the cover," observes Amanda Nash, watering her flowerbed.

This isn't a magazine. Her journal from Sean lies on the picnic table and its first page holds a checklist, for Ashley's intervention. She thought being in the same area where Craig and Paige told her about it would make rereading it easier...not so. There are over thirty steps and they've done all of them, except getting Ashley in place. Man, even in chess, everybody could see that the vulnerable piece was going to get trapped. Ashley is clueless. She's the queen in the midst of pawns, who've been carefully planning for her capture.

But it's capture, for a good reason. They all have good intentions and they all have each other. Truth be told, Ellie was pretty blown away by the time and effort Ashley's parents, Craig's parents, Craig, and Paige had put into something that would last for only a few hours. The treatment center Ashley would attend was in place, and the transportation to and the cost of the treatment center were taken care of. Riva helped everybody edit their letters, to remove any signs of anger, blame, and judgement, which would only exacerbate the problem. Now, tonight, they would be meeting to rehearse the whole thing as a unit. Emphasis on unit. None of them were happy with the idea of being alone.

However, Riva did think it would be good if Ellie spoke to Ashley last. After Ellie dropped off the programs for Ty's funeral, she also shared her final letter with Riva. Ellie memorized it, but she wrote down every single one of her feelings about what Ashley was doing to herself just in case. Riva said Ellie's letter was the most poignant, and then she smartly asked if Ellie had an addict in the family. You couldn't run that past a counsellor, apparently. Ellie admitted that she did and that her mother has been sober for around two years. As angry as Amanda Nash made her, Ellie also has to admit that her mother has made her proud in other ways. Ellie glances at Amanda, who is staring straight at her daughter.

"This isn't your usual silent treatment," says Amanda.

Amanda sets down her watering can. Ellie taps the cover of her journal with her pen.

"It isn't?" says Ellie, aware that it's not.

"Nope," says Amanda. "You're usually writing furiously in a notebook while I do things around the house. Tonight, you're...just immobile."

Will I be as immobile as Ashley's going to be? Just imagining the shock on her face is enough to make Ellie go numb. How do you tell your best friend that they're ruining their life when you weren't around while they were ruining at the beginning? At least Craig was around for Ashley. Like I was around for Mom, thinks Ellie. Amanda sits opposite Ellie.

"Where'd you get that?" says Amanda.

She's too nervous and exposed to get into it about Sean.

"Somewhere," replies Ellie. "Mom, something big is happening tomorrow."

"Well, you move to your dorm in two days...," thinks Amanda aloud. "I don't..."

"We're having an intervention...about drinking...for Ashley," says Ellie slowly.

"Oh...wow," whispers Amanda.

"I keep telling myself that I know what to say, how to act," says Ellie. "But then I backtrack and doubt that I do. I've never been in an intervention before. I've never demanded anything like this from Ashley..."

"And you've never been a college freshmen before," interjects Amanda. "You'd never lived on your own before."

Ellie nods, but aren't those more positive things? As if sensing it, Amanda goes on.

"You never gave me an ultimatum before, and you did, and you've never let any of your friends down, which you won't," says Amanda.

Looking at her unexpectedly, Ellie's face grows warm and she fools with the journal cover. She didn't know and still didn't know where she found the strength to stand up to her mother about her alcoholism. Maybe it was the newfound independence she found when she wouldn't stay with her mother until she got help or listening to Sean's pep talks, but she knew it had to be done. They weren't only trying to keep their family together; they were trying to keep Amanda herself from getting worse.

"You are so eloquent, Ellie," assures Amanda. "Ashley will give a lot of merit to what you say. I definitely did. Anybody that cares about you will."

"How can you be sure?" asks Ellie.

Amanda rises and wraps an arm around Ellie.

"Because whenever I get tempted, I think of your father and you," says Amanda.

Ellie smiles. "Even when we're mad at each other?"

"Especially when we're mad at each other," answers Amanda, ruffling her hair.

They both laugh, the journal falling open under Ellie's hand. Her index finger falls onto the sentence for step twenty. _Review objections to the problem and answers_. She grins and hugs her mother. Completed.

II.

As the light goes green, Toby does his best to keep his phone tucked against his ear. He doesn't like talking while driving, and talking while driving at night is more frustrating. Still, he's got best friend responsibilities and that includes hearing J.T.'s news. Officer Wheaton holds onto his walkie talkie when Toby comes to an abrupt stop.

"That's what I took away from our time in luxurious L.A., Tobes," says J.T. "The four seasons."

"Wait, you're centering your first kiddie script around a hotel?" cries Toby.

"No, doink," sighs J.T. "The four seasons, not the Four Seasons. Summer! Winter, spring, summer, autumn. Reyes totally loved it."

"That's cool," says Toby.

"It's more than cool," says J.T. "Oh, man. I'm going to do a whole mascot mostif! Who isn't into mascots? I've got the characters all lined up. Burr Snow Bunny for winter, Flora the flower for spring, Back To School Beaver for fall, and..."

"Who are you going to get to wear these?" interjects Toby.

"The staff," replies J.T. quickly. "Being a panther for three years, it's not like I won't feel their pain."

"So you're going to be one too?" says Toby.

"Uh, no?" says J.T. "The kids tune into to see P.J. J.T. so they're going to see P.J. J.T."

"Of course," says Toby, nodding.

"Anyways, Lucie is getting you a free ticket," shares J.T. "Manny and Emma will be out of town around the fifth, right?"

Right. Manny told him they'd be in California, attending Hannah Andrews' birthday. He never spent much time with Hannah, but he's definitely heard some very cute stories about her.

"Yeah, sorry, man," says Toby.

"Sucks, but what can you do?" says J.T. "Well, you, Liberty, and my grandmother. That's not too bad. Oh! Here's Lucie..."

Toby hears a struggle with the phone and the buzz of conversation. He's buzzed after being with Manny the whole night. They weren't anywhere near the area of the investigation and he got to make up for the time he left her waiting at the theater. She was so happy and so was he, and maybe it would be the start of a lot of happy days and nights.

"Hey, Toby," greets Lucie, the unrest on the other end finally silenced.

"Hey!" says Toby. "I don't have to have a free ticket..."

"You're silly," says Lucie. "Look, just take it. Racquel and I will be at the show, and we're not paying."

"Your father roped you into taking her?" guesses Toby.

"No, Racquel did," says Lucie.

Toby chuckles. He wonders if Racquel's crush would disappear if she ever saw J.T. as a dancing panther.

"Can you come by Campanelli's tomorrow evening?" says Lucie. "I can give it to you there."

Tomorrow evening is when Manny finds out if she got into the Academy. Ugh. Well, what if he swings by early, retrieves the ticket, and waits for Manny to contact him later that night? There's no telling when she'll share the news with him. They made no plans.

"Early evening probably," says Toby.

"Great!" says Lucie. "Umm...hang in there, Toby."

That's a strange way to say good-bye. It's nice, but strange. Toby shoots Officer Wheaton a look and shakes his head to bring his attention back to the road.

"Thanks...bye," says Toby as he pulls the car into the driveway.

Between the seasonal roll call, the sugar pulsing through his body, and Lucie's weird sign-off, he's ready for a break. He'll brush his teeth and crash into bed. This has been a long day. Worth it, yeah. But long.

Toby opens the door and enters the living room to a host of visitors. In fact, Officer Wheaton is the only visitor who's regularly in their house. Toby's eyes skirt from his father and Kate to Robert Kerwin to Chris to a woman who's a complete stranger. The woman is fairly young, wearing a blouse and a pencil skirt, her long hair trailing past her shoulders. He's tempted to go check the numbers on the door because he must have the wrong address.

"Toby," says Jeff, moving a pillow. "Come sit with us on the couch for a sec."

Hmm, this can't involve the investigation. Why would Robert and Chris be involved? The single person who's connected to every single person in the room is...Ashley. She's in London, though. Toby takes a deep breath and leaves Officer Wheaton's side to sit.

"We're going to ask you not to make any plans for tomorrow night," says Jeff.

Toby bristles at the request. He already has a curfew. Okay, they did let him go out with Manny tonight, so he'll stay calm and hear them out at least.

"Why?" says Toby.

Jeff and Kate exchange hesitant glances, and they each scoot closer to Toby. This isn't good. When parents tell you not to make plans, with worried expressions, it's totally not good.

"Ashley is struggling with addiction," says Jeff, resting a hand on Toby's knee. "We're having an intervention for her."

"What?" cries Toby.

Addiction? Intervention? Did those words come out of his father's mouth? About Ashley? Did he miss something? Toby focuses on Kate for any type of clarification.

"This summer, on tour, she started drinking," says Kate. "It's ballooned to a point where she's out of control. She's been in Toronto for quite some time. You already had the investigation on your shoulders..."

Toby sighs, a hand going over his mouth. So this is why he hasn't heard from or about Ashley for awhile. She didn't seem that bad at the synagogue. In fact, she seemed relatively normal. How'd she go downhill so fast?

"We're about to go over Joey's to rehearse the intervention," continues Kate. "We don't want you to say much, though we do want you there."

"In...intervention. Is...is it going to be like how it is on TV?" stammers Toby.

He feels stupid asking the question, but he feels stupid that he didn't notice anything before today too. Toby hears someone shift themselves towards the couch.

"It's a very emotional process," says the unfamiliar woman to Toby. "Television often dramatizes the situation. That's not to say they haven't done their research, but it's more real when it's in your own living room."

That sounds right. The woman holds out her hand for Toby.

"Riva Tenley," says the woman. "I'm a mental health professional and I'll be guiding you and your family though this."

"Cause we really need it," breathes Chris.

"Ashley's in what we call the third stage of alcoholism," says Riva. "Extreme denial, isolation, and she's potentially a danger to herself and to others."

"I don't suppose you could gauge her reaction, since she's in contact with Craig now?" says Robert to Riva.

"Chances are she'll still be combative," says Riva. "Craig's been with her the past two days, so she'll be sober and coherent, but I can say without question that she'll see this as ganging up on her and she'll be in defense mode."

"She was like that when it was only me and Craig at the bar," says Kate, shrugging at Robert.

He'd like to ask another question, though he's ashamed to ask again. Toby raises a hand.

"Yes, Toby?" says Riva.

"What if this fails?" asks Toby gently.

"That's a good question," says Riva. "I haven't lied to anyone. Sometimes interventions do fail. Sometimes they lead to bitterness and family rifts. Or Toby, sometimes they lead to exactly what you want. Don't you want to take that chance if it does?"

Without a word, and with no knowledge of the words they'll say tomorrow, Toby says yes. He's so used to taking chances now, even it doesn't make sense.

III.

Serene. Safe. Self-reflective. He's been craving those attributes for her since the beginning of the summer and Ashley would be receiving them whether she yearned for them or not. The community is gated so that accounts for its safety. It's by the woods, on the outskirts of a river and rocks, and he imagines it will be a picture of serenity. They've been assured that the center is quiet and that the counsellors themselves would be quiet when Ashley talked, so there's the environment for self-reflection. When Craig flipped through the brochure for the chosen treatment center, he viewed the sun decks, the freshly stocked kitchen, the scenic rock cliffs, and the luxurious gardens. But try as he did, repeatedly, he couldn't put Ashley in the pictures without also adding himself.

If this does work, they'll be apart. For the first six weeks, any visitors could only be with her for an hour. She would eat alone and sleep alone. Depending on the intervention, the restrictions might even grow tighter. Considering the fact that Ashley has already shut them out so much, it makes the separation harder, colder. Her parents tried to soften the blow by getting him involved in picking the place and the only thing he offered was the name of a location: British Columbia. It's where he felt the most relief, with Joey, Angie, and his mom. Joey seemed very touched by the choice and their descriptions of BC won her parents over. Riva found Harmony Hill and the choice was locked.

That's about as locked as this suitcase, thinks Craig, shutting the hood of Joey's car with force. The suitcase holds Ashley's post-England belongings, everything she collected or bought while running away from them. Kate spent the majority of last night packing another suitcase. The suitcase holds the items Ashley will need for her two month stint at Harmony Hill. They're not sure if her time in rehab will grow or not, but she'll be physically prepared for the start of it. Her being mentally prepared is another story.

They've gathered their stories, their concerns, and their hopes for tonight. They've clocked the rehearsal. They've found discreet locations to park their cars. They've thought of every second they could think of without driving themselves crazy. When it gets to that point, where your head and heart are pounding until you can hear them simultaneously, you have to do it. Craig lets his elbow dig into the metal of the hood and closes his eyes. You have to do it or let fear rule and ruin everything.

Craig stands upright immediately when he hears the door of Ilene's apartment complex flutter open. The sinking light of the sun finds Ashley's legs and leaves just as speedily when she leaves the stoop. Her hair is combed, and the cut on her lip is covered with concealer, though she's made no fuss about the rest of her body. Sweat sits at the top of her brow and she continuously rubs her cheeks. Julia's denim skirt ruffles as Ashley comes down the paved walk.

"I can stay a couple more days," says Ashley. "I explained how stressed I was to Ilene and..."

He drops his gaze. It was already getting teary from the sun and he doesn't have to have another reason.

"So you can take the suitcase out," finishes Ashley.

"You spent the night cleaning the kitchen," says Craig. "Then, you walked around and didn't eat or sleep."

That's what happened and she barely talked to him. He guesses she assumed he was mad at her. He assumes she'll be mad with him. Either way, he'll be talking within a minute or two.

"Craig, I did want you here...but not like this," says Ashley.

Ashley touches his shoulder.

"Ilene really shouldn't have called you," continues Ashley. "After you left Starfly's, I lost it. Like...I lost it. But the way you came through for me...Craig, I'm going to stop. You were so right. I don't need it. I don't know what I was thinking."

His stomach twists as Ashley's features remain still. Truthfully, he's never seen earnesty so gorgeous and soul-crushing at the same time. She may mean every word and if this was a month ago, a year ago, he would've bought it. He'd have bought it and she wouldn't have to sell it. Now, these words feel so temporary that it's almost as if Ashley has already forgotten them.

"Remember when you came and found me in the graveyard, in England?" says Ashley. "You said it's not about being perfect. It's about being yourself. So that's what I'm going to be. I haven't had a sip of alcohol."

Craig raises his eyebrows and nods.

"You get it, right?" sighs Ashley, smiling. "Good."

Rubbing her hands together, Ashley reaches to pop up Craig's hood, when Craig's phone rings. He answers it by the second ring. A clear, calm voice speaks on the other end.

"Ready," says Robert.

"Wait!" says Craig, grabbing Ashley's attention. "Joey, I thought she was with you! Did you check Diane's?"

Ashley goes to Craig's side, watching his expression go from alarmed to crestfallen. She tugs at Craig's shirt.

"I don't know where else she could be!" cries Craig.

"What's going on?" asks Ashley.

"Alright...alright, I'll check!" says Craig, then clicking off his phone.

"What?" cries Ashley.

"Angie was supposed to get a ride home from a friend, and they lost track of her," says Craig, fumbling for his keys. "She's not at the school! She's not at Diane's! Joey's combing the streets!"

"Oh no," moans Ashley.

"Joey wants me to swing by the house and check for messages," says Craig.

Craig passes Ashley and presses a hand against his forehead.

"God, Ash, what if she's alone somewhere?" cries Craig.

"Craig," says Ashley, tenderly taking his arm. "You're in no position to drive. We'll go. It's the least I can do."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he envelops Ashley in a full hug. He needs the contact, to be close, for something completely different.

"She's probably fine," says Ashley, accepting Craig's keys. "She's a smart girl, makes good choices. I know she'll be alright."

Taking a final look at the hood, Craig slides into the passenger seat and lets Ashley steer the way. He stares at the side of her cheek, the slenderness of her waist in the skirt, her foot on the pedal. Do you have to lose a girl to rescue another? Hopefully so.

IV.

One moment can color an entire place. Taking a snapshot atop a red double decker bus can make Britain brighter. Seeing the silver shards of glass on tiles can make a hotel room smaller. Focusing on the white letters of a shirt with paint can paint your last sanctuary black. She would love for them to exist as dots, like the dots that fade when you shut the world out and return when you open your eyes. But they've been lodged there so long or have been so vivid that they're much bigger than dots; they're reality.

As Ashley pulls onto the well-known street, she finds it too has been blotched by the moment. Untouched and untied rollerblades lay on the grass. Pink, protective pads cower in a corner next to a curled hose. A couple potted plants near the garage hunch under the deepening blue sky. Craig's loveable, familiar home is not giving off an impression of being a refuge. But she doesn't want to worry him.

"Maybe she rollerbladed home," suggests Ashley, no matter how strange it sounds.

"Maybe," says Craig.

He taps a couple fingers against his legs, and then grabs Ashley's wrist when she stops the car. Birds chirp after the engine has died.

What if Angie is alone? Like her, like on that night? Was it any wonder that she went straight into shock and then straight to a search for liquor? She can't tell anyone about this. Would they believe her? She's lied so many times. Although, she didn't lie when she told Craig that she hasn't had a drink. She hasn't been able to find a drink. She hasn't been able to think about anything but drinking. Not sleeping, not eating, only drinking. Ashley touches her shirt and moves it against her neck to get some air.

"You can hand me the keys...since we're not driving," says Craig.

The garage door is open. Joey and Diane must be searching the neighborhood.

"Right," says Ashley.

Ashley drops the keys into his palm and Craig holds them tightly. They leave the car at the same time. Craig puts a firm arm around her shoulders. Ashley smiles at him.

"There'll be some messages," says Ashley. "Or she'll be in there."

Craig bites his lip. With a furrowed brow, he inserts his house key and opens the front door. From outside, it's quiet. No Angie. That's not what she wants to hear.

Ashley walks inside, the echo of her boots travelling, the door shutting gently behind her. There are no echoes when she stops dead in her tracks. The room is full, from floorboard to floorboard. The air conditioning whirs from above, the chill surrounding multiple bodies and her own. Cushions breathe. So does Ashley. She's waiting for the alarm to sound or for a pinch to wake her up. But nothing comes.

They all sit in some crude form of a circle, in comfortable chairs, not saying a word. Her father clears his throat. Chris crosses his legs. Kate grips the arm of the couch. Jimmy and Hazel exchange glances while Marco nods at Paige. Toby fumbles with his glasses. Joey unbuttons his coat. Diane scratches her neck. Meanwhile, there's some lady in the center who doesn't appear the least rattled by Ashley coming into the room. She's thin, attractive, dressed in a long brown skirt and white blouse, and sticks out like a sore thumb.

And Craig? Ashley turns around just as he moves to block the door. He knew. If he's blocking her in, then he knew and this was...a lie. It's a massive lie that makes her look like a fool. Ashley meets them, face on.

"This is ridiculous," says Ashley, her voice rising. "You all are ridiculous!"

"Hello, Ashley," says the woman as she steps out of the group. "My name is Riva Tenley. Your family and friends have brought you here today because they care about you. I work at the University of Toronto's health care..."

Ashley smirks.

"Save it," interrupts Ashley. "Do they teach you to trick students?"

"Ashley!" says Robert.

Kate gives him a warning glance, which silences her father.

"I can't believe this!" exclaims Ashley.

"Do you know what this is?" broaches Kate carefully.

"Of course I know what this is!" replies Ashley. "Like I haven't been through enough this summer!"

"Let's talk about that," encourages Robert.

Sure, right. Let's discuss my disappointments, failures, and perceived attitude problems, mulls Ashley, blinking back forming tears. This is so not going to fly.

"I don't want to talk about it!" shouts Ashley. "Especially with any of you!"

She spies Marco and Toby flinch a bit, but doesn't bother to notice anybody else. They've had their fun and she's leaving. Who do they think they are?

"I'm so disgusted that you would use your daughter's safety to get me to come here," says Ashley, shooting Joey a parting glance.

Joey shakes his head. Apparently, he's not ashamed.

"It was my idea," says a voice behind her.

And that's why, realizes Ashley. She glowers at Craig, the tears rolling across her nose, on top of her lips. Craig's idea? Well, she had to give him credit for his performance because she had no clue. Absolutely no clue.

"You guys make me sick!" shouts Ashley, coming further into the room to make sure they hear her.

"Ashley, listen...," begins Chris.

"No, you listen!" exclaims Ashley. "You got me to come here under false pretenses!"

"We...it...," stammers Chris.

"It was a way to get you here," speaks up Craig, leaving the door and walking to her. "It was the only way I thought we could get you here."

Ashley pats her cheeks once, sniffles loudly. She won't cry anymore, not for another second. They'd love for her to be this emotional wreck because then they can say they're right and throw her under the bus. They're so see-through with their fake, noble actions. She's not about to be the target for their firing squad.

"I'm out of here...for real," says Ashley as clearly as possible.

She's unable to go much further as Craig plants himself directly in front of her. His hands are balled up into fists and his shoulders rise. Ashley side-steps him, but he's right there for any movement she does. She can't get past him.

"We spent way too much time...and effort for you to bail," says Craig, his voice low.

"More like you wasted it," says Ashley.

"None of us thinks it's a waste," insists Craig.

What is he not getting? They lied to her and now she's choosing to call them out on it and leave. Ashley unfurls her hand. Craig's lips grow tight.

"I'm not giving you keys!" cries Craig. "You're not going through that door!"

"Yeah, I am!" returns Ashley.

"And where are you going to go, Ashley?" asks Riva, her voice cutting through. "To be alone? Your support system is here. They've always been your support system."

"They sure aren't supporting me now!" argues Ashley.

She returns to Riva and the rest of her so-called support system.

"You!" says Ashley, gesturing to her father. "You...cut me off! What kind of dad does that? You have some nerve saying you care about me. That's a lie! All you've done for me lately is hire this hack!"

Riva appears unfazed, but Ashley can tell Robert is livid. Her father releases a couple quick breaths and stares at her.

"I couldn't trust you with money," says Robert calmly.

"None of us could," adds Paige, sitting up in her chair.

"Who told you to speak?" cries Ashley. "Your parents would buy a boat for you if they could! Princess Paige and the never-ending cash flow."

Paige crosses her legs and arms, frowning at the floor.

"Ashley, attacking Paige serves no purpose," says Riva.

"Riva, is it?" says Ashley. "Do me a favor and shut up!"

Riva meets Ashley with a steely look. Ugh, she's not exactly a shrinking violet. Ashley rolls her eyes.

"How about you be quiet and sit down?" says Robert authoritatively.

"Because we have a lot to say," adds Kate. "Or were we not the same parents who bought you plane tickets, clothes, food, and everything you're conveniently forgetting?"

Okay, true, but that isn't exactly equal to this. They did those things to help her, not hurt her. But since they won't get off her back, she'll let them speak for all of ten minutes and leave. That way they'll feel good about themselves and she won't have to deal with any of them later.

"I'll listen, but I won't sit," says Ashley.

"Okay," sighs Riva, grinning slightly. "Jimmy, Hazel. Would you read what you've written?"

Both Jimmy and Hazel pull out two pieces of paper from their pockets. No. Uh-uh. Hazel offers her a skittish glance while Jimmy clutches the paper without shaking.

"Oh look, homework," says Ashley, her eyes going to the ceiling.

"Ashley, I've known you longer than most people," reads Jimmy.

"God," groans Ashley.

"Don't interrupt," requests Riva sympathetically.

In short, don't interrupt the guilt trip her friends are about to lay on her. Using the "friends" label loosely of course, thinks Ashley.

"But over the last few weeks, I find myself not knowing who you are anymore," says Jimmy, occasionally glancing at her. "You lied to my face several times and you are not a liar. In fact, I've always admired your integrity and your compassion. I remember watching you as an early performer and you were courageous. You played with your whole heart and soul. I still think you have that in you."

His words aren't a complete massacre. Ashley tucks her hair behind her ears as Jimmy sighs and continues to read.

"When that bottle slipped from the paper bag and after you lied about Craig and your job interview, I couldn't think of you as courageous," says Jimmy. "I only thought of you as scared. It would break my heart for you to continue to be scared. So please, Ashley, face any fears that you have and don't run away anymore. I love you."

Jimmy's gaze leaves the paper and centers on her. His voice didn't tremble and he was completely confident in what he wrote.

"I'm...I'm not running," stammers Ashley. "I was...trying to maintain some level of privacy."

"You have to lie to be private?" says Jimmy.

"Jimmy, you live off attention," says Ashley, shaking her head. "You're popular, with your assistant couch job, your cheerful girlfriend, your rich parents. Some of us are just private, okay? But you wouldn't understand that because you just had to be around me all the time when we were dating. We're not dating anymore so stop butting into my life!"

Arching his shoulders, Jimmy glares at Ashley. Hey, if you're going to call me out, be prepared to be called out yourself, thinks Ashley.

"Leave him alone, Ashley!" speaks up Hazel.

"Hazel, you're in for a real treat," says Ashley sarcastically. "Talk about facing your fears? I had to dump Jimmy because he was too much of a wimp to do it himself. Pray he doesn't do it to you, too. And he says I'm scared? Yeah, right."

Hazel's mouth trembles. "I don't like this."

"Fine," says Paige, harshfully thrusting out her letter. "I'll go. Since Ashley's being such a gracious audience."

"This ought to be good," mumbles Ashley, smiling at everyone in the room.

"Dear Ashley," reads Paige. "This is hard for me to..."

Paige stops briefly to bat away a tear. Ashley can see the area under her throat becoming restrictive, then soft again. Speaking of lying...she not only lied to Paige, she stole from her because of the lie. None of it was mean-spirited. She had to know that, right? Ashley lowers her chin.

"This is hard for me because I tried to make this letter as personal as possible," continues Paige. "I didn't mind the money you stole, but I did mind the story you concocted in order for me to give it to you."

Ashley puts a hand over her eyes, the bridge of her nose and her cheeks warm against her fingers.

"To say that a man pressured you to have sex...," says Paige, her breathing becoming unsteady. "Is the last lie I thought I'd hear from you. You were the only person besides Hazel who knew...who knew that I was raped."

The hardness that wedges in her heart almost prevents the falling of more tears. Ashley bends over slightly and releases a small cry.

"But I don't hate you," sobs Paige. "In fact, it's the opposite. If I can be there for you tonight, and the days following, I will. Only you have to let me. Please let me. I love you."

Ashley touches her chest. She thought that she was burning up before, and now it's so much worse. This has to end. She can't take this. Her tears can't match Paige's and she doesn't want them to. And they have no idea. They have no idea what happened with Wheeler.

"Ashley, we've obviously compared stories," breaks in Riva. "We know you quit the tour. We know your drinking has increased since then..."

"What do you think I am, dumb?" cries Ashley. "Of course you planned this. This isn't fair!"

"Why do you think it's unfair?" asks Riva.

"Because I'm eighteen!" defends Ashley, shooting up. "Millions of kids drink as much as I do, if not more, and they don't get flack for it. What makes me different?"

"People care enough to tell you that it's out of control," replies Riva. "That's the difference."

"Nothing's out of control!" exclaims Ashley. "I can stop anytime!"

She repeats this once more, making certain she catches everybody's eye. None of them dole out glances of surety, acceptance, or relief. Hugging herself, Ashley shivers.

Marco carefully raises his hand. "I'd...like to read mine."

"Go ahead, Marco," instructs Riva.

"Dear Ashley, we aren't close...," begins Marco.

"We aren't," interjects Ashley. "Marco, I don't even get why _you're_ here."

Kate shushes Ashley, who bites her tongue. After Paige, she's less inclined to go for the jugular.

"But I'm close to someone who is close to you," says Marco, glancing over towards Craig. "That's why I'm here."

Ashley breathes deeply. Honestly, she wouldn't have thought of the connection, not at this moment anyway.

"You may not realize it, but you're playing with your life," continues Marco. "Driving drunk and illegal drinking could kill you or someone else, or get you arrested."

Standing silent, Ashley remembers how both of those actions lead to really bad consequences, but those were in the past.

"Your drinking affects everybody and I wish that you would take responsibility for your actions, if not for their sake, than for your own," says Marco.

"This isn't taking responsibility for my actions?" cries Ashley. "I have to hear these lame guilt trip letters!"

"They're not guilt trip letters," insists Marco. "They're letters of concern, from people who love you. Which includes me."

"You haven't taken it for some of your behavior in England," says Robert.

"Like what?" demands Ashley.

"Driving a tour bus while you were drinking?" reminds Robert. "Who took the blame for that?"

"Craig...at first...but I apologized!" replies Ashley.

"Then you quit and hopped on a plane," sighs Kate. "Ashley, that's not taking responsibility."

Her mother says the most winning comments. Taking responsibility? That's hilarious.

"Please!" says Ashley. "You were on me when I _was_ responsible. You didn't like any of my decisions. Particularly who I dated. You're just mad because I'm in control of my life now."

"Ashley, you left England to go to a hotel you got kicked out of and your first thought was to go to a seedy bar without your belongings," says Kate genuinely. "Where's the control in that?"

"Not to mention the lack of control with alcohol," adds Robert.

"How much do you drink in a given day, Ashley?" questions Riva.

"I didn't come to be interrogated, alright?" exclaims Ashley.

"If you don't drink a lot, you shouldn't have a problem answering her," says Diane.

It's the first statement Diane has said, and there's no sense in arguing with Diane who she's only dealt with in passing. Ashley shrugs.

"Craig said you went through a mini-bar while you were in Croydon," mentions Joey.

Ashley casts a short look at Craig, who has his hands in his pockets, his mouth parted as if to talk.

"He's seriously exaggerating," says Ashley.

A low groan escapes Craig's lips, a groan audible enough for them to kill her lie as speedily as it came.

"Your bill from the hotel was no exaggeration," says Robert. "We saw how much alcohol you went through while you were staying there."

"We had to know the reason you were kicked out," says Chris.

"Chris!" exclaims Ashley. "All you do is pry. You did it in England. You do it here. What? Are you hoping I'm a bad egg so I'll be shipped off?"

Chris stands resolutely, his skin rosier than she's ever seen it.

"When are you going to realize that I care about you as much as your father and mother?" exclaims Chris. "I don't care if you think I'm the world's worst human being...I just care that you take care of yourself!"

Wow, she's never heard his voice that loud. The rest of the group is clearly shocked too, and so is Chris, falling onto the couch once more. He actually does care, in an annoying way, but he does. If Chris can be so honest with her, then she can divulge...a little.

"I drink when I party," sighs Ashley.

"Do you drink alone?" asks Riva.

"Sometimes...yeah," says Ashley. "It's not like I drink on the job..."

"Didn't you throw up in the middle of a concert?" questions Robert.

"That's after some idiot groped me," defends Ashley. "I barely had any drinks that day..."

"Did you drink the night before?" says Riva.

"Honestly, I don't remember," replies Ashley.

Just because they compared her life in stories doesn't mean she's comparing them.

"When your alcohol intake becomes habitual, that's often the case," says Riva. "Then, to put yourself in environments where alcohol is readily available...that's problematic, Ashley."

"I'm not going to stop myself from enjoying myself," says Ashley.

"You're not...enjoying yourself, are you?" says a small voice that hasn't spoken yet.

Toby shifts on the couch cushion and offers her a sad look through the lenses of his glasses. She's surprised they even let him be a part of this, what with the trouble he's had.

"Why are you bringing Toby into this?" asks Ashley, staring sternly at her mother.

"I wanted to," insists Toby. "And I want to say something, that I didn't write down."

"Go ahead, Toby," says Riva.

"Ashley came home before graduation one night, and she was drunk," sighs Toby. "I probably should've told you guys...but she told me she was celebrating..."

Toby's voice trails off and Jeff puts a solid grip on his son's leg. That was so long ago. It really has no bearing on this conversation and he's mentioning that? Jeff and Kate shake their heads and turn to Ashley.

"Toby, that was between us," snaps Ashley.

"I feel bad about it," says Toby.

"Nobody's asking you to!" says Ashley. "You should be the least judgemental out of anybody."

"I'm not judging you," says Toby.

"I mean, look at your girlfriend!" cries Ashley. "You're the one dating the girl that got my boyfriend to cheat on me."

"Ashley!" says Kate in a warning tone.

"Don't bring Manny into this!" says Toby.

"Ashley, what you're doing is deflecting blame," says Riva, walking to her.

"Am I?" says Ashley sarcastically.

"Attacking your friends and family isn't going to stop this," assures Riva. "Hurting them won't make you hurt any less. And it sounds to me like you're really hurting."

Well, she's correct that it's not working, and she definitely didn't like having Toby, the youngest in the room, get the brunt of her frustrations. In fact, in hindsight, she's hated what she's said. While it felt good, she just feels guilty now. None of them have wavered. None of them have left. She's fighting a losing battle.

"Robert, why don't you read your letter?" encourages Riva.

"Sweetheart," says Robert, taking a beat and then launching into the rest, "You have made me more proud than you will ever know. To have a daughter, an only child, like you is a rare gift. Who would've thought that picking out a piano at Max's Music Store would lead to so many amazing experiences?"

Ashley rubs her neck repeatedly. She had a similar memory in England, of when her dreams started. That was when she thought she could do anything. That was before experience told her she couldn't.

"But I would be the proudest I could be if you let us take you somewhere where they show you how to deal with your addiction," says Robert. "Ashley, please. Nobody expects you to be perfect. We just want you to be healthy. I love you so much."

Robert sets down his letter and goes to her. It's not until he's right next to her that she views his eyeballs shaking, wet and taking in hers. He takes her in his arms, Ashley nearly falling from the pressure. Though, he's not laying any pressure on her. He did say she didn't have to perfect in England and she hadn't taken it to heart. Part of her would love to, would really love to, and she embraces him just as tightly if only to thank him for saying so.

He lets her go and stands beside Kate, who's on the edge of her seat. Kate proceeds to unfold her letter. Truthfully, she'd rather not hear this one. Her mother and her have been battling the longest and they haven't been on good terms since she left the first time around. What could her mother possibly share that she could be open to hearing?

"Ashley, I'm sure that you think that we're blaming you for your behavior," says Kate.

Without hesitance, Ashley nods and squints her eyes at her mother.

"What you're probably not thinking is that I've blamed myself," chokes out Kate. "I've blamed myself every day, every night you've been away. For you not to turn to me when you need it the most...that's pretty bad."

Ashley avoids looking at her, locking her gaze on the carpet. This letter is...not what she anticipated. It's almost understanding. It is understanding.

"When you wouldn't leave the bar with me, I thought I'd lost you," sobs Kate. "But what's happening is that you're losing yourself to an addiction. This is the last way I wanted our guards to come down, but this is the first place I would be if it means saving you."

Rocking on her feet, Ashley can't even roll her eyes anymore. They're too full of tears.

"I do want you to live your life," insists Kate. "Only you have to make the choice that guarantees you'll live. Jeff, Robert, Chris, and I love you. We don't pretend to be clued in to everything that you've gone through or know how you're feeling. But know how we feel. Know that we'll be behind you if you leave this house with us tonight."

Tonight? Leaving to go where? They're done? Riva walks to her, inches away from Ashley.

"Your parents have packed a suitcase for you," informs Riva.

"What?" cries Ashley.

"There's a two month rehabilitation program at Harmony Hill," says Riva. "It's a lovely facility. The success rate is high. Your parents' desire is for all of us to go there tonight."

"That includes me," speaks up Craig.

Craig hasn't spoken through most of this. Yet, he's totally willing to lie to her so she can find herself right smack in the middle of an intervention. Then, he's content telling her where to go?

"Decide wisely," asserts Riva. "Your refusal to go to this facility has consequences."

"Like?" cries Ashley.

"Your parents will not finance your education or provide housing for you," says Riva.

"And you need both, Ash," says Craig, more bluntly.

"Rehab is for freaks with no self-control," says Ashley.

"Did Mark tell you that?" asks Craig.

"Yeah, and I agree with it," shoots back Ashley. "I can't believe you guys pulled this little stunt."

She faces Craig, her features crumbling before she can say another word.

"Especially you," whispers Ashley.

Craig reaches to touch her, but she's far from receptive. She jerks away and runs to the backyard. If she can't drive, she can run for it. She hears a couple of people call her name and doesn't stop. All that matters is that she's out. The stars above her shine and she can feel the summer breezes against her hot skin.

"Gotta get out of here," breathes Ashley.

She stumbles past a sandbox and closes her eyes. When she opens them, she finds a solitary figure standing near the Jeremiahs' pink swingset. The outline of her face and her red hair become clearer when she steps into the light beaming from the backyard porch lights. If she's going to move, it has to be fast. Ashley stomps across the grass, the yell hitting her ears before she gets very far.

"What is leaving going to do?"

Ellie manages to grab her arm, Ashley clicking her tongue. She thought she had left the entire army in the house and they sent out a final soldier?

"We've barely talked this summer," says Ashley.

"We've got a lot stored up then," says Ellie, dragging Ashley to a spot in front of the porch door.

"Ellie, they're totally blowing things out of proportion," sighs Ashley. "I haven't had a single drink today. What does that tell you?"

"Honestly?" says Ellie. "That you can't get your hands on some."

"Screw you!" exclaims Ashley.

"Ashley, they're letting me talk to you alone," sighs Ellie. "Riva thinks I should talk to you about rehab, since my mom went."

"I'm nothing like your mom!" cries Ashley.

"You lie about how much you drink, you always deal with stress by drinking, you're agitated when you're sober, and you deny that you have a problem," says Ellie. "That's exactly what Mom went through."

"She made your life miserable," counters Ashley. "And you guys are making _my_ life miserable."

"It's the drinking that's brought you to this point," says Ellie forcefully.

Last time she checked, it wasn't a beer that got her caught in a bad music deal, or made her performances underwhelming.

"It's how I relax...it's how I deal," says Ashley.

"Ashley, out of all the people here," says Ellie, pausing with a sigh, and then finishing, "We both know I'm someone who dealt with things in a pretty unhealthy way."

Ellie displays her arm, not a rubberband or cut visible. Her pale skin is soft and clean under the porch light. Ashley made it a priority to be there for Ellie when she got healthy and she wouldn't have changed a thing. She just wonders why they want her to change her address to a rehab clinic.

"I was proud of you for that, El, but...," starts Ashley.

"Let us be proud of you," says Ellie, coming closer to Ashley. "Go to Harmony Hill. Craig told us how people treated you in England."

Biting her lip, Ashley begins to tear up again. All those terrible comments, the underhanded plans she didn't plan on, and the alienation is still too fresh for her to get them to sink to the bottom of her thoughts.

"They won't judge you there, and neither will I," says Ellie.

"No matter where I go, it'll be the same," whispers Ashley. "I messed up...so many times. I can't rebuild...anything. So for you guys to claim that I can get it all back is bigger than any lie I've told."

"Ashley," moans Ellie.

"I don't need anybody's sympathy, okay?" sobs Ashley.

She walks away from Ellie and reenters the house. Everyone turns to her expectantly. They honestly think tonight's going to be the answer? Tonight's just a single night separated from countless moments where she's been alone and had to go it alone. No letter, no conversation, and no well-intentioned event is enough to drive her into a car bound for rehab. But she can't say that because then they'll never let her leave. Her only option is not to leave.

"I need to think," sighs Ashley. "I mean, I'll stay here and do it, but I need somewhere to think."

Ashley watches as her parents exchange glances of relief. The rest of the room is similarly less tense. The exception is Craig, stroking his chin and looking her up and down.

"Maybe Craig's room?" suggests Joey.

"Good," replies Ashley.

Not bothering to stare at anyone, she charges up the stairs, two at a time. She goes into Craig's room, taking in the boxes, the bed, the sheet music on his desk. Ashley kicks the door shut with her foot. There's no way out. Who can guess what they're arranging downstairs? They could be blocking every exit, creating ultimatums, talking about how awful she is. She only struck because they struck. It was her first response. She honestly loves them. But to do this? This? Would any of them like it?

What's worse is that I pathetically fell for it, thinks Ashley. She's been manipulated throughout the summer, by Mark and Julian, and now her family and friends are following suit? Ashley hits the table once, twice, until a few sheets of music fall to the floor. The act of making something fall feels good. She's fallen in their eyes so why not make everything fall around her? Ashley flips on Craig's CD player, blares the music loud so they can't hear anything. She flips a chair over. They definitely didn't hear her downstairs so this is payback. The music pulsates. The beat seems to roll on the floor and hit her right smack in the heart. Her heart pumps.

_Don't you wanna go for a ride_  
_Just keep your hands inside_  
_And make the most out of life_  
_Now don't you take it for granted_

_Life is like a mean machine_  
_It made a mess outta me_  
_It left me caught between_  
_Like an angry dream I was stranded_  
_I was stranded_

Ashley begins to breathe heavily. On the floor below, she can't even speculate how many people she's hurt with her words, how many relationships she's severed. If she's already destroyed their trust in her, their admiration of her, and their other opinions of her, she's destroyed herself. Who is she going to be if not that? She removes her wallet, and then the fake I.D. Her hands shake as her tears fall on the photo. The good thing that came with the I.D., the alcohol, is something she doesn't have access to, something they are trying to rip away from her, something that could steady her.

_And I'm steady but I'm starting to shake_  
_And I don't know how much more I can take_

_This is it now_  
_Everybody get down_  
_This is all I can take_  
_This is how a heart breaks_  
_You take a hit now you feel it break down_  
_Make you stay wide awake_  
_This is how a heart breaks_

There has to be somebody, somebody who will tell her that she's not what the people who are downstairs believe her to be. Yes...yes. She's taking a leap of faith that she'll talk to her but it's worth a try. Ashley dials the number, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Hello?"

"Aja!" exclaims Ashley, sticking a finger in her other ear. "I had...to talk to you."

"Ashley, this isn't a good time...," says Aja.

"My friends trapped me!" rattles on Ashley. "And my parents...there's like eleven people ganging up on me! They hate me! Everybody's against me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," says Aja.

"Nobody does!" cries Ashley. "That's the problem! They won't listen to me! You have to listen to me...please!"

"I'm not supposed to be on the phone," says Aja. "I'm in the hospital visiting, love. Maybe I should tell you..."

"You're no help!" interjects Ashley.

"I didn't say I wouldn't listen!" insists Aja.

"You won't!" cries Ashley. "My friends who've been friends for years won't so why should you? Thanks for nothing!"

_Don't you wanna go for a ride_  
_Down to the other side_  
_Feels so good you could cry_  
_Now won't you do what I told you_  
_I remember when you used to be shy_  
_Yeah, once we were so fine_  
_You and I why you gotta make it so hard on me_  
_Yeah its hard on me_

_And I'm sorry but it's not a mistake_  
_And I'm running but you're getting away_

Ashley clicks off her phone and throws it at the door of Craig's closet. The loud clang is enough to elicit a series of steps Ashley can barely detect. A couple knocks sound on the door. Ashley slowly turns the volume down and advances to the door, which she opens a hair.

"Hi," says Angie meekly.

Her eyes are small, black, innocent. Ashley's heartbeat decreases drastically at the sight of them. She has a feeling Angie isn't in total cahoots with the rest of them. She got the impression they barely involved Toby, so why Angie?

_This is how a heart breaks _  
_(ah yeah ah yeah ah yeah)_  
_(Cant take it, Cant take it, Cant take it, Cant take it)_  
_This is how a heart breaks(Cant take it no more)_

"I heard noise and thought somebody fell," says Angie.

"Things are fine," says Ashley. "Have you been upstairs all night?"

Angie nods. "Daddy told me to be."

Sighing, Ashley walks to a window and stares out onto the street. She thought she was the only one stuck here, and apparently that's not the case. Leaning her head out of the window, she spots something at the other end of the street. The object is blue, sleek, and a car she's seen for the past six years. Her mother always did like to park as far away from trees as possible.

"Angie," says Ashley, stooping to Angie's level. "Where does your dad keep his keys?"

"They're on the kitchen table," replies Angie.

Well, that's decided. The kitchen's extraordinarly close to the living room.

"Did your dad have a bunch of keys today?" asks Ashley hopefully.

"I saw some in the garage," says Angie. "They're in a potted plant. I remember seeing them put them in when I was rollerblading."

"Thanks, Angie," says Ashley, pulling on Angie's ponytail. "You're great."

Ashley retrieves her cell, quickly pushes her wallet into the skirt. Angie wrinkles her nose.

"That's my mom's skirt," says Angie.

"It is?" says Ashley, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," says Angie with a sad smile. "We went to her grave before you guys went off to England."

Right. She remembers that. Craig mentioning the visit when he visited her house is one of the least offensive ones out of her summertime memories. Ashley drags her sight from Angie to the window, from the sweet girl to her escape. Ashley hugs Angie for a second, stroking her shoulders, and just as easily releases her. Then, she ducks out of the window for her own release. A strong tree opens its arms to her.

"Ashley, you could really fall!" cries Angie in alarm. "Craig can let you into the garage. I don't want you to get killed!"

"Angie, you can't tell, alright?" whispers Ashley. "What your brother doesn't know won't kill him."

V.

"We did everything we could do."

He's the first to talk after what seemed like ages. Robert repeats it and adds "didn't we?"

"You all did a commendable job," says Riva. "The fact that Ashley is thinking about it is a very good sign."

"She pulled out every single criticism that she could," mumbles Jimmy, loud enough for them to hear.

Craig glances at Jimmy, still obviously reeling from Ashley's attack against his character.

"And you guys held your ground," insists Riva. "Remember. We can't force her to go. We can only present her with the choice."

Kate and Robert clasp hands, staring at the floor. This is awful. The whole intervention was awful. When they walked into the room, Craig was pretty sure almost every ounce of willpower was sucked from his body. The hairs on his limbs stood up and his mouth became dry. He could barely look at any of them and barely stand. Plus Ashley said the most cutting thing she thought directly to him. "Especially you". She thought he'd betrayed her. That cut was about as deep as someone cutting him in half and watching his insides spill out of his skin. She believed she could trust him and now no longer did. Even if he did tell her that he was against this from the beginning, she wouldn't buy it...not anymore. He was one of them and no longer special; he's indistinct. Craig lays his head on the door of the beam of the kitchen door.

"Paige, thanks for talking," says Hazel, her voice carrying to Craig. "I was speechless."

"That was hard," sighs Paige, wiping her eyes.

"Babe, you rocked," assures Marco. "You got through to Ashley. We could all see it."

See it? Craig's mouth drops and he leaves the beam. He pulls Riva aside.

"A couple days before, something happened," shares Craig.

"What?" says Riva. "I hate to say this, Craig, but sometimes something traumatic makes the addict more accessible to help. They don't want to relive it or they're overpowered by guilt or..."

"I got this vibe that it was something pretty bad," answers Craig. "Then, when Paige read her..."

His words disappear inside himself and he draws Ashley's own words from his brain. She drank to forget. Her clothes were ripped. The story of Paige's past nearly sent her to the floor.

"No," breathes Craig to himself.

The whole room is buzzing behind him and Riva. Joey and Diane are passing water bottles to Jeff and the rest of the students. Robert and Kate were whispering among themselves. Ellie is slumped in a chair, keeping to herself. Officer Wheaton had arrived shortly after Ashley went to his room and is currently reading a newspaper. Every last one of them had no idea and it's the only idea that he can come up with.

The idea is put aside by a crash. Kate and Robert shoot up from the couch and Craig jogs to the window. Pieces of a flower pot stretch across the driveway. A key jingles. Footsteps pound against the pavement. In the dark, he spots the blue of denim as it flies past his mailbox.

"That can't be...," starts Robert.

"Daddy!" cries Angie, scurrying down the steps. "Daddy! Ashley went through the window! She's trying to go to the garage! She's going to hurt herself!"

Diane holds a troubled Angie in her arms, Craig running out of the kitchen. He gave the keys to Joey. Joey stares at him wordlessly.

"Did she say where she was heading?" asks Diane to Angie.

"No," says Angie. "She took off after I mentioned Mommy's grave."

"Kate, it looks like she's heading for your car," suggests Robert.

"Let's go!" cries Kate, throwing Joey's front door open.

"Joey, your keys!" pleads Craig.

"I've got mine," sighs Joey, tossing them to Craig.

Craig catches them in a flash, running with Kate towards a side street. They're so far from Ashley, her mother's car on the other end. They'll have to hurry to catch her in order to follow her. Craig unlocks the car as soon as it's in his sight. Kate hops into the passenger seat and puts on her seatbelt. Craig does the same and puts the car into gear. The tires squeal as he takes off. A pair of red headlights burn in front of them, more red than a heart. Another set of tires squeal as Kate Kerwin's car turns a corner and races forward.

"Where is she going?" cries Kate, holding onto the door handle while trying to catch her breath.

His reply should be simple, though it's painful to say. Why? Because they'd talked about where Ashley thought she'd first lost herself earlier that day, with no hesitance, and right now it is the last place he thought he'd go tonight.

VII.

Her own personal symphony invites in their new audience. The meager songs of crickets, the light rustles from the feet of small mammals, and the distant winds created by cars moving trade their parts until Ashley is among marble, grass, and flowers. The rest is silent. Flowers ask nothing from her. Stone monuments have no great expectations for her. The names on the markers are strangers.

As she passes each site, she lets her boots stick to the dirt a bit. The dirt patches occasionally tug on the soles. Moonlight hits her laces. It shines on her face the further she goes. Ashley rubs her sweaty palms against the denim. Wet from her sweat, she's just thankful it's not from tears.

Ashley stalls at a singular sight. A mound of dirt is piled to the left of it. There's no marker present. The unfilled grave, rectangular, ready, has a Caution sign next to the mound, with white rope surrounding the space. She steps closer. With a soft grip, her fingers wrap around the rope. She finds her fingers lifting it, finds them collecting the whole length of it.

She stares at the grave, wondering who it is for and how they died. Were they young or old? Male or female? Expecting death or not? She bunches the rope together and throws it toward a tree. Ashley walks to the other side of the grave and hugs herself. Did this person lose her dreams too? Did she lose everything? Ashley swallows a lump in her throat and lets herself cry over them. Wouldn't she have had a family? Since she'd died, they would never see her again. What did Aja say that night?

"Do you know anyone that was close to you that died?" asks Ashley in the silence.

Yes, Aja. Me. Others would say that's a drastic answer, but they haven't lived through what she has, and it's not like the "me" her family knew is still alive. The old Ashley might as well be excavated, buried. Peering inside, the mahogany of the present coffin gleams in the moonlight. The gleam makes the wood look soft and stable.

"Ashley!" calls a distant, distinct voice through the silence. "Ashley!"

Craig comes through the darkness, manuevering through markers, weaving past flowers. Ashley blinks at his moving body. Craig stands before the open grave. He looks smaller from the other side.

"What are you doing?" says Craig.

"Being free," she barely replies.

His eyes nervously skitting from her to the open mouth of the grave, Craig smiles sadly at her.

"Let's..let's go home," says Craig.

Ashley's boots crunch against the grass as she tenderly walks to a spot centimeters away from the edge. What if? Her career, the little there was of it, was a joke. Almost anybody that could've taken advantage of her did. She's useless, and the outlet she can use to forget that is something her friends are telling her she can't use. Ashley goes to the very edge.

"How far do you think it is from way up here to all the way to the bottom?" asks Ashley. "Six feet under? That's a pretty decent tumble."

"Don't," whispers Craig, continually shaking his head.

"What if I jump?" whispers Ashley.

"Nothing is worth that jump," says Craig, going ahead two steps.

"Well, I'm worth nothing," says Ashley.

"That's not true!" insists Craig.

How would he know? He is not her. He hasn't had so many opportunities slip through his hands. He hasn't been attacked left and right. He hasn't been...Ashley glares at him.

"You guys spent the whole night saying how I've screwed up my life!" counters Ashley.

"We spent the whole night saying how your drinking has screwed up your life, not you," says Craig calmly. "We think you're worth a lot. I think you're worth a lot."

This is another lie, so he can trick her into doing what he wants and not what she wants. Yet, she wants to be convinced it's true. How can she test him?

"You...you didn't write a letter," says Ashley, choking on the last word.

"Because how I feel about you can't fit in a letter," says Craig in a low, shaky sentence.

Ashley starts to cry more, her knees almost buckling. Craig is crying just as intensely, only the space of the grave between them.

"I love you, Ashley," says Craig. "I believe in you more than I believe in myself. Which is why I followed you this whole summer. And truth is, I'd probably keep chasing you. I don't care how many mistakes you've made. But don't make this one. Please."

The last instance where someone helped her, where someone attacked her is reason enough to do it. Fall and crack her head open. She had no control over her body and she didn't even cause it. Ashley sobs and scarcely notices the second person to walk to the grave, staring warmly at her daughter.

"Sweetheart, what are you feeling?" whispers Kate.

Her question is perhaps the kindest of the whole night. Ashley looks at her mother's heels and then her own boots.

"I feel ashamed," whispers Ashley, sniffling. "And I feel old."

"You look young," says Kate. "You always look young to me."

Ashley smiles half-heartedly, but can't keep it for long.

"Young and defenseless," murmurs Ashley, practically to herself. "That sounds about right."

"Defenseless because of tonight?" asks Kate.

She shakes her head from side to side until her neck hurts. The chill of the summer evening floats past every piece of material on her body and she lets her tears burn and stroll across her cheeks.

"Defenseless because I was almost raped," sobs Ashley.

Allowing her entire body to breathe, she lets out a series of moans, echoing off the walls of the grave. The final echo is weak, pathetic.

"Ash," sighs Craig.

He moves to go to her until Ashley's body totters at the edge again. Craig halts his feet.

"Were you drinking when this happened?" whispers Kate.

"Yeah," breathes Ashley through her tears.

"Do you think that would've happened if you weren't drinking?" asks Kate gently.

She wouldn't have wandered off alone, that's for sure. She also wouldn't have been at Starfly's if she hadn't gotten kicked out for drinking. Strange how it works out in her head now. Cause and unfortunate effect.

"No," replies Ashley.

Kate nods sympathetically. Tears are in the middle of her mother's oval eyes and her lips part in a hopeful smile.

"Mom, I never want to go through that again," sobs Ashley. "I wish I never lived through any of this."

"My daughter can live through anything," says Kate. "And she's still got a lot of life to live."

They all must've thought so if they were willing her to turn it around. To think that they joined forces, including the unlikely duo in front of her, on her behalf? They did see some value in her even if she sees no value in herself. Life is hard, but it's less hard if you're not alone. If she could've had some one at Starfly's, during the lonely days at the hotel, she could've spared herself some pain. Being alone has brought her to the brink; being with others can bring her back. Ashley takes a step...backward.

Craig and Kate quickly join her. Their bodies become barriers for the cold winds crossing the yard. Kate brushes Ashley's hair from her forehead. Ashley stares at the grave a last time, and then at them.

"How am I going to fix myself?" she asks quietly.

They reach out for her and she collapses into their arms. After a moment, they straighten their bodies as they walk to the cars. Their shadows momentarily bounce on a stone monument and are then swallowed whole by the dark.


	103. I Promise

**CIII. I Promise**

_If you need a friend,_  
_don't look to a stranger,_  
_You know in the end,_  
_I'll always be there._

_And when you're in doubt,_  
_and when you're in danger,_  
_Take a look all around,_  
_and I'll be there._

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)_  
_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)_  
_But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,_  
_I promise, I promise you I will._

_When your day is through,_  
_and so is your temper,_  
_You know what to do,_  
_I'm gonna always be there._

_Sometimes if I shout,_  
_it's not what's intended._  
_These words just come out,_  
_with no gripe to bear._

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)_  
_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)_  
_But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,_  
_I promise, I promise you..._

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)_  
_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)_  
_And if I had to walk the world, that make you fall for me,_  
_I promise you, I promise you I will._

_I gotta tell ya, I need to tell ya, I gotta tell ya, I gotta tell yaaaa ..._

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)_  
_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)_  
_But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,_  
_I promise you, I promise you..._

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)_  
_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)_  
_And if I have to walk the world to make you fall for me,_  
_I promise you, I promise you I will ..._  
_I will..._  
_I will..._  
_I will..._

**The Promise is the property of When In Rome and appears in the film _Napoleon Dynamite_. **

**Dahil Sa Iho is the property of Miguel Verlarde Jr.**

**Imma Be is the property of Black Eyed Peas.**

"How long do hermit crabs live?"

Six or seven years, she'd guess, but Manny would have to check. Setting down a catalog, Manny logs in to the computer, formerly J.J.'s and now exclusively hers. J.J. officially bestowed it to her for her birthday. It was a gift that didn't cost anything, but it was a gift she needed. Her father lugged it to Manny's room and Liberty dropped by with an Amazon card for her, only to stay and walk Manny through hooking up the computer to the Internet. Normally she'd ask Toby and Emma, except one of them was unreachable and the other was desperately hunting for a gift for a girl on the verge of eight.

"You can't carry a crab through customs," reasons Liberty.

Emma lets her finger trail down the page. "There's bound to be a bunch when we get to California."

"True," says Liberty, nodding and going to Manny's bookshelf.

"Whoa!" cries Manny. "It can reach fifteen years! That's older than Chloe Moretz."

"And shorter than it would take for Peter Stone to mature," says Emma.

"Burn!" says Manny, the three girls laughing in unison.

"I can't believe he tried to flirt with Jenna to get the treasurer spot," moans Liberty.

"I say you stick it to him and stick around, Liberty," suggests Emma.

"We'll see how this first month goes," says Liberty with a shrug.

She may not even be around for the other election. Manny looks over her shoulder at her alarm clock. The time is nearing seven-thirty. While it might sound like they all came to discuss sea creatures and school positions, they're really waiting on a phone call that would alter her entire senior year. She hasn't heard from Colin. Although, it was practically a slam dunk for him. He has the best male voice she's ever heard in live musical theater. It's only a matter of time before he breaks into Broadway after the academy. As for her, she felt good about the audition, really good, but maybe after all these weeks, Eric Hegel wouldn't be as impressed.

In a way, she wishes she didn't go to the New York Academy outing, because now she knows what she'll miss if she doesn't get into the school. Plus, everybody's here, waiting with her. Her parents, Rosa, J.J., and Officer Patton were in the living room. Emma and Liberty were in her room. Darcy couldn't make it since she had a prayer service at her church. And...that's not entirely right. Toby is probably waiting, but he's not here to wait. She'd just have to track him down tomorrow.

"Do you think they're doing the rejections first?" says Manny, turning her chair to face her friends.

"Manny!" cries Emma. "Stop it."

"I feel like I just watched _The Exorcist_," moans Manny. "I want to throw up."

"Here, do something productive while we wait," offers Liberty. "I've divided your library by category. Fiction, biography, memoir, and a neat stack for the tabloids."

Emma raises her brow and goes over to the shelf.

"Oooh, Isadora Duncan!" exclaims Emma, plucking a performance art book from a row.

Manny and Liberty stare at her cluelessly.

"She basically started modern dance," shares Emma, looking between them. "Ehhh, back to the gift search."

Liberty reshelves the book, then hops onto Manny's bed. Maybe she should eat, though she's already had a decent helping of spaghetti. Maybe she should throw out some of those trashy tabloids, though there were some totally cute paparazzi shots in there. Maybe she should stop deciding what to do and actually do something.

"Is it me or is Disney pretty dark?" asks Emma as she flips through another catalog.

"Why?" says Manny.

"Skinning dalmatians to make fur coats, puppets being sold into slavery, trying to kill a harmless beast in his own castle," continues Emma, showing them the photos in the catalog.

"You always have to look for a cause, don't you?" laughs Liberty.

"This is not child's play," says Emma with conviction.

"You mean that movie with the killer doll?" says Manny.

"Manny, how distracted are you?" sighs Emma.

She's not distracted enough to hear the shrill ring of a phone coming down the hallway. Manny leaps up, startling her pals, Liberty almost falling off the bed. She steadies herself. It could be anybody. She shouldn't overreact. There's no need to panic.

"Manuella...phone!" shouts Joseph.

"Panic!" squeaks out Manny.

"Take a breath," instructs Emma, grabbing Manny's shoulders.

"Remember to breathe," says Liberty, coming to her side as Manny inhales.

"Which one?" cries Manny, staring hurriedly between them.

"Go!" say Emma and Liberty at the same time.

Nodding, Manny goes into the hallway. She briefly stops and puts her hands against her waist. Butterflies seem to soar in all directions in her stomach. She's not going. She has to. But there were so many disappointments, with Lia and _Hearts for Sale_, the Pinecrest disaster, the Paramount chance that went to Camille, and that stupid audition where she got told that she was too short. The third time's the charm supposedly, yet that's more than three times. Go, she tells herself. Everyone knows who's calling and they deserve to know...no, she deserves to know if she finally did it.

Manny enters the room. Her parents, Rosa, J.J, and Officer Patton are gathered around the table. Remnants of spaghetti are still on the dinner plates, along with half full glasses of milk and lemonade. Emma and Liberty elected to have salads, though their plates were already washed and put away. Her plate has nothing on it and there's nothing to stare at, to divert her attention. Joseph holds the phone.

"Good luck, Manuella," says Joseph, kissing her on the forehead.

Rosa and Maria cross their fingers. Manny crosses her fingers too and holds the phone with her other hand.

"Hello?" says Manny.

"Manny?" says Eric Hegel. "Hi, this is Eric."

"Oh...hi," answers Manny, nervously. "How are you?"

"I'm doing great!" says Eric.

Okay, he's cheerful, but when is he ever not cheerful? This could go as badly as she's expecting. He'll cover the bad news with sweetness, and she'll feel extra bad.

"Good," says Manny.

"Sorry I took so long," says Eric. "You're actually the last person I'm calling."

Oh, no. She's last? Wonderful. Simply wonderful. He would save the rejections for last because hello, who wants to do those first? She failed...again. She might as well tell Colleen that she's through and choose another career. She's gotten the hook before she ever got the chance to go on a New York stage.

"Save the best news for last, huh?" continues Eric. "Welcome to the Academy, Manny!"

Manny nearly drops the phone and onto her dad's loafers. That's an acceptance! They said yes! The hook? Burn it. Toss it. Shuck it into oblivion, because she's in!

"Aaaah!" screams Manny joyfully. "Are you kidding? You swear on the soul of Andrew Lloyd Webber?"

Eric chuckles. "I double swear."

"Awesome!" says Manny.

She takes the phone from her ear and eagerly nods at everyone. Her parents hug with smiles on their lips. Rosa claps her hands a couple of times. J.J. and Officer Patton exchange a high-five. A joint exclamation comes from the hall, Emma and Liberty trickling into the kitchen. They must've been spying, but she's glad they did. Nothing can erase this moment from her life. She is going to be part of a prestigious institution for acting in one of the most famous cities in the world. They value her! They honestly value her talent.

"There's a lot to discuss with you and your parents," says Eric when Manny repositions the phone. "We're still discussing financial aid opportunities for you. I mean, I'm not going to lie to you. The arts have been getting hit pretty hard right now."

"I understand," assures Manny.

"You can celebrate with Colin, too," says Eric. "I'm sure he'll call you tomorrow."

"So happy for him," says Manny.

"I look forward to having you both here," says Eric. "But..."

No, there's a but? There can't be a "but". "But"s are bad.

"Like any other school or avenue of learning, you do have a choice," goes on Eric. "We'd love to have you, but we can't make the decision for you. Our deadline is September fifteenth, a week before registration. I'm overnighting the information. Please discuss it carefully with your parents."

"Of course," says Manny, her heart speeding up.

"Manny, I think this would be a fantastic place for you. I really do mean that," says Eric.

"Thanks...thanks so much...," says Manny, her voice trailing off.

"Good night and congratulations!" says Eric.

Manny settles the phone into the receiver. She stands in the midst of elated cheers and all-around hugs. It's everything she could ask for from her family and friends. They're genuinely excited for her. Yet, she'll be separated from these same people in less than a month if she goes to the Academy. This is almost too much to process.

"Manny's the next Meryl Streep!" chants J.J. "Manny's the next Meryl Streep!"

Pretty soon, they're all doing it, clapping to the rhythm. Manny flushes red. Maria wraps her arms around her daughter.

"Future Tony _and_ Oscar winner!" yells Rosa, the single person who can overshadow J.J.'s declarations, although Manny thinks Officer Patton could do it if he tried.

They stop chanting and applaud widely.

"We're so proud of you, Manuella," says Joseph.

She's not so flustered that she can't spot a tear hanging at the edge of her father's eye. Manny goes to embrace him. Then, she turns around to stare at those who've been with her since she was a baby or a junior high student or as late as this summer. And they're still with her. That's something else to celebrate.

"You guys are always invited backstage," says Manny.

"I can get past security, no problem," asserts Officer Patton.

A roar of laughter crosses every inch of the kitchen, while the butterflies in her belly grow calm in the comfort of her home.

II.

There are so many deals he can't keep track of them. Moving a Slim Jim between his lips, the cashier hands a pack of cigarettes to a man in sweats as Sean reads the various notices on the bulletin board at the convenience store. They advertise bargains for speed boats, mopeds, entire cars, any which way to travel. There's a lot of ways to get out of town and not many ways to forget the events currently circling his life.

He's too exhaused to go anyways. Emotionally, physically, financially. Everybody seems to have more energy than he does. After helping with the funeral, Jay accompanied Alex when she went to preoder her first laptop. Jay would be helpful because well, both he and Sean used to steal them, the really good ones. Ellie was on the go for a mysterious reason he couldn't coax out of her. Mr. Fletcher had finally nailed down his defense. His parents and Tracker moved from Sean's small apartment to his aunt's home nearby. Meanwhile, he was running on empty. He did everything people asked him to do, specifically what Dale asked him to do, and there's nothing else he can do for the moment.

Still, it's probably better to have the option not to do something when you compare it to not having the option to do something. He imagines Marcus stewing in his cell, barely having answers, barely sleeping. Making that deal with the cops saved him from a lack of freedom, but no deal can bring Ty back, which is what both he and Marcus want.

"Evening," says the cashier after he drops some change into a man's hands.

"Hi," says Sean, coming forward. "Can I get some gum?"

"Kind?" says the cashier.

"Uh, Excel, I guess," replies Sean.

"What a weird name for gum," says the cashier.

He stoops to the row of candy, third up from the bottom, behind the counter. He whistles, unable to drown out the chime of a bell. The door opens. Sean turns to view a uniform he hasn't worn in months, on a man he hasn't talked to in weeks. He shoves his hands in his pockets and does his best to pretend that he hadn't seen him.

"Flavor?" says the cashier.

Sean doesn't register the question, blinking at him blankly.

"Flavor?" repeats the cashier.

"Oh," says Sean. "Excel Mist."

There's a few tentative steps behind Sean before he hears them stop completely. Sean's shoulders tense.

"It's called Orbit Mist in the States," remarks Mr. Hill. "Back when I drove down to Detroit."

Sean nods dumbly. "Weird."

That's also the definition of this moment. Because of Cheryl and Marcus' reactions, he has made no effort to visit Dale. He enjoyed the fact that Dale and Jay were at different hospitals. He enjoyed avoiding Dale, especially after their last conversation. But the luxury of those things is disappearing fast. Dale would undoubtedly go to Ty's funeral and sooner or later, he'd want to speak to Cheryl and Marcus himself. Then, there's his father. Sean's not convinced that Mr. Hill has forgiven him even if he did drag Dale out of a burning building. He probably did ruin the respect Mr. Hill had for him when he was in the ring. Earning it back might take a lot more than that.

Sliding a dollar across the counter, Sean pays for the gum. The phone near the register rings, the cashier chatting leisurely with the person on the other end. Great. With his luck, it's probably the guy's girlfriend. Mr. Hill silently stands beside Sean and slides a newspaper towards him.

"Figure you should read this," says Mr. Hill.

Gently opening the newspaper, Sean furrows his brow and starts to read.

"Late last night, two suspects were apprehended in connection with the illegal car parts ring operating outside Toronto," reads Sean. "An unidentified source named Xavier Carter and Lionel Leon as the two men responsible for delivering the stolen items to the docks. Carter, a graduate student at the University of Toronto, was apprehended at the site of his dorm room. Leon was taken into custody two hours later at his home. Both men are expected to be charged with conspiring to operate a stolen car ring and auto theft. No bond has been set. A further investigation continues for individuals considered to be the masterminds of the ring. The Toronto police force have not released their names. Carter and Leon will be indicted September twentieth."

Unsure if the words are real or not, Sean turns the page over and over. Yes, there it is, in black and white. The two men Dale named when Sean was wired are in custody. He almost can't fathom it. After the fire, he relished ripping the wire off, and loathed what went down that night. There were times he hated breathing. But now, maybe it did lead to some justice after all.

"You can keep that," says Mr. Hill.

"Thanks," says Sean. "Um...how's Dale?"

"He came out of his third surgery yesterday," replies Mr. Hill. "Right after Jay called about the funeral."

Right. Of course Emmitt would put Dale on the list of ring members. Well, he's kind of glad he didn't have to do that job then because he's not sure that he could've talked to Dale. He already failed at his job talking to Marcus and Cheryl.

"I'm not doing the best job there," says Mr. Hill, as if mirroring Sean's mind.

"I...don't understand," says Sean.

"His mom was always better at reassuring him that things would get better," continues Mr. Hill. "I don't know what to tell him. Then again, nowadays, I don't feel like I know him very well."

How tough for him, honestly. Dale goes from the golden child to the guy who steals from him. What's more interesting to him, though, is that the more Sean finds out about Dale, the less he's inclined to write him off. Maybe it's time that was shifting things. Maybe it was talking to Sandy. Maybe it was Ty himself.

"He should come to the funeral," says Sean finally.

"He will," says Mr. Hill with a soft smile. "I tend to think Ty was the reason Dale got his diploma."

"Really?" says Sean.

"Yeah," asserts Mr. Hill. "Dale was so destroyed after he didn't get the assistant teacher's position. He felt underappreciated. That may be why he talked himself up so many times around the garage."

He definitely did, and went after anybody who threatened him. Sean experienced it firsthand.

"But he and Ty forged this bond," goes on Mr. Hill. "I think Ty inspired him the most. And...isn't that what you hope for when you're working with kids?"

Mr. Hill sets a firm hand on Sean's shoulder, his warm brown eyes growing wet. He has his own hope, that Mr. Hill is meaning something else, something else he's secretly saying under these words. He's hoping he's a kid that changed Mr. Hill's mind.

"I never did thank you for saving my son," says Mr. Hill, a tear sliding along his cheek.

"I...," begins Sean, but his throat grows tight.

"I spoke harshly to you," interjects Mr. Hill. "I didn't see things clearly. I didn't want to see things clearly."

For a long time, he's done those three things too. He can't fault the man for believing and protecting his son. His own parents were doing just that. It's something that happened with the Hills at the start, which he hated, but understood, and he understands now, with less hate.

"What do you need?" says the cashier while hanging up the phone.

Mr. Hill wipes his eyes, turning to the cashier. He gestures to the aisles.

"Do you have jumper cables?" asks Mr. Hill.

"Hold on," says the cashier.

Despite his selfish time on the phone, the cashier finds the jumper cables speedily and delivers them to Mr. Hill. He rings up the register. Sean stares down at the counter.

"Still drive the Plymouth?" says Sean.

"Yep," says Mr. Hill as he pays.

"I'm pretty good with Plymouths," says Sean.

Mr. Hill releases a soft chuckle. "I recall."

"I can take a look," says Sean. "It'd be like old times."

"Yeah," says Mr. Hill, grinning and accepting the jumper cables, "Like old times."

III.

The walk seems long, but she feels short. Her body was stretched on the cool, uncomfortable back seat of her mother's car for close to thirty minutes, the seatbelt burrowing into her back. Ashley stared ahead, not wanting to see the streets she passed in this car, the lights she went through. The only lights she saw were the reflections of streetlamps on the leather interior. One light consistently shone on her on their way back, Craig's, following them in Joey's car. It's still more light than she's used to, from the location they just left. As they go up the drive to the Jeremiah household, there's even more, and she flinches from its brightness. She'd compare it to walking into the sun, because it is bright and it will hurt.

Ashley goes through the front door, Kate and Craig filing in after her. There's a marked difference. Instead of silence, she hears worried whispers, fingers punching in telephone numbers, and the movement of several feet across the floor. They _were _concerned, weren't they? When Craig closes the door, they all turn to the door, Robert instantly leaving the phone to hug her. Ashley breathes in his cologne, rich and subtle. Chris comes over with a blanket and wraps it around her shoulders.

Angie's a new addition, though she's sleeping, her head in her father's lap. The rest of them are awake, alert to every change in the room. She wishes she was alert on countless days and countless nights. She was alert to her pain and frustrations, but not to their help. So she ran, hid, and took whatever consequences went with it, including standing at the edge and battling her will to live. Something's wrong when that becomes an option. Something's worse when you attack the people who present you with another.

She counts the twelve people in the room, imprinting their faces in her mind, outlining their expressions by memory as she searches for courage. Any anxieties, arguements, and annoyances should be trounced by an apology. She's just not sure how to start...anything. At least, not any more.

Ashley wraps the blanket around herself firmly and sighs.

"I had all these thoughts...angry and sad," says Ashley. "I know that's not an excuse, and that I've been making a lot of those lately. I'm sorry."

"We're...we're glad you came back," speaks up Toby shyly.

Her friends nod their agreement and her parents clasp her hands. Craig rubs her back, a circular motion.

"Do you need anything?" asks Diane.

While it's a simple question, she can't deliver a simple answer. She has no clue what she needs.

"I...I can't ask for anything," sobs Ashley.

"Yes, you can," reassures Riva.

"I...I can't even look you guys in the eye," chokes out Ashley.

Craig wraps an arm around her, Kate releasing her hand.

"I told you that you could always look me in the eye," says Craig. "Remember? That's the same for everybody. We've all said some hard stuff tonight, but it came from a good place."

Ashley nods. A good place, she thinks. That's what this boils down too, doesn't it? She casts a hesitant look to the left, and clears her throat.

"Can I talk to Ellie...alone?" says Ashley.

"You guys can use the den," says Joey.

Several hopeful glances cross the room. They shouldn't hope, not yet. She hasn't decided.

Ellie, meanwhile, stares awkwardly at the armrests of her chair and stands without much effort. She pulls down her skirt a bit and accompanies Ashley to the den. Ellie flicks on the light after closing the door. It's a wide room, but they select a couch with a coffee table nearby. Ashley stays still. Ellie rubs her palms against her knees. It was a typical nervous Ellie gesture that gives her some solace. It's nice to see that some things don't change while others do.

"I really remind you of your mom?" says Ashley.

"Everybody is different," replies Ellie, removing a hand on her knee to place on Ashley's. "But, Ash...yeah, some of the symptoms are the same."

Riva could throw facts and figures at her. The rest of them can bring up past occurences. She would painstakingly have to admit they matter. But when it's from her best friend? That's not ever anything she can take lightly.

"Can you think back to what we talked about when you slept over?" says Ashley, then sniffling under the cotton of the blanket.

"About our dreams," recalls Ellie.

"I wanted them to come true...so bad," says Ashley. "Sometimes I did understand what it would take, and sometimes I didn't."

Ashley begins to cry fiercely. This is hard, sobering. Sober? Doesn't it always have two meanings? You're free of alcohol and you're rational. She's sober enough for clarity.

"I drank whenever it felt right," continues Ashley. "Then, pretty soon, everything I got along the way...was gone."

"You're not gone," says Ellie. "That's why we're fighting for you. But more importantly, you have to fight for yourself."

"I really thought I could stop," says Ashley, blinking at her.

"How many times have you said that to yourself?" asks Ellie.

"All the time," admits Ashley, wiping her eyes. "Every time."

"How many times did it work?" says Ellie.

"None," says Ashley.

"You can run...all you want, but your addiction is running right along with you," says Ellie.

It has followed her, from Toronto to England to Starfly's to home again. The feelings stuck. The dreams dwindled. The outcome remained. Ashley lets her head fall, the blanket hovering above her face like a hat giving shade. Ellie guides her head to right under her neck, far warmer than the blanket.

"I have to go," whispers Ashley, more to herself than to who is holding her.

"I'll visit every weekend," says Ellie.

"You don't have to make a promise...," starts Ashley.

"I'm going to make this one," assures Ellie. "Besides Craig, you're going to need some post-goth girl time."

Ashley releases a laugh she didn't mean to, and hugs Ellie from the side.

"Thanks, El," says Ashley.

"Ready?" says Ellie.

"Yeah," replies Ashley.

Ellie goes to the door, and opens it to reveal Craig, clearly eager to hear what was going on inside. With a light knock to his forehead, Ellie departs and leaves them alone. Craig sits on the coffee table, opposite Ashley. His bright eyes search hers, and this is a brightness she can take in spades.

"I hate that I left you," sighs Craig. "I hate that I wasn't there that night."

"You never left," insists Ashley. "Not really."

"I'm not leaving, period," assures Craig.

"Look at you," sighs Ashley.

"What do you mean?" says Craig.

"I'm usually taking care of you," says Ashley. "With your dad, your stay in the hospital. This summer's been a switch."

"That's a good thing," says Craig.

They find each other's arms, the furniture moaning from the weight. Ashley allows the blanket to fall onto the couch and follows Craig into the living room. Her family, her friends, and Riva crowd around. Her gaze goes to the floor.

"I want to give it a shot," says Ashley.

From the corner of her eyes, she can see Chris put a comforting arm on Robert, and her mother rest a fist against her heart. Everybody else is obviously moved and quietly thrilled. Craig kisses the top of her head. Kate removes herself from the group to pull a suitcase from the hall closet. She holds it out to Ashley.

"I hope I packed everything," says Kate.

"I trust you," assures Ashley.

Kate sobs softly, winding her arms around Ashley.

"I trust all of you," says Ashley, staring at each of her friends and then closing her eyes.

IV.

_Sa buhay ko'y labis_  
_Ang hirap at pasakit, ng pusong umiibig_  
_Mandin wala ng langit_  
_At ng lumigaya, hinango mo sa dusa_  
_Tanging ikaw sinta, ang aking pag-asa._

"That one's my grandmother's wedding song," identifies Manny.

"I wish I knew what it meant," says Emma.

"Long have I endured in my life, the pain and sorrow from love arise," translates Manny quickly. "Then, you came and redeemed me, my dear. My only hope in my darkest fears..."

"I like that better than Justin Bieber," asserts Emma.

"Me too," says Manny. "But I feel bad since he's Canadian."

The two girls let their legs hang out of the fire escape's holes, the night air crossing their ankles. It's about eleven and they've been too excited to go to sleep. With Manny's latest news and Emma finally and single-handedly mastering origami, the two girls sought a refuge where they wouldn't be bothered. Plus Rosa and Maria were listening to old love songs to see if Rosa liked any of them from back in the day. She pictures J.J. falling asleep on the kitchen table as the music played all around him. If a song wasn't featured at a Leafs game, he wasn't interested.

"Are you sure it's safe out here?" asks Emma.

"The worst thing that can happen to us out here are mosquito bites," answers Manny. "And even then, you can smash the mean little blood suckers."

"I wouldn't smash them," says Emma, giving her paper lily elegant petals.

"Yeah, I know," says Manny, elbowing her. "Awww, look at Liberty."

They glance back at their friend, snoozing on Manny's old sleeping bag, Aristotle's _Rhetoric _over her chest. Manny convinced the two girls to stay over and they would also be her alibi tomorrow. She volunteered to help with Council stuff and her very much free reward would be telling Toby about the Academy. Benefits for all. Manny puffs out her paper rose with pride.

"She looks like a college professor," remarks Emma.

"What do I look like?" inquires Manny teasingly.

"Somebody with a lot of guts," says Emma. "If Officer Patton finds us..."

"I've been cooperative for...like two days now," interjects Manny.

"Wow," dead-pans Emma.

Well, it's true. She acted like the dutiful, escorted teenager that she was, and let the officers have generous, gooey chunks of her cake.

"Toby's going to flip tomorrow," says Manny. "He was more amped than me yesterday."

"So he's cool with you going to New York?" asks Emma.

"He...said he'd be," replies Manny.

Though, that was back when the academy wasn't a reality. What if he didn't feel the same? She has the opportunity to change her mind too. What if the financial aid wasn't that plentiful and she couldn't go regardless? She didn't want her parents to have another burden she didn't mean to create. Gosh, she hasn't thought this through at all.

"He said he'd follow me," says Manny.

"Is that fair?" says Emma nervously.

"If it was reversed, I'd do it too," insists Manny. "Like I told Toby if he went to school in Cali, I'd go out there. And I know more people in L.A. after this summer. We just want to be around each other."

"But you guys are seventeen," interrupts Emma.

"So?" says Manny.

"So you should slow down and not make any of these huge promises," recommends Emma. "I don't think any relationship, no matter how amazing, should dictate where he goes or you go. If it's meant to be, it'll be."

She says it sensitively, though yes, it's kind of a blow.

"I guess," says Manny begrudgingly.

There's nothing set in stone, not yet. Emma's advice, as usual, is very intelligent and practical, but she's not a romantic like the both of them. They could make it work. Look what they've been through so far. This is a subject Emma just doesn't get, not completely. Eh, she'd rather change the subject.

"Are you nervous about your last session with DePauw?" says Manny.

"Not as much as I thought," confesses Emma. "The meds work. The parentals haven't fought in weeks. Like when they call, they seem to be getting along."

"Reconciliation?" broaches Manny.

"Neither one of them have dated anybody else...if that means anything," says Emma, smiling.

"I remember their song...Just Jane," says Manny.

"I...do too," says Emma, hesistantly. "I mean, for a different reason."

"What reason could that be?" kids Manny. "What were you doing, Emma?"

"Shut up," says Emma, blushing.

Manny laughs. "No, seriously. I forget."

"I'm going to bed," demurs Emma, collecting her things and going back into Manny's room.

Chuckling to herself, Manny rests a hand on the bar of the fire escape and pulls herself up. She quickly glances around her surroundings. There are buildings, but she can almost picture skyscrapers; there are cars, and she can almost picture taxis; there's a calm neighborhood, and she can almost picture a busy theatre district. Either way, she's right smack dab in the middle. There will most likely be a fire escape there too. Manny grins and climbs inside the window.

She scoots past Liberty and pats Emma on the head before jumping into her bed. Manny sets her rose on her nightstand.

"Night," whispers Emma. "And congrats again."

"Night, Emmaline," whispers Manny, shutting off her lamp.

Manny closes her eyes, letting her nose fall against her pillow. Her lids shroud everything from view. Breezes waft to meet her cheeks. She can still hear traces of music from the kitchen, quieter as sleep takes over.

_Dahil sa iyo, nais kong mabuhay_  
_Dahil sa iyo, hanggang mamatay_  
_Dapat mong tantuin, wala ng ibang giliw_  
_Puso ko'y tanungin, ikaw at ikaw rin_

_Blah. How long before the moratorium on love songs commences? Manny turns left and right, her blankets rustling. She taps her fingers against her comforter and then resolves to stay on the left, so the cool breezes can hit her face. There's buzzing. Stupid mosquitoes. Then, she listens once more and if it's a mosquito, it's a fairly articulate mosquito. She's never heard a clearer "pssst" sound in her life. It better not be J.J. dragging her out of bed so that she can teach him how to dance. That would take a century or that hot Russian guy from Dancing with the Stars._

_"Pssst," says the voice again._

_Her eyes flutter open, focusing on the center of her window. Manny's mouth drops against her pillow. She leaps up and bounds across the floor. A thousand questions run through her brain. How did he get up the fire escape without making a sound? Why is he here? Do his parents know he's here? Plus, where are Emma and Liberty? Manny glances cluelessly around for her friends. The sleeping bags are there. Maybe they got scared and booked it. If they thought it was Peeping Tom, they left her here. Nice. Luckily for them all, it's a pleasant Toby._

_"Toby!" whispers Manny, inching up her window. "What are you doing? You potentially going thud on the pavement is not kosher!"_

_"Hi," says Toby as he stumbles inside._

_He lands on the carpet and rights himself. Wearing a black jacket, a white shirt, and black slacks, she's reminded of when she saw him last at the restaurant. He appears enthused beyond belief. Has he already heard the news? And where's Wheaton? He can't be by himself at a time like this._

_"Why wouldn't you use the door?" says Manny. _

_"This is more romantic," counters Toby. "I conquered my fear of heights in five minutes...just for you."_

_"So sweet," says Manny, putting a hand on her heart. "But so crazy."_

_"I think we should get crazier," said Toby, setting his hands on her waist._

_"How crazy?" whispered Manny, eyes purposely straying towards her bed._

_Toby looks joyfully at the bed and then stares back at Manny._

_"Let's elope!" exclaims Toby._

_Manny feels her eyes practically leave their sockets. "What?"_

_"Yeah," says Toby, nodding repeatedly._

_"Okay, did you say let's meet the Pope or let's elope?" says Manny. "Because us going to Rome sounds a loooooot more sane."_

_"We're making all these wonderful commitments to each other already, I figure why not make the biggest commitment possible?" says Toby. _

_"Couldn't we just share a locker when I come back to Degrassi or something?" offers Manny._

_"You're funny," says Toby._

_He kisses her on the lips and walks past her._

_"Well...you're acting funny," says Manny, joining him at her closet._

_Toby starts to go through her closet, sliding hangers to the back and front. She's never seen him like this. Alright, he can't be on drugs because...he's Toby. Perhaps he's cracked from all the pressure with the case and his other commitments. That still doesn't explain why he's thrusting a white jersey dress in her general direction and holding it against her frame. _

_"How's this?" says Toby._

_"I doubt my parents want me to use the dress I wear for communion," asserts Manny. _

_"We've got a dress, a ring...," rattles off Toby._

_Staring quickly at Bubbe's old ring, Manny frowns for a moment. She pauses his hand as he reaches for a pair of white heels._

_"And, I doubt she wanted you to use her ring for this, Toby," says Manny. "I mean, we're seventeen!"_

_"Bubbe would be fine with it," says Toby. "We just have to give her a bunch of great-grandchildren."_

_"Oh my God," breathes Manny, wordlessly looking at him._

_"__"I'm thinking a New York courthouse," says Toby. "We're going to New York anyway. Or we could go on a cruise and have the captain marry us while The Love Boat plays."_

_"Oh my God," repeats Manny._

_Manny sinks to her bed, trying to catch her breath, trying to make sense of this. When did Toby become the cuckoo bananas one out of their crew? He's the only person she knows that signals every time when he's in the car and has three copies of his registration. _

_"You're right," notes Toby. "Ixnay on eloping."_

_He wraps an arm around her, stroking her shoulder. Manny smiles at him. It must be getting to him how wacky this plan is, however long it took._

_"Let's go get your parents' consent," says Toby after a few seconds. "Of course we can't get married without that! Why didn't I think of it? You think of everything, Manny. Do you want me to tell them?"_

_"Do you want a dead bride?" exclaims Manny. "Toby!"_

_"Corpse Bride...that was a cute movie," says Toby, laughing momentarily and then leading her to the door._

_"They're going to kill me if they find out you're even in here, Tobes," insists Manny. "Please...don't."_

_"No worries," says Toby as he goes to the door. "They love me!"_

_Toby flinging her bedroom door open, she sees her parents, side by side, smiling from ear to ear. They're not in their night clothes. Once the hour hit ten, they were always in their night clothes. Joseph wears a full suit and Maria has on a beautifully tailored pink dress. _

_"There's the happy couple now!" proclaims Joseph, burying Toby in his arms with a bear hug. "And Toby's here for one of his late night visits."_

_"Say what?" exclaims Manny._

_"And Manny, so overcome with emotion," says Maria._

_Maria hugs her daughter, with so much force Manny almost tumbles to the top of her bed. _

_"We have something to ask," announces Toby._

_"And please don't murder me," utters Manny while still inside the hug._

_"I bet I can guess the question," says Joseph. "You want our consent, right?"_

_"How did you...," starts Manny._

_"Exactly," interjects Toby. _

_"Well, that's exactly what you're going to get!" exclaims Joseph jovially. "Where's my pen?"_

_"Okay, why am I not dead yet?" says Manny to herself, before speaking to all of them. "You are going to give me permission to get married? The eloping thing, I slightly get, because yeah, teenagers do wild things, especially actresses, and we could get like fake I.D.s, but you guys are strict and you're supposed to tell us that we're one crayon short of a Crayola set for wanting to get married! Plus I feel bloated from spaghetti and far from beautiful."_

_"Manny," says Maria, compassionately. "You worry too much."_

_"You and Toby are you and Toby!" says Joseph with glee. "You guys are great! Come on...come on!"_

_That's it. Her last desire for any degree of normalcy is kaput. This is the dad who didn't let her walk a few blocks to get to Toby's mural, and the mom who didn't want her to grow up too soon. These are not the Santoses. These are Stepford Santoses, controlled by a commission to get both of their children hitched and out of the house. _

_"I obviously missed the madness train to spontaneous teen marriage," says Manny, throwing up her arms._

_"Hop on board, Manuella!" encourages Maria. _

_"Choo choo!" echo Joseph and Toby, pulling imaginary train whistles._

_"Scared," says Manny, glancing fearfully between them._

_"I 'll go start tailoring my old wedding dress, and Joseph will get the paperwork in order," says Maria. "Both my babies married in the same year."_

_"Speaking of babies...," says Joseph, gesturing to Manny's stomach and making an imaginary bump._

_Toby, Maria, and Joseph laugh together. The laughter grows as two other people join them. Emma and Liberty have returned to the room and as with the phone call, they were apparently eavesdropping. Good. Emma and Liberty are perfect for talking some sense into...strangely Toby and her parents, of all people._

_"If you have a girl, you can call it Emma!" says Emma, gleefully. "I mean, I helped hook you two up."_

_"Or Liberty," offers Liberty. "I kept your trip to Toby's on the downlow."_

_"Bow chicka bow bow," adds Emma with a wink._

_"Liberty, really? In front of my parents? Since when have you ever used downlow?" cried Manny. "And Emma, when did you start making porn sounds? And bad ones at that."_

_Emma looks offended and Liberty shrugs._

_"What about my career?" cries Manny. "Weren't you guys over the moon about the Academy hours ago?"_

_"But your relationship with Toby _has_ to come first," says Joseph. "I mean, he came to California for you. He put your safety first by breaking up with you. He lost the Disney gig because of how someone felt about your relationship. He's probably going to New York to be with you."_

_Manny's face falls when Toby sits next to her. Toby has sacrificed a lot, hasn't he? She didn't know how much until her father strung it out, with no problem. He's done so much for her and he meant so much. _

_"Toby, what are you going to do if we get married?" asks Manny._

_"Probably work in some office in New York," replies Toby. "Hopefully IT. Eh, it doesn't matter."_

_"Yes, it does matter, sweetie!" cries Manny. "What about animation?"_

_"They usually like college degrees," says Toby. "I'll find some way to support you before college."_

_"I want you to support me...but not like that," realizes Manny._

_"You don't love me?" asks Toby, scooting away from her._

_"I do!" assures Manny. "But... I'm going to love you no matter where we are."_

_"Oh," says Toby, coming closer. "I guess we don't have to rush into anything then."_

_"No," says Manny._

_She leans forward to kiss him softly on the mouth. Toby stares warmly back at her. That's the Toby she knows. Manny hears a light groan._

_"So I shouldn't get my pen?" says Joseph, crestfallen._

_"Joseph!" says Maria, hitting him upside the head._

Manny touches her own scalp, flying up from her sheets. Her night shirt's dripping in sweat. The music has stopped playing. She's in her room and the window's wide open, but vacant. She goes over to check just in case. Nothing. Manny creeps to her bed and sighs when she meets the sheets. It was a dream. And a warning? If she did drag along Toby, he might not resent it, but she would. She'd resent that he chose his path based on what she wanted. That's what makes sense and it's far from crazy.

It's not fair. They manage to come to a conclusion and she's having doubts? Manny bites her lips. She'd like for somebody to wake her up when life doesn't suck in some way. Extra points if they come through the fire escape tonight.

V.

Degrassi's as active as it can be in a day preceding the next school year. Club leaders and followers, maintenance men, and faculty all dot the halls, the parking lot, the Zen garden, every nook and cranny of a place they'll frequent for the next nine months. Only slight reminders of summer remain. A few students wear shorts. Miniature fans are held by several kids, to blow against their faces whenever they were granted breaks. Summer school detention has its lowest number of occupants since last August. And there's a girl in a bikini top sunning herself on the hood of a car. Parked on an outside bench, Manny thinks the last observation is the most interesting. She's shaken out of her reverie by Emma and Spinner bypassing her with a recycling bin.

"Chop chop, Manny," orders Emma gently. "We've got to print a ton of new Student Code of Conducts, and send the old ones to the center."

"Dude, can I use the paper shredder?" asks Spinner.

"No, Spin," says Emma.

"Can I come up with new rules about appropriate piercings?" says Spinner.

"No," replies Emma.

"Can we go out for Quiznos after?" requests Spinner.

"Why not?" gives in Emma.

"Score!" cries Spinner. "Hoagies, here I come."

"Do you want to tag along, Manny?" asks Emma.

"No, I can do without grease," assures Manny.

"Grease?" cries Emma.

"It's not a lot," says Spinner, making a pointed dash to lead Emma away from Manny.

Emma moves with the bin and they're soon inside the school. Officer Patton joins Manny on the bench, his uniform pressed and his nametag polished.

"I had the weirdest dream," shares Manny.

"Did it involve a twister and ruby shoes?" says Officer Patton.

"No, but there were some shoes," says Manny. "I think it was trying to tell me something I didn't necessarily want to hear."

"They do say dreams are the products of the subconscious," says Officer Patton. "So maybe you needed to see it."

"Maybe," says Manny.

She stands. There's only one way to confront the situation and that's to tell Toby that he's free to go wherever he desires to go post-Degrassi. Being by the school, for their last year, makes it that much more immediate. But why does it have to be so hard at the same time? As she mulls this over, she hears feet hitting the asphalt hard. The male lacrosse team moves towards the locker room.

Suddenly, the girl on the hood whips out a boombox and rises up to dance on the car. The boys are quick to watch and hoot their appreciation. She dances more seductively after their encouragement, popping her butt out to the rhythm of the radio.

_Imma be the flyest chick (so fly)_  
_Imma be spreadin my wings_  
_Imma be doin my thing_  
_(do it do it - okay)_

Ever the gentleman, Officer Patton covers his eyes as Manny balks. Equally surprising is who runs to help the girl off the hood.

"Get down!" orders Peter.

"What's the problem, Petey?" asks the girl.

"What makes you think I want to watch my cousin do a Coyote Ugly in front of my mom's school?" cries Peter, throwing a jacket over her.

The girl sighs as she slides the jacket on, though she's careful to leave it open as the athletes walk on by. This is Hatzilakos' niece? She's blonde, sure, but Manny never would've suspected.

"See you guys soon!" says Liza cheerfully.

"Yeah baby!" says the captain of the lacrosse team.

"You're acting like a hooker!" chastises Peter, zipping up the jacket. "Mom told me to keep an eye on you so that's what I'm doing."

"I'm not a baby, and I have the body to show it," argues Liza with a wide grin on her face.

"Ugh!" says Peter, shuddering.

He guides Liza away from the car, noticing Manny taking in the scene.

"You're the last person who should talk," says Peter.

"I didn't say anything!" cries Manny.

With a huff, Peter manages to get Liza into the school. He has some nerve. He's the punk who taped her and sent it everywhere. Maybe protecting Liza is just desserts. Nasty little porn producer. Whatever. Manny enters the school a moment later, Officer Patton right behind her.

The Council was meeting in the MI Lab, and she hasn't seen Toby yet. Officer Patton received a slew of calls on his cell and naturally she had to stay with him. Liberty and Emma were already in high gear when Officer Patton finished. Emma came out to tap on the windshield and assure her that he was there, though. But seeing is believing. Manny walks faster and Officer Patton jogs to keep up.

"Do me a solid, Toby," says Danny, his voice audible from around the corner.

"It's an invitation," sighs Toby.

"To take honors courses!" complains Danny. "Man, all I'm asking is for you to conveniently mail it to the wrong address so I don't have to be labelled a nerd."

"You should be happy you're doing so well in three subjects," counters Toby. "And this class? They only invite less than thirty people to honors trig."

"Yeah... the geeks!" says Danny.

"I'm so proud of you!" gushes Liberty.

The siblings are apparently hugging because the next word after that is "gross", with Danny charging out of the lab. Liberty beams, waves at Manny, and starts explaining the advantages of the honors courses to Danny as they go down the hall. If she's calculating correctly, Toby should be...alone. Manny goes breezily into the lab. Officer Patton pauses at the doorway.

Toby is behind a table, covered in school legislation folders and notebooks, at the front of the lab. A well-organized stack of pencils and a small container of paper clips sits next to two staplers. Officer Wheaton has taken it upon himself to staple packets together. Toby didn't look too busy since Danny distracted him from whatever he was doing. Perfect timing. Additionally, it's nice to see him in the flesh and not in some off-the-wall fantasy. Watching him in the realm of normal is loads better.

"Guess who got a glorious phone call last night?" announces Manny.

Instantly, Toby lifts his head and lets out a small, but pleased laugh. Manny beams. He goes to hug her fully, Manny letting her cheek graze his. Yeah, Toby's infinitely better in the flesh. Manny sighs.

"I knew it," says Toby, his heart beating close to hers. "I knew it!"

"Toby, I feel like I've been working and wishing so long...," says Manny, pulling away as her words are defeated by her emotions.

She can't explain her joy. She really thought she could, but it's kind of difficult when it's your biggest fan.

"It kinda blows you away, right?" guesses Toby.

"Yeah," says Manny tearfully. "And Colin made it too! I feel like I get to share this with everybody...you know, like the movie?"

"Well, thanks for sharing it with me as soon as possible, " says Toby. "I've been distracting myself so I wouldn't ask anyone but you. Glad I did. You're definitely the best distraction."

"Yay procrastination!" remarks Manny, drawing him in for a kiss.

Unfortunately, their liplock doesn't last too long, what with the constant sounds of the stapler and the tasks at hand. Manny convinces herself to seperate slowly.

"But I didn't come to be a distraction...I came to work!" says Manny.

"Let me show you something first," says Toby.

He takes her hand, removes a notebook from the group, and flips it open to the first page. Manny recognizes her name and views her schedule for the year. It was typical for grade twelve and now totally up in the air because of her acceptance to the Academy. She hasn't even entertained the thought of asking about how to keep up with her school credits so that she can still graduate with them.

"This makes me sort of sad," confesses Manny.

"Nadia's an office assistant this year and I got her to let me xerox your schedule," informs Toby.

"Dang, Sherlock," says Manny. "Can you sneak in and get permanent records too?"

"It's just a schedule," demurs Toby, pulling out a chair for her.

"Detectives are sexy," says Manny, taking a seat. "So why'd you go to the trouble?"

"I'm pretty sure that if you space out coursework from Degrassi and the academy classes, you can graduate in May with us," says Toby. "I mean, it would take a lot on your part, but it's not like you're not smart enough to do it."

Manny puts her chin against a cupped hand, reading the schedule. There's Kwan for English, Meyer for advanced bio, Perrino for history, Snake for media studies, Sauve for health, and Archer for math lab. Meh, that's not a light load. Could she really handle it?

"This is overwhelming," groans Manny.

"I know, which is why I took the liberty of making a rough schedule for you," says Toby, going to the second page. "Everything's broken into time increments, and I left Saturdays open if you wanted to take in any plays or veg out or whatever you want to do. Then, there's a blank Sunday if your parents want to visit and so you can go to church with them that morning or something..."

Toby continues, Manny looking on in disbelief. Wow. He was two steps ahead of her because he was thinking about her. Manny smiles, her fingers above her displayed teeth.

"I gave the biggest amount of time to the subjects you didn't do as well in last semester, and then I ran it past Sauve to make sure it was feasible," continues Toby. "You can always switch things around, but..."

"How long did this take you?" interjects Manny.

"Most of the morning," says Toby. "All you have to do is go to Sauve and arrange for the materials to be mailed once a month..."

"Toby," interrupts Manny in the rundown. "I love you."

He stops and closes the notebook.

"Did you catch that?" jokes Manny, grinning.

"Yes," says a red-faced Toby.

Alright, he's aware of her feelings for him, so this next part should come a little easier for her. He deserves it after the things she remembered in her dream and what he's done today. Manny puts her hand behind his neck, caressing the back of it.

"Wherever you go after Degrassi, that's going to be the same," says Manny. "Like it is right here, right now. Even if it's not with me."

"You don't want me in New York?" says Toby, raising his eyebrows.

"Not if something better comes along...I mean, for you," clarifies Manny.

Toby glances at the table, no words streaming out of his mouth. Oh no, did she say it wrong? She thought she didn't stumble, though perhaps she did. However, she stops evaluating it when Toby puts his lips against hers. Manny accepts the kiss, as happily as she did the phone call.

"I'm so excited for you," says Toby afterwards.

"Do you know how easy it is to be in love with you?" sighs Manny. "And it's so much more fun than bio."

"Bio's pretty hard to beat," says Toby.

"You beat it," replies Manny, then laughing as he goes in for another kiss. "I promise."


	104. Keep Holding On

**CIV. Keep Holding On**

_You're not alone_  
_together we stand_  
_I'll be by your side_  
_you know I'll take your hand_  
_when it gets cold_  
_and it feels like the end_  
_theres no place to go you know i wont give in_  
_no I won't give in._

_Keep holding on_  
_'cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_  
_just stay strong_  
_cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you_  
_there's nothing you can say, nothing you can do_  
_there's no other way when it comes to the truth_  
_so keep holding on_  
_cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through._

_So far away I wish you were here_  
_before it's too late this could all disappear_  
_before the doors close, and it comes to an end_  
_but with you by my side I will fight and defend I'll fight and defend yeah yeah._

_Chorus :_

_Hear me when I say, when I say_  
_I believe nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny_  
_what ever is meant to be_  
_will work out perfectly yeah yeah yeah yeah_  
_lalalalalalala..._

**Keep Holding On is the property of Avril Lavigne and appears in the film _Eragon_.**

**Tik Tok is the property of Kesha.**

**Can I Walk With You is the property of India Arie.**

**Wish We Were Older is the property of Metro Station.**

**NOTE: CrAsh's storyline will continue in ch. 106, including her arrival at rehab.**

The play is the thing, or rather the auditions. Emma is trapped in the midst of a dozen drama Club hopefuls, some of whom will find their way onto Nate's YouTube channel for Manny to later peruse in New York and some of whom would face Manny herself. They were all filling out paperwork now and would audition over the next two weeks. Given Manny's current mood, Emma would think the live auditionees would fare better. She supposes that's what landing your biggest job of the summer will do to you. Handling her own job, Emma pries two staples out of a summer school flier and drops them into a tiny glass bowl. Ugh, she would volunteer for the most thankless task of the day. Replacing fliers and collecting reusable staples isn't nearly as exciting as Toby's duties but it does keep her in the auditiorium where she can avoid a certain woman named Daphne Hatzilakos.

Why can't the school get a new principal? No, seriously. Emma may have one year left, and she'll do her best to be mature, but if she has to be around Principal Hatzilakos for more than the allotted time for Student Council sessions, she may implode. Just when she was starting to get her life back on track, she receives this reminder...no, the catalyst for her pre-summer problems. Emma roughly rips out a staple and accidentally shreds a flier.

"Alright, Em," sighs Manny from behind. "I'll go throw my Deer Park in the designated recycling receptacle. Calm down."

Manny plucks her empty water bottle from the desk where they were sitting, Emma staring after her in surprise. Toby sets down two lunch trays and sits across from her. Their escorts, Officer Patton and Wheaton, were rolling a Swiss ball back and forth next to the table.

"I don't see why she has to come in everyday," mumbles Emma, though loud enough.

"Who?" says Toby. "Ms. Edwards? I think it's nice that she comes in with lunches for us. I thought you and Darcy were friends again."

"No, not Mrs. Edwards," clarifies Emma. "Hatzilakos. Did you check out what she was wearing today? Clear cleavage from across the room."

Seeing Manny catch the tail end of Emma's question, Toby speedily shakes his head.

"No...no, I was definitely _not_ checking her out," assures Toby.

"I bet she goes after Armstrong next," sats Emma. "Then again, she seems to like the married type."

Manny inches her lunch towards her as she slides in next to Emma. She had chicken salad and Toby had a turkey club sandwich.

"Emma, when are you going to bury the hatchet?" asks Manny. "This is...kind of her school."

"It's not like you can spit in her face when she hands you your diploma," adds Toby.

Emma considers this for a moment, Manny elbowing her.

"Emma!" cries Manny.

Well, it wouldn't have been a giant wad...unless Spinner taught her how to hurl a loogie. Chances are he wouldn't. Hatzilakos let him back into school after the shooting. In fact, she was a pretty good principal from the shooting onwards. Emma shakes her head. She'll be glad when Spinner shows up after his shift so she can go.

"Here you go," says a sweet voice to their left, Clare Edwards appearing with plastic utensils.

"Thank you," say Emma, Manny, and Toby.

"Do you guys want to come to my birthday party?" asks Clare. "It's going to be _very_ sophisticated."

The three of them exchange awkward glances, but none of them can rival Darcy's incredibly annoyed one. She marches to Clare and yanks her shirt.

"Stay away from my friends," moans Darcy.

"Darcy, I can hear you from there," says Ms. Edwards, joining the group. "Be nice to your sister. Now, what was that program you wanted me to tape for you?"

"_Pretty Little Liars_," answers Darcy.

"I don't know...I don't like the name of that show," says Mrs. Edwards wearily.

"Mom!" says Darcy. "Come on! I really appreciate the lunches, but this? Would be ace."

"Well, what are the characters lying about?" says Ms. Edwards.

"Uhhhh," says Darcy, her eyes dropping to her feet. "Flip-flops?"

"Yeah, right," laughs Clare.

"Shut up!" exclaims Darcy. "I mean, sorry. Mom, please."

Mrs. Edwards walks off with a doubtful expression on her face. Darcy follows, obviously defeated. Emma laughs, along with Manny and Toby, when they're out of earshot.

"Do you have any extra tomatoes, Manny?" asks Toby.

"Yep," says Manny. "If I can have your pickles."

Her two friends go about poking pickles and tomatoes with their forks. Emma watches in amusement.

"You guys do this a lot?" asks Emma.

"Lately," they answer simultaneously.

"You're eating, right, Em?" questions Manny solely.

"Yeah," replies Emma. "Spinner brought by a veggie wrap at noon. I could get used to that kind of service..."

"Speaking of service," says Nate, appearing out of nowhere and tossing a piece of paper on the table. "Emma, there's a typo on this flier. When the auditions for the _Dramma _Club start, let me know. Have it corrected before the weekend, okay?"

Nate skulks off as Emma's mouth tenses. Sure enough, there was an extra 'm' in the text. She did do the fliers after a good night's sleep, but it was on J.J.'s computer, which she wasn't quite used to. She misses using her own PC. Hmmm, her house would be empty so she could sneak in and redo the flier when Spinner swung by. They were supposed to go to the movies, but Vince Vaughan and Adam Sandler would have to wait. Poor Spinner. He really wanted to see which guy would make him crack up more.

"That guy has never liked me," groans Emma.

"He's just ticked about the budget," consoles Manny. "Still. He was all, 'well, I guess I'll have to build the balcony for Juliet in shop class all by myself'. He's such a drama queen...king."

"Eh, I'll fix it," waves off Emma.

"So, I can't audition for Dramma Club?" speaks up Toby.

The girls grin, watching students hand in their forms to Nate. Unfortunately, they're not the only ones circling the auditorium. While Emma's perfectly hip to the fact that running the school allows her to be everywhere, that doesn't make it any more tolerable when Principal Hatzilakos pops her head into the door and walks confidently across the floor. Emma lowers her eyes, starts to get up.

"Manny!" greets Principal Hatzilakos. "Ms. Sauve would like to see you in her office before you leave. She has the materials you requested."

"Um, thanks," says Manny, glancing at Emma, clearly apologetic about being the cause of their principal's arrival.

"Toby," acknowledges Principal Hatzilakos. "Emma."

Her name's said so casually that Emma wonders if the woman has a soul. The last time they talked Hatzilakos was calling him "Archie" over the phone and Emma was snapping at her. What, did all that peroxide wipe out her memory? Emma raises her head and squints her eyes. As Emma noted earlier, her breasts were prominently displayed under a red sweater and black blazer. She would wear red.

"I have a feeling this is going to be a great school year," says Principal Hatzilakos, then walking away.

A great school year for who? Thank goodness this is my last, thinks Emma. Imagine if she'd have to be around that woman for two more years, or three. She turns to vent again to her friends, but they're already preoccupied.

"Toby, did you take all my tomatoes?" asks Manny.

"No," murmurs Toby, keeping his mouth as closed as possible.

Emma sighs, gathering her incorrect fliers and her bookbag. They were probably tired of her Hatzilakos hate, anyway. Plus Spinner would show any minute and she'd rather wait outside for him.

"See ya," says Emma.

"Bye, Em," says Manny. "Text me after four."

"Alright," promises Emma. "Bye, Tobes."

"Bye," says Toby after swallowing.

Entering a sea of students ferrying out of the auditorium, different classrooms, and the gym, Emma manages to exit the school without too much trouble. She's relieved to view Spinner's car already parked at the corner. He was fixing his fuzzy dice hanging behind his windshield. Emma playfully goes to the other side and immediately puts them in order.

"And Jimmy told me these wouldn't attract the ladies," kids Spinner. "Ready for the best film since _Wedding Crashers_?"

Emma bites her lip, suddenly remembering her problem.

"_Wedding Crashers _wasn't that bad," says Spinner, watching her expression.

"No...I've got to take a rain check," shares Emma. "I need to get to my house and use the computer. I've got a hundred new fliers to print out, and some other things to do before Manny and I leave."

"Dude, no big," says Spinner. "Movies stay in this neighborhood forever."

He opens the passenger door for her. Emma beams and gets inside of the car. While driving, they chat about the movie they're missing, right up until they pull up to the Simpson-Nelson residence. Emma leans forward. Wow, things have changed since they were gone. The grass is figuratively and literally less green on their side, taller than her ankles, shading the sprinklers from view. Rain water had collected in a stone bowl where they kept their plant food and pots. An empty police car sat on the other end of the street. It really didn't seem like home at all, especially since it was just as cheerless as inside.

"Look at this," breathes Emma, opening the car door.

"Should I come in?" says Spinner.

"Just give me a sec," replies Emma.

She puts on her bookbag, fumbling for her house keys, hanging near her hip. Man, she hasn't unlocked this door is so long. Emma turns the lock. She listens to the door creak. The first thing she sees is an empty patch of sunlight on the foyer floor. Her shadow covers the small amount of light. She almost expects to hear Jack's laugh or Spike fussing around in the living room...and even Snake starting up his laptop. Nothing. The house seems so empty because it is empty. Emma wraps her arms around herself.

Two other arms wrap around hers, Emma crying as Spinner surveys the room. This is too much, the lack of everything.

"I don't like this, Spin," says Emma. "The grass isn't cut...my mom not being here...all these little things I took for granted..."

"That don't seem little now," finishes Spinner.

"If I come back from California, without my family being together, and it's like this?" continues Emma. "What am I going to do?"

Emma faces Spinner, letting her bookbag fall off her shoulders. He moves her bangs with two fingers.

"I'll still be here," replies Spinner.

How is it possible that she missed _that_ part of the scene, which is no little thing.

"Thank you," says Emma, hugging Spinner tightly.

They part with Emma glancing at the couch.

"Um, I'm going down to the basement," informs Emma. "You can watch TV or get a snack. I'm pretty sure we've got cheese and crackers with the red strip."

"Dude, red strip cheese and crackers?" says Spinner. "You just said the magic words."

After planting a kiss on his cheek, Emma trudges to the basement. She flips on the lights. It reveals her room, and the fact that it's no longer Manny's room either. She should've prepared for coming home to this when she stayed over at the Santoses but it still hurts. The only trace of her that has remained is a cast off photo of the two of them at Snake and Spike's wedding. It hurts less. Manny swore she'd give Emma back that picture if she ever left. She even put a yellow stickie on it, perhaps to point out to a mover that this was "for Emma to keep".

The picture is simple, but not so simple. It was the last one taken before Snake and Spike set off for their honeymoon. The moment was one of the few the three of them received on that hectic day and it meant a lot seeing as they'd been fighting during the three days leading up to the wedding, over Jack coincidentally. Jack was always at the center of drama, even before he got here. Family drama's par for the course for anybody living in the Degrassi neighborhood. Nevertheless, they did find stray pieces of peace that day that made all the drama worth it.

_"I kissed him, Manny!" whispered Emma gleefully. "Like minutes ago!"_

_"No way!" squealed Manny. "Are you totes for real?"_

_"I'm...totes for real?" replied Emma, unsure about the terminology but not about her first kiss._

_"Well, details. What did his lips feel like?" grilled Manny._

_"Like...if you were kissing a Christmas tree," answered Emma with a pleased sigh._

_" 'Kay, that's strange," said Manny, her eyes going from left to right. "Anyway, you have to spill later. Your mom's reenacting her bouquet toss and I've got a better chance than a wide receiver since Caitlin and Joey went off to smooch. Care to get in on the action?"_

_"Why do women fight over a trinket that traps them into marrying at a specific time?" groaned Emma. "How did this tradition escape the feminist movement?"_

_"Hopefully it counts the second time too," said Manny, clearly ignoring the speech. "I want to get married before I'm twenty-eight."_

_Emma threw up her hands. "Fine. Better get a good spot. My mom's got a decent arm."_

_"Thanks for the tip," said Manny, hugging her and getting into position._

_Manny was in a stream of stragglers, mainly Spike's salon friends, Emma's extended family members, and cafeteria lady Sheila, who was in the back, pretending not to care. Emma chuckled to herself. These girls were fighting for the chance to be the next to be married, despite the chance being quite a few years off for Manny and a couple other girls. Besides, Joey caught it the first time around. That should matter on some level. Hello, equality of the sexes?_

_"Where were you?" asked a voice cutting through the music playing throughout the reception area._

_She stared up at Snake, in his formal tux, his boutonniere slighly askew. She fixed the flower and patted him on the shoulder. There's "totes" no way she's going to tell him she was off making out with Sean. He'd start bothering him since he was her new stepdad and the romance would be over before the second kiss._

_"Trying to find the cameramen," provided Emma._

_"Oh, there they are," noted Snake, gesturing to the right._

_Toby and J.T. were alternately capturing the tossing of the bouquet with a video camera. Beaming, Spike looked behind her, faced forward again, and threw her bouquet over her shoulder. It landed straight in Manny's willing arms. _

_"Yes!" shouted Manny. "I..."_

_The other girls were on her before she had the chance to finish, scrambling around for the prized item. There was a jumble of legs, hands, and taffeta. Toby, J.T., and Snake snickered. Emma shook her head._

_"Sanctuary!" exclaimed Manny, her head popping up and disappearing under once more._

_Snake lead Emma away from the raucous to a spot on the dance floor. The D.J. was spinning some old school jams, as her mother liked to call them, but he'd slipped in some things from this decade, thankfully. Snake presented Emma with a tiny box. Emma looked at him quizzically._

_"For my new stepdaughter," said Snake warmly._

_Emma jokingly shook it next to her ears, making Snake laugh as well. She took off the lid. Inside was a pendant, with the date etched in gold. Her light brown eyes glazed above the shining gold. _

_"We're in this together now," said Snake. _

_"Well, I have liked you since you gave me first place in the science fair," said Emma, embracing him._

_Grinning, Snake returned her affections, until a third person wormed her way into the hold. Spike kissed the top of Emma's unruly, permed hair. _

_"Can you Photoshop my hair in the wedding pictures?" asked Emma, staring at him hopefully._

_Her parents smiled at each other._

_"It gives you character," consoled Snake. "Besides, no time. I want to dance with both my girls."_

_Twirling Spike in a circle, her parents begin to dance to the boisterous song playing from the speakers. They've garned everyone's attention, as it should be. The sun was setting on the reception at the beach. The dance floor looked paler than the sand, like tiles of gold. Emma thought they were a golden couple. Back then, she thought it would be the end of everything bad._

I woke up this morning you were the first thing on my mind  
I don't know where it came from, all I know is I need you in my life  
You make me feel like I can be a better woman  
If you just say you wanna take this friendship to another place

_If anything, they were going to be her one constant, the two people she came home to who she could talk to and rely on. She would finally have what Manny had, what so many other kids had; it was just coming a little late. _

_Other people started to pair off, including Manny who instinctively chose Toby out of her two choices of J.T. and Toby, and J.T. making a beeline for Liz, who he called a saucy little minx earlier in the day. Emma cursed her bad luck. Sean left to go help Tracker with motorcycle repairs. She could live without the bouquet, but not with being alone. Or not being alone, realized Emma, as Snake gently took her hand._

_"I said both girls, and I meant both," said Snake._

_Emma began to dance with her trio, staring at each of her parents off and on. Spike had more rhythm and Snake had more...of everything else. Emma nodded to the beat._

Now everyday ain't gonna be, like the summer's day  
Being in love for real it ain't like a movie screen  
But I can tell you all the drama aside you and I can find what the worlds been  
looking for forever friendship and love together

_J.T. did a sideways shuffle as Liz did her best to keep time. Toby dipped Manny, giggling as she dropped the bouquet._

_"I wish it could always be like this," said Emma. _

_"You're not the only one," said Snake._

_"Hey, you know what name I was thinking off for the baby?" spoke up Spike. "Jack. After my fave film, Jumpin' Jack Flash?"_

_"What?" cried Snake, honestly shocked._

_"Let's hope it's a girl," whispered Emma to Snake, though Spike picked up on the sentiment._

_"Who's carring this thing for nine months?" said Spike, silencing both of them. "Yeah, that's what I thought."_

_They were soon accosted by another cameraman, the official wedding photographer with his digital. Emma would have to live with the hair, a story she'd tell her own children about. They gamely grouped themselves. The photographer pressed the button. The short flash went off._

It's funny because every day Emma's been to that spot since then, you'd never know the wedding had taken place. All she's got left are memories and pictures, and there are no guarantees of new ones.

Emma drops the picture onto her bed. She races upstairs. She doesn't want to be alone any more than she was, and she won't. The silence fills the living room better than in her bedroom. Emma harrumphs, stretching herself out on the couch. She can't relax because the silence is soon being eaten up by the loud sputterings of a lawn mower. Great. The houses next door won't give her any peace either. Emma hops up, going to the backyard to locate the culprit.

He's not too far off. Spinner wipes his brow and places his hands on the lawn mower again. He steers in the direction of Jack's playswing. Emma blushes and approaches him. Spotting her, Spinner turns the motor off.

"You can stay in," says Spinner. "It's pretty hot out here."

"Not that hot," says Emma shyly.

"This was next to the shed so...," says Spinner.

"So, mind if I walk with you?" asks Emma.

"I would like that," admits Spinner.

Emma easily slips her arm through Spinner's, walking with him as the motor runs, as they travel inches from her home.

II.

"You can take it off in a sec," assures J.T. "You have my word."

Toby's in a world of darkness, and if he can't take this thing off soon, J.T.'s in for a world of hurt. Of course he wouldn't be the person dispensing the physical harm, but as school president, he knew some pretty powerful jocks. Or he could just humor his best friend. Toby sighs.

"Why me?" asks Toby.

"I said I would help with sewing alterations, and you, my friend, have the perfect-sized oval head," says J.T. " I would try it on myself, but my dome's pointy like a panther's, and far from round like a rabbit's."

Touching the long white ears, the future ears of J.T.'s kiddie mascot Burr the Snow Bunny, Toby nearly tumbles into a locker until J.T. steers him to the water fountain.

"Well, the eye holes need some work," notes J.T.

"You think?" says Toby.

He couldn't make out his left or his right, but he could see straight ahead. This would give him the opportunity to duck into a classroom should anybody he know view him in this get-up, particularly Manny, who was across the school in Ms. Sauve's office. He hears some chuckling from the rear.

"Sorry," says Officer Wheaton good-naturedly.

Just as suddenly, there's a collection of students coming down the corridor. Fantastic. It's the driver's ed students going to class. Toby winces. He prays nobody recognizes him which was possible. J.T. stands to the side so he isn't in their way. Thankfully, most of them are bypassing him with bemused looks until Amy and Ellie stall to appraise him.

"Um, Toby?" says Ellie, scratching her head, shrugging, and walking away.

"Who knew Manny was so kinky?" says Amy, giving him a thumbs up.

Several students walking with her laugh, Toby wanting to ram his whole body into a locker. J.T. chuckles despite his best friend's plight.

"Alright, give it to me," says J.T. "This should be good enough for Cyrus when he returns from vacation."

"You owe me," says Toby, quickly removing it. "Big time."

"I am forever in your debt," says J.T. "At least until Tuesday. That's when this bunny's getting finalized."

"I don't want to see it 'til then, that's for sure," says Toby as he tosses it to J.T.

"Your wish is my command," says J.T., leaving the hallway.

Free from the burden of any bunny body parts, Toby goes down the hall with Officer Wheaton. He was pretty satisfied with himself despite the last five minutes. He'd gotten a lot of his Council work done, did a couple spreadsheets to help Liberty out, and still had time to do some troubleshooting for Ms. Kwan when her computer froze. Principal Hatzilkaos and Ms. Kwan had dubbed him a "godsend", which he didn't agree with, but it made him blush anyway. He simply liked doing things for the school especially since he wouldn't be attending next year and wanted to leave it in first-rate condition.

A person he believes is both a godsend and first-rate rushes to meet him in the middle of the hall. Officer Patton strolls casually behind Manny.

"Try not to make any plans tomorrow," says Manny immediately.

"Why?" says Toby, grinning.

"Because I think you need a break, and if I know you, you're already ahead in your things to do?" replies Manny with hope rising at the end of her sentence.

Toby modestly shrugs. "Yeah."

"Good!" says Manny. "So three-thirty?"

"Three-thirty," agrees Toby.

"Don't bring anything except yourself," says Manny mysteriously.

"Can I get a hint?" says Toby, glancing at Officer Patton.

"She would kill me," shoots down Officer Patton.

"Mhmmm," says Manny.

"I fold," demurs Toby.

"Righteous!" praises Manny, gently kissing him on the mouth. "Try not to get arrested before then. I don't have that kind of bail."

"No guarantees," laughs Toby.

Officer Patton and Manny go in the opposite direction, Officer Wheaton staring at Toby doubtfully.

"I was _kidding_," says Toby.

III.

Stop, slow, go. Ellie repeats the mantra to herself a second time before pressing the gas when the light turns green. Marco repeats that he's going to die three times before they speed through the street under the stoplight.

"What? It's green," says Ellie defensively.

"Ellie, you have to be the most panicky driver to grace the streets of T.O.," sighs Marco. "I'm starting to see why Sean won't take you out."

Ellie eases herself off the gas and drives along leisurely. That isn't even the reason Sean said that he wouldn't. He's incredibly busy, for Marco's information, but she doesn't feel like arguing with him since he has been, for the most part, patient. She moves along smoothly.

"There, happy?" says Ellie.

Marco releases a relieved breath. "Very."

"I don't like people beeping at me," pouts Ellie.

"There aren't any other cars on Campus Drive, El," points out Marco. "Look, just pull into our driveway, alright?"

"_Our_, as in your and Dylan's driveway, and not ours as in yours and mine?" says Ellie pointedly.

"Don't start," groans Marco.

"I'd make a better roommate than a driver," says Ellie as she abruptly pulls into the driveway.

"That I believe," says Marco.

Turning the key, Ellie undoes her seatbelt and gets out of the car. She and Marco enter his house, catching Dylan rubbing his calves in the living room. Dylan is decked out in exercise gear with his muscles clearly visible. No wonder Marco wanted to come back early.

"I've officially had my first drive on campus," says Ellie, not concealing her excitement. "I can't wait to tell Sean. _And_ I didn't hit anything...or anyone."

"What about squirrels or the day care toddlers?" asks Dylan with a smirk. "They're so small you'd never notice."

"I wasn't even thinking of that," worries Ellie.

"_Won't somebody please think of the children_?" jokes Marco in a high-pitched voice.

Ellie tosses the keys at Marco's shoulder as he and Dylan laugh. Marco pockets his keys. They walk to the kitchen, Marco fetching two frozen coffees from the refrigerator.

"I'm more relieved about last night," says Marco.

"Same here," says Ellie. "That was painful, but Ash had up walls and I can tell they're ready to break down."

"Craig called me this morning to say they made it there," informs Marco.

"Making it there is one thing...dealing with it is another," says Ellie. "But Mom's been sober after she got out, so why not have the same hope for Ashley?"

"I hear that," says Marco, clinking Ellie's coffee with his.

"Don't you miss all the conversations we could've had over the summer?" says Ellie wistfully.

"Come on," sighs Marco and then taking a sip. "Keep this up and I'll kick you out."

"Or move me in," says Ellie, smiling. "The only thing your current roomies have going for them is their loved-by-you Harajuku style."

"Well, I'm over that," confesses Marco. "Plus, I don't like the effect they're having on Dylan."

"Huh?" says Ellie.

"Follow me," encourages Marco.

Ellie trails Marco to the backyard, where a makeshift exercise class is in full swing. Marco's bubbly girl roommates are pumping their legs and arms to the beat of the music in neon tank tops and shorts. Though his clothes aren't as vibrant, Dylan rivals them in energy and determination.

"_And now the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger,_" sings along Dylan, punching the air. "_But we kick 'em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger._"

"Yeah, Dylan!" cheers one of the sisters.

"No cellulite!" chants the other sister to the music. "Keep your buns tight! No cellulite! Keep your buns tight!"

"The party don't stop 'til I walk in!" yells the first sister.

"Woo!" yells Dylan.

They all move their hips in round circles, Ellie's mouth dropping, Marco covering his head in humiliation.

_Don't stop, make it pop_  
_DJ, blow my speakers up_  
_Tonight, I'mma fight_  
_'Til we see the sunlight_  
_Tick tock on the clock_  
_But the party don't stop, no_

"Dylan was so anti-Kesha," moans Marco. "And I was just getting him into the soundtrack for _Slumdog Millionaire_."

Ellie and Marco stay silent, not entirely able to move from their spots as much they'd like too. It was oddly...fascinating.

"Can I move in yet?" asks Ellie after a few seconds of silence.

Marco provides no answer. Instead, Ellie's phone starts to buzz. Ellie grins at the small grey letters. Sean. He was at his aunt's, the aunt Ike, Iris, and Tracker were staying with. Fortunately for her, there was a bus going that way in about ten minutes. She bid Marco adieu with a reassuring pat and walked the three blocks to get to her destination. The bus came promptly. Fifteen minutes later, she was in the parking lot of the apartment complex. She spied Sean's light brown hair from the edge of the lot. He was doing something in the trunk of Tracker's truck. Ellie approached the trunk, her eyes barely above the back of it.

"Are you fixing the thingamabob?" asks Ellie.

"Yeah, after the whatchacallit, doohickey, and whatever," says Sean brightly, helping her step up over the trunk.

"Thank you," says Ellie, kissing him and settling in. "How's your aunt?"

"I'm staying away from her," replies Sean.

"Why?" says Ellie.

"She saw a picture of us in the newspaper after the shooting, and called us the cute version of a gangster and a ginger," says Sean.

"Awesome," says Ellie.

They both laugh.

"It could be worse...she keeps telling Tracker not to come over unless he's married next time," says Sean.

"So you're doing repairs to make him feel better?" guesses Ellie.

"Nah, I'm installing a tool box in the trunk," explains Sean. "It's the only way I can think of to say thanks to Track."

"That's nice," says Ellie. "If I had any idea what to do, I'd help."

"You would," says Sean sweetly. "But...really, don't. To tell you the truth, I'm getting tired of people helping me."

She's slightly surprised to hear him say that, though not so much. Sean had more pride when he did things himself, always has, and she'd respect that.

"That's why it's nice to help Sandy, and Cheryl, and...Mr. Hill," says Sean.

"What?" says Ellie, smiling.

"Yesterday, Mr. Hill let me help with his car," shares Sean. "Ellie, I haven't worked on a car in weeks. It was like this...fire under me."

Sean pounds the toolbox appreciatively, the resonant clang filling Ellie's ears. He stands and sits beside her.

"I went to visit Marcus in jail," says Sean.

When did this happen? She'd been so caught up with Ashley and driver's ed that he must've slipped in over the last few days.

"Sean, I could've gone with you," says Ellie, then stopping herself. "Wait...there I go wanting to help again."

"I'm glad I went alone," admits Sean. "That is not where I want to end up. Ty would've never ended up there. Neither would Marcus, if things had been different."

Ellie has yet to hear the full story behind Ty and Marcus, but it's certainly confidential and maybe it was better to be in the dark.

"It was cold...lonely...so was Marcus," recalls Sean. "Fear was all over that place, like cement in the bricks. It was awful. But I needed to see it. I had to see where I didn't want to go."

"There's no way you can go to jail," says Ellie. "That's why you took the deal. You risked your life."

"And I'm not risking it anymore," says Sean adamantly.

She's so happy to hear that, and through everything he's been through over the last three months, she's inclined to believe him. Who would want to go through that again?

"Weeks ago, I walked by Joey's lot and saw the bike you gave up," says Ellie, her eyes growing wet. "I felt so bad. Like...how much more can we take? When are the bad moments going to end?"

Grinning awkwardly, Sean encircles his hand around Ellie's.

Ellie sniffles. "I'm starting to see the end."

IV.

He's bathed, shaved, and dressed for a date. Toby angles his side view mirror to get a good look at his face while Wheaton fiddles with his own tie clip. Since he didn't have any idea where he was going, Toby wanted to make extra sure that he was at his best. He wore pressed tan slacks, a black and white crew-neck shirt, and comfy black tennis shoes. Manny would be at the Degrassi parking lot in five minutes and that is enough minutes to finish brushing himself up and end the conversation with the person on his cell.

"Did you get those malware removal tips I sent you?" asks Toby.

"Yes, they were mighty handy," replies Anne Marie.

"Yeah? Well, you can send them to your new assistant," suggests Toby.

"The girl that only figured out what the Alt key is for two days ago?" sighs Anne Marie. "I miss my Donna."

"I liked her too," says Toby.

"Maybe she'll come back after grad school," says Anne Marie. "Anyway, remind Manny that I wanted to take her to lunch...properly. Whenever she's in town."

"I will," says Toby. "Thanks for that, and for calling early. I'm not sure how late we'll be out. Talk to you next week?"

"And every one after that," replies Anne Marie.

"Love you, Mom," says Toby.

"Love you, too," says Anne Marie, clicking off.

So great. It's been a whole month and his mother hasn't skipped their phone calls once. She was so reliable it was scary, but also new and rewarding. In L.A., J.T. planted the idea of Toby going out to visit Anne Marie sooner rather than later and Toby has to admit that he doesn't bristle at the notion anymore. Plus he hasn't totally forgot about UCLA or Stanford, two schools with undeniably good animation or engineering programs. Manny mentioning his non-presence in New York a couple days ago brought that to the forefront of his mind. He didn't hate California in the slightest...too many good memories. But if Manny stayed there, it was so far from New York, and he hadn't ruled out his favorite country Canada. So many decisions and less than a year to make them.

"This can't be very fun," sighs Toby, glancing at Officer Wheaton. "You and Officer Patton watching us day after day..."

"I like it," interjects Officer Wheaton. "Makes me feel like a teenager again."

They smile at one another, a horn breaking through their thoughts. Manny pulls up to the curb in J.J.'s car with a grin as wide as his. She wears a long-sleeved, pink lace shirt, white shorts, and white slingbacks. Officer Patton rides shotgun, but quickly jumps out.

"Like my loaned wheels?" asks Manny, jumping out as well.

"Nice," answers Toby.

"I'm going to trick it out with some tight rims and watch J.J.'s brain explode," says Manny. "After we go where we're going."

"Which is?" prompts Toby.

"A surprise," says Manny, unlocking the door with a touch of a button.

Surrendering, Toby gets inside, the two officers shoehorning themselves in the backseat. Manny buckles her seatbelt and starts the car. She exits the lot, whistling to herself. Toby gives her a few short glances until she speaks up.

"Who wants to have a sing along?" asks Manny.

"Oh, no," protests Officer Patton.

"Let's not," echoes Officer Wheaton.

Toby laughs. The streets are getting less and less familiar. Wherever they were going, it wasn't a usual place for them. Manny is seemingly having no trouble with the directions as she goes through street after street.

"Where are we going?" chuckles Toby. "Seriously."

"Another awesome adventure," replies Manny.

"Hopefully, there's pie," says Officer Patton.

There may, in fact, be pie. The car approaches a park, Ontario Place, with dozens of people milling around, and thousands more lanterns dotting the scene. Around thirteen booths have been erected with visitors of every age crowding them. Legions of boats stretch across the lake. The famous golf-ball structure on the waterfront gleams white in the center. A few vendors litter the area, selling items from boxes. They're far from the most productive people there. Staff members were unloading props and protective padding from vans, interns were rolling out dollies, and women were carrying boxes into a teahouse. Manny finagles her way into a space in the middle of the parking area. Toby beams. This _is_ an adventure.

Manny doesn't say a word and goes to collect a picnic basket from the rear of the car. Officer Patton closes the hood of the car for her. Toby and Officer Wheaton glance at each other, shrug, and get out. The basket appears to be pretty light since she's not struggling with it.

"You?" says Manny, grabbing Toby's hand with her free one. "Come with me."

They allow her to lead, going by eager tourists and natives. It's not until they're in the midst of one of the most beautiful bits of Canadian scenery Toby's ever seen that he pauses to catch his breath. There are erected elephants with their trunks raised to the sky, red and gold pagodas piercing the sky, dragons with swirling bodies traipsing across the bridge; all of them were made from paper and bamboo, and amazing. Pink and yellow lanterns flow in the summer breezes. Chinese flags hang high on the horizon. Toby lets himself exhale, Manny setting her chin on his shoulder and gazing at him.

"It's the Chinese Lantern festival," shares Manny. "Ms. Kwan told me about this when me and J.T. were filing Drama Club forms. Sad because it's the last year, but it'll probably be very unforgettable."

"This goes beyond unforgettable," says Toby. "Wow."

"Wait until nightfall," teases Manny.

"But...," begins Toby.

"We should have you home before curfew," reassures Officer Patton. "The security around here is very tight, and you'll have the both of us."

This isn't Justin's choice of venue anyway, what with his ignorant beliefs. Plus if he didn't hightail it out of T.O. after those posters went up, Toby would be really surprised, more surprised than he is at the moment.

"What did I do to deserve this?" whispers Toby to Manny.

"God, what haven't you done?" returns Manny, flushing pink.

Toby knows when it's best to argue, and this? Isn't one of those occasions. Toby gives her a peck on the lips.

"Let's go be useless together," encourages Manny.

They go, heading out to a green, grassy knoll near the festival. While there are several families there, there's plenty of room. Manny digs in the basket for a blanket for the two men in uniform and another blanket for her and Toby. Officer Patton spreads out his blanket while Manny spreads out hers. It didn't take long for the officers to find something to do, keeping one close eye on them and one eye on all the colorful, decorous surroundings. Both teenagers kneel on their blanket.

"You have this way of making my life ten times more exciting," praises Toby. "I'd be holed up somewhere playing handheld games if this was grade ten."

"Instead of holding my hand?" says Manny.

"Well, when you put it that way...grade ten really sucked," affirms Toby.

Manny's expression grows radiant. "Grade ten wasn't that terrible. I mean, we got closer then."

"You wouldn't go out with me," points out Toby.

"_You_ were still infatuated with Emma," says Manny, shyly tugging on his shirt. "Then... you ultimately came to your senses and realized what you were missing."

"Yeah, and so did you," says Toby confidently.

"Ah!" cries Manny and then pushing him down onto the blanket.

Smiling, Toby sits upright and watches Manny unload the basket. There are a couple sandwiches, which may've been retrieved during Mrs. Edwards' daily lunch drop-off; an art supply kit; four sodas; and a hodgepodge of goof-off items no vendor would sell (a bottle of bubbles, a wooden triangle game, a Hangman book, and playing cards).

"Pick your poison," says Manny. "We've got four hours to kill."

Toby sorts through the materials. He pops open one and gets into position.

"Lie back," orders Toby gently.

Manny raises an eyebrow, sprawls out on the blanket. Toby softly raises her sleeve, turning her arm upside down. She stares at him in confusion.

"Do you trust me?" asks Toby.

"As long as this isn't a cavity search, I'm good," laughs Manny, relaxing.

Gingerly running a finger along her arm, Toby presses the pen against her skin, sketching the outline of the intended shape. Manny fails to squirm. She simply uncaps the bubbles with her other appendage, blowing tiny orbs past Toby's shoulders. One pops on the left lens of his glasses.

"Sorry, Tobes," says Manny, instantly rising a hair.

"I won't lose any of my sight," soothes Toby. "At least, not any more of it."

"What's your favorite thing you saw this summer?" questions Manny.

"Too private to say," replies Toby, not meeting her eyes.

"Wow," says Manny, obviously understanding and pleased. "Okay, I mean, that's not private."

Toby reaches for a new colored pen, thinking hard. A lot could top his list.

"The top three would be you showing up for my presentation at Kytel, your stint as Sailor Moon, and your face when I first came to L.A.," says Toby, continuing to draw. "Those were all pretty public."

"Mine would be you in the tux and the carriage that night, your mural, and you showing up at the theatre on my birthday," shares Manny. "Runner-up is you telling me I'm the prettiest girl at the Lantern Festival."

Careful not to smear his creation, Toby presses her arm to his lips.

"You're the prettiest girl anywhere," says Toby. "Look down."

Manny stares happily at her skin, a white and purple lily etched on the underside of her arm, right above her elbow. Toby's fond of his work and Manny appears equally fond of it.

"I love lilies," sighs Manny, settling her head into his lap as he holds her arm. "And my beautiful Toby petals."

"They'll wilt if you wash it," warns Toby.

"I will be extra careful in the shower for the next couple of days," vows Manny.

She casts a sad glance in the direction of the officers. Why is she sad? They were talking about the happy parts of their summer together...unless she's thinking of the worst.

"I hate leaving you here...every time," whispers Manny to herself.

Should he tell her? He made it a priority to not tell her on her birthday, but this wasn't her birthday and she would be leaving soon. Maybe Manny should know that Justin is not as far away as she's probably envisioning, even if there's a slim chance he's stayed.

"Manny?" says Toby, smoothing her cheeks with his fingers.

"Uh-huh?" says Manny.

"Toby!" yells a voice that isn't hers.

Manny looks over before he does, rising and situating her ruffled clothes. Toby groans, glancing to the side. He spies a young girl skipping towards them. Raquel becomes more identifiable the closer she gets. That puts him in a better mood. She was sweet, although a bit rambunctious. Even then, she was rolling a hula hoop in front of her. Two other girls follow her, a pretty pair of Chinese twins in matching blue overalls with matching pink hula hoops. One sister wore glasses and the other didn't.

"I told you guys he's that guy from the news," says Racquel to her friends.

The two girls meekly stare at Toby. Toby stands.

"Um, hi," greets Toby.

The girls giggle among themselves.

"Racquel Anamaria Reyes!" bellows someone from behind them. "If you run off like that again..."

Lucie appears, suddenly smiling when she views the other two people with the girls.

"Toby!" cries Lucie. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the festival," shrugs Toby, helping Manny stand.

"Oh, Manny," says Lucie. "You were kinda hidden there. Hey."

"Hi," says Manny.

"So I never got that ticket to you because I missed seeing you!" remarks Lucie to Toby.

"Ticket?" inquires Manny.

"To J.T.'s show," fills in Toby. "Yeah, things came up..."

Namely Ashley's intervention, thinks Toby. The ticket would be worth the wait. Ashley agreed to go to B.C. He was so happy things worked out, despite how rough things started. Plus, he'd run into Lucie eventually, like today.

"The ticket's in my dad's office, if you want to swing by there," suggests Lucie. "He's there so the door would be open."

Toby stares at Manny, grinning at him. He couldn't just swing by. Manny had this day planned and it was a once in a lifetime thing basically.

"Some other time," says Toby.

"I like your shirt," says one of the twins, yanking on the hem of Manny's shirt.

"Pink is for wusses," proclaims Racquel.

She displays her purple T-shirt and lime green shorts with a purple bow for all to admire. Manny and Toby exchange a short smile.

"Does J.T. like pink?" asks Racquel.

Lucie rolls her eyes. "Clam it, pipsqueak."

"You clam it, Amazon," tosses back Racquel.

Doing her best to brush it off, Lucie tries to appear unoffended, but Toby can tell her height was a sore spot and so could Manny.

"Something that's less wussy?" speaks up Manny. "Hula hooping! Who knows how?"

All three of the little girls glance at one another, none of them quick to respond. Manny lets out an exaggeraged gasp.

"Lucie was supposed to teach us," says the twin with glasses.

"What's your name?" asks Manny.

"Yumiko," replies the girl. "And my sister's name is Yukiko. We're the best twins at the festival."

Toby and Lucie share a small laugh.

"Well, I've been hooping since I was five, and you're lucky because I got better with age," says Manny.

"Show us," says Racquel, definitely not impressed.

Yumiko surrenders her pink hula hoop to Manny. Manny slides it around herself with ease, smoothly winding up her hips until she picks up a rhythm. The twins ooh and ahh. Manny winks at Toby who grins back.

"Huh," says Racquel, giving it a go.

"That's it," praises Manny as she watches Racquel. "It's all in the hips!"

Racquel stamps her foot when the hoop goes down, then sits it spinning again. She stares triumphantly at Manny.

"Look at me!" exclaims Racquel.

"Thattagirl!" says Manny.

Manny lets her hoop fall and drapes it over Yumiko. The twins set to moving their hips, giggling as Manny dispenses tips on movement and speed. They continue with Manny slyly moving to Toby and Lucie.

"Manny has the magic touch with kids," compliments Toby.

"Apparently," says Lucie, then coughing. "It's just with the hoop...well, I'm not curvy like you so that's why."

"Um," says Manny, her brow wrinkling.

"Not that it's bad to be curvy," clarifies Lucie. "I only meant I'm really thin."

"Sure, whatever," says Manny.

"Also, you might not want to smudge that on your white shorts," points out Lucie, nodding at her arm.

"Oh!" cries Manny.

She immediately checks her shorts and arm, moving them to a safe position.

"Toby made it for me," says Manny as she grabs his pocket with a gentle grip.

"All the more reason to keep it," asserts Lucie. "Hey, what we could do? You guys could watch the hula hooping trio while I get the ticket."

Manny twists her hands together, staring forlornly at Toby. Babysitting wasn't something they scheduled. He liked Racquel and everything but...

"Um, okay... if that would get Toby his ticket," says Manny.

"I hate interrupting your date, but I did promise," says Lucie, frowning.

"We'll be here for hours," reassures Manny. "Go ahead."

"It's for Tobes, right?" says Lucie as she briefly clutches his arm.

Toby gives her a weak smile, Manny doing the same. This was pretty convenient, maybe too convenient. However, the show meant so much to J.T. that he could stand the change in plans. Manny's wonderful for going along with this. Lucie waves and jogs across the knoll towards the parking lot. There goes their opportunity to be nonproductive. They were two who became five, minus a cop or two.

V.

"_Ring around the Toby, pockets full of posies!_" sings the group. "_Ashes...ashes! We all fall down_!"

The girls, formerly going around Toby, topple to the ground on their own accord. A string of giggles cut through Toby's ears, but as opposed to the earlier mascot misery he suffered, he didn't mind. Racquel had taken a lot of interest in him for some reason and she'd certainly warmed up to Manny after she found out she was a former gymnast. However, the game was Yukiko's contribution and since she was the shyest, Toby agreed to be their temporary maypole.

"This is so adorable," says Manny, looking on.

Officer Wheaton snapped them with a disposable camera. Both he and Manny had purchased them before it got dark. Officer Patton elected for a kaleidoscope, which he peered into for two minutes straight going "heh." They did check the parking lot once for Lucie but only returned to the park with J.J.'s jacket for Toby and the shawl Manny received in L.A.

"Let's go see the lanterns!" exclaims Racquel. "It's so dark I have to use my glow in the dark button on my watch."

"I have one, too!" shouts Yumiko.

"Me too," says Yukiko quietly, pressing hers.

"Don't you want to wait for your sister?" asks Toby.

"Lucie should've been here a long time ago," pouts Racquel. "I love her, but she's late."

She's right. Lucie should have been here. Honestly, the studio can't be that far away. But if Lucie was stuck somewhere for a reason that didn't involve him? He would kind of like that. She would touch him or say certain things every now and then, whether Manny was there or not, and he wasn't sure what they meant. Maybe he's reading too much into those short, passing instances. School will start soon and they'd see each other less and less. Then, he'll tell himself that he was fretting over nothing.

"Can we, please?" echoes Yumiko. "This is my first festival."

Yumiko bats her bright brown eyes and Toby's convinced.

"This is my first festival too," says Toby. "Okay. We'll get started. I'll text Lucie."

Their charges cheer as Toby texts. Manny happily slides her arm through Toby's, and they set off along the winding path. Light-hearted music full of flutes and chimes carry across the walk. A glowing fluorescent arch with two maidens sits above as the girls leap ahead. Officer Patton and Wheaton stay right behind Toby and Manny, ceasing to rush.

"Frogs!" cries Racquel, clapping her hands.

A few frog lanterns stand in the grass, their lit green skin reflecting like emeralds. Their black eyes peer through the darkness.

"Ribbit," says Racquel, croaching and mimicking the frozen amphibians despite their mute mouths.

Red and tan ladybugs congregate at the right. Manny was a huge fan of those so she uses her first of twenty-eight pictures wisely. Just beyond the bugs are a parade of penguins, white bellies shining brighter than stars. They're definitely fatter than regular penguins and Toby estimates that twice the paper went in there.

"Pandas are bears who got black eyes," says Yukiko, demurely pointing ahead.

These were the first set of lanterns that actually conveyed some sense of movement, which made him enjoy them all the more. Two of them were dancing. A couple others were fighting. One was picking a flower. Manny nods excitedly at Officer Patton.

"Can you take a shot of me and Toby in front of them?" requests Manny.

"My pleasure," says Officer Patton.

Manny hugs Toby from the side as they settle in front of two bears who appear to be doing a bad version of the Macarena, one of them looking at them as if being caught off guard.

"One of our coolest dates ever," says Toby, squeezing Manny under her shawl once the picture's been taken.

Yumiko rests her chin on the fence, staring at the bears.

"What if they come to life?" wonders Yumiko aloud.

"They're not going to come to life," waves off Racquel. "Besides, I could beat them black _and_ blue."

Racquel's vowed attacks against the fake animals should they come to life didn't stop with the pandas. She also promised to hurt a coiled snake with a rattle as large as a spotlight, an orangutan who somebody had thrown an Oreo under, and a family of polar bears who looked like that had colds up close. Manny snapped a dozen pictures and a grumbling Officer Wheaton had already run out.

"Toby, why does that parrot have a mohawk?" asks Racquel.

She gestures to a multi-colored macaw with fluffy, high hair beautifully constructed in papercraft. He's next to two turtledoves and in the midst of a dozen red paper carnations.

"He'd rather look tough than act tough, because fighting isn't always for the best," says Toby, grinning at Manny.

"Guess you can't fight everybody," says Racquel lowly. "Hey...there's Lucie!"

Her face framed by light emanating from swan lanterns nesting along the path, Lucie approaches them with ticket in hand. She presents it to Toby.

"My dad got you a better seat," shares Lucie.

"Thanks," says Toby. "I appreciate the trouble you went to."

"Sorry I took so long," says Lucie. "Traffic was a nightmare. Rush hour."

Of course, rush hour. He was jumping to conclusions. She wasn't interrupting their date and that never should've crossed his mind. He should have more faith in his friend.

"Looks like you guys have seen almost everything," sighs Lucie.

"Toby said the parrot wasn't a fighter," says Racquel, shoving her hands in her pockets. "I shouldn't have fought with you, Lucie."

"Thank you, Racquel," says Lucie as she bends to hug Racquel and gives Toby a grateful smile.

"Can you take us on the merry-go-round now?" begs Racquel instantly.

He wonders if she really learned her a lesson or if she conveniently learned it a second ago. No matter, because Lucie relents.

"Yay!" cries Racquel. "Are Manny and Toby going to ride with us?"

"I...I guess if they're not sick of us yet," stammers Lucie.

Manny shrugs at Toby, who is sort of touched at Racquel's invitation. He reads his watch by the glow of a walrus with two-tone teeth. His curfew is creeping up on them but he could do it.

"We'll meet you there," says Toby.

"Meet us there...in five minutes," says Racquel, deciding for all of them. "By the teahouse. You _can't_ miss the merry-go-round."

Racquel, Yumiko, and Yukiko scurry along the path. Yet again, Lucie races to catch them. Manny laughs.

"That girl is the most take charge girl I've bumped into in Toronto," says Manny.

"She wears you down," agrees Toby. "In a good way."

They stroll to the grand finale, the formerly blue lake now black, the pagodas the same vibrant colors Toby thinks would fill Times Square. A lantern boat sails in the distance. The boat is a dragon, blindingly orange and beautiful. It houses musicians playing violins and small drums, and a dancer delicately moving from side to side as the tune plays on. Small yellow and pink dragons skim the water, candles on their backs. Toby and Manny stare at them, resting their hands on a rail, Toby removing one hand to stroke her back under the shawl.

"I like coming somewhere beautiful," says Manny, leaning on his shoulder. "I like that I can bring you."

"I like that you like me," returns Toby.

Lifting her neck slightly, Manny moves her mouth to his, their lips illuminated by the paper dragon that glides by.

VI.

"Gangway!" shouts a gangly guy. "Coming through!"

To many grunts and tsk-tsks, the guy rolls past a throng of people on his shoes, the skates on the bottom glittering in the night. He barely misses a woman carrying food packages, two kids carrying handmade teddy bear lanterns, and Toby and Manny approaching the merry-go-round.

"You should get shoes like that," kids Manny.

"And go rolling around in the synagogue?" says Toby. "I don't think so."

They pause in front of the teahouse, Manny searching for Lucie and the three girls. Officer Patton is the first to locate them. They're waiting next to a vendor, Racquel polishing off a candy apple. She throws the stick away, dunking it like she's the next Shaquille O' Neal. The merry-go-round is twenty times the size of Racquel. The wooden deck floor houses a host of animals- ostriches, camels, believably colored horses, not so believably colored horses, cougars, lions. Gold poles stretch from the floor to the mechanical ceiling. A mirror wraps around the center. Eager kids and their mothers leap onto their chosen steeds, some children assisted and some managing by themselves. Spirited music plays over loud speakers next to the vendor.

"Does everybody want to go?" questions Lucie to the three girls when Toby and Manny arrive. "I'm only asking this once."

"Yes!" reply the girls.

"It's fifty cents a ride, guys," says Lucie to Toby.

"You should pay for them since you interrupted their date," says Racquel, making a face at Lucie.

Manny bites her lip, looks away. She kind of likes this kid. But it's not like she got bad vibes from Lucie. Both Clara and Kendra made their intentions clear, very clear. Lucie was concerned about her feelings and she was there for Toby without fail. So no, she didn't mind watching her sister for a bit, not at all. Okay, slightly. She was hoping to spend the day goofing off. Ms. Kwan described how magical it was, and it was, but it would've been different if they were alone, no question.

"I was going to offer anyway," throws back Lucie.

Walking to the side, Lucie digs out a blue change purse and starts going through her coins. Manny briefly gazes at Toby, who is tying Yumiko's shoe for her, and stands beside Lucie.

"That's okay," says Manny.

"I don't mind," says Lucie. "By the way, how'd you like your birthday present?"

"I loved my present!" gushes Manny. "I can't wait for spring break."

"What's happening during spring break?" says Lucie, removing three dollars.

"Toby didn't tell you?" says Manny. "We're going to Manila. This largely depends on parental approval, but...just the thought is getting me through...well, a lot."

Lucie sucks in her cheeks, then offers a grin. "You know, I feel queasy so I should just let you guys have at it."

"Oh," says Manny as Lucie presents the coins to her.

"That must be costing him a fortune...the trip," says Lucie, scratching her chin. "Unless you chip in."

"I hadn't...thought about doing that," confesses Manny.

"Money's...just money," says Lucie, closing Manny's fist for her.

You know? It is, thinks Manny, staring cautiously at Toby. Perhaps this is too extravagant. The trip means a lot, but it will cost a lot. It's not fair to let him pay for everything.

"Maybe I could get a small gig in California while I'm there," thinks Manny aloud.

"You're going back?" asks Lucie. "Wow. Well, maybe that's where you're destined to be."

Manny glances at her uneasily.

"With Toby, I mean," adds Lucie.

Nodding to herself, Manny inches up her shoulders, her cheeks flushed.

"Am I making you upset?" says Lucie. "I always say the wrong thing. Look, if Toby didn't want to go with you, he wouldn't go with you. That's all there is to it."

Exactly, she soothes herself. She would hope Toby would tell her if he thinks he's being taken advantage of. She tries to do stuff for him like today, but is it enough? Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Toby gesturing her over.

"Thanks," says Manny, leaving Lucie, a myriad of thoughts bounding across her mind.

She's soon paying and in line, aiding in ushering Yumiko and Yukiko to the merry-go-round. Yukiko chooses an ostrich, which Manny expertly helps her up on, and Yumiko lets Toby seat her atop a cougar. Manny secures Yukiko while Toby takes his time in winding the safety belt around Yumiko's small hips. He was so sweet and careful and he seldom complained. How is she going to be aware if he's inwardly complaining about this trip? Maybe Lucie heard things she didn't.

"Ha!" cries a voice from the sides.

Officer Wheaton holds up a camera proudly. It was hers. Manny and Toby grin at each other, winding through the maze of metal animals. Racquel follows Toby, who indicates that she wants to be lifted onto a light purple horse. Toby does so. She salutes a little boy on a panther in front of her. The boy sticks out his tongue.

"I've got a karate belt so don't mess with me!" yells Racquel at him.

"So do I!" yells the boy.

"Yeah?" says Racquel.

"Yeah!" says the boy.

"Cool," says Racquel.

"Yeah, it's cool," says the boy. "Bye!"

"Bye!" says Racquel.

"Don't you miss those days?" muses Manny.

She helps herself onto a white horse with a long mane and a ruby red saddle. The seat is hard, though she gets used to it quickly. Toby makes sure she's situated and then gets onto a running lion, looping his safety belt.

"Of course you chose a lion," teases Manny. "You're a boy."

"And it's next to you," returns Toby. "And we can keep an eye on them. And...lions are cool."

"You look cool," affirms Manny.

The girls were getting bored, restless, waiting for the music to pump and the ride to move. Suddenly, there's a lurch, the fake animals galloping, more mobile than every lantern they saw today. Manny grabs a hold of the pole in front of her, Toby doing the same.

_Keep your body moving, girl_  
_The beat is thumpin'_  
_Go ahead and let them talk_  
_Their words mean nothing_

"I'm going to throw up!" yells Racquel. "Yes!"

Yumiko and Yukiko are more calm, alternately smiling and waving to Lucie. Lucie ceases to return them. She has her eyes locked on someone, not her sister, but on Toby. Lucie's face flashes in a mix of dots of light and shadowy lines. Manny's stomach doesn't feel so great either.

_I know you're scared_  
_But don't leave this place_  
_Just turn around_  
_And let me see your face_  
_And now you're crying_  
_And you hold me_  
_And you whisper in my ear_

Manny instinctively stares at Toby. No, she's being ridiculous. The truth is that it came down to what Lucie said herself. Toby chose to go with her, on the trip and in their relationship, over Clara and Kendra. He's reassured her countless times, particularly this summer. She doesn't have her head in the clouds; they're more in love than ever.

The ride grows bumpier, the air entering and exiting Manny's ears. Manny grips harder. Dizzying bursts of light and shadow surround her until she finds one stable sight, reaching for her hand. Manny reaches for his hand too.

_Whoa-e, oh-we, oh-oh_  
_Whoa-e, oh-we ,oh-oh_  
_Whoa-e, oh-we, oh-oh_  
_I wish we were older_  
_Whoa-e, oh-we, oh-oh_  
_Whoa-e, oh-we ,oh-oh_  
_Whoa-e, oh-we, oh-oh_  
_I wish we were older_

A sudden snap of a picture separates them temporarily. Normally, she likes Officer Wheaton, but not for that. They could've been joined for a little longer. If they were older, they wouldn't have to deal with this. She only hopes this is the last thing they have to deal with.

_Just take my hand _  
_I'll never let go _  
_Just take my hand _  
_I'll never let go _  
_(I love you and I hate you) _  
_Just take my hand _  
_(Now I'm dying and I'm crying) _  
_I'll never let go _  
_(But I kiss you and I hold you) _  
_Just take my hand _  
_(And you hold me closer) _  
_I'll never... _

No worries, at least not for Toby. He reaches for her hand once more, and they stay on course, his lion leading her horse by a hair. Manny breathes in and out. She glances at their reflections in the mirror. This settles her stomach. For better or for worse, they were with each other, playful under the heat of a thousand tiny bulbs.


	105. Let It Be

**CV. Let It Be**

_When I find myself in times of trouble _

_Mother Mary comes to me _

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. _

_And in my hour of darkness _

_She is standing right in front of me _

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. _

_Let it be, let it be. _

_Whisper words of wisdom, let it be. _

_And when the broken hearted people _

_Living in the world agree, _

_There will be an answer, let it be. _

_For though they may be parted there is _

_Still a chance that they will see _

_There will be an answer, let it be._

_Let it be, let it be. _

_Yeah _

_There will be an answer, let it be._

_And when the night is cloudy, _

_There is still a light that shines on me, _

_Shine on until tomorrow, let it be. _

_I wake up to the sound of music _

_Mother Mary comes to me _

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. _

_Let it be, let it be. _

_There will be an answer, let it be. _

_Let it be, let it be, _

_Whisper words of wisdom, let it be._

**Let It Be is the property of The Beatles and appears in the film _Across the Universe._**

**_Schubert's Serenade_ is the property of Schubert and written in 1826.**

**Deeper Than Blood is the property of Sovory.**

**No Woman, No Cry is the property of the Fugees. Originally penned by Bob Marley.**

**AN: The CrAsh storyline has been moved to ch. 106. It was just getting too long.**

His hand on her hip, her hand on his forearm, their knees touching on top of a blanket, is how they're situated. It's a simple comfort before a difficult day. They haven't done it in weeks but it's not like he's been counting. Time had charged on with Sean not being much aware. Sure, things were getting closer, the funeral, the indictment, yet he didn't ever see them as being around the corner. Now, he's forced to, and the countdown has been reduced to mere hours. However, these rare two hours are just as important.

"I like naps," mumbles Sean.

"Me too," says Ellie. "Are you glad I came over before class?"

"Yes," replies Sean.

"Do you have enough pillow?" asks Ellie.

"Yes," says Sean, tugging the pillow slightly.

"Are you going to keep saying yes until I leave you alone?" questions Ellie, wiggling her toes.

Sean yawns. "Yes."

"Fine," sighs Ellie, yawning herself. "You didn't even look down at my pedicure. Some relationship."

"Don't need to," replies Sean groggily. "You getting a pedicure is as likely as Jay singing barbershop."

"Great, now I'm going to dream about Jay singing old time ditties and Alex doing the Twist," sighs Ellie.

"More like Alex will twist a body part off," offers Sean.

"Pleasant dreams, then," affirms Ellie.

There's a good chance of that. He probably won't get the full eight hours, but he can cheat and get two now and then six later, ahead of Ty's funeral. He had to get away, even if it's just to his apartment, to be free of those pitying glimpses from his family members. They were so kind since Ty's passing, maybe too kind. Sandy wouldn't take any money from the Camerons which Sean respected. Ty's "home-going" would be a church affair, a grand event funded by Sandy. Sean was pretty sure the guys from Dale's shop weren't churchgoers, including himself, so it would be an odd mix. Maybe it wouldn't matter. None of them, absolutely none of them, said they wouldn't be there. He can only hope for something similar when he dies. Sean closes his eyes, breathes in the silence.

His cellphone rings throughout the room.

"No," moans Ellie. "The ringing has to be a dream."

"We're not so lucky," groans Sean, rising and collecting his cell.

An unidentified number. The number isn't Sandy's or his lawyer, Mr. Fletcher's. Who could be calling in the middle of the day?

"Hello?" says Sean into the phone.

"Is this Sean Cameron?" says someone on the other end. "This is the Windhurst Funeral Home..."

"Umm, I'm not the person who's handling the funeral, but let me give you a number for Sandy..." begins Sean.

"No, sir," interrupts the speaker. "We have an emotional young woman who refuses to leave. She told us we could call you. Asking her to go is proving quite hard."

There's a single woman who comes to mind, yet he's floored that she named him at all. Plus, why is she at the funeral home? Of course she didn't want to believe Ty was dead, though after several weeks, he figured...well, he guesses you can seldom figure these things. It's hard no matter how many hours, weeks, years go by. Sean slides himself off the bed.

"Gimme about ten minutes," says Sean.

"Thank you, sir," says the speaker, before clicking off.

Ellie inches up her body to sit and face Sean.

"Cheryl," says Sean. "This is...pretty strange."

"Want me to go?" says Ellie.

"Nah, she asked for me so...," starts Sean, his voice trailing off.

All those times she could've talked to him, and this is the moment? What is he going to say to her? He can drive her home or maybe bring her to his mom or Sandy, but why didn't she ask for Sandy or another friend or anybody else? He might never understand Cheryl Markham yet he's compelled to go.

"Keep sleeping," says Sean. "We shouldn't both be exhausted for tomorrow."

"Sean...," begins Ellie.

"I'm already emotionally exhausted so maybe I am the right person to call if she needs a clear head," interjects Sean, not allowing her to speak further and walking out of the door.

He's in his car in under a minute, speeding toward Windhurst. He's been to the funeral home a couple of times. The funeral director was very nice, wore a toupee with sideburns, and liked to smile whenever he said the word "light". He seemed very peaceful and Sean envied him, to be that at ease with death. Cheryl wasn't at ease either based on her few interactions with Sean. Perhaps that's a common ground he can use when talking to her. He pulls into a parking spot and approaches the funeral home. It's a marble and brick building the size of a restaurant. In fact, it had a wider space and more rooms than the Dot. The lobby was like a hotel lobby, but then you went past the viewing room with two rows of coffins. The air is so quiet you can hear your heart beat, reminding you that you're alive and whoever is under the coffin covers isn't. An elegant kind of creepy, thinks Sean, walking past the viewing room to the front desk.

A secretary with reddish-blonde hair releases a pleased gasp upon seeing Sean. She demurely points to a couple chairs, Cheryl occuping the chair closest to him. Her dark eyes are puffy and her hair is ruffled. She's in a red pencil skirt, and a white blouse, hugging herself. She's clearly in another world. If she's noticed Sean, he sees no evidence. He slowly goes by her and settles into a chair.

"Ms. Markham?" says Sean.

Cheryl sniffles.

"Cheryl," says Sean. "It's me...Sean Cameron. Is everything alright?"

She gradually lifts a tissue, blows her nose, and turns to Sean with a sweet smile.

"Make the director talk to me," says Cheryl softly, then loudly. "Make him talk to me! I was polite at first but they won't let me!"

"This is...this is what we've been dealing with, sir," says the secretary gently.

"You can't do this to people!" exclaims Cheryl. "You can't say no to people! It's not right!"

"Well," says Sean, turning to the secretary. "What...what is she asking for?"

"She wants to go over the medical examiner's report with the funeral director," explains the secretary. "We've gone over it with a Ms. Sandy Markham after the body was recovered and we don't think it's wise to go over it again. Particularly if the next of kin is...fragile."

"I wasn't ready to hear it then!" cries Cheryl. "I'm ready to hear it now."

"What's the problem?" asks Sean. "I mean, she's technically the legal guardian, isn't she?"

"That's just _not _how we do things," says the secretary adamantly. "I was told that Sandy Markham is the single, legal person listed under next of kin in Tyrone's file."

"I understand but...," says Sean, before a long sigh. "Look, is the funeral director available to talk?"

The secretary rolls her eyes. "I'll buzz him."

"Mama can't hide stuff from me," whispers Cheryl to Sean. "She can't. Don't you have questions?"

Sean tries to process what she's saying rapidly, and doesn't get the chance as the funeral director is walking somberly towards them. His toupee is neatly brushed. He's in a light brown suit, rubbing his hands nervously.

"This is the third time, Ms. Markham," says the director. "The third time this week you've disrupted our establishment. Those reports in his file were already seen. Why don't you go on home? You're being a nuisance."

"Is my name on the file or not?" cries Cheryl.

"Leave, Ms. Markham," says the director.

"Man," "says Sean, standing abruptly. "Sounds like you're the nuisance and she's the one being shortchanged. A mom has questions about her son and you won't give her what, five minutes?"

"Five illegal minutes," chirps in the secretary.

"You'd be surprised how blurry the line between legal and illegal gets," says Sean to her.

"Are you done?" throws back the secretary.

"You want to get rid of us?" says Sean. "Show us the report or we'll stay. Because trust me. I'm a whole lot more stubborn than she is."

The secretary and the funeral director exchange a sharp glance, as Cheryl smiles shyly at Sean. Please bite, think Sean. Please bite. He really can't get in trouble with the law again, but he can't help but suspect that they're not revealing the whole truth, that Cheryl's name is on file and that Sandy may be hiding something from her. His suspicions grow even more when the funeral director is quick to usher him to his office. Cheryl walks into the office first, Sean following.

"I hope you're prepared for this," says the funeral director, shutting the door.

He's better known as Mr. Heard, a somewhat forgettable name Sean obviously forgot. Sean and Cheryl take their seats opposite him. Mr. Heard fetches Ty's file and puts on a pair of glases. He opens the file, clears his throat.

"Tyrone died from smoke inhalation, helped along by pre-existing conditions concerning the lungs, namely chronic bronchitis or CPOD and severe asthma," reads Mr. Heard. "Shall I continue?"

Sean glimpses at Cheryl for the okay. She nods.

"Body found to be otherwise healthy, except...," says Mr. Heard, then pausing. "Except for..."

Cheryl crumples her tissue, staring absent-mindedly out of the window. She puts her fingers on her knee, which is going a mile a minute. Sean wrinkles his brow. Why is Mr. Heard stopping? He instinctively covers Cheryl's hand on her knee with his hand, yet he doesn't feel as nearly connected as he did with Ellie earlier despite being slightly closer to Cheryl.

"Except for some scarring and bruises near the groin area," continues Mr. Heard.

"No," breathes Cheryl.

"There are several healed scars near the anus area, inviting inquiry about prior sexual abuse," finishes Mr. Heard. "Period of abuse likely over the course of several years."

"No!" exclaims Cheryl, burying her face, leaning into her lap.

Sean leaves his chair to put his arm over her, not sure how to give her consolation, whether to guide her from the room. How can you talk after this? What do you think next after this type of truth is revealed? He can only do what he did with Ty, hold her until she felt alight. She never believed Ty and now she has to, and it offers none of them any relief. It all came too late. He shouldn't have pushed for this.

"I let him come into my house," sobs Cheryl. "I had that sick man around my children!"

"Let me take you home," soothes Sean.

"I'm a horrible mother," moans Cheryl through gasps. "I can't...I can't tell him I'm sorry!"

While he's able to get her to stand, she slumps out of the office. She slips from his grip. Mr. Heard holds the door open for them as they go out. It's possibly the nicest thing he's done since Sean arrived, but he's not too shocked when that's as far as Mr. Heard goes. Cheryl slouches into the chair in the lobby she left minutes ago.

"He died hating me," whispers Cheryl, though still audible. "And I deserve that. I deserve that so much."

"Ty never hated you," says Sean.

He brings her head to his chest, Cheryl crying against him. She crouches into herself, nearly in the fetal position. This is heart-breaking to him. She's made mistakes. They've all made mistakes. And they're paying for them. But the Markhams have the biggest loss, and always will.

"I feel like I cost him so many things," whimpers Cheryl. "Smiles. Laughs. How do you smile after that?"

"I don't know," confesses Sean. "But he did. You'd be surprised how often he did."

Cheryl stares at him expectantly. He supposes this is helping? It is as much as it can, anyway. Blowing her nose again, she awkwardly rises and takes a hold of Sean's arm when he stands too.

"Take me home," says Cheryl. "Although, can we drive around a bit first? I think I need to think."

"Yeah," says Sean, wiping his eyes. "We'll take the long way."

II.

"Lob it, Tobes!"

Dragging a yellow highlighter across the page, Emma momentarily looks up after J.T.'s command aimed at Toby. Spinner's aim overcomes Toby, the white plastic ball sailing past Toby's ear, whizzing by his glasses. She silently congratulates Spinner with a smile while Toby offers J.T. an embarrassed glance. She can totally tell J.T. is itching to get back into the ping pong game. The girls at the picnic table in Spinner's backyard have elected not to play. They're just simply too busy. Liberty is being very proactive with her treasurer duties, so much so that Emma's guessing it will be her permanent position come September. Darcy is writing out cheers though she's the only one without her boyfriend present so she has less reason to be distracted. And Manny? Well, as for Manny, she'd created something Emma was shocked she hadn't created much earlier- a Twitter account. She said she'd been putting it off but Toby had coerced her into finally doing it.

"Can't...stop...following," says Manny in a trance, staring at Liberty's iPhone.

"Give me that," says Emma, putting down her revised outline for Parent's Night. "You can't be a fan of that many people. I mean, Triumph the Comic Dog?"

"He's hilarious," breathes Manny.

"I only follow the Prime Minister," offers Liberty. "That and the guy from _Cake Boss_."

"Nate has a Twitter, and he just unfollowed P. Diddy," adds Darcy. "I think he just followed him because Diddy told him to."

"Ah, Selena Gomez, with a verified account and everything!" cries Manny.

Emma wrests the iPhone away from her.

"Good-bye, Beezus," pouts Manny as she gazes sadly at Selena's small picture.

"Degrassi, Degrassi!" cheers Darcy, quietly clapping her hands. "We're gonna kick your...yeah, I'll just scratch that part out."

As Darcy erases, Emma reads Manny's Twitter page and grins as she shakes her head.

"You just wrote that you had margherita pizza for lunch and you already have three hundred followers," says Emma. "I'm impressed."

"Three hundred followers!" calls Manny to Toby.

"Awesome!" praises Toby, giving her a thumbs up and allowing Spinner another chance to score.

"Too quick for ya!" shouts Spinner. "Woot!"

Emma returns the iPhone and checks her watch. She has to call her parents at one o' clock and Officer Wheaton is still on the line since his phone went dead. Officer Patton was occupying himself by following Spinner's turtle Hercules as he went about his weekly walk in the yard. He'd gone into his shell and the police officer was waiting for him to come back out. Whatever Officer Wheaton is discussing is probably important, but she knows her mom's going to worry if she doesn't get in contact with her. Why did she leave her phone over Manny's? They got up early to help Spinner around his house. It was the least she could do after all he'd done for her, but she forgot to check that she had everything in her purse. She'd feel guilty asking any of her other friends to make a long-distance call on their cell phones. Emma stands resolutely. Officer Wheaton should be almost done, hopefully.

She slides open the glass door of the kitchen and waves at Officer Wheaton. He nods, hangs up the phone.

"All yours," says Officer Wheaton.

He goes to the backyard and Emma sighs. Perfect timing. Then, the phone rings. Great. If it's not one thing, it's another. Emma answers.

"Mason residence?" says Emma.

"Hello? Is this Emma?" says a surprised voice.

"Kendra," identifies Emma. "Um, yeah, I'm...um, in your kitchen. I mean, I've _only_ been in your kitchen. I mean, hi."

"Relax," laughs Kendra.

"Yeah," says Emma, rubbing her brow.

"Is Spin there?" asks Kendra.

"He's playing ping pong," replies Emma. "I'll..."

"That's alright, actually," says Kendra. "I just called to tell him the great news. I did a phone interview and got the internship...the Disney internship! Anne Marie came through."

"Excellent!" says Emma.

"If you come across Toby, could you thank him for me?" says Kendra.

"He's...losing to Spinner as we speak," informs Emma. "But I'll definitely deliver the message. That's the perfect way to end the summer."

"You said it!" says Kendra. "Oh, and you can definitely tell Spin I'll be visiting him and the folks for his birthday. The big eighteen."

The big eighteen? Birthday? That must be awhile off, though she's not sure. Oh wow, she doesn't know her boyfriend's birthday. She's only been his girlfriend for a little over a month but you have to know these things. Alright. She will subtly ask his sister and he won't suspect a thing.

"So when are we talking...February? March?" says Emma.

"Um...more like September third," replies Kendra. "Duh, Em."

September third! That's close, way too close. Emma glances past the glass door, watching Spinner counter a serve from behind his back. She won't even be here. She and Manny will be going to California on the first of the month. Here she thought that helping tidy up his house was a great, non-birthday gift.

"I feel like such a bonehead," groans Emma.

"Eh, Spinner probably never told you," says Kendra. "He got me a pink stapler with no staples one year. That's a bonehead move."

"Thanks for the info," sighs Emma.

"I'm going to call Spin next week when I get my airplane ticket," says Kendra. "And don't worry. I won't spill that you were in...our kitchen."

Emma grins. "Thanks."

Hanging up, Emma rests her hands on her hips and slowly returns to the yard where the Spinner versus Toby match has commenced. She can barely look him in the eye as she takes a seat at the table. His eighteenth birthday...which he will be celebrating without his girlfriend. She has to make it up to him, as soon as she's home. How, though? It's gotta be huge after the wonderful way Spinner stuck by her the whole summer.

"Best three out of five?" encourages Spinner, shaking his paddle towards Toby.

Toby awkwardly gets in position as Spinner hits the ball right down the middle. Toby jumps, the ball almost touching his arm.

"Hey!" cries Manny, taking her sight off her Twitter. "What are you doing?"

"Schooling your boyfriend in the best of table sports," answers Spinner. "He's not very good."

"Am I holding this correctly?" says Toby quietly to J.T., rotating his paddle.

"Well, maybe if you weren't firing the ball at him like it was ammo, he'd have a decent shot," defends Manny. "This isn't paintball, okay? It's ping pong. I can smash you in my sleep."

"You talk a good game, Santos, but that's all it is...talk," says Spinner.

"Snaaaap," mutters Darcy under her breath.

"That's it," says Manny, rising from the table. "I'm going to smack that ball like a horse tail smacks flies."

"And what!" adds Toby with no swagger whatsoever.

"Dude, let's do this," says Spinner gleefully.

"Yeah, don't mind me," says J.T. gruffly. "It's not like I was waiting to play. I'll just sit down and follow Manny on Twitter."

"Thanks," says Manny happily to J.T., taking the paddle from Toby.

J.T. sighs, but Emma spies that he goes straight to playing Angry Birds on Liberty's iPhone. Liberty watches him as dutifully as Toby watches Manny, giving her a pep talk. You could always rely on Toby for a pep talk.

"He's tired, he's sweaty, and he's got nothing left," reassures Toby, massaging Manny's shoulders.

"Hey!" cries Spinner.

"Plus the paddle's made in Japan by a reputable company," adds Toby. "What an asset, right?"

"Only you would notice that, sweetie," says Manny, then squatting slightly. "Okay. Make my day, Mason."

"It's about to get made," says Spinner.

Toby sits with Emma, Liberty, and J.T. while Spinner slams the ball with his paddle. Manny lobs the strike, right past his shoulders. Spinner stares open-mouthed at the ball on the grass. Everyone claps, including the officers and a reluctant Emma. Who's she going to cheer for- her boyfriend or her best friend? Luckily, Spinner , as much as she adores him and as much as she's going to put in a big effort to make his birthday special, answers that for her with his next comment.

"I am not losing... to a girl!" insists Spinner, preparing to go again.

Emma smiles at her choice. "Show 'em how it's done, Manny."

III.

Measuring each side of tie, Alex releases a sigh of frustration, winding part of the black cloth around his throat. Jay grunts as he angles a small magnifying mirror.

"Lexi, it looks wrong!" says Jay.

"Look, your neck obviously got bigger," defends Alex, yanking it off completely. "Give me a sec."

"My neck is near perfect," says Jay. "I can't go to a funeral looking all cheap-like without a tie. That's like a clown going to the circus without his red nose."

"If you don't stop fidgeting, my elbow will pop you in the nose and it'll be red," cautions Alex.

"Fine," mutters Jay.

They are getting ready for a funeral they couldn't have imagined months ago. But imagining funerals isn't how you want to spend your summer so you couldn't be blamed for that, wagers Ellie. For at least now, in this moment, Ty's death overshadows every large moment that's gone by since she left Degrassi: Sean's hospital stays, her fainting at his apartment, even the intervention. Because through all of those tough happenings, and awkward conversations, nobody had left to a point where they could never come back. They would return, for better or for worse. When she met Ty, she had no idea, could have no idea how his life would impact Sean's. He just seemed like an intelligent, innocent kid who appeared smaller than his thirteen years. He could've been this or that- a teacher, a mechanic, a chemist. She didn't think to think of him as a victim of circumstances beyond his control. She won't. He was a good person who'd left them with good memories and she would comfort Sean with that, if she can, throughout the day.

"Who gave you that mirror, anyway?" questions Alex.

"I won it in hospital poker," answers Jay.

Alex eyes him sharply.

"What?" says Jay. "The other guy offered."

"And you're not going to give it back?" says Alex.

"He left already!" says Jay. "The dude only had the clap."

Alex smirks while Ellie lifts her brow and pretends to read an article on fiber. Jay lowers his gaze and wheels his chair over to the remnants of his breakfast. He downs his orange juice and diverts his sight to the open window.

"How's Sean today?" asks Alex.

"It's been a rough couple days," admits Ellie. "I try to sneak away from the parents in the mid-afternoon, but he's either busy with someone or off by himself. Yesterday was the first time I saw him for more than two hours."

Luckily, wearing black is not a rarity for her and she slipped out this morning past her mom and dad groggily talking about her move to university tomorrow. She finally convinced them to drop her off at Marco and Dylan's, and then the two boys would carry her things into the dorm. Dylan would do most of the heavy lifting but he'd roped in two of his hockey buddies into helping him. It pays to be connected to the right people...but they're not getting paid. Sean said he'd be willing. However, Ellie wanted him well-rested the week of his indictment. If that went south, no well put together room would ease the pain.

"Yuck, why does it smell like antihistamine in here ?" calls a voice from the hallway.

"Cindy," groans Jay. "Constantly complaining about something or other."

"I can't deal with that chick today," grumbles Alex, grabbing her small black jacket.

"When can we ever?" adds Jay as he rolls his chair to his bed.

"Are you going in, hon?" they hear Mr. Hogart ask Cindy.

"There might be some infections running around the halls, so yeah," says Cindy. "I mean, I have some Purell in my purse, but better safe than sorry."

Mr. Hogart and Cindy come into the room, Jay's father in his usual business suit and Cindy in a red sundress under a denim jacket. His father immediately goes to hug Jay and then gives Cindy an awkward glance. Cindy walks tentatively to him.

"Jay!" greets Cindy half-heartedly, hugging him and not even touching his back with her hands. "How are you?"

Cindy pulls away from him before he can respond. Ellie notes that Jay is just as uninterested in continuing the conversation.

"The van is waiting for you guys right outside," informs Mr. Hogart.

He'd been kind enough to rent a van for Jay, Alex, and Ellie to travel in once he heard about the funeral. Ellie believes this change in Mr. Hogart's attitude has to be more uplifting than the cold back and forth that formerly existed between the two of them. Jay might be up and walking in no time if this change continued. If Jay's plans for school pan out, their relationship might grow in other ways that neither one of them would've expected.

"I also have something for you," says Mr. Hogart to his son.

Digging in his pocket, he retrieves two simple gold cufflinks. They're in good condition and very classy, obviously meant for formal events.

"Last time, at your mom's funeral, you were too young to wear these," says Mr. Hogart lowly. "But you're more than old enough now."

Jay rolled towards him, frowning briefly as his dad attached them to his suit jacket. Ellie and Alex grin at one another.

"Thanks, Dad," says Jay. "These...these are really nice."

"You're welcome," says Mr. Hogart, a bit teary-eyed.

"I only wish they were for a happier occasion," says Jay. "Poor Ty. Not even reaching fourteen."

Their faces become grim as they remember the reason for Jay's suit, for this gathering. A clueless Cindy stares at each of them.

"Was he sick?" asks Cindy. "I..."

They glance at her, annoyed, Ellie bracing herself for another embarrassing remark from Cindy that made the situation all about her. Jay's the most peeved and rightfully so since he interacted with Ty the most.

"Thirteen," continues Cindy. "That's...that's so young."

Her mouth trembles and she searches in her purse for a hankerchief. They watch her wipe a couple tears away. Jay sighs loudly. He removes the hankerchief from his breast pocket. Handing it to her, Jay grants her a smile, which she returns.

"Go ahead and ruin it," says Jay, declining the hankerchief when she tries to give it back. "I'm rocking gold cufflinks."

Everyone in the room laughs.

"Mr. Hogart, can you do something about Jay's tie?" says Alex.

As it turns out, Ellie views Cindy already working on the tie. Jay is still as she makes the adjustments.

"I've got it," says Cindy with confidence, and then more softly. "I've got it."

IV.

The organ is at the ready, its mahogany wood covering gleaming from angle to angle. Carefully placed sheet music sits on the holder and on music stands near the place where the choir will stand. Flames bounce in white candles that are tall, stately, reverent. A blooming garden they planned surrounds the long stretch of surface that will hold something that's not in the room yet. Sean delicately sets down a pitcher of water for the minister, water that seems like the clearest water he's ever retrieved.

He then steps away and stares at the ceiling. The room is wide with golden eaves and wooden arches. Each pew, white roses hung on the edges, holds a little more than a dozen programs with Sandy's wording and Ellie's editing. He's made sure to edit everything he's said today. He gave anyone who asked a few "hi"s and "fine"s and other truncated sentences. His family came over, sitting on the couch as he dressed. Sean chose a non-fussy black suit, a blue tie he hasn't worn since a job interview he had in Wasaga, and simple black shoes. He just let his increasingly longer hair be. Ty wouldn't have cared about his hair and he didn't either.

But it's getting harder to pretend he doesn't care, that he's fine, especially as he looks around. Unlike the day they were setting up, the sound equipment has been switched and left on; he can hear the minister warming up in the anterior; the choir is already seated. The little details are coming to life. Names he's seen are now bodies in flesh. Ty's casket has been transported, resting in a side room. Grief, set off in seperate groups, is finally bringing the greatest number of them together. Sean shakes his head. He thinks he'll never be as ready as that organ.

A young choir member, a girl who's around seven, steps forward. Her hair is parted into pigtails with colorful barrettes. The organ, low and deep, starts up as the girl opens her mouth to sing.

_Warm entreaties_  
_Gently pleading_  
_Through the night to thee._

He knows it's a warm up based on the other choir members calmly going through their programs, yet it's also the most jarring moment that signals the beginning of why they're here. This song would be sung, according to Sandy, before Ty's casket was even moved. It was a classical piece she used to sing to him to get him to sleep. Of course, he'd had other reasons to keep him awake much later. Sean appreciates the thought of having good memories outshine bad ones, though, which is probably how other people would feel too. For Cheryl, that might be impossible to do. They drove casually through the streets of Sandy's neighborhood until Sean was so in need of gas that he went to a gas station, went through the car wash and then drove her home. She'd stopped crying while they were wiping his car down. Honestly, it was kind of nice. Today would be a wordy day so it was good to have a day where there weren't many words. Plus, when everything was done and they were done driving, she said "thank you." She didn't have to thank him especially after what they'd learned, but she did. He thought of it as... a "joyride", an escape for her, and he was reminded of the one he took with Ty in the Jeremiah lot. For Ty and Cheryl, they had received that little bit of freedom after being in the shadows for years and Sean counted himself fortunate to have been present for the better part of things.

Sean buttons his jacket as the little girl continues. He reaches the top button, his fingers stopping in their tracks as he takes in the person on the other end of the aisle. No, it wasn't Cheryl, who would be riding with her mother, or Marcus, who had received furlough and confirmed his attendance with an escort the night before. It's the person he suspected would have the most reasonable excuse to sneak in at the last minute. Though, with Dale, you seldom rule out a surprise. Dale's back is bent, a firm hand resting on a brown cane, his suit bigger against his lank body. He's lost weight. As he walks to the middle of the sanctuary, he moves slowly with the cane, his left leg dragging as he propels his body forward. He is limping but it's not as bad as the night of the fire. Dale momentarily scowls at Sean and drops into the pew closest to him, situating the cane on the edge of the pew. A rose rests comfortably under the crook.

_Say while all is calm and silent,_  
_Dearest come to me._

Avoiding eye contact, Sean moves to shift a microphone near the podium so it's not under a heated spotlight. He didn't believe the minister would mind, or at least not as much as Dale minded being in the same vicinity as Sean. Sean notices a pale hand waving from the sanctuary entrance. Unfortunately, the wave isn't long and Mr. Hill disappears from view to mingle with a greeter, probably Emmitt based on the haircut. Most of the guys in Dale's shop were pulling double duty and everyone had shown as promised. Sean didn't recognize some of them at first since they were so well-groomed and dressed. But then they started talking about parts and car models and it was clear it was them. Dale had seemingly strolled right past them and right into the sanctuary. What a change from barking orders and acting like he ran the place. Sean hesitantly glances at him and sees Dale staring straight at him. He obviously wants to talk.

_Whisper precious,_  
_Softly murmur,_  
_In the moonlight clear,_  
_In the moonlight clear._  
_None may watch thee,_  
_None can harm thee,_  
_Wherefore doest thou fear?_  
_Wherefore doest thou fear?_

Sean's not so inclined, to talk about anything, especially without anyone else present. There's no law that says he has to and he'd broken several laws because of this guy. Sean does a quick about face, walking down the red carpet.

"Cameron," says Dale, loud enough to hear above the singing.

He keeps going, right past him.

"Sean," says Dale.

Despite every muscle in his body pushing him forward, Sean stops. There's that conscience again, as much as he'd like to bury it. He made peace with Dale's father that way. He made peace with himself that way. To do it a third time would be tough and with Dale, it would be the tougher. Breathing deeply, Sean goes to him.

"Would you sit?" asks Dale.

Usually, he would be told to sit, right? Sean goes all the way to the other end of the pew, pauses, and slides in next to Dale. You could sit two people in the space between them.

"You came," says Sean.

"Course I did," says Dale, somewhat defensively. "I made sure all my surgeries were taken care of before...well, before I thought you'd call."

"You expected me to call?" says Sean.

Dale grimaces, but the grimace disappears suddenly.

"Yeah," admits Dale. "I did."

Taken aback, Sean considers the possibility of what would've happened if he hadn't called. He's pretty sure Dale would've found a way in, and truthfully, Sean wouldn't have had a problem with it since Dale had meant a lot to Ty.

"Technically Jay called, but you're right that you were on the list," says Sean. "How's your leg?"

"Solid hardware," explains Dale, hitting the cane against his leg.

There's a hollow, metallic twang that lifts Sean's brows.

"Wow," says Sean.

"Yeah," sighs Dale softly. "Modern medicine."

"At least you can walk," says Sean.

"Where to?" says Dale, then sucking his lip. "A funeral plot?"

Sean holds his tongue for a moment, watching Dale sulk silently. He used to find it enjoyable when he did sulk but not today. Today, he's not enjoying it at all.

"Sandy picked out a nice place," shares Sean. "She says some of the church kids go there to read...it's by this tree."

Dale removes a nearly empty packet of tissues as he starts to sniffle. This is the first chance Sean has to look into his eyes. They're bloodshot, obviously having been rubbed countless times. They barely rise above the floor. Sean removes a bandanna he stuffed in his pocket. He's not attached to this particular one, which he stopped using after he got fired from Hill's. He presents it to Dale.

_Come and bless me here,_  
_Come and bless me here._  
_And bless me here._

"I'm trying really hard not to hate you," breathes Dale, taking the bandanna.

He's tempted to rip the bandanna from his grip as he holds it against his nose but Sean stares at his own wrists instead.

"You took...took over everything," stammers Dale.

"What?" whispers Sean fiercely.

That isn't the truth. Sandy has planned ninety-eight percent of the funeral. The other two percent came from Cheryl, if she felt like being talkative that day. He's been lending a hand if anything. But after looking into Dale's gaze, Sean can tell that's not what he meant.

"Comforting Cheryl, contacting Marcus, being their pillar of strength," says Dale. "I took him under my wing and you just flapped in and took him away."

"That isn't what happened," says Sean strongly.

"They probably love you now...just like he did," continues Dale.

"Stop it," mutters Sean.

"If you were me, how would you feel?" asks Dale.

"I'd feel...thankful," says Sean, grasping for a word. "Do you think I liked doing all of that? I don't know them as well as you. Never have."

"Never will," adds Dale bitterly.

"Then you shouldn't have sent me and hid yourself," sighs Sean.

Dale mutes his mouth for a moment. He finally raises his eyes to a level where they're visible to everyone.

"Is Marcus coming?" says Dale.

"Yes," says Sean. "He's coming to the church and then the gravesite. He'll be handcuffed the entire time. Two escorts."

"I...I don't...know what to say to him," stammers Dale, his lips trembling.

His shoulders slouch as his mouth moves more rapidly. Because of the weight loss, Sean can see the sagging skin of his cheeks and the creases in his forehead better. He appears older than his twenty-four years. While modern medicine has restored his altered limb, the altered state of things is leaving him without much strength. Before he can halt himself, Sean's hand has found itself on the cloth-covered shoulder of the person most likely to reject it.

"You'll say you're sorry, and...for once, you'll mean it," guesses Sean.

The guess is on target, thinks Sean, as Dale nods without glancing at him. Any other conversation is prevented as family and friends begin to pour in. The ushers, including Delonte and two other guys from Dale's shop, point to the first pews. People enter, including Jay, Ellie, and Alex finding seats on the side opposite Dale. Mr. Hill is the first to join Dale's pew, exchanging a brief "hello" with Sean before Sean leaves. Sean walks to the end of the aisle as the church door opens. Sandy comes in with a tangerine dress and a wide straw hat with flowers. Cheryl is in a less vibrant blue, though she has her hair combed out in a pretty way. Her arms shake until Sean reaches over to enfold her in a hug. He's happy when she returns the embrace. He does the same for Sandy with unfortunately more guilt in his heart. Neither he nor Cheryl has told her about the trip to the funeral home, and they made a joint decision to tell her at the reception. They are battling enough emotions already and don't want to get into it before the service.

"Time to send Ty home," says Sandy with a sad smile.

"Becca's in the vestibule warming up," shares Cheryl. "She's told us lots of stories about Ty this morning, and she's so talented."

"They both were," says Sean.

"That's because he was my grandbaby," says Sandy.

The three of them laugh, Sean extending his arm for Cheryl and Sandy to take. The two women link their arms with his. About to move, they hear a door part. A police officer stands by the door as another police officer walks inside and leads Marcus inside. Head shaved, his skinny body in his orange jumpsuit, Marcus' sight bounces across the room and lands straight on his mother. Cheryl bristles slightly under his gaze.

"Marcus," whispers Cheryl.

"Grandma, Sean," greets Marcus, and then turns his back to his mother.

He yanks his handcuffs apart, eager to go forward. The officers take the lead again and accompany him up the aisle. Marcus enters to a host of murmurs and gasps, the guests' eyes following him with every step he takes. Sean is certain they should take some steps. He guides the women to the front of the sanctuary. Taking a seat with them, Sean notices his family and Ellie in the pew behind him. Jay and Alex are to their left. Sean scans the sanctuary. Every pew is full, to a point where the ushers and the younger guests are standing politely in the back. If Ty, occasionally shy, always private, could see this turnout, he'd be overwhelmed. The kids Sean didn't recognizel had to be the other kids who slept in Dale's office building since Becca and her grandmother were among them. Sean knew some of the adults were from Ty's former prep school or Sandy's church or Cheryl's business. The rest of the Markhams made for a considerably large family and they were stunningly well-behaved. He wasn't too shocked by that since Sandy seemed like a very hands-on matriarch. Last, but not least, were the two firefighters who'd found Ty's body, Cano and Menendez; Jerry and Dee representing the police force; Angela and Joey Jeremiah. They'd all sweetly called Sandy herself and she was touched enough to invite them.

Marcus is the last to be situated. He and the two officers have a pew to themselves. Sean watches Marcus rub his wrists, and work his eyes from one end of the room to the other and rest on Dale. Dale? Sean realizes he'd been looking at Marcus the entire time. Dale grips the pew tightly to stand as best he can but he instantly drops when Marcus mouths a word to him. Sean can decipher it, clear as day. _Don't_.

V.

With everyone seated, the room falls silent. Sean's gaze travels past Dale's bent head, towards the main door of the sanctuary. The organ cuts through the quiet, with the same young girl who'd performed Schubert beautifully moments earlier singing a different song now. They all stand, shifting to the side.

_When I find myself in times of trouble _

_Mother Mary comes to me _

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be._

Her pretty alto carries across the space to the back. Six pallbearers, including Delonte, Emmitt, and four other former ring members, move the casket in synch to the music. White gloves wrap around gold handles as the casket made of maple goes down the carpeted aisle. Some guests tear up. Becca buries her head in her grandmother's arm. Dee dots her nose with tissue. Sean notices that Marcus has yet to look at the majority of the people there or down the center aisle.

_And in my hour of darkness _

_She is standing right in front of me _

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. _

Sean follows the casket from its path under the overhead arches to the slab where it will rest for the remainder of the ceremony. They arrange the casket to sit on the slab comfortably and then let go with hesitant hands. Returning to the back corners, Sean sees Emmitt borrow a hankerchief from a Markham family member. The minister, grey-haired with broad shoulders, enters from a side room as the rest of the choir joins the little girl.

_And when the broken hearted people _

_Living in the world agree, _

_There will be an answer, let it be. _

The minister opens a program, his Bible, and finally walks to the large portrait of Ty. He makes the sign of the cross in the direction of the portrait. After doing so, he walks over to the Markhams to hug Sandy and Cheryl. Acknowledging Sean with a slight nod, he then moves to Marcus. Marcus is stiff but standing. The minister doesn't offer a hug, though he extends his hand. Marcus shakes it with disinterest. The minister leaves him, allowing Marcus the first opportunity to take in the casket from up close. Marcus shudders, shaking his head continually, tears streaming without ceasing.

_For though they may be parted there is _

_Still a chance that they will see _

_There will be an answer, let it be._

Sean can't imagine being in his position. To leave your brother knowing you'll be going to prison after you sought revenge for him, leaving after refusing to say-goodbye, and returning to find that he died at thirteen unexpectedly...that's a cruel thing to swallow. This would have to be their good-bye.

_And when the night is cloudy, _

_There is still a light that shines on me, _

_Shine on until tomorrow, let it be. _

A deacon approaches the casket dutifully, slowly undoing the latch at the top. The minister walks to the deacon. Together, they open the lid. Ty's head and chest are visible, the white satin insides surrounding his small frame. Mr. Heard, the funeral director, asked Sandy if she wanted an "open casket" during all of their meetings and Sandy made a final decision about a week ago. Ty's burns weren't severe and since eighty percent of the Markhams hadn't seen him in some time (Sean realized he was lucky in that regard), she believed it was the best and only way for his family to see him one last time. This, of course, didn't make it any easier. Countless moans and signs follow Ty's unveiling. Even the young girl, as she powerfully completes the song, has tears running down her face.

_I wake up to the sound of music _

_Mother Mary comes to me _

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. _

_Let it be, let it be. _

_There will be an answer, let it be. _

_Let it be, let it be, _

_Whisper words of wisdom, let it be._

After the song closes, the minister lowers his hands to signal that they should sit. A chorus of shuffles sound. The minister removes his eyeglasses from his long blue robe and gets behind the podium.

"What a glorious day to celebrate the life of Tyrone Markham!" says the minister. "For the Lord to take him home, to remember the blessings he gave each and every one of us."

"Amen!" echo many of the church members.

"Young Tyrone was taken from us early, this is true, but we're all blessed for having known him," says the minister. "I'm told he loved mechanics, literature, and possessed a brilliant mind. Yet he never bragged about these God-given gifts or made a show of his intelligence. Is this not something we should all strive to imitate?"

"Yes," says Sandy and several of her friends.

"Today, let's honor this young man," continues the minister. "Let us honor someone who didn't seek honor for himself. I invite Sister Becca Lennox, the best friend of this remarkable child, to start off our celebration."

Applause follows Becca as she rises from the pew and walks to the podium. Dressed in a black dress with lace sleeves, a black sweater, and in black boots, Sean is reminded of Ellie's style. Although, he senses the clothes would be more colorful if not for this event and that saddens him. Becca pulls a piece of paper from her sweater and opens it.

"Ty wrote this awhile ago, when we first became friends and I wanted to share it," says Becca, then reading. "_Becca, yesterday you asked me what I would be if I could be anything. Remember how you said seahorse? Did you know male seahorses are the ones who get pregnant? I feel bad for your future husband. Imagine fighting a piranha when you're having mood swings at the same time."_

Everyone laughs, including Sean, and Alex most throatily_._

_"I would be a numeral," _continues Becca_. "Numbers are reliable and they're fun to play with. __Life doesn't always makes sense, but math makes sense_. _My life really doesn't make sense. You know why_."

Cheryl's face drops as she looks at her lap, Sandy putting her arm around her.

"_But they say life is short, and math goes on forever. That's pretty cool...to go on forever. If you're wondering, I would like to be a ten. That way, when girls ask you about me, you can say I'm a ten_."

Warm chuckles fill the air as Becca closes the letter.

"Ty and I stayed at a place that's come under a lot of fire lately, and I don't mean the fire that caused him to go," says Becca tearfully. "It was a place we needed to feel safe. But after thinking about it all these days, I see...that he is safe. He's as safe as you can get. He would always tell me 'you're going to make it big, Bec' and 'I want to come to your first public show'. This is my first public show."

Becca wipes a couple of tears, briefly bucking herself up.

"That was Ty," says Becca. "He'd constantly say you were the best. Dale was the best teacher..."

A restrained cry is uttered on Sean's left, and he's certain it was Dale.

"Or Sean was the best mechanic..."

Sean pulls at his tie, swallowing a lump in his throat. Sweat slinks down his brow. His heart clenches like a fist. A tender hand rubs his shoulder, Sean viewing Ellie's fingernails in their trademark black.

"Or his mom was the best mom, or Marcus was the best brother," continues Becca, shyly staring at each of them. "But the 'best' I'll take with me is that he was and is my best friend. So Ty, this is for you, and I'm going to do my best."

Becca leaves the podium and stands in front of the casket. She kisses Ty on his smooth forehead, sniffles, and goes to a standing microphone. She begins to strum, her fingers dancing across the strings. Sean closes his eyes. Her crystal-clear voice is as beautiful and soulful as when he first heard her, when he first went into the office building and saw the sleeping bags, school supplies, and her guitar and hole-filled stockings.

_Face your fears without thinking at all, and_

_I'll be here to drive those demons from your night_

_My shoulders are here for your head to lean upon, and_

_trouble can't come between the shelter of these arms_

The projector behind her begins to display childhood pictures of Ty with the song. An infant Ty smiles among a group of block letters on the floor. Ty, about five, sucks on an orange popsicle while on a small bicycle. An older Ty and a preteen Marcus make muscles in front of the Bone Rattler rollercoaster at a theme park. Eight-year old Ty holds a plaque with the rest of his academy's math competition winners. The pictures end with a snapshot of Ty and Becca at a picnic bench with Dale at a park.

He imagines the two preteens discussing the school they were missing, the homes they couldn't go home to, and the family members who were making it difficult for them to sleep and be safe. While he may not be aware of every piece of their stories, does he have to? Didn't he run to Degrassi when his family hit a rough patch, when he hit a rough patch while his parents struggled with their own problems? Yes, he can sympathize with this situation more than he'd like to admit.

_Through the worst, through the best_

_Even when the worlds feeling heavy on your chest_

_Through the fire, through the flood_

_My love for you runs deeper, deeper than blood_

_Deeper than, Deeper than Blood_

_Deeper than, Deeper than Blood_

Sean opens his eyes to peer over at Dale, possibly envisioning the same thing, only they'd be real because he'd witnessed them firsthand. Something else he wouldn't like to admit? That he is jealous. Sean is jealous despite hearing the pieces of Ty's story, despite growing closer to the Markhams. Dale is and would always be the guy who helped Ty first. There is no denying that.

_Etched on my heart, running through my veins_

_This truth will never change_

He sets his focus back on Becca, whose cheeks have become red and wet. She was doing her best, and if Ty is listening, which he's hoping Ty is, maybe he would say she's the best she's ever been.

_Through the worst, through the best_

_Even when the worlds feeling heavy on your chest_

_Through the fire, through the flood_

_My love for you runs deeper, deeper than blood_

_Oh, my love for you runs deeper, deeper than blood_

_Deeper than, Deeper than Blood_

_Deeper than, Deeper than Blood_

_Deeper than, Deeper than Blood_

Becca finishes with a final strum that hovers in the sanctuary, reaching the eaves and falling into a whisper. She receives a hug from the minister and goes to her grandmother. The minister stays at the microphone.

"Sister Sandy would like to share some family memories with us," says the minister. "She is speaking on behalf of the Markhams. Stay blessed, sister."

Sandy approaches the podium as everyone claps. She gives them a grateful look.

"While Ty was not a talker, he made quite an impact, and the fact that so many are here today is testament to that," begins Sandy. "He would be overwhelmed by your love. Me and my daughter are overwhelmed. We thank you for the hot food dishes, the condolescences, the cards, and the visits."

"We love you, Sandy!" pipes up a choir member to supportive applause.

"Ty didn't live with Cheryl for quite some time," says Sandy. "But when he did, we were extremely proud of him. I made him show me every A paper he brought home in his backpack even as he raced to his room to play video games. On my visits, I would bring Suduko puzzles he would complete by the time I polished off most of his mother's cookies. He would run to the living room to share new words he learned. Later, I found out, he would go to Marcus, get a word, find it in the dictionary, and run back to say he learned it in class that day. Those were the only lies that he told me."

Dozens of smiles fill the faces of the guests.

"I hate to say good-bye to him, but I know he's going for a reason I don't yet understand," says Sandy. "I can't wait to see him again in heaven and to hear new words I've yet to hear from him. By then, maybe I'll know those words myself...but I'll pretend that I don't."

The minister draws Sandy into a hug, and Sandy returns to the pew, smiling and crying as she sits.

"At this time, I invite any friend or family member of Tyrone's to come up and honor him, in any way they're moved, before we begin the sermon Sister Sandy selected for Tyrone's homegoing."

Sean takes a deep breath. He stares to the left, to the right, and then behind him at his parents, Tracker, and Ellie. Ellie grins at him, able to read his mind. He has nothing to read though and hopes this comes out as heartfelt as possible. He rises, straightens his suit jacket, and goes to the microphone.

"Hi," says Sean into the microphone. "My...my name is Sean Cameron."

"Hello, Brother Sean," replies the church family.

"I...I've known Ty since May," says Sean. "Or...um, Tyrone. We talked cars, mainly. He knew more than me...I think, which I never thought I'd say."

He allows a smile to peek through, the majority of the congregation laughing. Marcus isn't, narrowing his eyes at Dale. Sean flips his attention back to his speech.

"Uh, we didn't meet in the best of circumstances," continues Sean. "But...I don't know. We both let our guards down...we both wanted better for ourselves. Sometimes I didn't think I deserved it...and Ty would tell me different. In fact, we made a promise to each other to graduate. Some of my friends are going to college, and they're really smart..._really_. And graduating high school isn't a huge deal in comparison, maybe, though it felt like it when we were talking."

The sides of his parents' mouths relax into soft expressions. Ellie sets a hand on his mother's knee. Sean can tell a cry is forming behind his teeth, his chest swelling.

"He made me realize that I should try harder," says Sean, his voice shaking. "Not for him. For myself. He believed...we were brothers. And I tried hard to be there for him, to protect him..."

Cheryl stares searchingly at him, Marcus doing the same.

"And I failed," sobs Sean. "I've failed before, too many times. Why'd that have to be the biggest thing I failed at?"

He takes a few weighty breaths, his chest painful, the air in the room powerful enough to give him his breath back.

"But it did teach me a lesson...that I wouldn't have learned at Degrassi, in Wasaga, or on my own. That you have to...keep going. You have to make the most of a second chance, and while I've gotten second chances before, this will be the chance that I won't let go of. So thank you, Ty, for teaching me that...as a work buddy, as a friend, as a brother."

Sean leaves the microphone to loud applause, and as they'd discussed earlier with Sandy's permission, went to Ellie who unzipped her purse. He takes an item from her and goes to the edge of Ty's casket. His hands lay flat on his chest. Sean momentarily separates them, and slides in the item, then puts his hands as they were originally placed. It's a blank diploma from an office supply store with just two words written in ink. His name. Only his name. Ty's skin is cold to the touch and his face elicits warmth. His eyelids shine under the lights above.

"Happy graduation, Ty," whispers Sean to him. "In cars, in a lot, you're first in the class."

VI.

A mound of dirt meets the gathering clump, spreading across the blue panels of the casket's sides. August breezes whip hair back and forth in subtle motions, shake the petals of the yellow roses most of them hold. The roses are thrown once the grave digger sticks the shovel into the grass. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Sean suspects the Markhams aren't counting, but he is, because that's all he can do as he stands near the rear. Cheryl and Sandy have the rest of the family there with them and rightfully that's where they should be in these last moments where Ty is not closed in the ground. The leaves of the tree crackle in the wind.

He goes to the grave marker, sitting slightly to the right, to be moved later once the coffin is properly buried at sundown. Ellie comes up to be beside him. **Tyrone Markham**, thirteen years between his date of birth and date of death. Loving grandson, son, and brother. The maker of the marker had cut a small car in stone at the bottom.

"Wanna bet that car has a moonroof?" says Sean out loud.

Ellie nods. "You'd win."

Sean had told her that Ty had a soft spot for that certain car attribute after the funeral. Every part of the funeral went well. He's just sad that other things are over.

"El, you know how when people die, you only remember the good stuff about them, like as some courtesy," says Sean.

"Yeah?" says Ellie.

"In this case, that's kinda pointless, because there's only good stuff and the bad stuff wasn't his fault," says Sean.

"Yeah, you're right," says Ellie, her brow wrinkling in concentration.

"That says something," says Sean, sniffling. "Ugh...I can't say anything right now."

Ellie rubs his back methodically, staring at the grave marker. She's in a long black skirt, with a velvet black top, low black heels digging into the grass. She'd been quiet for the most part, but honestly, he welcomed it. That didn't mean he wouldn't welcome any words she could offer.

"Sean, I'm not religious, but...I do believe people can be at peace, especially those who were looking for it," says Ellie softly. "You don't have to beat yourself up or feel like you failed. Nobody thinks that."

"Dale does," says Sean.

"Dale's searching for someone to blame," counters Ellie. "Don't let it be you."

Instinctively, and hating himself for doing so, Sean searches the crowd for Dale. He's discussing something with Delonte and Emmitt. They're soon interrupted by a black van pulling up to the cemetary. Dale keeps his eyes on the van until it's parked and a police officer is escorting Marcus across the lawn. Letting his cane lead the way, Dale goes to Marcus. Sean approaches them, not wanting there to be a scene, especially here.

"Marcus, listen to me for a sec," says Dale wearily.

"Coward!" seethes Marcus quietly. "Got pee still running down your leg from hiding from me. You're the last person who should be here and I hope the last thing _you_ listened to was Ty saying he wished he never met you. Cause that's what I think in my cell every day since they told me."

His lips collapsing, Dale cries out, gripping his cane with an unsteady arm.

"I didn't mean...," starts Dale.

"You didn't mean to start that fire?" says Marcus angrily. "That's not what I heard. I heard you were determined to feed those flames. You swore to me you'd protect him and you didn't. He's dead and you dug that hole over there with your lies!"

Sean glances at the family members around the grave. Luckily, they hadn't heard a thing, even Cheryl and Sandy talking privately with the minister.

"Tell me what I can do to make you forgive me," begs Dale.

"Know what you can do?" says Marcus. "Drop dead."

Marcus spits at the bottom of Dale's cane, the officers quickly reigning him in and guiding him to a tree. They start to talk to him, Sean overhearing that that last act ensured an early ride home. Marcus rolls his eyes as they tug him back to the van. Meanwhile, Dale hunches over and Emmitt leads him to a bench. As usual, Ellie had a better read on the situation than he did. When some people are angry, they're quick to lay the blame elsewhere even if you already blame yourself. Marcus blamed Dale. Dale blamed Sean. Sean blamed Dale. But in reality, it held no solace for any of them, did it?

Sean and Ellie walk to an area where Sandy is dispensing yellow balloons to Ty's younger cousins. The six of them take a balloon string and another balloon is given to Becca. The minister crowds them into a group and peers up at the open blue sky.

"May these fly to Ty before the last light of the day," says the minister fondly.

With the final word, Ty's cousins release the balloons. They float past their bodies, above trees, to the clouds. The kids stare up rapturously though Cheryl's expression is the most joyous. Sean looks to the left to see Emmitt, Delonte, and the other members of the ring saluting the ascent. Dale shakily salutes the balloons. Ellie rests her ear against Sean's arm. Sean keeps his gaze on the last balloon bound for who knows where. Its disappearance resembles a sunbeam whose ray is whited out by an invisible brush.

VI.

"So are you girls vegetarians like my Cheryl?" asks Sandy, scooping up chicken salad with a large spoon.

"Nope," answers Alex. "Meat, meat, and more meat."

"Just keep Sean from eating all of the potato salad," warns Iris Cameron, squeezing Sean's cheek.

"I like potato salad," says Sean defensively as he pours a cup of punch for one of Ty's cousins. "At least there's vegetables in it."

Alex accepts her chicken salad and joins Jay at a picnic table two tables over. The reception, thankfully, is a lot more casual, and with the absence of Marcus and the police officers, there's a lot less tension too. Sandy did hug Marcus good-bye and gave him a plate to take with him. Marcus didn't hug her back. That's when Sean offered to help serve. As it turned out, that provided him with lots of opportunites to meet and learn the names of the rest of the guests. Everyone wanted to know about his relationship to Ty and without getting into the illegal side of things, he obliged. The papers would reveal the missing pieces in due time anyway. They could think what they wanted after that. Currently, they're gathered at the picnic tables, covered with red and white checkered tablecloths, a radio blasting music, food set on the two largest tables. Dale is the single person by himself, sluggishly chewing on a hot dog as he sits by a tree. A couple of guys from the ring and a few kids from the office building go say hi, though not for long as the adults give them warning looks. Sean sets the pitcher of punch down after one such look. The music blares over the shaking of the liquid.

_I remember when we used to sit in the government yard in Brooklyn. _  
_Observing the crookedness as it mingled with the good people we meet. _  
_Good friends we had, _  
_Good friends we've lost along the way. _  
_In this great future you can't forget your past, _  
_So dry your tears I say _  
_And to my peeps who passed _  
_Away, _

Additionally, Sean had another opportunity- to tell Sandy about his trip to Mr. Heard's. He's pretty sure Cheryl has kept mum. Cheryl spent the majority of moments after the funeral talking with others and Sandy spent it talking to her church friends. Marcus' appearance put everything into perspective for Sean. Marcus wasn't lying back then, and his entire family had received confirmation. Sean didn't like keeping another secret from any person in their family, especially since so much secrecy had damaged their relationships in the past.

"Sandy, can we talk for a minute?" asks Sean.

"Certainly," says Sandy, wiping her forehead. "Woo, it's hot."

They walk past a table, where Emmitt and Becca are playing a card game, and Joey is telling Delonte about the best car deals for teenagers. Sean and Sandy take a seat by a stone statue of Mary in the church's back lawn. Past the statue and a row of shrubs, three of Ty's cousins are playing basketball. One with dreadlocks jumps and sticks his tongue out while making a basket. The other two boys yell their encouragement. The ball barely makes it in, and they cheer. Sean won't have much cheer telling her this.

"Did Cheryl tell you anything about...yesterday?" asks Sean. "About the funeral home?"

"Yes," says Sandy speedily.

"Oh," says Sean.

So she'd been in the loop all day, and hadn't snapped at him. Why not? She'd obviously gone to a great deal of trouble to shield Cheryl from the records, and this is her response?

"I'm sorry we went behind...," begins Sean.

"I couldn't have protected her forever," interrupts Sandy. "You did something I couldn't do. She's the guardian of those kids and had every right to read the files. I just...couldn't do it."

"I understand," says Sean.

"Did anybody let slip whose idea the balloons were?" asks Sandy.

"Yours?" guesses Sean.

"Hers," shares Sandy. "As soon as she came home, she told me. She said she got an answer she'd been hunting for and that she'd send him something as a last apology. I think that trip confirmed what she secretly knew but denied all of these years."

"So you forgive me?" asks Sean hopefully.

"What's to forgive?" replies Sandy with a wink, then peeking over Sean's shoulder. "Alynda, you better get some chocolate cake before it's gone!"

_No woman, no cry, no woman no cry, say say say. _  
_Hey little sister don't shed no tears _  
_No woman no cry say say say. _

Sean turns around to view Alynda, the young girl who sang in the choir from the beginning to the end of the service. She's sad and staring at the boys on the basketball court. He doesn't believe he's seen her smile all day. Propping himself up from the table, Sean jogs to the girl.

"Wanna play?" asks Sean.

"Not tall enough," says Alynda. "They won't let me play."

"We can fix that," says Sean.

He bends to his knees. Alynda squeals with joys and climbs on him, her legs hitting Sean's cheeks as he carries her erect to the court. The boy holding the ball instantly drops it when they reach the court, possibly because they were intimidated by Sean. That's strange, thinks Sean, given that he had cried in front of them and all. But they were staring in shock.

"Can she take a shot?" says Sean.

"Yeah," says the boy, averting his gaze while bouncing the ball to Sean.

Sean gives the ball to Alynda. Holding her steady, he walks to an area close to the basket. Alynda shoots. She scores!

"I made it!" cries Alynda.

Her declaration of pride is heard throughout the lawn, the majority of guests cheering for her as she sits atop Sean's shoulder.

"Woo!" cries Sean, raising his arms.

Alynda mirrors him, and then puts her hands on her hips. "Are you going to let me play?"

"Yeah," say the boys at once.

Chuckling, Sean returns Alynda to the ground. He's about to return to Sandy until he spies Dale having difficulty standing by the tree. His cane's out of reach. Sean lowers his shoulders and hands the cane to him.

"There's better shade at the tables," says Sean.

"I'm fine," says Dale, swatting a fly off his pants.

"No, you're not," says Sean. "Come on. There's plenty of food left."

Dale rubs his nose, shrugs. Sean manages to lift him, a position that's not so new for either of them. This is how they left the smoke-filled building, how they left in synch as Ty faded upstairs.

"Why do you care if I don't sit with you?" mumbles Dale.

"Because," says Sean, irritated, though changing his tone as soon as he says the next words. "If I didn't, Ty would never forgive me."

Sharing a glance with Dale, Sean gets what Dale gets. That was the last thing Sean said to him before they left the fire, the reason that both of them moved on.

_Everything's gonna be alright, _  
_O everything's gonna be alright, _  
_The gun man's in the house tonight, _  
_But everything's gonna be alright._

Dale limps in degrees, until his hand relaxes against Sean's arm, and they walk across the grass, the blades bending under them step by careful step.


	106. Fallin' Flyin'

**CVI. Fallin' Flyin'**

_I was goin where I shouldn't go,_  
_Seein who I shouldn't see,_  
_Doin what I shouldn't do,_  
_And being who I shouldn't be,_

_A little voice told me it's all wrong,_  
_Another voice told me it's alright,_  
_I used to think that I was strong,_  
_But lately I just lost the fight..._

_It's funny how fallin feels like flyin,_  
_for a little while,_  
_Funny how fallin feels like flyin,_  
_for a little while,_

_I got tired of bein good,_  
_Started missin that ol' feelin free,_  
_Stopped actin like I thought I should,_  
_Went on back to bein me,_

_I never meant to hurt no one,_  
_I just had to have my way,_  
_If there's such a thing as too much fun,_  
_This must be the price you pay..._

_Funny how fallin feels like flyin,_  
_for a little while,_  
_Funny how fallin feels like flyin,_  
_for a little while,_

_Never see it comin till it's gone,_  
_It all happens for a reason even when it's wrong,_  
_Especially when it's wrong..._

_Funny how fallin feels like flyin,_  
_for a little while,_  
_It's funny how fallin feels like flyin,_  
_for a little while,_

_I was goin where I shouldn't go,_  
_Seein who I shouldn't see,_  
_Doing what I shouldn't do,_  
_Bein who I shouldn't be._

**Fallin' Flyin' is the property of T-Bone Burnett and appears in the film _Crazy Heart_.**

**Son of a Preacher Man is the property of Dusty Springfield.**

The unseen bumps in the road causes her suitcase to rise from her knees. She can feel her rolled up socks slide from one end to the other, while something plastic crinkles underneath and something light flies across the bottom until it stops completely. Ashley stops looking for any clues to tell them how far they've gone. Riva Tenley is ahead in her car, the caravan charging to the tucked away Harmony Hill. Her parents are steeped in shadow as her mother's car winds the countless corners. Ashley is wedged between Chris and Craig in the back. Time has stalled ever since they left the Jeremiahs, and the sole characteristic that lets her know that it's the same night as the intervention are the people who left with her. That particularly includes Craig, who had placed his hand on hers in the dark and hasn't let go once Kate started the engine. Not even the bumps have moved it.

A brochure for the facility lies on Chris' lap, the pictures the single portion Ashley can view clearly in the shaded vehicle. Three girls who couldn't be more than nineteen sit serenely around a table. Another cheerful boy is reading a book. A mixed group of males and females are applauding as they watch a movie on TV. Two guys are jogging on paved paths located just outside the center. And these kids were in rehab? Riva informed her that Harmony Hill is a treatment facility for young adults but she assumed most of them would be in their late twenties and not closer to her age. Based on what she's seen, addicts became addicts because of failed relationships or having a hard go at life, or because they were overstressed like Nolan and Aja's dad. Sure, she dealt with a decent amount of stress this summer but she certainly didn't have it as bad as some of them. She'd probably be on the smaller scale of things. Right? Ashley crosses her legs and sighs. Craig begins massaging her knuckles with his thumb.

"Almost there," comments Kate, veering left.

Dozens of trees obscure anything on the side of the road. They just keep going and going, a gargantuan forest closing in around them. Ashley went through that during the intervention. They closed her in really well, and she must confess that it was probably for her own good. When the words came out in the graveyard, and to Ellie, they weren't coming from some foreign place. They were coming from the very core of her. She was honestly scared. She honestly wanted to change. Still, she honestly didn't want to be locked away for two months. Harmony Hill _is _a foreign place. There's no denying that that's the case.

Finally, they reach a bend creating two streets. An elaborate sign sits at the crossroads. **Harmony Hill Treatment Center**. The words are written in the style of calligraphy, with ivy and leaves circling the border. To Ashley, the ivy reminds her of a noose, a pretty noose that will rob her of her regular life for eight weeks. They drive up to the center and park behind Riva. Ashley keeps her gaze locked on the image through the windshield. Well, if this is a prison, it's a nicely decorated prison. The center resembles a large lodge with multiple glass windows, an elegantly crafted patio and porch, wooden porch furniture, and colorful foliage. It looks more like a locale for an artist's retreat. Ashley shakes her head in disbelief, leaning forward.

"This place is nice," says Robert, then checking his watch. "Even after midnight."

"That's British Columbia," says Craig, putting an arm around Ashley. "Smells good too."

"Midnight? Did...did we miss check-in?" asks Ashley nervously. "I guess we could..."

"No, they're expecting us," assures Kate.

Ashley leaves the car hesitantly, after Chris and Craig. This is rehab? She almost expected a hospital-type scene with a nurse coming out with a wheelchair for her. But why would she need a wheelchair, she tells herself. Perhaps it's different inside.

Riva meets up with them near the entrance, a full smile on her face.

"Farrah should be waiting up for us," says Riva. "She's the receptionist and also head of resident services. Should you need anything, she's there from nine to five, and then there's always someone at the main desk if there's an emergency. We also have an emergency hotline taped above the phone in your room."

"I get a room to myself?" says Ashley.

"You'll share a room," answers Riva. "We've often found that sharing a room with another young patient helps in the recovery process. It's quite beneficial to have someone near who's going through what you're going through."

Ashley's not sure about that, seeing as her experiences in London were pretty unique, not to mention occasionally horrible. She'd much rather have a private room, especially tonight. Noticing her frown, Craig instantly grabs for her hand and the whole group walks in together.

They're soon confronted by another group, including a woman with cherry red hair and dimples for days with "Farrah" on her nametag. She grins from ear to ear. Ashley lets out a defeated sigh. Both Farrah and Riva have to be the "non-frowning" twins. These people are actually happy to bring young adults to be examined in the middle of the night. This is their life. Meanwhile, she probably won't have a life here.

The inside appears less intimidating than the outside at least. The check-in area is not unlike a check-in area at a hotel. However, it is much smaller and slightly resembles a living room with standard furniture, a television set, board games, and a fireplace. The items that stick out the most are the various pamphlets spread across a coffee table and an extraordinary amount of books in five bookcases. Once again, so not a setting similar to a hospital. Instead of soaking it in anymore, she notices that Farrah is starting to talk.

"Hello, Ashley," greets Farrah. "I'm Farrah Weinhower. Tonight, we're going to get you checked in, examined, and settled. This is the team who'll be helping you along the way. Dr. Hiram Shareef...Dr. Angelique Gold...Dr. Colby Carrington..."

Three thirtysomething adults nod as each of their names are called. Angelique is a dark-haired girl with a long curly ponytail. Hiram has prematurely grey hair and a dyed brown beard. Colby is a petite woman with very striking cheekbones. Ashley wonders where their families are, and if they're waiting at home for them. Why does she need the three of them anyway? One would surely do and since Riva's been with her, why couldn't she take the role?

"And Dr. Engelcourt, who you'll be meeting tomorrow, will be your main counsellor," finishes Farrah. "Have you read the brochure?"

"No," says Ashley softly.

"That's okay," says Farrah. "Here at Harmony, we're committed to making the transition from home to here as seamless as possible. For the first couple days, you'll be going through pre-admission coaching. That allows your family and friends to stick around a bit longer as you get physical and mental examinations."

"I like...that part," says Ashley, scanning the expressions of her parents.

They appear just as relieved, and they have every right to be given her behavior the last month. Craig nods his understanding.

"You can ask your pre-admission coaches any questions or voice any concerns," says Farrah, gesturing to the other employees.

"Um, alright," says Ashley.

"How often can we visit with her after the coaching?" questions Kate.

"That depends on her progress," replies Farrah. "Some do very well after the first two weeks, and can have constant visitation. Others struggle a bit more and we reconsider visitation rights. If you do very well, Ashley, you can go off-site after two weeks to one of our sponsored outings."

Kate brushes back Ashley's hair. "That sounds...fun."

Fun? Fun isn't the word. She's pretty sure she can make that two week mark, though. All it takes is getting in the right mindset.

"After the coaching comes peer and group therapy, life skill strategies, relapse prevention training...," continues Farrah.

"Whoa," interjects Ashley. "That sounds like more than...two weeks?"

"Ashley, we've never had anyone leave after only two weeks," says Farrah. "It just can't be done. You're serious about this, right?"

Farrah lifts her eyebrows as the rest of her team trade confused glances. Her parents start to fidget while Craig strokes Ashley's back. The full eight weeks is happening, whether she likes it or not. She can tell by their silence. Well, it's not as if I haven't been naive before. Eight weeks. How am I going to handle that, thinks Ashley, tugging at her ear.

"Is it common to relapse?" says Chris, breaking the silence.

"Unfortunately, yes," says Farrah. "Ninety percent of alcoholics are likely to experience a relapse over the four-year period following rehab."

"That's some statistic," sighs Robert.

"Well, we at Harmony Hill, are happy to report that our relapse prevention training has helped sixty percent of our patients avoid relapses in periods of ten to twelve years post-rehab. And we're very well-known for our support systems that encourage avoiding high-risk situations. Then, we've had several of our youngest patients leave without ever relapsing later. You never quite know but we've been far more successful than other facilities."

"That's really good," says Kate. "I read that your AA meetings are twice a week."

"Yes," speaks up Angelique. "And we make sure to recommend other meeting places once Ashley returns home."

"Do I have to talk during these?" says Ashley wearily.

"Not if you don't want to, but it won't take long to break the ice," says Angelique. "We have some characters in there."

Ashley hears footsteps travelling from down a hallway, a boy with small brown curls and in cargo pants walking into the room. He assesses everyone in the room. His sight pauses on Ashley and then shrugs as he walks to a coffee table. He removes a guitar case from behind a couch, which Ashley had paid no attention to before. The boy pulls a paper from his pocket and a bag of M & Ms. He also takes out a pencil and starts to draw. From where she is, Ashley can determine that he's sketching a musical staff and putting the candy where various notes would be. The boy slips in earplugs and tunes them out. Weird. She gives Craig a pointed look.

"I doubt he's your roommate," assures Craig.

"Will we be meeting Ashley's roommate tonight?" asks Robert.

"Probably not," replies Farrah. "She's asleep and check-in takes awhile. Ashley, we're going to be needing your cell phone, CD player or ipod, laptop..."

"What?" exclaims Ashley.

They're asking her to cut herself off from her friends, her music? Those are the things that are keeping her together. If she can't have either...no, not possible.

"It's the rules," insists Farrah, extending her hand.

Moaning, Ashley unclips her cell and retrieves her ipod. She drops them into Farrah's palm, scowling at the floor.

"Are you on any prescription drugs that have not been approved?" says Farrah. "Are you carrying any foodstuffs...snacks, beverages?"

"No," answers Ashley.

"When was the last time you had any alcohol?" says Farrah.

Goodness, it has to be a couple of days, thinks Ashley, scratching her forehead. It's been some time.

"Two days ago," offers Ashley. "That's the truth."

"Have you experienced any body aches, night sweats, anxiety since then?" continues Farrah.

"A little...at Ilene's apartment," says Ashley. "And a little at the intervention."

Farrah raises her eyebrows once more, surely a common gesture of hers that Ashley will have to deal with. What she's not anticipating is a group huddle between Farrah, Riva, and the rest of her medical team. That's right. Nobody knew about her behavior in Ilene's kitchen besides Craig. This couldn't be good. Ugh, why didn't she lie? She's lied for weeks and this truth seems like it's going to cost her.

"We need to put you in detox," says Farrah immediately as they break out of the huddle.

"Detox?" says Ashley, panicked.

"What...what is detox?" asks Craig.

"When you drink habitually, your body becomes dependent on the alcohol and it starts to adjust itself," says Farrah. "It might start producing other chemicals it shouldn't or stop producing chemicals it should. Basically, we need Ashley's body to be in a completely stable state. From what Riva's told me, your history with alcohol is extremely cloudy and we need to take extra precautions."

"We're going to put you in tonight and examine you tomorrow," adds Riva.

"It's one of the most strenuous parts of recovery so we'd like your parents to stay once we arrive at the hospital," says Farrah.

"Of course," says Robert.

"Us too," says Chris, sharing an unwavering stare with Craig.

She has heard the term detox, but she can't recall where she'd heard it. It doesn't sound peaceful by any means so she definitely wants to hear why it's so strenuous.

"Am I going to be alone in there?" says Ashley.

"We'll be close by," says Angelique. "Withdrawal is not a pretty picture."

That isn't even what she's asking. Withdrawal? What is that going to entail and how ugly would it get? She voluntarily separated herself from others for weeks and now when she willingly seeks help she has to depend on_ strangers_ as she deals with yet another stressful situation?

"I...I need a moment," stammers Ashley, going hurriedly to the glass screen door in the back of the room.

"Fine," says Farrah. "I'll be going over some more pre-admission details with your parents."

Letting the little commitee that will be responsible for "saving her" converse, Ashley puts her hands on her hips and starts to breathe in and out. Craig stands in front of her. She's done her best to have a calm exterior but she can't take it anymore. Ashley gently lays her hands on Craig's chest as tears well up in her eyes.

"This is too hard," whispers Ashley.

"Things will get easier," assures Craig.

"It just hit me...that I'm here," says Ashley, glancing around her, sniffling. "Craig, there's all these rules and it's only the first night. Now we have to go to a hospital?"

"The rules are there to help," says Craig. "You're going to do this and succeed. You're going to get better. I'd stake my life on it."

"Don't," whispers Ashley, disengaging herself from him.

Ashley repeatedly rubs her neck, feels the sweat forming there, feels it coarsing down her skin. Her head starts to ache. It's a hollow ache that's also travelled to her stomach. She hugs herself. She's gone through this before, tries to remember when. Yes, she went through it earlier tonight. Ashley shakes her head, trying to get that voice out, the voice that has been with her through everything month after month, because the people that love her have been trying to be with her month after month.

"Are you okay?" questions Craig.

"No," groans Ashley.

"I'll try to be right outside the door," says Craig. "We all will. Chances are this is the hard part, alright? We'll get through the hard part first."

Craig holds her chin. Ashley reluctantly smiles and watches him rush to Farrah. She wipes her eyes as they meet the floor.

Well, she is here to try, but so is the piece of her that's dying to come out and win one more victory.

II.

Fairly soon, the beeps are familiar. Doctors and specialists disappear around corridors as low and high beeps fill the hallway. They're moving too fast for Ashley to remember their faces. They start to blend together as if she's peering through a kaleidoscope, the images fading in and out. She can only hope that the negative moments of this experience will fade and the positive moments will outnumber those.

Robert, Kate, and Chris sit in seats opposite Ashley's designated room. Every now and again, Ashley will do her best to hear any sign that they're there and she sees flashes of them when the door to the room opens. She can also hear snippets of conversation as she changes into a thin, white hospital gown.

"Does she have a history of seizures?" asks Angelique.

"No," she hears her mom say.

"Good," says Angelique. "We'll be monitoring her for the next forty-eight hours to see if her symptoms get any worse."

There's a shuffle of feet. Ashley turns to watch Hiram remove a needle from her exposed arm. She barely noticed when he put it in, because she was so focused on the dialogue between her family and the staff.

"This is going to tell us what substances are in your system," explains Hiram. "You'll feel a bit woozy in a couple hours. That's normal."

"I've been drinking only beer for the past two weeks, which I told you," complains Ashley.

In fact, she's been pretty forthcoming about her actions since she returned from the graveyard. Except for a couple things. But so what if her dad and Chris didn't know about Wheeler? Who could blame her for not sharing that with them during this mad swirl of events? Ashley hops off the examination table. She's sure this is what a padded room would like look if there were no pads. The room is white, bland, and full of intimidating medical equipment, tubes, and a misplaced picture of a beach. This isn't what she signed up for. She has to spend two days in here?

"We appreciate that but that doesn't clue us in to what's going on in your body," says Hiram.

Ashley ignores him and does her best to ignore the thundering headache that's emerging in the center of her forehead. Hiram seems unfazed and wheels a watercooler to a space near Ashley's bed. He then seals the bag of her blood before leaving.

"When's the last time she slept?" asks Angelique, Ashley tip-toeing to the slit in the door.

"At Ilene's," recalls Craig. "That was last night."

"Does she have any adverse history with Valium, Librium, or gabapentin?" says Angelique.

"None that we're aware of," replies Robert.

"Has Ashley dabbled in other narcotics while consuming alcohol?" says Angelique.

They all turn to Craig, who appears extremely uncomfortable. Great. Even though the answer is no, she's putting Craig through this. She never meant for her drinking to go this far, to subject them to this. Ashley firmly shuts the door, catching everyone glance at her as she does so. Angelique enters promptly and shuts the door as well.

"I didn't take other drugs," says Ashley pointedly. "And believe me I could've."

"It's protocol to ask these questions," informs Angelique. "That said, I was going to ask you the same ones."

"I haven't lied once since I've been here!" exclaims Ashley.

"We give our patients the benefit of the doubt, Ashley, to a certain extent," says Angelique. "We're not against you. We're here for you, in every conceivable way."

"Whatever gets me out of this place," sighs Ashley.

"There's no rush," says Angelique.

"Apparently," says Ashley, rolling her eyes. "What exactly are we waiting for?"

"You coming to Harmony Hill is like you saying to your body that you won't consume any more alcohol," replies Angelique.

"And?" says Ashley.

"Well, your body's going to hate that response," continues Angelique. "Leading to some unpleasant reactions. We have to purge the bad before we can get anywhere good. Would you like to lie down?"

She is tired but she's not about to suggest she's weak by any means.

"I'm fine," insists Ashley.

Her forehead betrays her, a feeling of multiple drums being played under her skin. Beads of sweat form at the nape of her neck and she rolls her shoulders to try and rid herself of their presence. Maybe if they have nothing to observe they can move her back to the treatment center where she can at least be in a residential setting and not constantly under their watchful eyes.

"I'll come back in about ten minutes," says Angelique. "Hiram and Colby are in the hall. Would you like your parents to come in?"

Sure, she would like her parents to come in and witness who she is at her lowest point, particularly after she told her mother she was at her breaking point. Although, since her mother and Craig have witnessed her at that state...

"Can my mom and boyfriend come in?" requests Ashley.

"Certainly," says Angelique.

Ashley straightens her hospital gown, and not long after Angelique leaves, Craig and Kate enter. Craig meets her gaze with a half-smile.

"They told me that you should eat," informs Kate. "Would you like something?"

"You can pick whatever," says Ashley, avoiding her mother's look of concern.

It's harder to have Kate in the room than she'd thought. She's beginning to stare at Ashley as if she's on the brink of self-destruction. Most likely because she must have some wild imaginings of what Ashley endured during the tour. In contrast, Craig saw almost everything firsthand.

"They already have a meal prepared," says Kate, before kissing her brow and leaving.

"I'm not even hungry," whispers Ashley.

"You haven't eaten in awhile," points out Craig. "Hospital food doesn't have to suck. The meals at Lincoln we had after my manic episodes weren't rank."

Food is the last thing she's considering. Her tongue feels like she was in the desert and her headache has tripled to a level where her vision is growing foggier and foggier. It's worse than when she was wandering around London in a drunken fog.

"Ohhh," moans Ashley, clutching her stomach.

She's one hundred percent sure of what comes next. Ashley locates a trashcan and spits up a decent amount of what can't stay inside her body.

"Water," mumbles Ashley.

Craig rushes to the cooler, dispensing some cool water into a plastic cup. He hands it to Ashley. Ashley drinks some and proceeds to throw up a second time.

"Should I get Hiram and Colby?" says Craig.

"No, they said I'd be woozy," says Ashley.

Ashley neglects sharing with him that this was supposed to be after two hours. She just doesn't want anybody thinking that she's worse off than they believe. She wipes water droplets from her chin and hobbles to the floor, sitting on it. Craig sits behind her, stroking her hair.

"Let's walk to your bed, huh?" suggests Craig.

"I'm fine!" exclaims Ashley, raising her voice more than she intended. "Perfectly healthy people feel weird after they have blood taken, alright?"

"I'll wait with you, anyway," says Craig calmly.

She can't stand that she's unable to stand or offer him an apology. If only she could feel better, had something to make her feel better. Ashley stares at the bubbles rising to the top of the watercooler. There's no plastic, she observes, but how can there not be? The water is open to her, free for the taking. She's not sure why but she is sure that it'll make her forget her troubles. It may even make her forget that she's in this horrible place. Ashley scrambes to her feet and pulls the top of the watercooler to her chest. Craig follows, tries to keep the top steady. The top comes off, the contents spilling on her. Her gown is drenched in water.

"Ash!" calls Craig, tumbling to the floor with her.

Ashley tugs at her gown as Craig lies on top of her soaked body.

"Your heart's going a mile a minute," says Craig, rising up. "I could've gotten the water for you."

"What am I doing?" whispers Ashley.

Why is she wet, on the floor, her heart racing at the weirdest of rhythms. This rhythm is new and terrifying. Ashley attempts to catch her breath, failing to do so.

"What am I doing?" chokes out Ashley.

Craig smooths back her bangs, and holds her to him, rocking her from side to side. She's shaking inside as if that needle filled her with marbles instead of simply drawing blood, and starts to tremble on the outside.

"Craig, I can't do this!" cries Ashley. "I can't do this! I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."

Releasing her, Craig pulls the door open.

"She's shaking!" shouts Craig. "We need somebody! Please!"

Hiram and Colby rush to Ashley, managing to lift her in less than a second. There's a sensation of her being carried yet Ashley can not make out their faces, like she couldn't earlier. Ashley tenses against their hands and her chest begins to tremble. Hiram holds her to the bed as Colby hits an intercom.

"Possible DT's in 214!" says Colby over the intercom. "Possible DT's in 214!"

Gently removing straps from under the hospital bed, Hiram links two straps over Ashley's waist as Colby places a stethoscope under Ashley's gown. Ashley closes her eyes to more scuffling feet and hears more concerned voices, including Robert, Chris, and a quickly moving Angelique.

"Accelerated heart rate," notes Colby, removing the stethoscope to rub Ashley's arm. "Clammy skin. Trembling. Extreme irritability and anxiety."

"Increased thirst?" says Angelique.

Ashley opens her eyes to Craig, whose head hovers above hers.

"Yes, and she was spitting up a bit too," says Craig.

"Colby, the Librium," says Angelique.

With Angelique measuring the dosage quickly, Ashley watches the needle change hands and Angelique insert it. Ashley moans and thrashes her head against the pillow.

"You're going to be okay, Ashley," assures Angelique. "We're just trying to prevent a seizure."

Releasing a deep breath, Ashley fumbles for a hand, any hand. Instead, she receives two, Robert and Chris massaging either shoulder. Craig delivers another half-smile, this one much more pained. Ashley spies the overturned water cooler in the distance, turns away in disgust. Seconds later, she cannot view anything, even the imaginings of her own mind. Her eyelids are drooping. A black blur surrounds her. The bland room becomes nothing.

III.

"Okay, so overtime isn't a problem?"

Eagerly awaiting the answer, Toby slides a clipboard to Liberty across a table in the Media Immersion lab. The clipboard holds a memo on student parking restrictions that would be dispensed on the first day of school. His computer was constantly reliable when it came to spellcheck but Liberty's eye for grammar was legendary in the Degrassi halls. Ellie's the single person who could match her and well, she graduated.

He's attempting to move on up too. Calvin and Kym were extremely receptive to the idea of Toby putting in "overtime" to secure enough money for the Manila trip. In fact, they were working out how many hours Toby could clock in right after he asked. He did wonder if it had to do with the fact that Officer Wheaton mentioned that Disney had taken an interest in him last month. Still, if it had the same result, he's thankful they found out.

"Oh, we're going to offer you a bit more than overtime," says Kym. "Are you going to spill or am I?"

"Let me!" says Calvin cheerfully.

"You always get to do the good news," groans Kym.

"Like what?" says Calvin.

Toby side-eyes this conversation. He'd like to hear the news...this century.

"Be quiet and tell Toby what the...," begins Kym.

"Oh, Toby!" says Calvin. "Uh, anyway, you're familiar with our podcasts, correct?"

"I've listened to them since before I was hired, at computer camp as a matter of fact," replies Toby.

"Well, we were so impressed with your presentation...I mean, after the rocky start, that we want you to guest star on the occasional podcast interview!" shares Calvin. "How about that?"

No way, thinks Toby.

"No way," says Toby aloud into his cellphone.

He hears Calvin and Kym laughing on the other end.

"You said you needed the public speaking practice," says Kym. "And there you go!"

"That's...that's like the best thing ever!" exclaims Toby.

Officer Wheaton registers the excitement of his remark, and motions for Toby to give him a clue. Liberty also appears interested, but not interested enough to miss an improperly used comma. She slashes through the punctation with a red pen.

"What would I say?" asks Toby.

"Oh, you can announce the current animations news...what films have been greenlighted, answer questions about the latest technical advancements from live callers, anything that can fit into three minutes," explains Calvin. "It'll be put on our website, of course. Then, there's a small increase in your paycheck for the trouble."

"We need young blood to keep our internship program going...they're invaluable to us," says Kym.

"Plus they work for no pay over the summer," adds Calvin.

"Quiet, Calvin," chides Kym.

"Are you...are you sure they'd listen...to me?" stammers Toby.

"This summer's interns did," says Calvin. "Look, I'll email you the details but I take it this is a yes?"

"A huge yes!" exclaims Toby.

"Awesome!" say Calvin and Kym together.

"How come you always say awesome with me after I deliver the good news?" asks Calvin before Toby hears the dial tone.

They really are the typical married couple, though they have delivered very atypical news. Wow. This is big. There's going to be a few minutes with him on the airwaves. The audience will be mainly computer geeks but hello, that's unbelievably fine with him. He has to track down Manny. She would plotz. Both of them are finally receiving amazing news after so much heartbreak.

"What's up, Isaacs?" asks Liberty.

"I have to find Manny first," says Toby excitedly. "I promise to come right back and tell you."

"I eagerly await your explanation," says Liberty as Toby goes to the lab door. "Oh, and Tobes? Work on your run-on sentences."

Eh, he's too enthused to debate his funky grammar, walking speedily down the hall with Officer Wheaton at his side. This couldn't have happened on a better day. Manny is right in the auditorium auditioning the first round of Drama Club try-outs. Perfect proximity. Toby rounds a corner and runs right smack into J.T. arguing with another person. Lucie, identifies Toby, with outstretched eyes. She's in her regular outfit of a T-shirt and jeans. What is she doing at Degrassi?

"Hi Toby!" cries Lucie, adjusting her Campanelli's cap.

"Tobes, good," says J.T. "Maybe you can solve this."

"I actually have somewhere to be," says Toby.

"Where?" says J.T.

"Somewhere," replies Toby impatiently. "Not that it's bad to run into you guys..."

"Why the rush?" says Lucie. "Is there a breakthrough in the case?"

"No," says Toby.

"Is the trailer for _Avatar 2_ out yet?" guesses J.T.

"No?" says Toby. "And I'm not that amped for the second coming of _Avatar_."

"Why not?" asks J.T., flummoxed.

"Just cause," shrugs Toby. "Excuse me."

"Can you help us before you go?" says Lucie, pouting her lips. "Please."

"Make it quick," sighs Toby.

"I want Lucie here to build me a director's chair," explains J.T. "How much would you pay for that? Like five dollars?"

"What?" cries Toby.

"See? Even Toby thinks that's a rip-off," says J.T.

Unbelievable. They're holding him up for a discussion about a director's chair. He's not opposing the idea, but he's not staying here for something as frivolous as a chair. Heck, he'll buy J.T. the chair with a portion of his increased paycheck.

"You should be flattered I'm asking you, the station's youngest propmistress," offers J.T., playfully poking her shoulder. "Flatter, flatter."

"Flatter? With you, I don't know if we're discussing a chair or my chest," says Lucie, crossing her arms.

"I'm offended," says J.T. "Three dollars. Take it or leave it."

"Toby, your friend has to be..." says Lucie.

"I _have_ to be going!" exclaims Toby, annoyed. "I have to tell my girlfriend about my podcast appearances and that's way more important than a chair!"

J.T. and Lucie's jaws drop simulatenously. Uh-oh. Manny will no longer be the first audience for this bit of information. Toby lets his shoulders sink. Shoot. Lucie hugs his shrinking form anyway, then awkwardly gets out of the hug.

"You're going to be on podcasts?" exclaims Lucie. "Oh my God!"

"Well, I'll be," says Officer Wheaton proudly.

"Today, you are the definition of dope," says J.T., patting Toby's shoulder. "WPRToby, here we come."

"I was going to tell Manny first," confesses Toby.

"We'll act like we never heard," assures J.T. "Won't we, Lucie?"

"Um, yeah, totally," adds Lucie, pounding Toby hard on the back.

"Thanks," says Toby after coughing.

"Manny's mega busy, man," informs J.T. "And half the Drama Club hasn't eaten so they're extra grouchy. I do not miss stage managing all those actors with their crazy opinions. Now, about my chair..."

"Do yourself a favor, J.T.," says Lucie, throwing up her hands. "Crazy opinions? Look in the mirror."

Lucie storms down the hall, J.T. trailing her, his best friend spouting off about measurements. Toby, meanwhile, is focused on another set of numbers. He removes his cell and starts dialing with, thankfully, no interruptions.

IV.

"Spinner!" whispers Emma heatedly.

Alright, she's not entirely baffled as to why Emma's being so attached to Spinner since she slammed him in ping-pong and she understands the whole girlfriend-consolation thing, but she's totally puzzled about the need to call him over in this phone conference that is becoming a loud conversation of epic proportions. Emma twirls a hemp necklace with the hand not holding her cell.

"I meant to, Mom," assures Emma. "Uh-huh...yeah. I kinda...left my phone."

Oh, the late phone call, figures Manny. Manny returns to sorting the pile of "no" applications. A staggering amount of students applied this year and a second round that would be uploaded on Nate's YouTube channel for Manny was necessary. Some of the current Drama Club members were shaking in their boots since they might be getting less shine with the new recruits, yet, and most surprisingly to Manny, a lot of the girls were less talented than the boys. She remembers auditioning with a lot of great girls, including Darcy and Chante, and that just wasn't the case this year. Then the fact that auditions ran long made the Drama Club members even more antsy because Ms. Edwards was unable to treat them that day. After awhile, Manny got sick of their complaints seeing as the rejected auditionees would have more reason to complain.

"When I went to Spinner's," confesses Emma, Manny catching the last bit of her admission.

"What?" cries a very audible Spike on the other end.

"I was only twenty minutes late," sighs Emma. "No...it wasn't thirty. Yes, I know we're keeping to a schedule...yeah, I'm very vigilant about my medication."

"Is Spinner distracting you?" says an even more irate Snake.

Spinner is obliviously walking to them and tossing a cracker into his mouth. "Heh, Cheese Wizzles."

Manny can now hear the entire dialogue loud and clear, especially the loud part. Emma's leniency was a crime to them and she had to do major apology time. Or something like that.

"Noooo," says Emma wearily.

"The answer should be no," says Spike.

"Most definitely," says Snake.

Emma goes quiet for a bit.

"Hello?" says Spike.

"Oh, sorry," says Emma. "I was just shocked you guys agreed on something."

Smiling, Spinner walks to Emma, Manny waving her arms for him to keep away. They are in the multi-purpose room and there is plenty of room for him to move around in, without getting caught in the fray.

"Is Spinner there?" says Snake with conviction. "Put him on."

"Dude," says Spinner, clueless.

Placing her hand over the mouthpiece, Emma winces and gives him a pleading look.

"It was twenty min...," whispers Spinner.

"They don't care that it's...," interjects Emma.

"Ugh, fine," whispers Spinner, receiving the phone, and then cheerfully, "Hi Mr. Simpson."

Emma pretends to faint on Manny's shoulder. Her parents are quieter at least.

"Yeah, I have a watch," says Spinner, glancing at it as if to make sure. "You can wear it underwater and every...I know it's important for a young woman to always have her cellphone...dude, I don't even really understand what Neighborhood Watch does! Except watch neighborhoods...heh. That's sort of creepy, right? It's like a bunch of stalkers. Dude...I _am_ being serious! Yeah, we have a Neighborhood Watch, sir."

"Manny, please talk to...," starts Emma.

"Oh, no," says Manny, making a circle in the air around her. "I'm putting up my force field for strict parents."

"You don't get that I'm being overprotected?" says Emma.

"Hello, have you met Joseph and Maria Santos?" says Manny. "Not to mention this guy."

Officer Patton gives Emma a slight wave. "Afternoon."

"Well-played, Santos," says Emma, turning around and leading Spinner to a corner.

"I should think so," returns Manny with her own about-face.

The bulk of the applications are done. It's laboriously hard to say "no" and she'd deliver the outcomes sweetly, but she can't say no to her bladder. She walks to the washroom door, finally being afforded five minutes of free time. Stalling in front of the bathroom, Manny remembers her ever-present hall buddy.

"You can't go in there," says Manny as politely as possible.

"Yes, ma'am," says Officer Patton with a nod.

The washroom is nearly empty except for a cheerful Liza applying glittery pink gloss in the mirror. The top of her hot pink underwear is visible, a small denim skirt clutching her thin thighs. She's rolled up a white T-shirt to just above her bellybutton. In short, Peter's worst nightmare. Although, what's coming out of her mouth is far from nightmare-ish. She sings in a soulful, throaty voice:

_Being good isn't always easy_  
_No matter how hard I tried_  
_When he started sweet talkin' to me_  
_He'd come and tell me everything is alright_  
_He'd kiss and tell me everything's alright_  
_Can I get away again tonight_

_The only one who could ever reach me_  
_Was the son of a preacher man_  
_The only boy who could ever teach me_  
_Was the son of a preacher man_  
_Yes, he was he was , lord knows he was_

Heh, she can sing, compliments Manny inwardly. Very well. Why isn't she auditioning for Drama Club? But if her interactions with Peter are any indication, Liza's not big on being told what to do. Manny enters the stall without bothering her though Liza stops singing while Manny uses the bathroom. Manny leaves the stall and goes to wash her hands, next to Liza. Liza caps her lip gloss, turning to Manny.

"My cousin Peter says you're a tramp," says Liza.

Manny's mouth falls open into a large O.

"I totally respect you,' adds Liza. "Keeping it one hundred, every boy in this school thinks you're the hotness and you're not legal yet. Hey, let's go clubbing! Toronto needs some sexy and we're just the single ladies _to do iiiiiiiit_."

"I've toned down over the years," says Manny. "Like a lot. Besides, I have a steady boyfriend."

"That's right...you're dating the school president," recalls Liza. "Does he get you any sweet hook-ups?"

"No, but the way we hooked up was sweet," says Manny.

"You guys can be like Will and Jada, and have some smart, artistic kids," breathes Liza. "With smaller ears."

She may not like her relations that much, but Liza is very amusing all on her own. The girl must get Peter into loads of trouble during the summer.

"Ever think of being an artist yourself?" says Manny. "I can pull some strings for an audition to join Drama Club."

"A club?" says Liza. "No thanks. I'm even trying to get kicked out of lacrosse. Clubs are for suck-ups."

"Too bad," says Manny with an exaggerated sigh. "There's tons of hot guys this year."

This is also an exaggeration, although Liza doesn't need to know that. Liza stares thoughtfully into the mirror. Is she considering the opportunity? Please let it be so.

"This thing is flossin' my buttcrack," says Liza, glancing down at her thong.

Fail on the Drama Club front. Oh, well. She has to head back to the auditorioum anyway.

"I'm pretty sure Hatzilakos is going to say something," says Manny. "Even if you are related."

"This thong's not staying on long anyways," says Liza with a grin.

On that note, Manny decides to return to the multi-purpose room with Officer Patton. She very much hopes the Club is done moaning about their hunger pains. Manny enters to a slew of "thank-you"s instead. Everyone is chowing down. She spies four opened pizza boxes, Heather Sinclair greedily scooping up the last pepperoni slice while Chante retrieves a napkin.

"Nobody could've splurged for a sausage only pizza?" asks Heather, casting an annoyed glance in Manny's direction.

"Finish stuffing your face, Heather," says Nate as he goes to Manny. "This was cool of you, Manny. You didn't dip into our budget, did you?"

"No," answers Manny, shrugging. "Who ordered..."

Scanning the auditorium, Manny observes a lot of chewing, wiping, and a stationary Toby by the vending machines. She may not have convinced Liza but she's convinced that Toby is the type of a person who would do her a favor. Manny walks to the machines with the Club members chattering in the background.

"There's margherita pizza too if you hurry up," shares Toby.

"Margherita? Why did you...," begins Manny.

"Why I ordered margherita?" interjects Toby. "Checked your Twitter on my cell this morning. Oh, and J.T. said you guys were starving."

"This is _why_ you're my boyfriend," praises Manny. "That and you're not afraid to use schmaltzy emoticons."

"What else are you going to use colons for?" says Toby, grinning.

Manny goes in for a kiss, until someone grabs for her elbow. She gazes at Heather's grip on her arm.

"We've got work to do, Santos," says Heather. "Run that yap on your own time, after afternoon auditions. If I have to hear another off-key version of a Kelly Clarkson song, I will deck someone in their mug."

"I wanted some one on one time with her," protests Toby.

"Is something wrong?" asks Manny, concerned. "We could meet..."

"Coulda, shoulda, woulda," waves off Heather. "Come on."

As soon as they're out of earshot, with Officer Patton at her side, Manny shakes her head at Heather.

"Maybe if somebody got sausage, things would've been different," says Heather with a toss of her hair.

V.

The final bell rings, and three o'clock has never come this speedily. Toby groans. With his luck, Manny would still be wrapped up in auditions and unable to spare him a few minutes. On top of that, his father was going to Harmony Hill Hospital and Jeff agreed that Toby's curfew should be bumped to six in the evening while he was gone. He's extremely glad that Ashley's on her way to sobriety but he's not glad that it's the end of August and his curfew is still in effect. Just goes to show you can't have everything. Liberty collects copies of the parking space restrictions as Toby shuts down the school computer.

"If Peter truly wants to be part of the Student Council, he'd say yes to putting these on student car windshields at the end of the first day of school if I asked him," says Liberty. "Betcha he won't."

"Betcha he says...no," agrees Toby.

They smile, Liberty beginning to head out of the room. J.T. blocks her exit.

"Hello, sexy temporary treasurer," greets J.T., brushing Liberty's ponytail from her neck.

"Did you do anything productive today?" says Liberty as she blushes.

"Yeahhhhhh...ah, no," admits J.T. "No, I did not."

"Get on the ball," admonishes Liberty playfully.

"Or what?" returns J.T.

Liberty gently taps the stack of parking hand-outs against J.T.'s rear, and they somehow end up kissing. Toby twists his lips. Why they can't do this hall, he doesn't know.

"I don't need to see this," says Toby over the sound of kissing.

"Look who's talking, tonsil-hockey-with-Santos-all-over-Tinseltown Toby," says J.T. afterwards. "Anyway, I _need_ you to help me move some boxes to the school supply closet. Hatzilakos _would_ catch me at the end of the day."

"Productivity," says Liberty, patting J.T.'s cheek. "I approve."

"Fine," says Toby begrudgingly.

He calls over to Officer Wheaton what they're doing, and they join J.T. in the hall. Heh, two boxes. Not a problem. They're light too. J.T. couldn't carry this on top of the other box? Maybe J.T. has to talk to him.

"I wonder what Grandma's cooking for dinner," muses J.T.

Or maybe not. Toby's about to set the box on the floor, but they've already reached the supply closet. The closet was barely used except by the faculty, school president, and the janitors. A lot of confiscated items found their way here and only the janitors had access to them because they were locked in yet another standing closet. For whatever reason, the faculty didn't trust the school president with forbidden possessions like furry handcuffs, adult magazines, and whoopie cushions. If Sully or Spinner was president, they would be trying to break into that closet, thinks Toby with a grin.

"Okay, you have the key, so you can just slide these in with your foot and unload them," whispers J.T., glancing at Officer Wheaton by the lockers.

"By myself?" complains Toby.

"You won't be by yourself," whispers J.T. "I'm not really being productive. Don't tell Liberty."

There are some days he doesn't get J.T. at all. This is definitely one of those days...until J.T. whispers a name. Then, Toby's totally on board.

"Yeah, I'll handle it," says Toby. "I'll be out in five."

"Fine," says Officer Wheaton, saluting him. "Take care of business, Mr. President."

"Beware of the deadly dust bunnies!" calls J.T. as Toby slides the boxes and opens the door.

The door closes behind him. Instantly, the lights are turned on.

"Come here often?" says Manny.

Past Manny, Toby takes in the long black shelves holding various school supplies, neatly arranged by janitors and past school presidents. In the middle of the closet sits a small, grey rectangular file cabinet. The cabinet houses inventory sheets, miscellaneous files, and old hard copies of student directories. It isn't the most beautiful room in school yet, in his opinion and he guesses many others, the sole person in here is the most beautiful girl in school.

"I just came to get some Elmer's," replies Toby.

Manny beams and they exchange a couple quick kisses.

"Where is Officer Patton?" says Toby, perhaps too loudly.

"Shhh," says Manny, putting a finger to his lips. "I told him Officer Wheaton would watch us while he called his daughters. Got the idea from Emma calling her parents. He saw Wheaton in the distance and left. J.T. and I came up with an excuse so we could be alone."

"Smooth," whispers Toby.

"You know it," says Manny. "Finally some one on one time, with no officers and no interruptions. So why'd you want to talk to me?"

"I'm kinda going to be on some of Kytel's podcast interviews," says Toby.

Manny starts to scream, but catches herself and puts her hands over her mouth. In any case, he can see the pride in her eyes and that's enough for him.

"When is this happening?" whispers Manny excitedly.

"Calvin's emailing me the details," says Toby. "I'll share them with you as soon as he does."

"You're going to be a freakin' huge radio draw like Howard Stern," says Manny, then hugging him and kissing him once on the neck. "Aww, my hot shock jock."

"That's not what they have in mind," laughs Toby, staying against her anyway.

He appreciates her humor because the more he talks about it, the more he's starting to worry. How is he going to sound articulate or choose subjects or hold their attention for a specific amount of time? He hasn't visited any radio stations and he certainly isn't as outgoing as he'd like to be.

"I just hope I have interesting things to say," says Toby when Manny lets him go.

"You'll be talking about something you love, Toby," says Manny. "You shine when that's the case. Plus you have the deepest, warmest voice ever. It's like hot chocolate...for the soul."

"That's sweet," demurs Toby.

"I'll make T-shirts with the tagline," says Manny. "Here, practice your podcast voice on me."

Manny finds two plastic chairs, situating them on either side of the file cabinet. She places an old-school eraser on the left, near her, and then a pen stand on the right. It takes Toby awhile to figure out that yes, it's a makeshift radio station and telephone. Very creative. The eraser is a telephone and the pen stand is presumably his microphone. Manny dutifully dials as they both take a seat. She holds the eraser near her ear.

"Hello?" says Manny brightly.

"Hello," plays along Toby, grinning as he speaks into the pen stand. "You're on the air."

"Oh wow, I can't believe I got through," says Manny with enthusiasm. "Anyhow, I had to call in and ask what would be a good _date movie _if my boyfriend was really into animation?"

Toby pretends to think for a moment. He clears his throat.

"I'm going to recommend _Fantastic Mr. Fox_," replies Toby. "There's enough action for your boyfriend. The script is first-class and the animation is top-notch. I can't think of anything that's bad about the film."

"Excellent!" says Manny. "You just saved me a trip to RottenTomatoes. And one more question?"

"Go ahead," says Toby.

"What are you wearing?" asks Manny with a wink.

Toby turns the color of the handle of a leaning mop next to him, which is red as a fire engine.

"They can't see you wink on the radio," notes Toby.

"Their loss," says Manny. "My winks are the ish."

"Thanks for phoning in," says Toby. "Your faithfulness in listening to me is always appreciated, caller."

Manny hangs up her eraser while Toby returns the pen stand. He guides her into a hug which Manny eagerly returns. Leave it to Manny to make him feel better in less than five minutes. He's so at ease that he barely observes the doorknob turning.

"Officer Wheaton, have I told you that your shoe polish works wonders," says J.T.

The doorknob stops turning, leaving Manny and Toby plenty of time to kiss once more and unload the boxes. Toby pauses as he lifts an item from the box he's unloading. The hot pink hair is so bright it causes him to blink immediately.

"What is this Troll doll doing in here?" says Toby. "And he's naked."

Manny laughs. "And you think you don't have anything entertaining to say."

VI.

Kate Kerwin rubs her nose voraciously with a tissue. Her ex-husband soothes her while her ex-husband's husband politely adds that "there was nothing she could do." Craig steers himself away from them. He's unable to watch another Kerwin woman cry in less than an hour. The proof that hours have gone by is displayed through the sunlight lining the corridor. All of them have stayed awake since the intervention and a drugged Ashley is the first to finally give in to sleep. But those drugs were necessary, Craig came to find out.

Angelique has joined the Kerwins. Craig walks to where he can hear it for himself.

"Without food in Ashley's system, she became vulnerable to what we call delirium tremens, or DTs," says Angelique. "That's commonplace for someone who's been drinking daily, even if it's just beer or wine. It usually does, as it did, affect an addict within seventy-two hours of the last drink. That's why I instructed Hiram and Colby to stay close by."

"We should've fed her," sobs Kate.

"Don't feel guilty," says Angelique. "Lots of alcoholics are more concerned with getting their fix than feeding themselves. And you had an awful lot on your plate with the intervention, and should be proud that you get her here. We were anticipating a seizure, but thankfully that wasn't the case, quite possibly because you got her here before morning."

"Does this prolong treatment?" asks Robert as Kate sobs further.

"These are severe symptoms," replies Angelique.

"Oh no," breathes Chris.

"But the length of detoxification depends on how her body responds to the medication," says Angelique. "I'd like to keep her here for a week. Let's see how she does with some food in her body, medication, and much-needed rest. She'd only be a week later on her recovery schedule should everything go according to plan and there's a large chance that it will."

"Thank you," says Robert.

"She's groggy, but you can go in and talk to her once she's responsive," says Angelique.

Angelique gingerly touches each of their arms and goes down the hall.

"I have to wait for Jeff," says Kate, sniffling.

"And we have to make some calls to London," sighs Robert, exchanging a nod with Chris. "It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"I'll go," says Craig.

Craig enters the room, lays his eyes on Ashley staring up at the ceiling. Her lids are partly closed. Craig drags a chair to a spot beside her bed.

"Good morning, starshine," says Craig, softly stroking her brow.

"Too early in the morning for lyrics," whispers Ashley spacily.

Craig releases a short chuckle. He slowly takes in the IV full of medication, the still present straps, and her distant gaze. He's relieved when she shifts her face to him.

"I thought that water was...was...," says Ashley, her voice dropping. "I can't tell you."

"Don't have to," says Craig, raising her hand and kissing it.

"My mind went flying," continues Ashley. "My body did, too. Are my parents freaked?"

"Kind of," answers Craig. "You know how parents are."

Viewing Ashley's lips tremble, he's tempted to bring in the medical staff again, until he realizes that it's solely the lips that are shaking and nothing else. Nevertheless, the small movement breaks his heart.

"Why me?" chokes out Ashley. "Why do I have the person to make you guys' lives worse?"

"Ashley, that's not what you're doing," insists Craig.

"You could be doing anything else," moans Ashley. "Instead of waiting for some girl who idiotically tried to figure out who she was all summer."

"You want to know who Ashley Kerwin is?" says Craig.

Ashley shakes her head, bats away tears with her IV-attached arm.

"You are an amazing, sensitive, powerful woman," says Craig, squeezing the top of her arm. "If you weren't, you wouldn't be here. You would've just laid down for the count."

"I am lying down," says Ashley, attempting a smile.

"Not on the floor," says Craig.

"Yeah, that was earlier," says Ashley with a laugh from her dry throat. "Sorry about the water."

"We went for a swim," waves off Craig. "Not like we had to clean out our ears."

"Pirates," kids Ashley.

"Not the music stealers, but the cool kind who swim for shore," agrees Craig.

"Thanks for making me see the light in this," sighs Ashley. "You have good bedside manners."

"If anybody should know, it's you," teases Craig, readjusting her pillow for her.

Her eyelids closing, Ashley gives him a sorrowful look seconds before it happens. Craig's happy with this. This is a sweet way to spend their five minutes if it means she's not in danger anymore. Craig's cellphone vibrates. Probably Joey, guesses Craig. He did say he would contact him in the morning.

"Speaking of bedsides, we could possibly pretty yours up a little," reasons Craig aloud. "What kind of roses do you like? I remember red, but what about white or yellow or..."

"Wheeler," says Ashley, smacking her lips twice.

"Wheeler?" says Craig.

Ashley shivers, frowns deeply. She really is spaced out.

"Roses...Starfly's...Wheeler," whispers Ashley, eventually giving into sleep.

Starfly's? What did roses have to do with the bar where she worked, and who is Wheeler? There's Ilene, Ozzie, and he assumes a decent amount of singing waitresses Ashley's come in contact with. There weren't any male waiters. Is he her boss or an employee or a customer? There has to be some meaning between the three words. Wait. She could say any other guy's name on the planet, including Ozzie's, and she didn't. There has to be something that sets Wheeler apart... Craig shoots up from the chair and exits the room, careful to close the door softly.

"Is she sleeping?" asks Chris.

Robert and Chris have obviously finished their phone calls.

"Yes," says Craig. "Ummm, do you guys have clothes for the week?"

"Jeff is bringing us what we need," replies Robert. "How about you?"

"Yeah, I have somewhere to go," says Craig. "Can I borrow Kate's car? I'll be back ASAP."

"No trouble," says Robert, presenting the keys. "We'll have Jeff's car if we have to go anywhere. Thanks for all you've done, Craig."

"For all of it," agrees Chris.

"No thanks necessary," says Craig. "Call me if you have to."

Jogging from the hospital, Craig quickly drives out of the parking lot and into traffic. He's not used to the car but he makes do because he has somewhere to be. Joey's number flashes repeatedly on his phone. Craig drives faster and faster. As he passes woods, towns, and other cars, a name flashes in his mind. Clear, black, unforgettable. The numbers and letters of street signs appear for brief moments and vanish from his brain completely. It's not until he comes across a well-known sign that he stops the car. The morning has moved on. The day has died. The darkness of night has settled in like a travelling friend crashing in a bed. Craig sends Starfly's entrance door to the wall, resulting in the crashing of cups that Ilene holds on a tray.

"Craig!" cries Ilene. "You scared me!"

"Where's Wheeler?" demands Craig.

"Ozzie's friend?" says Ilene, bending to retrieve the tray.

Ozzie's friend? So there is a chance that he was in close proximity to Ashley. The bar is nearly empty since it's only around eight on a weekday.

"Probably with Ozzie at the dumpsters," informs Ilene. "Why?"

"Cause I'm going to kill him," says Craig, side-stepping her.

"Are you insane?" shouts Ilene after him.

Walking to the back door of the bar, Craig goes outside. Sure enough, Ozzie is there with a handful of University of Toronto athletes in jerseys. They seem to be celebrating after an intramural or pick-up game. He's forgetting to care. Another guy is leaning against a keg, crushing a can. His horse-like laughter fills the night air.

"Wheeler, do you have another keg in your car?" calls over Ozzie, drunkenly walking to the laughing man.

"For ten dollars a pop," replies Wheeler.

That's him. He's out having fun while Ashley suffers, while her family suffers, and while their relationship suffers. Craig moves past s university student, stalling to rip a hockey stick from one of their hands. Ozzie stumbles towards him.

"Craig?" says Ozzie.

Craig gets right in front of Wheeler, the guy's breath a mixture of fresh beer and chips. This is the guy, thinks Craig heatedly. He looks like a rat, and what looks like a rat probably is a rat. Except this rat got off on assaulting a girl.

"Did you touch my girlfriend?" exclaims Craig.

"Did she want me to?" says Wheeler, staring him up and down, clearly not regarding him as a threat.

How's this for a threat? Craig storms past him, aims the hockey stick, and slams it against the glass of Wheeler's windshield. Shards of glass splatter and a couple pieces scar Craig's skin. Wheeler jumps. Ozzie's jaw falls open, as do the rest of the jaws of the students.

"Are you psycho?" yells Wheeler, pushing Craig to his car's bumper.

"Ashley," says Craig, glaring at him. "Ashley Kerwin?"

"What's going on?" shouts Ozzie. "Ashley? What's he talking about, Wheeler?"

Wheeler's eyes shift for a second, then stonily stare at Craig.

"I'm going to call the police, you freak!" shouts Wheeler.

"Yeah, call them!" says Craig with a smirk. "Come on. Do it!"

The stoniness evaporates. Wheeler knows what calling the police will do, for both of them. He glances at Ozzie suddenly and then scrambles for the front door of his car.

"I'll call them for you!" shouts Craig, Ozzie halting Craig by holding his arms behind him.

"Forget you!" says Wheeler.

He manages to climb into the front seat, firing up the car.

"Why are you running?" yells Craig as the car starts. "I'll bash more than your window next time..."

"You ain't doing nothing!" shouts Wheeler through the window, his car screeching in the lot. "Your girlfriend's lying!"

"I'll bash you!" yells Craig.

Craig maneuvers out of Ozzie's grip and trails the car. He tosses the hockey stick, sending it flying after the car. It falls short and clatters in the street. Ozzie stares at him, dumbfounded. Craig walks to Ozzie, inches away from his face.

"Tell your rapist friend to get a lawyer," says Craig, wiping his bleeding hand against his chin.

He shoves both hands into his pockets, and strolls past the other guys into the cool darkness of the bar.


	107. Watch Me Do My Thing

**CVII. Watch Me Do My Thing**

_Fly like an eagle through the sky_  
_Makin more money than you can and I don't try_  
_I'm on that level_  
_That money makin rebel_  
_Checkin for my pay no way_  
_Can I settle for less than the best_  
_When you make that purchase_  
_And all my material needs will surface_  
_Thats the only way I swang_  
_Watch the way I do my thang_

_I can do anything_  
_I wanna do in my life_  
_You, you know you like the way_  
_I kick my game_  
_I'm not ashamed to do my thing_  
_Right now I feel so good inside_  
_Doin what I want_  
_Right now I feel so good inside_  
_Doin what I want_

_Watch me do my thing_  
_I like to do my thing_  
_Watch me do my thing_  
_Everybody sing_

_Lady I'd do almost anything for you_  
_Anything your heart desires_  
_It's easy to fulfill your needs_  
_Because you believe in me_  
_Right now I feel so good inside_  
_Doin what I want_  
_Right now I feel so good inside_  
_Doin what I want_

_Yo Batman and Romeo give me the mic so i can flow  
LDB make it funky from here to Mexico  
I can do it fast or slow it really doesn't matter though  
'cause I'm a pro what you say you wanna take me toe to toe  
Uh no dude I don't think so  
My crew is strapped my style is phat  
And Immature's got my back on this funky track  
You want fries with that  
Coo Coo Cachoo what you gonna do_

_Watch me do my thing_  
_I like to do my thing_  
_Watch me do my thing_  
_Everybody sing_

**Watch Me Do My Thing is the property of Immature.**

**Breathe is the property of Two of Cups.**

**Black Horse and a Cherry Tree is the property of KT Tunstall.**

Registration, a flashlight, road maps of Alberta and Quebec, beef jerkey. With precision, they're put in their original positions until the small door is opened again and they tumble to the very edge of the door. Craig sets them on the seat for a fourth go, meticulously arranging them according to height. He arranged the items by weight about ten minutes ago, when he wasn't pondering the mystery of why Kate Kerwin has tons of beef jerkey in there.

There's a rap on the window. Craig can determine who's behind the dirty car window without looking up. He rolls down the window, cold night air skipping across his skin.

"What are you doing?" cries Joey.

"Cleaning the glove compartment," replies Craig coolly.

Joey draws his jacket around him, walking to the passenger side, watching Craig the entire trip. He gets in and touches Craig's vibrating phone. Craig finishes putting in the items and slams the glove compartment shut.

"That's either Ang or Diane," says Joey. "You sure didn't give me much to go on."

"Thanks for coming," says Craig.

Releasing a deep breath, Joey glances at the building behind the car.

"Is this it? The bar?" questions Joey.

"Where Ashley worked," says Craig, shaking his head. "I swear if he hadn't taken off..."

"Who?" says Joey when Craig's voice drops.

When Craig went into the bar, the questions from Amos and Ilene started. Why was he searching for Wheeler? Why was he upset? Why did they hear shouting? Craig wouldn't answer any of them and he's reluctant to answer Joey. If he begins talking, he'll begin to get angry and he'll begin to want to do something about it. He has to stay calm. Craig strokes the spokes of Kate's steering wheel.

"You got in a fight," says Joey, softly touching Craig's injured hand.

There are still grain-sized pieces of glass sticking to his jacket and red cuts on his palm and wrist. He hasn't cleaned up. He hasn't done anything yet.

"Joey, I need you to get a lawyer," says Craig, meeting his gaze.

"For what?" cries Joey. "What were you doing?"

"This guy...this monster almost raped Ashley," replies Craig.

His teeth tense. What a coward, to run. He's probably been doing that his whole life. He runs into trouble and then runs to flee from trouble. Meanwhile, the other person has to deal with the consequences.

"Wow," breathes Joey. "I...I hate hearing that."

"That's why I smashed his car window in," says Craig, gripping the wheel.

"Craig!" exclaims Joey. "Please tell me you did _not..._"

"Yep, and he got better than he deserved," interrupts Craig.

"You can't do stuff like that!" says Joey. "Have you been taking..."

"Yeah!" defends Craig. "I'm taking my meds. I was just ticked! Pissed! And don't tell me you wouldn't do the same if somebody touched Diane or Caitlin or any woman."

Joey continually rubs the knees of his pants, releasing another deep breath.

"How'd you find out who he was?" says Joey.

"Ashley," replies Craig.

"I don't like asking this, but...was she sober when she told you?" says Joey.

Craig studies his face in the rear view mirror, avoiding the answer. The thought didn't cross his mind.

"Well?" cries Joey.

"She was on something...some drugs in the hospital," sighs Craig.

"So you have no evidence?" says Joey.

"Ashley's voice is the only evidence I need!" cries Craig, banging the wheel once. "Look, Joey. You weren't there. And the guy ran! He's guilty and he's going to jail if I have anything to say about it."

"You can't say much without evidence, that's all I'm saying," says Joey. "But that doesn't make it okay to start bashing other people's property. You're going to be eighteen soon. That means staying out of trouble no matter what your feelings are telling you so you won't be charged as an adult."

"That guy is partly responsible for Ashley wanting drink after after drink...," starts Craig.

"And you're going to act irresponsible and cause her to worry about another thing," interjects Joey. "I want justice for her as much as the next person, but you doing something irrational helps nobody."

While destroying the window, putting a hole through the thick glass gave him a thrill, Joey being in the car with him pushes him to recall times when he was on the other side of altercations. He couldn't, wouldn't stand anybody touching a woman but punishing Wheeler only offered him short-term relief. He's been in fights, full of mixed anger and fear, and it gives his battered heart no comfort tonight. Tears totter at the edges of his eyes.

"I can't deny that I get that angry sometimes," says Joey. "You have to be better than that, though."

"Better than my father kicking in doors?" sighs Craig, wiping his cheeks. "Better than punching a kid in the face?"

"You are not your father," insists Joey.

"I was ready to throttle that guy," chokes out Craig.

"But you didn't, and you won't," says Joey. "There's not a trace of that in you. Not that I've seen."

"You don't see me all the time," sighs Craig, sniffling.

"I don't have to," says Joey.

"Joey, I just feel so helpless," breathes Craig. "But I can't tell her that. I mean, she must've felt more helpless, you know?"

He rests his forehead against the wheel, the rubber warm and solid. Perhaps he was out of himself when he raged into Starfly's and towards Wheeler. Ashley does have to properly identify him. She would need to testify against him. There are all of these building blocks that will not rise to stand if he takes the law into his own hands, however angry he may be.

"Let me help," encourages Joey. "I mean, you haven't let me in since you came home and we should talk about that."

"What?" interrupts Craig. "That's not true!"

"Whenever something happens, it turns out that I'm the last to hear," says Joey. "Meanwhile, you use my car, my house, my..."

"Can we not have this conversation right now?" sighs Craig.

"You're never home long enough to have it," says Joey. "For instance, why did you tell me to bring you a week's worth of clothes?"

"Ashley will be in the hospital this week," says Craig, throwing up his hands. "There."

"See? I had no idea she was at a hospital," remarks Joey.

"Harmony Hospital," supplies Craig. "It's five minutes from her rehab."

"Another problem," says Joey. "School?"

"School?" says Craig.

"Ellie called to see if you needed a couple extra boxes for packing," says Joey. "You're due at the dorm in a week. Have you told Ashley that?"

"That doesn't matter!" cries Craig.

"Yes, it does matter, and I shouldn't have to remind you!" says Joey.

"I'm not some kid you can tell what to do, alright?" exclaims Craig.

Joey is about to speak, but Craig doesn't grant him the opportunity. He unlocks the door, reaches over to push it open, and looks away from Joey.

"That's exactly what you're acting like _and_ what you are," says Joey. "A kid."

Exiting the car, Joey roughly closes the door, strolling to his car. Craig peers at him through the rear view mirror. His figure becomes smaller in the dark, including the back of his light grey jacket, almost like a raindrop against the tar of a far off road. Craig forces the unpleasant sensation building in his throat to slide down as Joey's car crawls away quickly into a congested street.

II.

He stands out, thanks to his three day-old wardrobe. Craig isn't a stickler for laundry but he really could've used that suitcase and a shower. Robert offered him a clean shirt but Craig wouldn't accept because he was certain that Robert would be curious as to why Craig returned to the hospital empty-handed. Well, not completely empty-handed. He did a purchase a couple things for Ashley and he's summoning up the courage to go to her.

Jeff arrived, understandably the most easy-going of the adults since he hadn't witnessed Ashley's withdrawal pains. For Craig, it was sort of soothing to watch him let Kate lean on him and eventually fall asleep. Craig saw an apologetic Kate at the intervention, a rattled Kate as they drove to the graveyard, and an emotional Kate at the hospital. Then, all of her parents made the effort to refrain from sleep. Now she was at rest against Jeff's shoulder. He figures that's how husbands should be to their wives, and vice versa. Something or somebody has to be the still object in a hurricane. Ashley was tossed to and fro this summer so that left him as the composed significant other. Although, he wasn't so composed, was he? Should he tell Ashley what happened hours ago? Is she stable enough to take it? The door to her room parts.

"She's awake," says Chris.

"And not too keen on the scenery," says Robert, somewhat jovially. "Did you bring her a present, Craig?"

"Yeah," says Craig, awkwardly holding it.

"Angelique said her vitals were good so I don't see any harm in you going in," says Robert.

"Thanks," says Craig.

He enters, making sure the door closes softly. Ashley sighs, readjusting her body on the bed.

"Don't get up for me," says Craig.

"I can't," realizes Ashley. "I'm so sick of this IV. They told me to think of it as liquid soup instead of a tube that's constantly under my skin."

"Did you ask if they had gazpacho flavor?" says Craig.

Ashley beams. "Tomorrow."

"How are you doing?" asks Craig.

"Good, based on what I can gather," replies Ashley. "I've been in and out. I got some delicious vitamin B supplements twenty minutes ago, though."

"Yummy," says Craig.

He goes to a small table full of tissue paper and cottonballs to subtly pull the cuff of his jacket past his wrist. Making sure that he covers the marks on his hand, he brushes off the bits of glass and hides one more obvious cut under the green wrapping paper of the gift bag. If she's "in and out of it", this is definitely not the right moment for her to hear about Wheeler. He'd just find the lawyer on his own once she left detox.

"What are you doing?" says Ashley.

Craig snatches up the present.

"Failing to be crafty," answers Craig, placing the gift on her bed. "I swallowed the receipt so you're stuck with him."

"Him?" says Ashley with a curious raise of her eyebrows.

Reaching inside, Ashley pulls out Craig's purchase and chuckles, chuckles so much that she coughs and then rubs her chest. He knew she'd get a kick out of the trinket. He wasn't in the best of moods either, especially after his conversation with Joey, but the item cheered him up and he thought if would do the same for her.

Ashley angles the small pink rabbit, who wears sunglasses, a pair of chains you'd find on a rapper, and a colorful green cap. His prominent buck teeth cover a miniscule speaker. Ashley squeezes the rabbit, which would entertain them according to the instructions attached to the microphone in his grip. Much to Ashley's surprise, the rabbit bops from left to right. The microphone swings to the rabbit's mouth, releasing his rap: "_Hippity-Hop Hare-y got ice for days and mad carrots. Got the other kind of karats too? Yeah, but I won't share it. Jump to the rhythm, get crunk with this tune. But most of all, get well soon. _Word_."_

_"_Oh my God!" laughs Ashley.

"I don't know which is the worse, the rap or the dancing," says Craig. "I thought about getting you balloons or a fruit basket but I wasn't sure if they'd be allowed..."

"No, I love this," interjects Ashley. "Especially since they took my music and everything that's fun away. He can be my own little performer."

"I hope they won't confiscate this too," worries Craig.

"They shouldn't," says Ashley. "Eh, let's hide him."

"Good idea," says Craig. "Oh!"

He walks over to the table to get the small jar of cottonballs, setting it in front of Hare-y on the windowsill. You could barely see him.

"Your dad said you hated the view," mentions Craig.

"Tree trunks, a brick wall, and two older male nurses doing tai chi," says Ashley. "What's not to love?"

"This is the perfect spot then," says Craig.

Craig locates a chair, dragging it to Ashley's bed. The glare of the glass jar under the heavy flourescent lights shines briefly on his hand, the cuffs having risen higher than before without him noticing. He does notice the worry line crossing her forehead.

"Craig, your hand!" cries Ashley. "What happened?"

Attempting to hide what's been seen, Craig can't as Ashley draws his hand out for a closer look.

"Did you fall?" says Ashley.

"No," says Craig.

"Did you hit it against...," begins Ashley.

"Ash, it's no problem," says Craig.

"There should be a first aid kit in the cabinet down there," says Ashley, gesturing to the white cabinet under the table.

"I don't...," starts Craig.

"Bring it over," interrupts Ashley. "Craig, please. For me?"

Sighing, he retrieves the first aid kit. Stupid cuff. He should've kept checking whether the marks were showing or not. Ashley removes a bandage and a bit of gauze. She wipes the area and starts to bandage his hand.

"You're the one in the hospital," points out Craig.

"And if you don't let this heal properly, you'll be in a hospital next," says Ashley. "Where'd you go?"

Craig bit his lip. What he wouldn't give to be able to give her a different answer.

"If I can tell the truth in here, so can you," says Ashley, completing her task and turning his palm over.

She's got him there. Besides trying to cover up her symptoms, Ashley has been very upfront with everyone regarding her bad habits. He should be honest too, if she's ready for it.

"I...went to the gift shop," begins Craig because it's the easiest part to say.

"Okay?" says Ashley.

"There...there was a reason I didn't buy you flowers," sighs Craig. "Cause...cause you said roses, and then you said Wheeler's name when you were sleeping. I went to Starfly's. We got in a fight."

Ashley grips his hand hard, and while it's painful, he wouldn't dare make a sound.

"I...I wasn't thinking straight, Ash," says Craig.

"And neither was I," breathes Ashley, releasing him.

"So...so it wasn't him?" cries Craig.

"Yeah, yeah it was," says Ashley faintly. "Craig...Craig, you shouldn't have done anything. I have to be the person to press charges if..."

Silence eats away her remaining words. This is too powerful a subject to discuss when she's medicated. Here's the stress he's causing her, the stress Joey warned him about. He regrets his actions at Starfly's more than he previously did, and the act of telling her more than that.

"Joey said the same thing," confesses Craig.

"When were you with Joey?" says Ashley.

"Earlier tonight," replies Craig. "But...he was being completely insensitive. He practically demanded that I go home with him and pack for school."

"Well, when's the last time you've been home?" says Ashley. "I mean, after the intervention."

"I haven't been home," says Craig.

"You didn't go to Joey's?" says Ashley.

"I called him so he could bring me some clothes for the week," says Craig, resting his chin on the blanket of her bed.

"And how about school?" says Ashley.

"I want to be here, with you," says Craig.

"But you have to be there too, or else this isn't going to work," says Ashley.

"Ash! Come on," protests Craig.

"They're your family, Craig," insists Ashley. "That's important. Take it from someone who's been avoiding hers for weeks. I shouldn't...I can't expect you to be with me every hour of the day."

This sounds familiar, and not the good kind of familiar. Here's Ashley pulling away from him when they need each other most, only this time she's in the hospital and not him.

"Are you trying to push me away?" says Craig.

"No!" cries Ashley.

She sinks further into her bed. Her blanket slips a bit and Craig fixes the blanket for her.

"No," repeats Ashley, her eyes growing wet. "I want you here. I appreciate that you're here and love you for being here."

"So...it's settled," says Craig.

"It's not settled," counters Ashley. "I fell down this year because of some bad decisions... but I'm not letting you fall down with me."

Her mouth grows tight. Craig was anticipating that she would be bothered by this conversation, though it's definitely not for the reason he originally thought. Ashley lets a moan escape her throat.

"I can't make you any promises," continues Ashley. "I can't be there for you like Joey can or Diane can or Angie...as much as I don't like that that's true right now. You need that other place where you can go, those people you can go to."

"What if this is my choice?" says Craig. "Jeff hasn't left Kate's side since he walked down the hall."

"They're not going through what we're going through," says Ashley. "Are they?"

He thought his comparison would work, change her mind, and here she is turning it around to make him see that it's not comparable at all. They're not married or comforting each other over their child. They're younger. They're...kids.

"You said you believed I could do this," whispers Ashley, tousling his hair. "Prove it. Go home, if only for a little while."

Craig reaches over to kiss her softly, swiftly. The way he moves his mouth is almost desperate, but more than that it's some small reassurance to her that he still believes what he said, that any lasting heartarche from the summer will heal if they're strong enough and she's strong enough by herself.

"Go home, Craig," says Ashley, pulling away, just to kiss the lids of his eyes.

When Craig leaves, he finds Robert, Kate, Jeff, and Chris discussing Angelique, who stopped by to inform them that Ashley's dosages of diazepam and Librium would be reduced, good news based on the mutual grins crossing all of their faces.

"I...I have to go to Toronto...to take care of school stuff, home stuff," says Craig, unable to look at their grins any longer. "I'll be keeping in touch."

"We understand," says Robert.

Then, his body is being enveloped, and Craig is caught by surprise. Robert Kerwin is hugging him. He steps back to allow Chris to do the same.

"You've been so good to our girl," says Robert when Craig is free of their arms.

"Absolutely," says Kate. "Jeff can take you."

"I have to get back to Toby," says Jeff. "And maybe the both of us can come up this weekend."

"That'd be cool," says Craig.

Craig and Jeff exit Harmony Hospital, the lingering breezes of late night air wafting by as they walk. Jeff's car moves at a steady pace once they've left the lot, Craig gazing at the hospital as it becomes smaller and smaller in the side mirror. The journey will be for hours but that will be the last picture he takes home with him.

As they near the signs for Harmony Hill Hospital and Harmony Hill Treatment Center, a blinding light rises through the windshield of Jeff's vehicle. It is yet another car, not just any car. Craig sits up straight, removing his seatbelt as the other car honks its horn and stops. They are the only two cars on the road and the doors of each car seem to open simultaneously. Music from a car flows from one and not the other.

_Yeah, I know sometimes it's real hard,_  
_I know sometimes you want to bend,_  
_Ohh, but if you do, it all comes back,_  
_In the end, just breathe, breathe._

He jogs to the fork in the road and waits for the other person in the other passenger seat to reach him. Craig stares at the headlights, his sight growing blurry from the lights, from sadness, from tiredness. He watches with unblinking eyes until Joey is inches away from him.

"We were worried," says Joey.

He sets a suitcase at Craig's feet, the week's worth of clothes he wanted. Diane jumps out of the driver's seat and Angie hurriedly gets out of the back.

_We tend to forget that we're all the same,_  
_We all have joy, we all have pain,_  
_Ohh, but if we won't remember,_  
_How beautiful it would be if we breathe, breathe_

Craig allows his head, himself to collapse against Joey's chest. He lets his tears fall along the lines of the grey jacket he hated seeing disappear earlier. He tries, tries so hard to say it all, but that fails and he's left with the last remnants of his conjured thoughts.

"I'm sorry," sighs Craig.

"Me too," whispers Joey, wrapping his arms around him.

"Joey," chokes out Craig as he faces his father. "I...I can't go back."

Joey smiles sadly. "Then, let's go home."

_How beautiful, how beautiful,_  
_Just breathe, breathe,_  
_Oooooahhh,_  
_Breathe, breathe._

He gestures for Diane and Angie, who join their circle with no delay, the four of them joined together at the crossroads.

III.

"Two, three, four!" begins Clara. "_Well, my heart knows me better than I know myself so I'm gonna let it do all the talking_..."

Manny taps her clipboard against her thigh, even though it stings slightly. She can't help herself. After so many disappointing singers that had the confidence of Charice and the vocal prowess of Cameron Diaz's character in _My Best Friend's Wedding_, Clara Michaels is a welcome change. And all it took was some gentle prodding from yours truly, thinks Manny. The rest of the selection committee is eating her up too. Nate nods along to the beat; Heather Sinclair stops texting to pay attention; Darcy snaps her fingers and wiggles in her seat especially during all the _wo-hoos_.

"I thought nothing was going to be more entertaining than Derek's take on 'Manamana'," says Nate, writing and circling "yes" on Clara's application.

"Manamana!" cries Derek, then dropping into a chair next to Heather and remaining silent while gleefully watching Clara.

Heather regards him with disgust and turns her chair towards Darcy's. Manny leans into Nate.

"Let's not forget who invited her," says Manny.

"Yeah, yeah, we don't need to talk particulars," waves off Nate. "In any case, we still sorely lack a triple threat for the variety show lead unless you're going to cave..."

"Nope, I was front and center last variety show, and I won't wear that many hats again," shoots down Manny. "Unless they're Burberry."

"And you have no recommendations for an alternate?" says Nate.

"I'll work on it, okay?" sighs Manny.

"Heather, who were the stronger dancers again?" asks Nate as Clara launches into the chorus.

_But I said no, no, no,no-no-no_  
_I said no, no, you're not the one for me_  
_no, no, no,no-no-no_  
_I said no, no, you're not the one for me_

"That ditz of a cheerleader who can't color-coordinate, Kaelyn, though she did fall offstage when we were interviewing her," says Heather Sinclair. "Jackie Prewitt and her tacky jeggings, Channing Blorinski who needs Proactiv, and Talbot Hinckle who was looking at your girlfriend's legs so we can rule out that he has good taste."

"What?" cries Nate, then apologetically grinning at Clara before whispering the rest. "Put no next to Talbot."

"Nate!" chastises Darcy.

"Heather, is it possible to critique the good dancers without cutting them down in the process?" suggests Manny.

"I didn't come to the auditions looking rough," defends Heather. "The entertainment world is brutal, and you should know that firsthand, Bra-berella."

Manny peers at her flowy, baby-blue top and quickly fixes her bra strap.

"Keep it up and we will replace you," says Nate.

"You try to be honest and...," starts Heather.

"Hello, Clara's singing!" interrupts Derek.

Everybody stops talking, except for Heather who gives Derek a threatening stare and a quiet "whatever." Derek's right. They should stop their commentary on others and focus on the auditions. Although, Manny's focus is always compromised whenever a certain school president comes in and out. He'd walked in for two or three sodas from the vending machines and Manny is so thankful that there are no soda machines near the M.I. lab. Okay, one glance, and she's done for the day. Really. Clara continually sways onstage to the music as Manny revolves her head. Sure enough, Toby is enjoying the talent too, a Sprite in his grip. Manny wiggles her fingers at him and Toby wiggles them right back.

Gesturing to Clara, Manny displays a hidden thumbs-up at Toby who smiles broadly. While she can't reveal anything to Clara yet, she knows Toby would be thrilled for his synogague sister. They were so at odds last year when Toby had to choose between them. Now she's totally cheering on her former competitor for his affections. Ever since Clara sang at Toby's Confirmation, Manny has remembered her beautiful voice and since Clara needed another extra-curricular, the opportunity to get her for Drama Club sprang up like a geyser. It couldn't have come at a better time since the three of them got along so well after camp. Just as Manny's thinking of other covert communication signs, the door opens and a person who's probably not buying a cold soda walks into the room. Lucie immediately goes to Toby and touches his arm. Her long dark hair is neatly combed, her slim frame housed in a T-shirt under a lime green tank top and denim shorts.

What did she want? Furthermore, what is she doing here? It's two in the afternoon. Officer Wheaton and Toby don't appear too bothered. Maybe because she's the only one bothered. Why? The moment at the carousel, the more articulate part of her mind reminds her, that's why. Manny spins around and taps Nate's thigh with her pencil.

"I'll be back in five," says Manny.

"Oh, good, Lucie's here," notices Nate. "Me and J.T. roped her into doing a few props for our fall production. Isn't that nice of her?"

"And you okayed it?" says Manny, smiling and scratching her ear.

"Yeah, it's free," laughs Nate. "Why wouldn't I? I would've run it by you but you'll be gone before we start props. Something wrong?"

"Um, no," replies Manny speedily.

She definitely wants further details about Nate's little deal, except that she'd rather know what the deal is with Toby and Lucie, chatting in the corner. Manny approaches them. She reluctantly stands to the side.

_And my heart had a problem, in the early hours,_  
_so I stopped it dead for a beat or two._  
_(woo-hoo,woo-hoo)_

"Hi Manny!" greets Lucie. "You're just the person I wanted to find."

"I am?" says Manny.

"You're the reason I'm at Degrassi," continues Lucie.

"She's the reason I come here too," says Toby, cupping her waist affectionately. "The president gig's just a bonus."

"Toby," says Manny as she drops her gaze and then laughs. "What'd you do with all those sodas?"

"I offered Spinner a couple," says Toby.

Suddenly, a long, low groan travels through the doorway of the room. Emma appears, sucking in her cheeks. Then, she ceremoniously uncaps a bottle of V8 juice.

"That's why I limit my intake of carbonated water," says Emma.

"Anyway, I have to go make photocopies," says Toby. "Is someone going to keep an eye on Spinner?"

"Ohhhh, never again," moans an unseen Spinner. "Mixing Mello Yello and Sprite. Never again!"

"I'll go in a minute," assures Emma. "I...have something to do."

Judging by Emma's expression, Manny's certain it has to do with taking her medication. Indeed, Emma sneaks off by herself and starts going through her knapsack. Toby kisses her nose once and he's off too. Aaaaaaand she's left with Lucie. Great, sighs Manny inwardly.

"I heard about yesterday, the pizza," says Lucie. "From Nate. That was sweet."

"Toby's amazeballs," praises Manny.

"Uh-huh," says Lucie, confused, though with less confusion taking its place. "Toby sure likes to spend a lot of money on you."

Manny can feel Lucie giving her the lookover. She instinctively covers her charm bracelet, which she wore today because it matched her shirt and her silvery blue cropped jeans. Officer Patton, currently getting a tickle out of reading the script for Manny's variety show last year, even joked that it matched his handcuffs.

"Manny had no clue he was going to do that," says a familiar voice directly behind her.

"Emma," says Manny, chuckling nervously and pushing her towards the door. "Go check on your burpy boyfriend."

"What I meant was...,' says Lucie as she watches Emma go out. "He's very thoughtful. So thoughtful that it made me thoughtful."

"This doesn't have to do with props?" says Manny, arching an eyebrow.

"No," says Lucie. "I want to invite you guys over. Toby said you were stressing and what better way to relax than a small pool party on Saturday at mi casa?"

Blanking, Manny tugs at her shirt, then her bracelet, and finally her high ponytail. A party for her? Like an actual party? Okay, whoa. That's pretty nice. Maybe she was wrong to think all of those things about Lucie. After all, everything else she's done has been good-hearted.

"Really?" says Manny.

"Really,"replies Lucie. "Manny, I want us to be close friends. Just as close as I am with Toby."

"Well, we don't have Drama Club that day...," starts Manny.

"Great," interrupts Lucie. "So you, Toby, J.T. and Liberty, Emma, Nate and Darcy, and maybe a couple others. My house is perfect for parties. You'll see."

"Your dad would allow that?" says Manny.

"If he knows the people and as long as it's under ten," says Lucie. "We'll make it a pool party so we'll all be visible. I do need a list of friend emails..."

"I can...," begins Manny.

"Oh you know what?" interjects Lucie. "I'll just check with J.T. You're so busy with Drama Club. I'd hate to take you away from that. Plus an idea? We could get Toby a little congratulatory present for his podcast thing."

"I'd make the time for that," assures Manny. "FYI, I found Toby the perfect present for Confirmation. I broke into my movie money to buy it but it was..."

"But you have to save up for your half of the Spring Break trip," says Lucie. "Right?"

The word "right" is delivered so sharply Manny steps backwards. Alright, yes, she has to save up for the trip so Toby won't have the burden of paying for both of them. There's kind of a nicer way to say it, though. She does her best to read Lucie's face. Manny attempts to find some hint of malice yet she can't. Lucie is simply very, very adamant about throwing this party for her and the gift's for Toby, whose accomplishments should be celebrated.

"You can pay me back whenever," says Lucie.

"Okay," says Manny. "I do have a few suggestions, though..."

Manny says this as nicely as possible, hopeful to shift the mood.

"You're caught up in your own stuff," says Lucie. "You can just show up and I'll put our names on the present. I bet he'll be happy with it, regardless."

"Yeah," says Manny.

"Besides our ideas might clash," adds Lucie.

_Big black horse and a cherry tree_  
_I can't quite get there cause my heart's forsaken me_  
_big black horse and a cherry tree_  
_I can't quite get there cause my heart's forsaken me _

With a modest bow, Clara finishes her audition to a wave of applause. Derek leaps from his seat and applauds wildly.

Waiting to hear what else follows Lucie's statement, politely waiting for anything else, Manny stares at her. Lucie delivers a smirk, walks to the other side of the room and starts to talk to Nate. They both laugh. To think that she would be involved in planning a gift for her boyfriend? Manny wraps a fist around her wrist with the bracelet. Heh, she guesses the joke is on her.

IV.

The stem is fading. That's the first thing she observes when she reaches to the park's paved road to collect two fallen nickels. Manny lets her eyes linger on the last remnants of the lily Toby drew on her. She's been so diligent about letting it last past its probable expiration date and she did capture it on her digital camera. Joseph asked her what she thought of "tattoos", "to put it out there." He wasn't fooling her. He clearly did not want a temporary tattoo to be copied into a permanent picture on her body. Well, she has no interest in being inked unless she pulls an A-lister move in her twenties and gets a demure design on an acceptable place that won't keep her from getting work. Perhaps the ankle? Manny retrieves the two coins below her ankle and does her best to balance the small scoop of yogurt on her cone.

"Who's last?" asks Liberty.

Manny counted her lucky stars that Liberty volunteered to be on this Drama Club duty, delivering the "yeses" and "nos' personally to the people who auditioned. It could be worse. It could be Heather. Most of the "nos" were done and Manny got the feeling that her stops meant a lot to the students even if they didn't make it into the second round. A few of the them said they'd try out next year. Two of them asked when her next movie was coming out. It meant a lot to her that they cared about her opinion. She made sure to stress that she'd heard "no" before, quite a few times this summer as a matter of fact. "No" is the first step to another "yes", she told them, and crazily enough, she believed it.

"Kaelyn, who'll be very pleased," predicts Manny.

Liberty licks her mint chocolate scoop and takes out the small slit of paper. Manny taps Kaelyn's name on the clipboard Officer Patton carries. He was enjoying checking off the names for some odd reason. Well, she'll continue to let him do it if it makes him feel included.

"Officer Patton's okay with you going out in public like this?" whispers Liberty to Manny.

"Justin's group has to figure I'm back for school," whispers Manny. "As long as they don't find out where home is. Plus I'll be in L.A. in three days, anyway. That's as safe as you can get."

What she doesn't mention are the multiple concessions Manny had to make for that to be the case. She agreed to go places in Officer Patton's cop car. Officer Wheaton had to be around if they went to a really public place, which she didn't mind since Toby had to tag along. If there was even a hint of suspicion, Manny had to stop whatever she was doing and be whisked away. It is annoying, and last she heard, Justin had high-tailed it out of Toronto and the threats have stopped. Manny sighs. As long as it keeps Toby safe, she'll deal.

"This is a packed week," says Liberty. "I'm really looking forward to this party tomorrow."

"She sent out info, like the day after she decided," recalls Manny.

Oh yes, Lucie was prompt and before Manny could breathe, everything was set in stone within two days. The party was from two to six. J.T. wasted no time sharing with Manny and Liberty the lure of the Reyes casa: a mansion in a gated community, complete with pool, poolhouse, satellite TV, and three walk-in closets. None of the Reyes were snobby, though, insisted J.T. and despite Lucie's occasional cold demeanor, Manny would have to agree.

That said, this whole thing about the gift didn't sit well with her. Lucie's actions weren't evil. They were just weird and it complicated how Manny felt about her. She would not have a third girl come waltzing into their relationship, even if Toby has remained faithful. Toby is the faithful type, like a teenage boy version of Old Faithful if that makes any kind of sense. She shouldn't exhaust her sense with thinking about this. If Lucie was so interested in taking Toby away from her, why did she invite her to the party? Manny was the reason the party was happening in the first place, presumably. See, overreacting. She'll simply have to make peace with the fact that Toby has yet another female friend. But does he need one? Manny mentally tells herself to shut up because that question isn't very fair. Right? Right? Ugh, she's starting to sound like Lucie.

"Can I ask you something?" says Manny, biting into her cone.

"No, you can't use my cleaning rag for my eyeglasses to blot your lipstick," sighs Liberty.

"That was once, and it was a backstage emergency," defends Manny. "I would've walked on with a pumpkin-colored pout if I didn't do that color check. Alright, so we're friends with each other's boyfriends."

"Correct," says Liberty.

"Okay, so what if a female friend offers to buy your boyfriend a gift from the both of you?" says Manny. "What do you think of that turn of events? Should I be wiggin' out?"

"Don't wallow in worry, Manny," says Liberty, halting her yogurt buddy from walking. "Toby's one of those guys that girls gravitate towards to befriend. Lucie is simply the latest in a long line of female friends he has. Me, Emma, Clara, Darcy..."

They don't call Liberty intelligent for nothing. He does have a long list of female friends. Still, it just seems so strange. None of her other friends have insisted on doing this. But there's nothing to talk about if there's possibly nothing going on. Besides Toby was stopping by with the podcast details and she wanted to be in a good mood for that.

"So Liberty, you happen to be a very good singer and a very good actress," says Manny.

"And I have massive doses of stage fright when it comes to dancing," says Liberty, clearly aware of Manny's method of persuasion. "Sorry, but unless you want to see me attempt Danny's dumbed down method of doing the dougie, this conversation is done."

"I want to see that," admits Manny.

Liberty elbows Manny, Manny beaming. They reach the middle of the park, the girls surrounded by a wide circular field of grass and brown benches. Manny polishes off the rest of her cone while Liberty wipes her sticky fingers with a napkin. A chorus of barks interrupt their actions. Covering her eyes from the bright sun, Manny is able to make out a blonde and agitated Kaelyn. Kaelyn has a strong grip on several leashes. Seven dogs pull her with their power, eager to enjoy the nice day. An eighth dog, a Pekingnese, does his best to keep up.

"Manny!" greets Kaelyn, excitedly waving her hand and then losing a hold on two of the leashes.

An obedient red-haired daschund stays with the group while a happy, white puppy charges ahead at full speed.

"Stop, Coconut!" yells Kaelyn. "Get your Bichon frise butt back here!"

Coconut slows down to pick up a red leaf, laying it at Liberty's feet.

"Um, thanks," she says, reaching to pet her.

Instead of accepting the pat, Coconut runs in a circle and then starts smelling Manny's exposed knee. Manny decides to stay still. It seemed like whenever Coconut was told to do something she would just do something else, and she didn't want her running off until Kaelyn got the news.

"Crazy dogs," sighs Kaelyn as she reaches Manny and Liberty.

The dogs start to bark in unison.

"Sorry," says Kaelyn.

The Pekingnese manages to catch up with his fellow comrades. Manny settles her hand against her heart.

"Awwww, aren't you cute?" says Manny, petting him through his thick folds of hair. "Aren't you cute? Yes, you are."

"That's Perry," introduces Kaelyn. "I'm working at my mom's dog rescue foundation for the summer. Most of them..."

She glares pointedly at Coconut, weighing whether to pee on Manny's knee or not, ultimately choosing to leave well enough alone after Officer Patton shoos her away.

"Are trained," finishes Kaelyn. "So what's the scoop? Oh! There were so many good people trying out this year. Then I had to go and fall. I can help Chante out with costumes, though I'm bad with needles...and machines...and thread actually. But..."

"Stop badmouthing yourself," laughs Manny. "We loved your audition. You're in!"

"Hachi machi!" says Kaelyn, letting go of the leashes to jump two times. "I learned that phrase in a cartoon."

The three of them laugh as Liberty delivers the slip to Kaelyn.

"That's the URL for Nate's YouTube channel," explains Manny. "The second round of auditions is mainly to fit you in the second area where we like you best or for the people in the maybe pile. You can choose to do a monologue or sing...the audition can be anywhere you choose. If you don't have camera equipment, ask Danny for help. Nate and I will make the final decisions, but I'll also be watching these in New York as I plan the variety show."

"I have the chance to be in the variety show?" cries Kaelyn.

"Absolutely," assures Manny.

Officer Patton checks off her name with flourish.

"I do need camera equipment," says Kaelyn, a bit ashamed. "Hey, can I go tell my mom the big news? She hasn't been proud of me since I made it through my two capoeira classes a couple years ago."

"Ummm," says Manny. "Okay."

"I'd call her but she can't hear me above all the barking," explains Kaelyn. "The rescue's two blocks away. I'll be quicker than a leprechaun."

She's never heard of a leprechaun being quick, but she can sympathize with making your parents proud. The joyful tears brimming in Kaelyn's eyes elicit a "quicker than a leprechaun" response from Manny.

"Sure," says Manny. "We'll watch your dogs."

"Stellar!" says Kaelyn, then gesturing to her companions. "The daschund is Popcorn. He's shy. The rough collie is Prince Harry, and he's got the hots for the spaniel-setter mix Duchess, but I believe she's celibate. The pug is Tony Soprano and he steals newspapers and Fig Newtons. The Russell terrier's Winnie the Pooch. She has no idea what's going on half the time. Then there's the sweetest dog you'll ever meet, Perry, and Coconut the white ball of terror."

"Hi, everybody," says Manny, offering them all a solitary wave. "I love dogs."

Kaelyn fits the leash handles around Manny's wrists, delivering a pat to each of the dog's heads. She picks up Coconut and deposits her next to Prince Harry. Manny gives her a confident nod.

"Ring me if there's a problem!" says Kaelyn, then taking off across the park grounds.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around those descriptions," says Liberty as they watch her leave.

Officer Patton bends to fix Popcorn's tag, and she whimpers shyly. She slowly allows him to touch her neck. A not so modest beep comes from Manny's cell. Toby. Well, no offense to Kaelyn, but she'd rather have Toby contact.

"Tobes is nigh," says Manny. "You can split if you want."

"I am kind of reading Debatabase for research," shares Liberty.

"Oh," says Manny.

"And fun," adds Liberty hesitantly.

"Oh," says Manny. "Oh! Oh yeah, go ahead. I think I can handle this little four-legged family."

"Wish you the best," says Liberty, throwing away her napkin.

"Thanks for walking around with me today!" calls Manny after her, and then to the dogs. "You guys are going to be well-behaved, aren't you?"

Coconut sneezes on her skirt.

"'Kay then," says Manny with a grimace.

"My daughter has been asking for one of these," says Officer Patton, cradling Popcorn. "They really are nice."

"Speaking of nice," says Manny, glancing to the left.

Officer Patton notices her line of sight and chuckles. Officer Wheaton and Toby are walking along the paved road, Toby's briefcase slung over his shoulder. He did look a bit tired but she's sure she can brighten things up a bit. Manny delivers a catcall whistle.

"Hey, handsome!" calls over Manny.

Toby smiles, though he walks right on by.

"Back that thang up, baby!" yells Manny after him.

"I'm not a piece of meat," says Toby over his shoulder.

"Yeah, these dogs would be chasing you if you were," says Manny. "Can I get those digits anyway?"

"Nah," says Toby, walking on.

"You're mean!" exclaims Manny.

Toby whirls back around and plants himself on the bench.

"Hi," says Toby genuinely.

"Hi," says Manny, buzzing his cheek. "I missed you and kissed you."

"Same," returns Toby after repeating her action. "I am sooo beat. I thought all these dogs were a hallucination honestly."

Manny giggles. "These are Kaelyn's. She works at her mom's rescue foundation."

"Paws Worthy of Applause?" says Toby. "I think they're sponsoring the Spirit Squad this year."

"That's probably them," says Manny.

She alternately checks the dogs and Toby's drained features. She's happy he has different things going on, yet it's no, and she hates using this pun, walk in the park. Then again, maybe it's nice to have these distractions from the case.

"Are you working on what you have to say?" guesses Manny.

"I am," replies Toby. "Started a notebook with possible topics and answers. They moved my first interview to tomorrow at eleven."

"That soon?" gasps Manny.

"The sooner the better," says Toby. "Somebody else rescheduled. Of course I'd like you to come to the station..."

"I would more than like to come," interjects Manny.

"Good," says Toby. "I..."

He pauses his speech, noticing Perry lay down at his feet. Coconut, not to be ignored, skulks around Toby's dress shoes. She goes for a tug at his shoelaces and instantly regrets it when Perry barks at her.

"Aww, Perry's protecting your shoes," says Manny.

"Thank you," says Toby, reaching down to pet him. "Dogs are great. Expensive pets, but great."

"I always figured you more for a cat person," says Manny with a shrug. "Aren't they all over your manga?"

"Eh, I think both are cool," shares Toby. "The cost is the problem."

The cost is the problem, thinks Manny. Money issues seem to be creeping into every aspect of their short time in Toronto together. If it wasn't the school budget, it was the trip to Manila. If it wasn't ordering pizza, it was paying for carousel rides and gifts. Essentially it _is_ Lucie who keeps mentioning money whenever her relationship is at the forefront. Manny's not sure what this means though she is concerned that Toby is secretly turned off by the amount he spends on her.

"Toby, do you think you spend too much money on me?" questions Manny.

Toby stares up at her in shock, the two officers exchanging puzzled expressions.

"Where is this coming from?" says Toby.

"Um, nowhere," says Manny. "I just need you to know that I am going to pay for my half of the trip..."

"The money is _not_ a big deal," interjects Toby.

"You do a lot for me," says Manny in a low voice.

"And you do a lot for me," insists Toby. "Manny, my mom sent me money every year for my birthday the last five years. When all I wished for was five minutes of her time. You and me have never been like that. So why do you think I would start caring about money now?"

Lucie, she wouldn't mind saying. That's too presumptous, however, and these are her own doubts at the end of the day.

"Nerves, I guess, that you're spending more than I'm worth?" says Manny faintly.

He slides to her to link his arm with hers, brushing his briefcase aside so his knee can touch her knee. Manny rubs his arm. Her fingers shiver on top of the fabric of Toby's suit coat.

"I'm shaking like Popcorn over there," says Manny, glancing at the dachsund sitting placidly in Officer Patton's lap.

Coconut, clearly craving attention, bounds up on Toby's lap, sticking her nose in between Toby and Manny. They chuckle until Coconut calms down and stares at Toby's chin as if she's expecting him to say something and Manny is expecting it as well.

"I saw you grow in L.A.," says Toby. "You became so much more confident and you make me feel that way too. And that's one reason out of a million that you are so, so priceless to me."

Something leads her to sniffle, bury her head into his chest for a moment, and then kiss him firmly on the mouth. Something like a piece of pride showing itself.

"I love you, okay?" whispers Toby to her.

"Okay," whispers Manny, kissing him again.

Her nose meets some fur and unless Toby hasn't shaved...no, Coconut is licking Toby's nose on the other side. They laugh, Manny wiping her face. Content with the interruption, Coconut tries to push her head into Toby's briefcase.

"I think we found the Craig in the group," says Manny, nodding towards Prince Harry.

Ever the player, Prince Harry has put a paw on Duchess' rump as his wandering eyes assess Winnie the Pooch trying to bite her own tail.

"Prince Harry!" cries a disgusted voice.

Kaelyn hurries to the two of them, removing Prince Harry's paw from the offensive area. Duchess scampers to the other side. The other dogs welcome Kaelyn by barking once Manny returns the leashes.

"Hi Toby," says Kaelyn.

"Hey," says Toby.

Appearing disheartened, Officer Patton releases Popcorn to the rest of her crew. Coconut tugs Toby's briefcase to the ground. With a glare from Kaelyn, the dog innocently releases the strap.

"Were...most of them well-behaved?" says Kaelyn. ""And I know you were bad, Coconut, because you're much too happy."

Coconut hops over Popcorn, then wags her tongue merrily as she stares at a hydrant.

"They were angels," answers Manny.

"Good," says Kaelyn. "They're up for _adoption_. Just throwing that out there."

"I am tempted...but that's a lot of hair to comb," says Toby, giving Perry a final pat.

"Not lying there," agrees Kaelyn. "My mom and I are going out for sundaes so we gotta go. Time to take Toronto by storm, Perry."

With confidence, Perry trots ahead of the pack. Kaelyn leads the other dogs down the sidewalk after Perry. All of them follow her obediently except for Coconut who pauses and prances halfway back to Toby. Kaelyn spots her.

"Looks like Coconut has a crush," observes Kaelyn.

"Well, stand in line, Coconut," says Manny, appraising the dog.

"Be good," instructs Toby.

Coconut offers him a friendly bark, then jogs to the rest of her canine friends.

"The dog days of summer," breathes Toby.

"That was such a cheesy pun," sighs Manny.

"I know," says Toby, chuckling. "It didn't sound right coming out...that's why you're around. To tell me these things."

They continue to walk down the path with the officers, amused, trading laughs and words back and forth, the first of the changing leaves blowing to the sides in equal amounts.

V.

"My radio's on the fritz," complains J.T. as they step inside the elevator.

A woman asks if someone is irregular, followed by a bunch of static. J.T. does his best to play with his portable radio despite being crammed into an elevator with five other people as it ascends to the third floor.

"You can have the batteries from my tape recorder," suggests Liberty, opening her knapsack.

"Love you, lady," says J.T., accepting the batteries once she removes them.

While J.T. does his best to put in the batteries, Toby feels at his best as the elevator pings and announces their arrival to the third floor. This is the biggest step he's ever had in his career. All the animation studio heads and top animators did interviews. Jeffrey Katzenberg, John Lasseter, Nick Park. To have his father, J.T., Officer Wheaton, Liberty and Lucie there with him for this moment is all he could ask for. The fact that Manny, Emma, and of course Officer Patton were coming too upped the excitement factor tenfold. He's actually glad they switched his interview because many of his friends didn't have commitments on Saturdays. The new day worked out for the best.

He only has to do his best. Managing to get in a good six hours sleep, which is more than he wagered he'd get, he went over his notes closely and memorized some nuggets about the latest goings-on in the industry. If a caller threw a curveball, he'd have to rely on the information locked away in his memory bank.

The radio station, situated on the third floor of Kytel, had remained a mystery to him after the tour he took on his first day there. A lot of luminaries came in for interviews and then left. He was never able to meet them or be in their shoes. That won't be the case this morning. Toby steps into the predominantly black hallway. Framed animation cels, photographs of radio guests, and magazine covers line the wall of the broadcast booth. Kym is already seated while a white-haired deejay with a moon amulet around his neck sifts through paperwork.

"Take it all in, Tobes," says J.T. with a clap on the back. "Take it all in."

"I must be meshugana," sighs Toby. "This is not about to happen."

"You're meshugana if you thought that this wasn't going to happen," assures Jeff, righting Toby's tie for him.

Toby chose to wear a suit he frequently wore at Kytel, save for a red and blue-striped tie that Jeff presented him with after breakfast.

"I still think we should've had black-eyed peas last night," says Jeff. "Good luck and all."

"Dad, Rosh Hashanah is like a month away," says Toby, making certain his collar is straight.

"Those black-eyed peas are always lucky," insists Jeff.

"Unless Will I Am has a ton of secret Pixar knowledge, I think Toby will be fine," chimes in a visitor behind them.

Wearing the official Kytel visitor badges, Manny, Emma, and Officer Patton walk towards the rest of the group. It's clear that it was Manny who spoke and it's clear that she is wearing the same badge Berniece fetched for her weeks ago. What's more arresting to him is her attire. She has on a sleek, black business suit with gold thread on the edges, black heels on her feet.

"Big day," says Officer Patton.

"Yep," says Toby, keeping his sight on Manny.

"Who wants to be on candid camera?" says Jeff brightly.

He removes a small video camera from his pocket, aiming the lens at Toby.

"Dad!" groans Toby.

"You'll be glad you have this when you're older," says Jeff. "J.T. Come say a few words."

"A few?" says J.T.

He bounces to the camera, starting to talk. Meanwhile, the officers and Lucie talk among themselves.

"You look stunning," says Toby, going immediately to Manny.

"My mom did some tucking in," admits Manny. "Aunt Melody sent me this for my birthday."

"You're tucked in beautifully," says Toby, spinning her around. "I was about to say..."

"Say what?" encourages Manny.

"Holy smokes!" says Toby.

The three girls laugh, Toby shaking his head in admiration.

"Manny!" remarks Lucie as she joins the group. "Aren't you all dolled up?"

"Toby dresses up for my professional stuff, so I thought I should return the favor," says Manny with a small curtsy.

"You should dress like that all the time, Manny," raves Liberty.

"And miss the chance to outdo Lady Gaga?" says Manny. "I don't think so."

Toby notices Emma and Liberty playfully push Manny, and Lucie glancing at her T-shirt and cut-offs in embarrassment. He can't fathom why her clothes are bothering her. Liberty's in jeans and Emma has on a free-flowing skirt. But he definitely doesn't want her to feel like she's the odd girl out.

"Thanks for coming early, Lucie," says Toby. "After your shift at Campanelli's."

"Wouldn't have missed it," says Lucie, smiling widely.

Through the window of the booth, Kym waves at Toby, indicating that it's time. Wow, okay. He's going on the air. He's going on the air. Now!

"You're totally ready for this," says Manny, grabbing his arms. "Head high. Dirt off your shoulders."

"Okay," says Toby. "Um, what does your dirt off your shoulders mean again?"

"Toby, I've told you that a trillion times," says J.T., his interview finished, Jeff taping Toby instead.

"It means give the negative energy the hand and get in there and kick some butt," says Manny.

Taking a couple weighted breaths, Toby enters the booth. The deejay stands, looking older than he did from outside. His white hair's in a short ponytail and he has the loudest voice Toby's probably ever heard. Toby knows his voice from the podcasts, the energetic 3-D Stevie who sounded quite a bit younger on the speakers of Toby's computer.

"Woo-wee!" says the deejay. "How's it going, Toby?"

"Fine," says Toby, more comfortable after hearing his familiar voice.

"Toby's our top intern," says Kym.

"Excellent," says 3-D Stevie. "We'll be taking about five calls, and then you guys can pump out some pieces of news to fill the gap. Don't worry about dead air. I know what to do with dead air."

Dead air? Just the idea of dead air is enough to tighten his throat. Stay cool, Toby, he tells himself, as 3-D Stevie flips a switch and presses a button. There are so many buttons. Toby glances at the lighted buttons of the phone, the buttons on the microphone stand, the buttons on a CD and a cassette machine. They still make cassettes? Toby gives Kym a panicked look, which she doesn't see since she's greeting a couple other guys coming into the room. Sound engineers. Right, they can't do anything without engineers. They check the microphone right in front of him and present him with a pair of headphones. Toby puts the headphones on and wordlessly waits for them to do their thing and go. He sees a red light blinking in the distance. "On Air" glows red and starts to flash.

"In five...four...three...two...," counts down the engineer, then pointing at 3-D Stevie.

"Heeeeeeeeeello, Toronto!" says 3-D Stevie. "Welcome to KTEL, where you ring the bell, and if you're on the move, then you hit us on your cell! I'm here for our morning dish on the animation tip, with established and award-winning head of animation Kym Wilcox and rising star and top Kytel intern Toby Isaacs. Say hi, folks."

"Good morning," says Kym.

"Hello?" says Toby, gripping the sides of his chair, his mouth very close to the microphone.

"Your mic works, Toby," assures 3-D Stevie. "Trust me. Tell us a little about yourself since this is your first time on the pod."

He slowly loosens his grip on the chair, turning to his friends gathered on the other side of the booth. Manny's in the center, nodding continually at him. It's just like he told her at the park. He does like himself more after this summer. He can do this or else they wouldn't have asked him. Toby faces the microphone again and smiles.

"I'm almost in grade twelve at Degrassi Community School," says Toby. "Where I'm student council president, and I have a lot of really great friends."

"Oh, wow," says 3-D Stevie, peering past the glass. "And there's quite a group of his friends out there, folks. Kym, what are some of the topics confronting Kytel's animation division today?"

"Well, there's a constant battle between honoring how traditional stories are told and grappling with more modern ideologies," says Kym. "For instance if you noticed, _Princess and the Frog_ and _Tangled _focus on the growth of a female character _and_ a male character. I wonder why Disney went from say, _The Little Mermaid, _which is mainly a female narrative, to this dual narrative. Are they not content with only doing female narratives anymore?"

"They have told a lot of those in the past," says 3-D Stevie.

"But...but not all of them," speaks up Toby.

"Mhmmm?" encourages 3-D Stevie.

Heh, he didn't even realize he'd spoken or that he would speak this early. He better say something and fast. The podcast does have a time limit.

"I prefer stories like _Mulan_ over _Tangled_," says Toby. "Both characters took charge, but Mulan's narrative is less gender specific and worth telling in my opinion. I mean, half my friends are women of color and there are so many stories in different cultures that haven't been touched yet. I have high respect for Disney but they could do a little more in that regard."

Kym delivers a giant grin to Toby as 3-D Stevie stares at the microphone, rubbing his chin, impressed. A button on the phone flashes.

"We have a caller," says 3-D Stevie, pressing the button. "You're on."

"Hi, my name is Muriel," says the caller in a faint French accent. "I have two girls, who I adopted from the Caribbean. I had to call in and say that I completely agree with Toby. We love movies but love good stories that take chances more. If Kytel decides to get on the ball by showing heroines that look like my girls, we'd definitely line up for tickets."

"I think you're winning them over, Toby," says 3-D Stevie.

He hopes so. Toby holds his hand up to block the light of his father's camera, but also looks up briefly to view his friends watching him with warmth, including a cheerful Manny smiling and dabbing at her eyes with her fingers at the same time.


	108. It's My Party

**CVIII. It's My Party**

_Nobody knows where my Johnny has gone_  
_Judy left the same time_  
_Why was he holding her hand_  
_When he's supposed to be mine_

_It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to_  
_Cry if I want to, cry if I want to_  
_You would cry too if it happened to you_

_Playin' my records, keep dancin' all night_  
_Leave me alone for a while_  
_'Till Johnny's dancin' with me_  
_I've got no reason to smile_

_It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to_  
_Cry if I want to, cry if I want to_  
_You would cry too if it happened to you_

_Judy and Johnny just walked through the door_  
_Like a queen with her king_  
_Oh what a birthday surprise_  
_Judy's wearin' his ring_

_It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to_  
_Cry if I want to, cry if I want to_  
_You would cry too if it happened to you_**  
**

**It's My Party is the property of Lesley Gore and appears in the film _Problem Child_.**

**Wake Me Up Before You Go Go is the property of Wham!**

**I'm Real is the property of Jennifer Lopez.**

**I Can't Stop is the property of Will Smith.**

**AN: Definitely a lot of Sellie next chapter. I haven't forgotten them. ;) I'll try to update twice in September since I missed August. MP.**

"And we're going to have teacups with crowns on them and everything," says an excited voice Emma misses hearing on the other end. "Plus a miniature pony! His name is Smallfry but I won't tease him about his size because I know what it's like to be short."

Emma chuckles, and turns away from the gathered group congratulating Toby on his podcast interview. She expected him to do well but even she was impressed that he became more at ease the longer the interview went on. Manny kept squeezing Emma's arm with excitement when a question was thrown Toby's way and he responded with an assured answer. Emma was happy for her friend and now she was just as ecstatic that Hannah phoned her with her own questions.

"When are you going to get here, Emma?" asks Hannah.

"In about five days," replies Emma. "Me and Manny are pumped for your party."

"Yay!" says Hannah. "We saved a Sleeping Beauty costume for you and a Cinderella costume for Manny. I remembered that Cinderella was her favorite. Did she want a wand? I'm going to let people borrow mine if it doesn't come with the costume."

Cupping the phone to her ear, Emma beckons Manny over. Manny snaps a picture of Toby and 3-D Stevie with her digital camera and hurries to Emma.

"Hannah wants to know if you want a wand with your Cinderella costume," says Emma.

"You're asking an actress if she wants to be decked out with fun props?" says Manny. "Fo' sho'."

"Okay, I'll take that as a yes," says Emma.

Manny squeezes Emma's arm a final time before returning to Toby.

"Oh, Lia wants to talk to you!" says Hannah, Emma hearing somebody arguing for the use of the phone.

"Nelson?" cries Lia loudly.

She hasn't been called 'Nelson' in awhile so it takes her a few moments to remember that it's Lia's "term of endearment" for her.

"Hello, Lia," greets Emma.

"I swear if you planted this idea of a pony into her head...," begins Lia. "And I've been ambling for a miniature pig for about three years. But of course the Harry Potter kid got his pigs and I'm still waiting. I don't get it. Dad says yes to a pony for Hannah instantly and I get bupkis."

"The pony's only for one day, Lia," points out Hannah after Emma hears her pick up on another phone. "What's a butt kiss?"

"Bupkis," corrects Lia. "Well, at least I get to be Ariel and show off my mermaid-like abs around the neighborhood. I've been working out for the movie. They are _beyond_."

"I'm telling Daddy," says Hannah.

"No, you're not," says Lia. "Get off the phone, Gremlin."

"Bye Emma!" says Hannah cheerfully, hanging up.

"So...your father's not coming?" asks Emma, somewhat carefully.

"He's footing the bill," offers Lia with a sigh. "She's not expecting much from him. Neither am I. That's just how it is. Oh, and please tell Manny Colin officially has Skype after this morning. No way was I going to let them go to New York without a way to see my bestie and favorite Filiprincess on a daily basis."

"Filiprincess," laughs Emma. "Manny will love that."

"Known," laughs Lia. "See ya on the flip side."

"Bye," says Emma.

Putting her phone in her knapsack pocket, Emma walks to the thinning crowd. J.T. and Liberty are exchanging farewells with Toby while the officers are discussing the perimeters of the pool party with Lucie. Soon, the sole people who remain are Officer Patton and Officer Wheaton who are talking among themselves, Emma, Toby, Manny and Lucie. Jeff had wandered downstairs with Kym, probably lauding his son during the whole elevator trip. Without a word, Toby goes back into the sound booth, glancing all around the room.

"I convinced him to take a moment for himself," explains Manny. "There's no greater feeling than that moment after a successful debut."

"Very true," says Lucie. "You guys have the directions to my house, right?"

"We do," replies Manny. "Planning on getting there around the same time."

"And our gift should come in the middle of the party," mentions Lucie.

"What'd you get?" says Manny.

"You'll see," replies Lucie. "Ooops, I think Toby is gesturing for you to come inside."

All the girls turn towards the booth, having ignored Toby signalling for Manny to enter. Manny resists smiling for a second but throws up her hands and happily goes to him. Toby situates a pair of large earphones on her head. Manny starts to snap her fingers to the music.

"Manny could use a bit of fun," says Emma, gently touching Lucie's shoulder. "She...and Toby have had their share of problems."

"Probably not started by Toby," says Lucie breezily.

"Uhhhh," says Emma. "I know you're closer to Toby but..."

"I didn't mean anything by it," interjects Lucie. "It's just...Toby seems more low-key. Manny's...clearly not."

Emma brings her tongue around her teeth, willing herself not to say what she'd really like to say, that Lucie doesn't know the half of things. Is Toby low-key? Yes. Still, that hardly makes Manny the stirrer of pots. Most of their problems were behind them anyway, and as soon as Justin was found, they'd be gone completely. Lucie's cutting comments would _not_ be another. Maybe she'll simply remind Lucie of that.

"You know, Manny's like my sister, and I consider Toby to be kind of like a brother," says Emma. "And if somebody, anybody, hurts them, I'd make sure they'd regret it. It's a good thing we're both _their_ friends, huh?"

"Exactly," replies Lucie, staring through the glass of the booth with a wide grin.

Past the glass, Toby and Manny are dancing with one another. Either one increased the volume of the music while Emma and Lucie chatted. A bouncy eighties classic plays through the speakers:

_You put the boom-boom into my heart _  
_You send my soul sky high _  
_When your lovin' starts _  
_Jitterbug into my brain_

Manny continues snapping her fingers, moving her arms side to side, with Toby doing an uninhabited Pulp Fiction dance routine with his fingers moving across his eyes. Emma guffaws while Lucie stays still.

_Wake me up before you go-go _  
_Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo_  
_Wake me up before you go-go_  
_I don't want to miss it when you hit that high_  
_Wake me up before you go-go_  
_'Cause I'm not plannin'' on going solo_  
_Wake me up before you go-go_  
_Take me dancing tonight_  
_I wanna hit that high (yeah, yeah, baby)_

"They're so adorable," says Emma. "Aren't they?"

Toby initiates a butt bump which Manny eagerly returns, with Manny doing a booty pop right afterwards.

"Uh-huh," says Lucie, cocking her head to the side and then walking to the elevator.

"Uh-huh," mimics Emma with a playful shrug once Lucie goes.

II.

The plastic nose of a shark juts in the area between the seats of Toby's car. He's Danny's fish and very troublesome. On the other hand, he's the most quiet passenger Toby's driving around today. J.T. and Danny were in the back, and Officer Wheaton rode with Toby in the front. Officer Wheaton spoke into his walkie-talkie once in a while, but unfortunately, Toby heard him speaking about another case and not his own. J.T.'s discussion consisted of lobbying for an apartment, with Toby as the other beneficiary.

"Haven't we searched for apartments together before?" says J.T.

"Yep," says Toby.

Toby recalls the two days they spent apartment-hunting for J.T., Liberty, and their forthcoming child. It wasn't particularly fun, especially when they heard the prices.

"And aren't we used to sharing a room?" argues J.T.

"Yep," says Toby.

"And am I not the best roommate ever?" continues J.T.

"Nope," says Toby jokingly.

"Who asked you?" says J.T., then realizing that he did. "Oh. Alright, just pretend I'm ridiculously clean. I'll have more than enough money next summer from my show for a place and you'll have more than enough after Kytel. This is fate telling us to move forward on the roommate front."

"What about Liberty?" says Toby.

"What about her?" speaks up Danny. "Don't even think about moving in with my sister, Lil' Wang. My dad will hit you with a law book. A heavy one."

"See?" says J.T., gesturing to Danny. "Although, I don't appreciate you dissing my manhood. Especially since you're carrying around Jaws Jr."

Toby decides to keep an eye on the road and his directions while the two of them fight. He's been to a lot of different neighborhoods this summer (his mom's, Kendra's, Justin's) but they weren't this different. His mom's neighbors were flashy but Lucie's neighbors had double the room. The lawns are huge and green, the only flowers planted at the ends of driveways. The mailboxes are situated near the front doors so the mailman had to actually drive down long paths to deliver mail. There are no gnomes or ornaments like in his Bubbe's yard, only occasional fountains and statues with serious faces.

"Don't insult my shark," says Danny. "Besides, I'm gonna scare Darcy with it."

"Heh, yeah, she's kinda easy to scare," admits J.T., chuckling along with Danny.

"That's the only way she's easy," adds Danny, the boys laughing louder.

"Leave her alone, guys," sighs Toby. "We're almost there."

Veering right, Toby, Danny, J.T., and Officer Wheaton go mute. The Reyes mansion stands before them, a magnificent mansion that they have to turn their heads to get the full length of. It's Grecian style with marble pillars, multiple windows with decorative glass, a balcony in the middle, and a focused gardener riding in a golf cart to the backyard.

"Ohohohoho!" cries J.T. in a faux French accent. "Magnifique! I am muy, muy pleased."

"Does she have a boyfriend?" says Danny with a nod and a smile.

"You're something else," says Toby, rolling his eyes.

"I'm just a squirrel trying to get a nut," defends Danny, making his way out of the car with the rest of them.

Toby pops the hood to retrieve his towels. "I hope Manny didn't get lost."

"Who's coming with her?" asks Danny.

"Emma and Spinner," says Toby.

"Emma, Spinner, Liberty, Nate, Darcy, me, Danny, and you," says J.T., counting on his fingers. "That leaves two more."

"Chante...and Heather," provides Toby.

"Oh no," say Danny and J.T. simulatenously.

"How could she invite Heather?" groans Danny.

"How could she not and live to tell about it?" throws back J.T.

Danny grumbles as Toby hears another car driving up behind them. Toby puts Heather at the back of his mind as he takes in the sight of Officer Patton's patrol car with Manny sticking her head out of a back window. Toby immediately straightens his lime-green T-shirt and black trunks. He knows Manny likes him in green but this was a shade he wasn't entirely sure on. His dad complimented his swimming trunks though, before going up to Harmony Hill with Craig. For a second, he thought about going with them to check up on Ashley but then he thought that she might not be ready to see him yet. Jeff basically hinted that she'd rather get visitors after she got settled in at the rehab facility instead of the hospital. So it soothed him that he was here instead of there. This day's for Manny and he'd hate to miss it.

Emma jumps out of the car with her usual knapsack, a sheer white cover-up over a black and white bikini, with Spinner, in a blue tank and blue trunks, following her. J.T. opted for red trunks while Danny chose green. Officer Patton has on his uniform with a single addition, sunblock on his nose. Officer Wheaton is much the same except for blue-tinted sunglasses.

"The guest of honor is here," says Toby, opening his arms for Manny.

She tosses a pink and white-striped bag to the side and enters his arms without delay. She wears a flimsy and flowery silk robe, covering a tasteful, light pink bikini. She even smelled perfect, with the scent of honey on her sunscreen-filled body. He'd give anything to have his own pool where they could swim alone for the whole day. That's not to be, however, as Danny taps Manny's back.

"Manny," says Danny, opening his arms for a hug.

"Danny, go hug your shark," says J.T., pushing the shark into Danny's chest.

Two more cars appear, Manny pulling away from Toby to view them. One contains Heather, by herself. Big shocker, thinks Toby. She didn't like anybody and probably didn't like driving any of them in her car, a cherry-red BMW that he'd heard she received on her birthday. The car just happened to match her bikini. The other car is Nate's, containing Nate, Darcy, Liberty, and Clare? Toby raises his eyebrows.

"Can I bring my Twilight floaties, Darcy?" asks Clare as soon as she gets out.

"Whyyyyy?" moans Darcy, in a lavender swimsuit, to the sky once she hops out.

Danny instantly chucks the shark behind a shrub, chuckling about his evil plan for Darcy's pool time.

"Chante couldn't make it," explains Nate to the rest of the group.

"I'll just bring my Bella ones," decides Clare, her light blue swimsuit-clad body retrieving an item from the car.

"Fiiiiiiiine," moans Darcy. "And you better tell Mom how nice I was to you. I need DVR back so I can watch what happened between Aria and Ezra."

"The dude from Pretty Little Liars?" groans Nate. "He's a chump."

"I love Ezra," sighs Darcy to herself.

The rest of them smile, moving towards the Reyes' front door. Toby slips his hand through Manny's after she fetches her bag.

"I don't think a bathing suit's been put to better use," whispers Toby.

"So sweet," says Manny. "I bet you're the only boy who can make me blush a billion times in a row."

"I'm thinking you should stay with me for most of the day," says Toby.

"I'm thinking I would like that," returns Manny.

J.T., happy to be the one doing so, rings the doorbell. The musical theme for Mr. Reyes' TV station plays in everyone's eardrums.

"Cute," approves J.T.

They hear some scuffling from behind the door. Racquel's voice carries past the door more than Lucie's.

"I wanna open the door for J.T.," insists Racquel.

Liberty instinctively scoots closer to J.T. J.T. bites his lip.

"Welcome to Casa de Reyes!" greets Lucie, grandly opening the door.

Wearing a pretty red, one-piece bathing suit under tiny denim shorts, Lucie nods at everyone as they enter. Racquel wears a sparkly rainbow-colored one-piece. The foyer is composed of a winding staircase with a white-gold banister, white tiles, and a hand-crafted wooden chair and side table.

"Thanks for having us," speaks up Toby.

"Your house is off the hook!" praises Danny.

"Thanks," says Lucie wearily.

Spinner elbows Danny's chest.

"He means you have a lovely home," says Liberty. "Are there any house rules we should know about?"

"No, not really," replies Lucie. "I already told Officers Patton and Wheaton we live in a gated community, and my dad's psyched there'll be cops at this thing. Food's out back. Don't go upstairs. Uhhhh, that's about it."

"Cool," says Manny. "This is so awesome of you, Lucie."

"You can never have too many friends," says Lucie, then facing away from them. "Follow me."

They walk through a beautiful living room with navy blue furniture, dark blue wallpaper, and silver and gold knicknacks. Toby notices a see-through cabinet with more colorful items, pieces he guesses the Reyes family found in Mexican or South American markets. All of it looks too nice to touch or too fragile to stare at for too long.

The backyard is the opposite. While the large pool and white lounge chairs with blue umbrellas overhead probably cost a great deal, they look more inviting, less intimidating. Manny and Toby exchange excited glances, the smell of chlorine wafting to Toby's nose. What's more, there's a row of picnic tables with fresh fruit, various types of chips, fruit punch, cookies and other finger foods.

"My dad's caterer went a little crazy," says Lucie, standing beside Toby. "Don't be shy."

Nobody needs any further prompting. Toby and Manny watch the rest of the group rush to the lounge chairs and picnic tables. Danny does a cannonball into the pool immediately, splashing the back of Liberty's citrus green bathing suit. J.T. starts to towel off her shoulderblades. Racquel notices J.T. drying off Liberty and stamps her foot.

"I'm going to find two chairs together," says Manny, kissing the top of Toby's hand and walking away.

"Toby," says Lucie before Toby can follow Manny.

"Hi," says Toby. "Listen. I can't begin to thank you. Manny won't forget this. I won't forget it."

"No thanks necessary," insists Lucie. "And aren't you getting tired of thanking me?"

"Nah," insists Toby. "I enjoy it."

"Lime-green," says Lucie, tugging on his shirt. "This color's cute on you. Manny must think so too."

"Awww, I don't know," says Toby as she lets go quickly. "But thanks. Um, so I'll come find you later."

"Yeah," says Lucie with a smile. "Come find me."

Toby locates Manny in between two lounge chairs, setting her bag by the head of the chair. The two officers are fixing the umbrellas so they can provide an ample amount of shade. Toby sits on the chair on the right side once the officers finish and head for the snacks.

"Guess what I brought with me?" asks Toby.

"SpongeBob intertube?" kids Manny.

"Ha ha," says Toby, digging in his pocket.

He removes a roll of candy.

"Lifesavers," notes Manny, giggling. "You would bring those to a pool party."

"And they're...um, mint-flavored," says Toby. "If you catch my drift."

"I'm just gonna drift over here," says Manny, joining Toby in his lounge chair and leading him to lean back. "Best. Pool. Party. Ever."

Manny kisses the center of his shirt.

"Do you like my shirt?" says Toby.

"Mmmm hmm," says Manny. "I also like what's under the shirt. Catch _that_ drift."

Toby scans the pool area for the police officer's whereabouts. They're chuckling and chewing on Doritos. Meanwhile, Nate is trying to convince Darcy to go on the diving board, Darcy snuggling and smiling against him after Nate gives up. Spinner and Emma are debating whether to have a race across the pool. Racquel is trying to put a Cheeto into Danny's fro, much to Heather and Clare's amusement, while Liberty and J.T. are bobbing to a song on J.T.'s ipod. He hasn't seen all of his friends be this carefree in quite some time.

"This is the life," sighs Manny, resting her head on Toby's chest.

"This is _my_ life," echoes Toby with a sigh.

IV.

"Remember the last time we had snowcones?" questions Spinner.

"No," says Emma.

Spinner playfully pokes her at the waistline. Emma laughs.

"Yes," admits Emma.

That was such a long time ago though, and so much has happened since then. They weren't even boyfriend and girlfriend then. But she remembers that day fondly, the trip to the beach with Manny, Toby, Kendra, Boomer, and Spinner, despite running off when Spinner didn't do anything worth running away from. Well, she won't run today. She wraps an arm around him.

A server pours cherry red syrup over a snow cone, the other servers staring straight ahead at the pool area.

"Dude, I'm dying to ask this," says Spinner. "Hopefully, you won't be offended."

"Go ahead, sir," says the server.

"Is your name...Jeeves?" says Spinner.

Emma twists her mouth sideways. She's worried the server might snap at him until a look of amusement crosses the man's face.

"My name's Jimmy," says the server.

"My best friend's name is Jimmy!" cries Spinner. "Cool! Play on, player."

Spinner shifts his grape snowcone and extends his other hand for him to shake. Jimmy first delivers Emma's snowcone to her before responding.

"I will play, sir," says Jimmy, shaking Spinner's hand and then putting his behind his back to match the other servers.

They bite into their cones, their feet touching the asphalt as they go to the side of the pool. Spinner helps her get situated and dangles his legs into the pool when she's set. Loud, fun music plays over the speakers as Danny, Clare, and Heather pass a beach ball back and forth.

"Did you have any idea Lucie was so loaded?" whispers Spinner.

"Don't know her that well," says Emma. "Toby and J.T. are better friends with her."

"Not Manny?" says Spinner.

"Nope," says Emma.

"Then why is Lucie having a party for her?" asks Spinner.

"I'd like to know the same thing," says Emma, more to herself than to Spinner. "My turn to ask stuff. Why didn't you tell me your birthday's coming up?"

"Meh, my eighteenth," says Spinner. "I already feel like I stick out with your friends."

"Why?" says Emma.

"Because I'm buff," jokes Spinner.

Emma pretends that she's going to stick her snowcone on his leg, Spinner resisting good-naturedly.

"It's true," says Spinner with confidence.

"Please don't make me think of my friends' pecs in relation to yours," protests Emma. "And anyway, you're still in the same grade. You just took a breather. So what if you're a tad older? Sean's turning eighteen soon too."

"Why make a big deal of it?" shrugs Spinner. "I'm working most of the day. Maybe Jimmy and Hazel will stop by with cake or something. I'm not expecting an endless supply of cheeseburgers or a trampoline."

Running Hannah's expectations for her birthday party, which were more than deserved, through her mind, Emma can't help but wish that she was here to give Spinner something. Emma ponders the problem more, biting hard into her snowcone without realizing it.

"Mmmph," moans Emma.

"Keep your lips closed and massage them," suggests Spinner.

Emma does what he says, instant relief accompanying her actions. Spinner nods with confidence.

"Works every time," says Spinner.

"I am doing something for you," affirms Emma. "Just not sure what yet. At least we can Skype on the actual day if you go to Jimmy's."

"Is that when they fly in the sky and write words?" guesses Spinner.

"No, Spin," replies Emma. "I'm done. You?"

Spinner polishes off his quickly and easily. Emma is envious of his time-tested tongue.

"Done," says Spinner. "Let's go challenge Manny and Toby to a race. The more victims, the better."

They loop hands and head over to the lounge chairs where Toby and Manny are huddled under a long beach towel, staring at each other and nothing else. Manny is softly and sweetly singing the song on the speakers to Toby.

"_I met so many men and it's like they're all the same_," sings Manny. "_My appetite for lovin' is now my hunger pain. And when I'm feeling sexy, who's going to comfort me? My only problem is their insecurity_."

Emma finds it sort of cheesy, but Toby is staring at her with adoration. She was about to ask about the race but she wonders if she can get a word in between all the kissing they're doing now. Toby moves his mouth to her neck and Emma spies a chance.

"_And I can't go on without you, babe_," finishes Manny.

"Hey J. Low, how about a race?" says Emma.

"Oh, hi, Em!" says Manny, clearly just noticing her. "Just enjoying the music."

Toby lifts his eyes and shyly smiles at Emma and Spinner.

"So I'm not the single Jennifer Lopez fan," speaks up another voice besides Emma's. "Honestly, she's the only pop music I can stand."

Moving to their small circle, Lucie waves to all four of them and focuses her eyes on Toby.

"A party's not a party without dancing," says Lucie, nodding to J.T. and Liberty grooving to the music near the picnic tables. "Wanna dance, Toby?"

Looking at Manny for a moment, he doesn't say a word until Manny gives him a reassuring pat. Emma stiffens.

"Cut a rug, lovebug," says Manny.

"Okay," says Toby, rising and letting the towel fall to the ground.

Manny stretches as Emma keeps her gaze on Toby and Lucie. Why'd she have to single out Toby? Okay, yes, the only single guy at the party is Danny, which is meh, but...or she could be overreacting. Toby awkwardly sways to the song. Lucie makes a grab for his hands and Toby twirls her. Lucie laughs, setting a hand against her heart. She better not think of breaking Manny's heart.

_Cause I'm real_  
_(The way you walk, the way you move, the way you talk)_  
_Cause I'm real_  
_(The way you stare, the way you look, your style, your hair)_  
_Cause I'm real_  
_(The way you smile, the way you smell, it drives me wild)_  
_Cause I'm real_  
_And I can't go on without you_

"Are you okay?" whispers Emma to Manny.

"Yeahhhh, why wouldn't I be?" says Manny. "Let's go race."

Patting Manny on the back as Manny passes her, Emma rubs her mouth as Lucie moves a hair out of Toby's face. Something tells her rubbing her mouth won't cure the problem that may be brewing.

V.

"Dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun," sings Danny, as he watches Darcy wade in the water. "Dun dun dun dun dun dun...dun dun!"

The plastic shark pokes Darcy in the neck. She screams bloody murder. Everyone stops what they're doing until Nate jumps in to bury Danny's head under water for a few seconds.

"It was worth it!" proclaims Danny, after coming up sputtering some water.

"What was that?" cries Darcy.

Clare wades over and soothingly strokes her shoulder.

"Bwah!" laughs J.T. as Liberty helps Darcy out of the water.

"J.T., stop it and be a gentleman," orders Liberty.

"Yes, ma'am," says J.T. speedily.

After they lift Darcy out, Manny makes her second lap. Spinner won both times, and he made several comments about how he'd redeemed himself after the ping-pong tournament. Manny enjoys swimming but truthfully she liked it more as a hobby than a competitive sport. Emma manages to pass her too. Her long, smooth legs go by. Manny realizes she came in third...again.

"When you're beat, you're beat," says Manny as she swims to the side.

"_I beat Manny_. _I beat Manny_," sings Spinner, pulling himself up and down into the water. "I beat Manny. Heh."

"Spinner," chastises Emma.

"Hee," whispers Spinner finally, then going underwater.

"I'll let you two train for the Olympics," sighs Manny, shaking the water out of her ears. "Going."

Manny climbs out of the water and pads her feet towards Toby. She's glad the dancing has stopped for a second. As much as hates herself for it, she wasn't okay with Lucie and Toby going off like she lead Emma to believe. She's also beginning to notice that Lucie hasn't really interacted with anyone else since they left the foyer. When her ears weren't clogged, she heard Lucie offer Toby glasses of fruit punch, which Manny knew he favored over soda. When her eyes were above water, she counted the times they danced...at least three times. She and Toby had yet to dance at this thing. Alright, that was mainly their choice, but you'd figure Lucie would leave him alone for more than two minutes, two minutes when she wasn't getting him refreshments. Come on now.

Ahead of her arrival, Toby spies her and holds a dry towel open for her.

"Good effort," says Toby.

So he did keep an eye on her despite Lucie being all up in his face. Manny allows him to wrap the towel around her.

"Spinner thinks he's Michael Phelps pre-Wheaties box," sighs Manny. "Oooh, I'm freezing."

Toby methodically rubs her arms, Manny's temperature rising.

"Warm yet?" says Toby.

"Yes," says Manny, lowering her eyes.

"When you're warm enough, you can teach me how to do that booty pop," suggests Toby.

Manny gasps. "That takes years, Toby."

"No, it doesn't," says Toby, chuckling.

"To perfect it, it does," kids Manny. "Why do you think those video vixens get paid so much money?"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Toby continues rubbing her arms through the towel. He stops when the rest of the party suddenly goes silent. Manny stares around the yard. Lucie is huddling the rest of their friends into a group. Past Lucie's body, Manny can make out a messenger boy with a wrapped present and a clipboard. The gift. Manny throws off the towel and gleefully drags Toby to the group.

"We have some important business to take care of," announces Lucie with flourish. "As many of you are aware, Toby Isaacs had his first podcast interview on KTEL this morning."

They all applaud, Toby's cheeks turning a fierce shade of red. Manny raises his right arm triumphantly.

"And I'm sure we're all agreed that Toby deserves a token for this hallmark in his animation career," finishes Lucie.

"Here you go, Mr. Isaacs," says the messenger nonchalantly, smacking his gum.

The messenger delivers the gift to Toby. The present is nicely wrapped in gold paper with a blue bow.

"I picked out the bow," shares Racquel, then covering her mouth.

Everyone laughs. Toby undoes the bow and shreds the paper. He finds a white box, lifting the lid. Inside, there's a sophisticated piece of machinery Manny has seen on TV on several occasions. Toby releases a sound that's a mix between a screech and a sigh.

"It's a Blackberry Torch," says Toby in a single, rushed breath.

"We are not worthy," breathes J.T., reaching for it, Liberty slapping his hand away.

"Man, the Torch is hot!" praises Spinner.

"Let me read the message that goes with this," sighs the messenger out of boredom, then with faux enthusiasm. "Dear Toby, may this gadget help you on your way as you guide us to worlds we've never seen before. Congrats, Lucie."

A chill travels down Manny's spine and she's certain it's not from the drops of pool water near her neck. Lucie got this extravagant gift? And she didn't put my name with hers on the gift, the thought bouncing against the walls of Manny's brain. What gives?

"Lucie, I can't take this," says Toby, his jaw still partly frozen in shock.

"Yeah, you can," says Lucie. "Please. Dad gets freebies like this every weekend."

Oh, so it was free, thinks Manny. But if she can't trust Lucie to put her name down, why should she believe that the gift was free?

"Still...," begins Toby.

"My...my name should be on the card," says Manny tentatively.

Manny looks from friend to friend, across the group. Most of them appear confused, except for Heather who laughs outright.

"Santos, how is your name going to be on it if Lucie got it from her dad?" says Heather.

"I didn't...know...didn't know where she'd...," stammers Manny.

Toby stares at her, obviously confused, until somebody says something in the silence.

"I wrote a long message when I got it professionally packaged at the convenience store," says Lucie. "There must've been a limit of the characters for the card. I did put Manny's name on there."

"We got a limit," says the messenger, nodding. "I got other stuff to deliver. Bye, munchkins."

Nobody responds to the messenger's rudeness, everyone keeping their eyes on Manny, including Toby whose eyes finally flash with understanding.

"I'm so lucky," says Toby, walking over to hug her.

Manny stares at Lucie as she's in the embrace, eventually letting herself relax in Toby's arms. Who cared what anybody thought, as long as Toby thought she was thinking of him. Besides, Emma is glaring at Lucie enough for the both of them. Toby turns to deliver a bear hug to Lucie.

"Lucky to have the both of you," adds Toby.

"No more mush!" waves off Danny. "Let's party hearty!"

J.T. and Nate agree with the sentiment, whooping. The sound system is turned on, and the rest of the partygoers mingle or go off to dance, with Lucie standing with Toby and Manny near the backyard grill.

"He's all yours," says Lucie, smacking Manny on the back.

The smack has a bit too much force. Manny doesn't complain. Lucie did do the right thing in the end, and the strangeness of the moment did pass. Or did it? Toby grins and ushers Manny into a second hug. This hug she can barely enjoy.

VI.

Four in the afternoon and the asphalt's getting hotter. It's almost a relief for Toby to move his feet. He picks up that Manny is more relieved as well, revolving and wiggling her hips to a wild, fun Latin rhythm. The bulk of them are dancing. Never mind the heat. Spinner does the robot, Emma cheering him on, while Nate and Liberty laugh as Clare does the sprinkler, Darcy shielding her sight out of embarrassment. As usual, Lucie had gone missing. Maybe she has to check in with her dad every so often. Funnily enough, the lone piece of trouble at the party was courtesy of Jaws, placidly floating in the middle of the pool.

"Turn the jams to the max!" encourages J.T.

A server cranks the volume with his gloved hand. The teenagers move faster, including Toby and Manny.

_Yo get your hands off me_  
_Stop tryin' to hold me down_  
_Let me just move around_  
_Girl somethin' done happened to me_  
_Swear to God somethin' done snapped in me_  
_I need the whole floor for us_  
_I'm about to bust mommy and it's glorious_  
_I can't seem to stop my feet_  
_You hear my heart beat_  
_Digga digga digga digga digga digga digga_

Manny shimmies her shoulders, Toby standing behind her and mirroring her. Her thick ponytail touches his nose. Both of them chuckle.

"Twerk it, Tobes!" praises Manny. "Twerk it!"

He's not exactly sure how to "twerk" but he does manage to twirl Manny under his arm in perfect synchronization with a horn blast.

_Un besito mama en mi boca_  
_Estoy bien livin' la vida loca_  
_Heart jumpin' and pumpin' it's about to pop_  
_But don't tell me nothin' back up_

This should've been his whole summer, this same amount of fun and these same people. In a breath, it would be over and they'd be right back at Degrassi. His summer definitely didn't go by fast, but there were days he wishes he didn't have to go through. Nevertheless, he did learn a whole lot, and hopefully wouldn't make the same mistakes. What better way to grow if you can do it with the people you care about?

"Shakira Shakira!" says Danny, rotating his pelvis. "These hips don't lie."

"Eww," says Heather, grimacing at him and then at Spinner doing the running man.

Resting his hands on her own hips, Manny moves her waist fluidly, her legs rapidly going.

_Laughin' and grinnin' and dancin' and spinnin'_  
_It wasn't my intention but you got be bridging my linen come on_  
_Call the doctor get me a respirator_  
_Look into my eyes mom the pressure is rapidly rising_  
_Arm around my neck and leg all around my thigh_  
_I feel like X you be gettin' me next and you be gettin' me high_  
_Dancin' honey that's how I like to play_  
_I'll be Patrick Swayze you be Jennifer Grey_

"Whoa," gasps Toby.

"Once you find your center, you can do anything," says Manny. "Emma taught me that. Unfortunately, she didn't tell me I'd be winded thirty seconds later."

Manny pauses, Toby not minding at all. Truth is he's tired too. He guides her towards their lounge chairs. Toby settles into his. Officer Wheaton is reading a Michael Crichton novel Lucie retrieved for him on Manny's chair.

"The swimming race wore me out," thinks Manny aloud. "I was running on extra energy."

"You can rest on my chair," offers Toby.

"No, let me get up," protests Officer Wheaton.

"Are we having a dispute regarding the chairs?" questions a voice.

Lucie is exiting the poolhouse, her concern carrying over the music. Toby believes he sees Manny's shoulders clench at Lucie's arrival but he may be wrong about that. She's smiling as soon as Lucie's nearby.

"I've got an excellent idea," says Lucie. "Manny, I hated that your name wasn't on the note. I have a great way to right my wrong. The chair on the end is adjustable, comfortable, and most importantly, free. Go ahead and use it."

"I kinda wanted to be by Toby...," says Manny.

"Manny, that's my dad's favorite chair," says Lucie. "He only lets me sit there like twice a year. It's that special. There's a big umbrella for shade. Bugs rarely fly to that spot. So suitable for the guest of honor."

"Sounds good to me," says Toby, sharing a smile with Manny.

"For a bit," relents Manny. "I do need to ask Em for more sunscreen first."

"I'm out," realizes Toby.

He'd been so busy reviewing the directions that he forgot to grab a fuller bottle.

"There's tons in the poolhouse," says Lucie. "I gotta talk to my dad but wait there and I'll show you where it is."

"Is that okay?" says Toby to Officer Wheaton.

"Your dad would kill me if I brought an orange kid home," jokes Officer Wheaton. "Leave the door open."

"Manny?" says Toby.

"Ah, I only have a little left," sighs Manny, squirting the last on her right shoulder.

"Stay under the umbrella and you'll be right as rain," assures Lucie. "Toby can bring some for you too."

"Sure," says Toby.

"Thanks, babe," says Manny. "I'm going to close my eyes for a nanosecond."

She kisses Toby on the lips before his trek to the poolhouse and before she gets into Mr. Reyes' chair, closing her eyes.

The poolhouse is relatively small next to the mansion. That said, as soon as Toby enters, he can picture staying there for weeks on end. A long, soft tan couch is parked in the middle of the poolhouse, a flat-screen TV and DVD player straight across from the couch. Wooden shelves with rows of DVDs stretch to either side of the wall. Bowls holding three kinds of popcorn fill up a coffee table. Toby freezes when he hears familiar dialogue coming through the speakers of the TV.

"I haven't found Miss Right yet but when I do, _the whole world will be singing_."

"Secret of N.I.M.H.," identifies Toby.

He's correct as he watches Jeremy the crow hop on the TV screen. Lucie appears in the doorway.

"Eep, I forgot to turn it off," says Lucie.

"This is where you were sneaking away to during the party?" teases Toby. "I...kinda have to approve."

"You got me," says Lucie, coming inside. "I'm not a social butterfly. Wanna watch a little?"

Toby taps his chin, pretending to weigh her words.

"Alright, since you twisted my arm," says Toby.

Lucie grins, joining Toby on the couch. They stay quiet for a few seconds. Lucie subtly slides a bowl of caramel popcorn in his direction.

"Thanks," says Toby.

"Mrs. Brisby's a pretty good heroine," says Lucie. "Even if she's a tad girly."

"What's wrong with girly?" asks Toby after swallowing a handful of popcorn.

"Manny's a girly girl," says Lucie. "Is...that your type?"

"My first girlfriend, Kendra...she was and still is a tomboy, so I guess not," says Toby. "Manny was more of a surprise. And I like surprises. Keeps things interesting."

"Did she always like you?" asks Lucie.

"Let's just say when we first started I was about as charming as Jeremy was with Mrs. Brisby," confesses Toby, chuckling. "She said no when I first asked her out."

"Well, she eventually came around," reminds Lucie.

"Whatever worked...worked," says Toby modestly. "I can't put my finger on it. It just feels right."

Lucie coughs, clears her throat. "Are you certain it wouldn't feel right with someone else?"

"I can't imagine a feeling that would be more right," replies Toby, shrugging.

"That must be nice...to have that," says Lucie. "Speaking of feelings, how would you feel if I delivered the sunscreen to Manny and you watch the rest of the best mouse adventure created by man?"

"This is in my top thirty movies," considers Toby. "Okay. Deal. But would you tell Officer Wheaton?"

"Nothing doing," agrees Lucie.

"When Manny wakes up, can she come in and watch too?" says Toby.

"Totally," says Lucie. "Later, animator."

Lucie leaves the poolhouse, and Toby raises the remote. Fairly soon, the fate of Mrs. Brisby and her friends fill his mind like an old-fashioned bedtime story that's become better with age.

VII.

"Marco!" yells J.T. with shut eyes.

"Polo!" yells Nate, bobbing to the left a little and managing to avoid J.T.

"Marco!" yells J.T. again.

"Ellie!" shouts Spinner, confusing him and sending the other players into a fit of laughter.

"Now I'll never find anybody," says J.T. as he quickly turns left. "Aha! Gotcha!"

J.T. stretches his arm out to retrieve...a Twilight floatie. He groans. Manny groans as well, her eyes fluttering open as she shifts around on the chair. Her blurry vision makes out the majority of her friends in the pool playing a game. She checks her watch, hovering over her charm bracelet. Five? It's five o'clock? She nodded off for that long? Manny only had the intention of dozing for a couple minutes at best. Laying in he sun has the tendency to make her lazy but she's usually way more alert. This chair must be incredibly comfortable. Although, when Manny arises, she's very uncomfortable.

"Owww," moans Manny.

A shot of pain creeps under her left shoulder. Manny looks at her shoulder to find tiny, tanned red lines running down to just under her elbow. They're far from smoothly drawn and it's as if a small elf went to town on her skin with a miniscule paint roller. Manny tries to rotate her shoulder and winces. How could this have happened? Officer Patton and Officer Wheaton are watching J.T. continue to fail miserably so she doubts they were keeping tabs on her skin care. Did she put sunscreen on that spot? No, remembers Manny. She was waiting for Toby to come back with more. Where is he? Please don't let him be with...

"Manny!" greets Lucie, tossing a sunscreen bottle between her fingers like a ball. "You're awake."

"Uh, yeah," says Manny.

"I meant to wake you up earlier, but you looked so peaceful for once," says Lucie. "That is the purpose of the party. I couldn't do it."

"That's...that's fine," says Manny before wincing as she starts to stand.

"What's wrong?" questions Lucie.

Hearing Lucie's concerned voice, the two officers shoot up and walk towards them.

"My shoulder," says Manny, showing them.

"Sunburn," says Officer Wheaton with a frown. "Strange with such a big umbrella."

Officer Patton bends the chair's umbrella to him to assess the top, shakes his head.

"It's no wonder," says Officer Patton. "There's small slivers in this thing. Sun probably went right through. Probably tattered cause of old age."

"Dad has had it for awhile," says Lucie. "I'm so sorry, Manny."

That's getting to be a regular thing with you, thinks Manny inwardly. It may be possible that she wasn't aware of the damage. Especially if she doesn't use the chair often. Eh, she can't change what's been done.

"You didn't mean for me to get burned," says Manny, shrugging and gritting her teeth.

"Does it hurt?" says Officer Patton.

"Toby's waiting for her in the poolhouse," says Lucie. "I'll go tell him you can't come."

So that's where Toby is, patiently waiting for her so they can have alone time. Their alone time is in such short supply too. She can't let him down, and she can't deny them the opportunity. Well, it's not like she hasn't smiled through pain before.

"I feel better already," lies Manny, standing.

She puts on her robe, the two officers giving her weary glances.

"Can I go to the poolhouse?" says Manny.

"I suppose so," says Officer Patton. "Are you truly alright?"

"Yep," says Manny.

"He's only watching a movie," says Lucie. "The poolhouse is air-conditioned and you can lie down."

"Maybe that is best," says Officer Wheaton.

"Okay," says Manny.

Strolling to the poolhouse, she naturally gets into actress mode. The average person would have no idea that a part of her is hot, throbbing, and constantly in pain. This must be the equivalent to being baked alive. Unfortunately, Toby isn't the average person because he knows her very well. She steps into the poolhouse and gently closes the door. Toby grins at her and pats a place on the couch.

"You haven't missed any of the good fights," says Toby as Manny sits down.

"Swordfights are...awesome," says Manny, rubbing her legs leisurely.

"Something the matter?" says Toby as he looks her up and down.

She loathes the thought of lying to Toby, and she loathes the thought of wasting precious minutes with him complaining about sunburn she could've avoided if she hadn't slept so soundly.

"Actually...um, I...," says Manny. "Actually, I want to make out."

"You...," begins Toby.

Manny scrambles to silence him by pushing him softly on the couch, Toby's head falling to the cushions. She eagerly gets on top of him despite a searing hot jab racing to her shoulder. Manny covers the wince with a smile.

"Wow," sighs Toby with a chuckle.

"We both know that I like to be watched," says Manny with a wink.

"I really like this view," says Toby.

Kissing him with fervor, Manny focuses on enjoying the movement of their mouths, especially since any other movement seems to hurt. Toby's just as generous, his hands wandering on the small of her back. She sighs happily as he softly grasps the sheer material of her robe. Then his hands are going sideways and one cups her shoulder. Manny releases a whimper. Toby draws back his touch.

"Am I hurting you?" says Toby.

"No," replies Manny speedily. "Let's...let's switch places."

Toby wrinkles his brow but instantly positions himself above Manny.

"We don't have to do anything," says Toby, stroking her hair. "Don't get me wrong. Making out with you is...amazing. But if you're still worn out..."

"No," interrupts Manny. "I...I want to look up into your eyes. That's...that's all."

He grins, taking off his glasses and setting them on the coffee table. Their lips meet. Manny is thankful that she's not being pressed too hard into the couch with Toby supporting her back with one hand and her laying outstretched against the cushions. Unfortunately, that's not where Toby's hands stay...they move again. He lets his lips cross her neck and starts to massage her shoulder. It partly helps and it partly hurts.

"Uhhh," groans Manny.

"Manny?" says Toby, lifting his head.

She can no longer stop the pain from appearing in her eyes, both of them going down to cast a guilty look at her shoulder. Toby stares at her briefly and rolls the robe down to her shoulder.

"Manny!" says Toby. "This looks pretty bad."

Her sight growing teary, she gazes up at Toby, definitely not in the way she wanted to when she came in here.

"I wanted us to be together," says Manny tearfully. "I fell asleep in the chair and...we get such a small amount of time..."

"We can make time," says Toby. "But I'm not wasting time when this could get worse. Let's go put something on it, alright?"

"Alright," sighs Manny sadly, standing with him.

There goes that plan. This is her party and her plans are the ones flying up in smoke. She may never be so happy to see a party come to a close.

VIII.

Manny's in the land of many maps. Seriously, she's unable to count the many maps hung neatly in Lucie's bedroom. She almost expects the bedroom to move to a new destination like they're on a ship with a captain charting her course. They're on solid ground, of course. Manny showered a few mere minutes ago. That was the best cool shower in her entire life. The burn felt better and she finally felt the stresses she built up on this momentous Saturday drain away like the water itself. They were interruptions, accidents, soon to be forgotten. They had to be. In fact, she might laugh at them as soon as tomorrow.

She scans the entire room as Toby reads the instructions on the back of the bottle of aloe. Lucie had tons of images around her room: pieces of interesting architecture; postcards; magazine photographs; camera stills. There are quite a few pictures that have children in them, including a couple of Lucie and Racquel at the sites of Habitat for Humanity missions. It kind of fell in line with Manny's knowledge about her aspirations. Lucie obviously got an early start on learning to build and in helping construct buildings for orphans. Her dreams are very admirable. Manny simply hopes that Lucie's goal to have a beautiful friendship between them is just as real.

Manny takes a seat next to Toby on Lucie's bed.

"I brought you iced tea with my flamingo straw," says Racquel, entering the room with a hot pink cup for Manny.

"First-rate service," thanks Manny after taking a sip. "You're not missing the party because of me, are you?"

"J.T. wouldn't play with me so I got bored," replies Racquel. "Besides, all the cool people are up here."

Racquel beams at them and stares at her sister as she comes inside.

"The room got less cool," teases Racquel.

"Who told you to stay after I asked you to get Manny a drink?" returns Lucie. "Get out of my room."

"I'm going to go play tic tac toe with Clare," says Racquel. "Unlike you, she's a nice sister."

"Whatever," says Lucie.

Lucie walks to her bathroom while Racquel exits. Toby rubs Manny's back reassuringly.

"The party's nearly over," guesses Manny.

"We were there for most of it," says Toby. "Besides, Nate texted me and said Danny peed in the pool."

"Really?" cries Lucie, her face appearing in the doorway.

"Nah," confesses Toby.

Lucie's face disappears.

"I'm such a goob for sleeping that long," says Manny. "How often do I put on the aloe?"

"As much as desired," replies Toby. "Vitamin E, peppermint, natural oils. You'll have the prettiest, healthiest skin in Toronto in no time flat."

"Thank you, Dr. Toby," says Manny, tapping his knee with multiple pats.

Toby gives her aching shoulder multiple kisses, resulting in Manny's cheek briefly matching her sunburn. Lucie comes in to view the last kiss.

"No offense, but my dad would pitch a fit if he saw a boy in my room," says Lucie.

"Understood very much," says Manny even if the fact causes her to pout on the inside.

"I'm gone like Tron on a race track," says Toby.

Manny laughs. Toby delivers a peck to her forehead and departs. Lucie closes her door.

"Mind if I put the aloe on your shoulder?" says Lucie. "It's the least I can do."

Rather than have a lengthy debate in her brain, Manny begrudgingly nods. Lucie's help isn't always for her benefit but maybe this could be the moment when everything turns around for the good. Lucie gets on the bed, squirts aloe into her palm, and rubs the liquid against Manny's shoulder.

"Toby flipped for the present," says Lucie.

"He did," says Manny, folding her hands together. "You did a good job."

"A shame about the message," sighs Lucie. "Oh well. Lesson learned. Is the Manila thing still happening?"

"Yes," says Manny, her face brightening. "Have you ever been?"

"No, but I want to," says Lucie.

"That's my home away from home, besides Emma's," shares Manny. "You've clearly been to more places than I have, though. What's your favorite?"

"Brazil," offers Lucie. "That...that was the final trip I took with my mom. I was ten."

Final trip? Manny views a woman that resembles Lucie in the photograph nearest her bed. She had wavy, dark hair and searching brown eyes just like her two daughters. A younger Lucie lay her cheek on her mother's hip.

"Four months later, she died," continues Lucie.

"Oh," breathes Manny. "Sorry."

"You can't change it," says Lucie, twisting the cap back on the bottle. "I won't change either. Gonna keep up her legacy."

"Fantastic legacy," says Manny with a nod.

"Want me to braid your hair?" says Lucie. "That way, you won't have to worry about fussing with it and your shoulder can breathe."

After the bombshell about her mom, and being so personal with her, how could she refuse? Losing your mom at ten. She couldn't fathom losing Maria. What a hard thing to have to deal with, especially as a teenager, a sad similarity between Lia and Lucie she's just putting together now.

"Sure," says Manny.

Lucie grabs a brush from her nightstand, lets it run through Manny's hair. The two of them don't talk, until Manny feels Lucie starting to braid.

"Why didn't you like Toby at first?" asks Lucie.

"Excuse me?" says Manny.

"He said you didn't find him immediately charming," says Lucie. "I was wondering why."

"We were different," says Manny, shrugging. "It takes time to stop and smell the roses, I guess."

"A rose today was a rose yesterday," says Lucie, her hands flying on Manny's hair.

"That's what I realized," says Manny.

She plays with the front of her robe, praying that no more inquiries are thrown at her. What business is it of Lucie's if Manny wasn't instantly drawn to Toby? It took her awhile but she got there. But Manny did bring up a personal subject beforehand.

"Well, you guys are blossoming at the same rate," says Lucie.

She's right and for once, thankfully, she says it with kindness. Manny leans forward and smiles.

"Toby was overjoyed when he found out about the podcast interview," remarks Lucie. "The way he told me and J.T. in the hall when he was searching for you..."

Wait a minute. He told Lucie the good news before her?

"He told you before me?" says Manny out loud.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you," says Lucie, her fingers pausing. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

It shouldn't, answers Manny to herself. It does. Particularly after the events of today. She has to put her pride aside, though, and Toby would really like it if they did become friends. Lucie has been good to them so she should make it easier for her. If Toby ever needed more friends, this was the time.

"Don't hold it against him, Manny," says Lucie. "Boys don't think sometimes. The thing you should remember is that he's always thinking of you."

Lucie secures Manny's braid and pulls it tenderly.

"I know," says Manny, her arms hugging her chest.

"You're done," says Lucie. "Don't let it come loose."


	109. Doin' Time For Bein' Young

**Doin' Time For Bein' Young**

_Well, I'm here 'cause I drive too fast_  
_And I'm too young to have a criminal past_  
_Some good behavior would be all right_  
_But I don't seem to qualify_  
_Im just out for a little fun_  
_But I'm guilty till I'm twenty-one_  
_I guess I'm doin' time for being young_

_So cut these shackles off of me_  
_This kind of suit don't set me free_  
_Well, I can't live if I can't ride_  
_And I want my baby by my side_  
_I'm just out for a little fun_  
_But I'm guilty till I'm twenty-one_  
_I guess I'm doin' time for being young_

_Now, I can't let the right thing stand in my way_  
_Someday baby I'll know better_  
_But right now I'm making my pay_

_What do I do, who do I thank?_  
_To gettin' me out of this stinkin' tank_  
_It's heartbreaking to be this age_  
_Locked in prison of teenage rage_

_Well I was out for a little fun_  
_But I'm guilty till I'm twenty-one_  
_I guess I'm doin' time for being young_  
_I don't wanna be doin' time for being young_

**Doin' Time For Bein' Young is the property of James Intveld and appears in the film _Cry Baby_.**

Being in a car with two licensed drivers has its advantages. Ellie cranks up the air conditioning, chilly wind coming through the holes of the grate, but she's always liked it a little cold in the car. Back to the advantages. She can say with full confidence that she's driven both her parents around and now they know she's a safe driver...safe enough to spring for a first semester vehicle of her choosing. She can also say that she remembered all the primary details - checking her mirrors, making sure everyone had their seatbelt on, paying attention to her blind spots. John Nash reminded her about the last one but she immediately knew what he meant. Finally, and most importantly, they can leave at any time since both her parents' wallets had a license in the front pocket. The sooner they leave, the better.

Being in a car with two licensed drivers has its disadvantages. Whenever a stop sign would appear, either Nash parent would react as if Ellie didn't see the sign from ten feet away. They offered to take over multiple times before they left the house. But the most annoying drawback about the whole journey is still happening as Ellie pulls onto Campus Drive.

"Where on earth are we going to park?" sighs Amanda Nash.

Her mother turns in her seat, Ellie feeling her shoulders stiffen under her seatbelt. While Amanda had a point, this is the fifth time she's asked that question and any answer isn't going to make the dozens of cars and moving trucks disappear.

"Slow down for the UHaul, Ellie," cautions John.

John became extra jittery throughout the trip, too, much to Ellie's dismay. He's usually the calm one. The UHaul ferrying most of Ellie's possessions is two cars behind the Nashes.

"I am, Dad," moans Ellie. "I can barely pull ahead in this pile-up."

"Oh," says John, taking a survey of the congestion. "Right. Well, you're doing a good job."

His compliment sounds half true and half patronizing. Marco texted her that move-in day would be bad so they left forty-five minutes early. The new schedule didn't help. Marco's presence would help once Ellie ditched the parentals. She needed someone to listen to her as she aired out her stress, namely about Sean's upcoming trial, which she couldn't do with her mother and father, who thankfully remain clueless about the whole thing. Sure, she had her journal, but she couldn't exactly write and drive...because driving would be more fun if that were possible. Ellie gasps as she taps the brake due to a car abruptly stopping.

"Ellie!" cry her parents.

"It wasn't my fault!" insists Ellie. "Stupid orientation traffic. And you guys are freaking me out."

"Don't get so snippy," says Amanda. "We're just looking out for you."

"But not for long," says John sadly, crossing his arms.

Ellie raises her eyebrows as Amanda rubs her forehead in the back seat.

"John," says Amanda.

"Fathers are allowed to get a little emotional," defends John. "Especially when it's his only child."

"Dad, no tears," says Ellie weakly. "Please."

"I'm...I'm just thankful to be here," says John. "That's...that's all."

She can detect a mix of sadness and pride, a reaction she can't get annoyed with. Ellie grins at him in the rear view mirror and goes down the road as the light turns green. Suddenly, she's debating whether to let them stay and assist her with moving her belongings into Bennett Hall, rather than Marco and Dylan and his hockey buddies, until her mother sweeps that from her conscience with her last remark.

"There's quite a few handsome men moving in around here," says Amanda cheerfully. "You know, I met your father when I was in college..."

"Look, a statue of a dead person!" interjects Ellie, trying to delay the inevitable.

There really is a statute of one of the university's founding fathers, though he may be alive or dead.

"A lot of successful marriages start between coeds," continues Amanda.

"Look, another statue of a dead person!" says Ellie.

John chuckles, his head lowered, staring into his lap. Amanda smacks her lips. Thank you, dead statues, thinks Ellie. Thank you. Could her mother be more obvious that she wants her to ditch any thoughts of reuniting with Sean (newsflash: she's too late) and meet some random Joe Frat Party before Thanksgiving? Yes, realizes Ellie. She has been more obvious.

"Hello, Bennett Hall," notes Ellie, the building appearing directly in front of them.

Her parents stare up at the four-story structure, a modest brick building with multiple windows. Boring green shrubs swing back and forth as breezes roll by. A janitor is watering patches of brown grass. Cardboard boxes hold the front door open. Students stroll in and out carrying cartons, clothes, suitcases, and books. It's your run-of-the-mill freshmen dorm. Ellie sighs. She saw the brochure but she was hoping it was more appealing in reality. Marco and Dylan's house is post-high school paradise compared to this.

"It's niiiiice," says Amanda with fake emphasis for the occasion.

"Uh-huh," says John half-heartedly.

Ellie finds an empty spot near the entrance and parks the car between two vans. The UHaul driver speeds past them, heading for a place next to a bike rack. The Nashes get out of the car, then walk to the lawn. John rests his hands on Ellie's shoulders.

"Are you sure about this dorm?" asks John. "We could..."

"What are you talking about, John?" interrupts Amanda. "This dorm is adorable! And I can't wait to meet Amberly. She sounded as sweet as peaches and cream on the phone."

Peaches and cream? Yuck. Ellie reverts her focus back to her father.

"Dad, I'll be fine," assures Ellie.

"I guess it is part of the experience," says John. "Don't let any of your dormmates walk all over you, though. This is as much your space as theirs."

"I won't," says Ellie.

"Don't be afraid to talk to your R.A., either," says Amanda.

"I won't," repeats Ellie.

The three of them exchange short glances. This is pretty weird. She wouldn't be getting into their car again or going home with them. Home is basically somewhere different, a different location she'll live in more than her childhood home for four years. Home is here. She'll miss not having her mom and dad around, as much as she hates to admit it. Even when neither of them were present, whether due to drinking or military duty, she knew that they loved her.

"I love you, guys," says Ellie, choosing to say it out loud on campus, at least this once.

"Write some good stuff," says John.

This causes a wave of laughter among their trio, when they're not doling out good-bye hugs. Ellie feels Amanda squeeze her shoulders, almost as if she's leaving an imprint of their last hug. Ellie resists the tears that are forming at the edges of her eyes. Any of her sniffles are covered by a long car beep, provided by Dylan as he pulls up in his car with Marco at his side. Ellie surrenders the keys to her father.

"Hey Marco!" calls Amanda.

Marco and Dylan climb out of the car. Her best friend wears his trademark fedora and stylish black jeans. Leave it to Marco to come move furniture in an outfit like that. Dylan's in a much more practical jersey shirt and cargo pants.

"I love your hat!" remarks Amanda.

"Thank you," says Marco, going to shake John's hand.

"You'll keep an eye on our girl, won't you?" says John.

"As always," replies Marco.

"We better be going," says Amanda, checking her watch. "Call us when you're moved in, Ellie, eh?"

"Mom, nobody says eh around here," sighs Ellie.

"Ehhhh!" cries Dylan jokingly.

Amanda lets out a loud laugh that keeps going right up until she gets into the car. John jogs to the UHaul driver, settles the bill, and situates himself into the car. They honk twice and moments later, the Nashes are heading in the opposite direction.

"What am I protecting you from?" kids Marco. "Buying skull earrings?"

"You wish," says Ellie.

She wore her simple black studs today, displaying them for the boys. Something else fills her ears. Cat-calling, boisterious shouts, and several horn beeps cut through the peaceful lawn. A red car with a bevy of boys screeches to a halt across the street from Bennett Hall. Dylan's hockey buddies pile out. They're all tall and incredibly built. They're also incredibly immature. A red-headed guy in a gold T-shirt runs and jumps up to the touch the top of the UHaul. Another guy in a striped blue hoodie runs to Dylan, smacking him on the butt a couple times.

"Where's the freshmen booty at?" yells the guy, managing a final smack.

"I see some right here," says another guy, the last to come over.

Sandy-haired, wearing a faded and sleeveless Maple Leafs jersey, the guy kisses his muscular arms and poses for Ellie.

"These guns are...loaded," says the Maple Leafs man.

Ellie throws a pointed look at Marco. He couldn't get some more mellow...or even normal moving men? If Sean wasn't so freaking busy with his case, she'd give him a lecture for bailing, but he is in routine meetings with Mr. Fletcher.

"More like your pants...exploded!" says smacking guy. "Your sperm's squirming."

"Gross," mumbles Marco to Ellie.

Every hockey player chuckles, including Dylan. Et tu, Michalchuk? What a bunch of putzes. But she has to be friendly. They are spending their free time doing this for her.

"I appreciate you guys doing this," says Ellie.

"We're studs," says the jersey guy. "But I'm the biggest. Name's Heath."

"Hi, Heath," says Ellie.

Heath strolls over to let his fingers walk across Ellie's sleeve. Ellie flicks them off with her own fingers.

"I can give you an exclusive tour of the campus," suggests Heath. "Starting with the sophomore dorm where I live..."

"Okay," interjects Marco, thankfully noticing how uncomfortable she is. "Ellie and I will go up to converse with the roomie. I'll text Dylan when we get the all clear."

Ellie starts to thank him, Marco ushering her inside without a word.

"You'll be in my head, Red," calls Heath after her.

They reach the stairwell, Ellie elbowing Marco repeatedly until they reach the second floor. Marco stares at her apologetically.

"They can lift practically anything," guarantees Marco.

"Tell Heath if he touches me again, I'll chomp him like the chocolate bar that bares his name," promises Ellie.

"Duly noted," says Marco. "What's your room number?"

She digs in her knapsack for her dorm information, unfolding the sheet. Amberly's name appears even more girlier, if that's possible. Ellie hopes they hit it off. Since she can't move in with Marco, she'd rather have this work out than go through Student Services to get another roommate she may not hit it off with.

"Two twelve," reads Ellie.

They come to the twelfth door. Ellie takes a big breath and knocks on the door. A series of steps echo behind the door. Well, Amberly's here already. Fingers crossed she didn't take the best bed, or the best set of drawers, or the best closet. Ellie instinctively crosses her fingers. The door opens. A full grin etched on her face, Amberly squeals, hopping up and down. She's a pretty girl, Asian, with shoulder-length black hair and a shapely figure. She wears a long pink T-shirt, bearing the university's initials, and a denim skirt. But her legs are moving so much that Ellie can't determine the length of her skirt.

"Eleanor!" cries Amberly. "You totally look like yourself!"

"Hi," greets Ellie, giving her a little wave.

"I've been dying to meet you!" says Amberly. "You want to be an English major, you love independent and horror films, and you were editor for your school paper and yearbook."

"How'd you...," starts Ellie.

"I took notes when I was on the phone with your mom," explains Amberly.

"Oh," says Ellie, sharing a weirded out glance with Marco. "Right."

Amberly scurries to her side of the room, which is decked out with so much UofT memorabilia that Ellie would've figured it for the campus store. There are occasional posters of popular TV shows and actors, but the bulk of her belongings have the school logo on them. The world's most energetic freshmen, thinks Ellie. And just like in her worst fears, Amberly had an unhealthy love of bright colors, especially pink. Several pink pillows dot the room. Amberly takes one from her bed.

"Your mom said your fave color was black, but I was like, no girl's favorite color is black," says Amberly. "Ellie was seriously joking! So I did the words in black as a joke. Ha!"

Ellie scans her sheer black blouse and black skirt. Amberly presses a pillow with Ellie Nash sewn on the center.

"Aw, Ellie, a salmon-colored pillow," whispers Marco as Amberly goes to her closet.

Ellie hits Marco in the gut with the petite pillow. He beams.

"I have to go to the bookstore to buy some Band-Aids, because you never know when you might need one," says Amberly, donning a pink hoodie. "Make yourself at home because this is home! Bye Ellie, and Ellie's boyfriend."

Amberly departs, Marco sticking out his head and watching her go. Ellie collapses onto her bare mattress, speechless. She could barely breathe with that girl in the room. The most coherent thing she said was "hi", right? Or "hi" and "right." Wow.

"Do you think she played Candyland a lot when she was a kid?" says Marco.

"I wanna go home," sighs Ellie.

Marco comes over to stroke her arm. "You're talking crazy. We'll start bringing up your things."

Ellie waves him off. Fairly soon, she hears footsteps travelling in and out of her room. She gets up after the third set, taking an active role in directing where everything should go. Although, Marco contributes several helpful suggestions along the way. The guys ended up being hard workers, their aggravating comments kept to a minimum. After ten minutes or so, Sir Smack-A-Lot attempted to dig into Ellie's mini-fridge but she caught him in time. There was nothing in there. She just didn't want him in it. Heath made a big show of carrying her computer like he was the top dog for moving a prize possession of hers. Ellie gagged inwardly and smiled outwardly. She took it upon herself to hang her photographs so she could avoid further eye contact. Marco was her assistant, pausing at a picture of her and Sean at Degrassi's Bollywood formal.

"I thought we took some shots that night," recalls Marco. "You, me, Dylan, and Sean."

"That's on my computer," says Ellie.

"Well, can't you print a copy and tape it up here?" suggests Marco. "For balance. I mean, there's a lotttttt of Sean."

"Marco," sighs Ellie, getting off her bed to adjust the wires of her printer.

"Nash!" sing-songs a voice from the hallway.

Great. The voice belongs to Heath. Who wants to bet another lame zinger is coming? Ellie walks into the hall. Heath holds up a box.

"I've got a package for you," says Heath. "Heh."

"Your innuendo is extremely vexing," says Ellie, quickly taking the package.

"You think I'm hot, right?" says Heath. "I'll go get that typewriter of yours."

"Don't touch my typewriter," orders Ellie through gritted teeth.

"It's done," says Dylan, appearing with the typewriter.

The typewriter isn't a working typewriter, but thank God for Dylan. Her parents gave it to her as a going-away gift, shortly after Ty's funeral. A friend of her dad's passed away that same week. His relatives and other office mates had no use for the previously owned treasure so John purchased it and presented it to Ellie over their last dinner at home. That was a wonderful family dinner, and would surely be more wonderful than the lunch Amanda planned with Amberly's family. Ellie has yet to create an alibi to get out of the lunch and go to Sean's indictment trial. She's so desperate she just might drop the typewriter on her foot but with her luck, the typewriter will be as bouncy as Amberly and not do any significant damage.

"What's left?" says a disappointed Heath.

"A couple boxes of sheer panty hose," replies Dylan.

"I'm there!" says Heath, rushing down the stairs.

"I didn't bring any sheer panty hose," recalls Ellie.

"You can thank me later," whispers Dylan, following Ellie. "Some hot guy left that at our house last night for you."

They return to her room. Ellie checks who the package is from, sees no name, shrugs, and shreds the tape. She lifts the lid and smiles. A note from Sean sits atop two packs of iced coffee, a few chocolate bars, and a packet of mechanical pencils. Ellie opens the note.

_Don't drink the coffee in one day. Your first care package, Sean._

"Sweet," says Dylan, reading over her shoulder.

Ellie pokes his chest with the note. Marco hops off the bed to view the contents.

"Good boyfriend," says Marco. "Ummmm, let's get Ellie's fan."

He drags Dylan from the room, Ellie nudging her care package to the computer desk. Her computer desk. She could get used to saying that despite the peppy roommate, the predatory hockey guy, and the nerves in the pit of her stomach. If she could and can stand by Sean throughout the summer, she can stand this. Ellie lays on her bed until she thinks of Heath and sits up. He did not need to catch her lying down.

Ellie catches sight of her collage of pictures, wrinkles her nose after a few seconds. Something's not right. Her eyes fall to a little pile of stacked photos, with her and Sean as the dominant subjects and pieces of tape attached to the tops. There are multiple images included in the collage, images of her and Marco placed meticulously with careful hands.

"Marco Del Rossi!" she calls, striding out of the room.

A cry comes up from the stairwell. "It wasn't me!"

II.

"Is this a freckle or a mole?"

"Squish, Darcy. You're hogging the mirror."

Darcy examines an ember-size mark on her neck while Liberty plays with her glasses. That's a whole lot less commotion than earlier, recalls Emma, thumbing through a list of faculty e-mail addresses. Danny sent a football across the multi-purpose room, aiming for Derek and hitting Liberty in the nose instead. Emma believes it's the only time that J.T. has given Danny a lecture. Couple that with the shark attack last weekend and Danny wasn't the girls' favorite guy right about now.

The girls escaped to the theatre's back room, much to Manny's surprise. She was in the middle of conducting make-up artist try-outs for the Drama Club. Most of the applicants were excited to do the job...on her. Manny eventually gave in and Emma is secretly getting a kick out of watching her best friend's face change into shades of plum, peach, magenta, and any other tint you'd find on a Renaissance festival gown. Emma moves her eyes from the e-mail addresses to Manny for a second.

"Manny, put that down," says Emma.

Manny relinquishes her grip on the L'Oreal make-up case sitting beside her. Officer Patton smirks in the chair next to hers.

"I wanted one for my birthday," remembers Manny fondly.

"Really?" says Chante, making Manny's mouth a rosy pink. "You can have mine."

"For real?" cries Manny giddily.

"Because that would even the playing field," interjects Emma, shaking her head.

"She's right," sighs Manny.

"Can't blame me for trying," mumbles Chante, then shifting the mirror away from Darcy. "So, wouldn't these jewel tones on your eyes work for Juliet?"

Manny gasps her approval. "The light purple screams forbidden love."

"It makes Santos look like a beginner hooker," chirps in Heather, grabbing a mannequin head and leaving the room.

"No she did not steal Mannique," says Darcy. "I have to make a pearl headdress and I need that forehead."

Trailing Heather, Darcy leaves just as Toby and Officer Wheaton come into the room. Emma scoots over so Officer Wheaton can have a seat. Toby leans against the table, taking in Manny.

"I made up your girlfriend," says Chante proudly.

"She doesn't need any," remarks Toby.

"Do too," demurs Manny. "Though I am starting to feel like a geisha girl after being made up so many times."

"You look totally high-class," says Toby.

"That's exactly how I feel when you're around," says Manny.

They buzz lips, Chante rambling something about lipstick smudges under her breath.

Emma smiles and nods her head decidely. The updated e-mail address list is ready. Principal Hatzilakos isn't in her office today so she'll stop by the main office to slide it into her mailbox. Any activity that ensures no contact with Hatzilakos is an action she can get behind. She taps Manny on her non-injured shoulder to signal that she's going. Emma's still semi-confused about the whole "sunburn" scenario since Manny won't talk too much about that day but Manny did say that the pain has almost completely disappeared.

"Did you take your pill?" whispers Manny, leaning into Emma.

Liberty, Chante, and Toby trade glances, and though they were unable to hear what Manny said, Emma blushes.

"I'm going to before Spin picks me up for lunch," whispers Emma. "Don't ask me about that."

"Sorry," whispers Manny.

Emma speedily grabs her bag, briefly staring at her friends from the doorway. Using his new Blackberry, Toby is capturing Manny's transformation on camera.

"What are you doing?" cries a giggling Manny.

"What?" says Toby. "I need new wallpaper."

This is an opportunity to secretly slip out with everybody's attention turned to Manny. They're taping Drama Club dance hopefuls in the multi-purpose room. All she has to do is get past the stage and she's free. Emma walks against the edges of the backstage area, entering the main stage area. Nate and Heather sit in the audience with clipboards while Danny is diligently taping a terrifed Talbot Hinckle and three background dancers. Darcy has rescued her mannequin head, sitting directly behind her boyfriend.

"Are you going to dance anytime soon?" asks Nate testily.

"I have to be in the mood, man," replies Talbot, pulling at his sweaty collar. "These lights are bright, bro."

"You're going to do a great job, Talbot!" shouts Darcy, offering him an encouraging smile.

Nate turns to Darcy with a peeved look. Emma's viewed that look before. Toby had the same expression when he had to watch Blake and Manny kiss onstage during _The Tempest_. No matter how innocent Darcy's comment was, Nate is on the verge of going postal. Rumor has it that this is the guy that had been checking out Darcy all throughout his first audition. Rumor has it Talbot spread that rumor. Nate jumps from his chair to take the stage.

"Lemme show you how it's done," says Nate. "A real dancer can perform at the drop of a hat."

He gestures for one of the background dancers to give him his leather jacket. Considering Nate is determining his future in the club, the guy essentially has no choice but to comply.

"Cue music!" calls Nate.

Emma notices Derek cross the sound booth and hit a few buttons. Catchy pop music blares from speakers in the back of the room. Nate positions himself in the center of the stage and starts winding his hips. The rest of the dancers, except for Talbot, snap their fingers to the thumping kickdrum and bass. Nate spins in perfect synchronization with the music, singing:

_Well, I'm here 'cause I drive too fast_  
_And I'm too young to have a criminal past_  
_Some good behavior would be all right_  
_But I don't seem to qualify_

The full, rich tone of his voice sends the female auditioners into a frenzy. Half of them rush to the edge of the stage and cheer him on while Darcy stares aghast at the whole display of hormones. Talbot glowers at Nate from a corner. Nate flexes and shakes his shoulders, pivoting his waist from side to side similar to Elvis or any fifties heartthrob singing for kicks. The background dancers kick simultaneously, pumping their arms in the air. Nate growls:

_Im just out for a little fun_  
_But I'm guilty till I'm twenty-one_  
_I guess I'm doin' time for being young_

Is there any doubt who the male counterpart to Manny is, thinks Emma, widening her eyes as Nate starts to inch his jacket off while dancing. Even Heather looks slightly hot and bothered.

_So cut these shackles off of me_  
_This kind of suit don't set me free_  
_Well, I can't live if I can't ride_  
_And I want my baby by my side_

Emma's not sure she can take the display of females going nuts for a guy any longer, quietly heading for the exit. But the two people who enter the auditorium are enough to make her stay put. Liza Hatzilakos watches Nate with interest, while her aunt takes in the spectacle as well, seemingly with nothing to say.

_What do I do, who do I thank?_  
_To gettin' me out of this stinkin' tank_  
_It's heartbreaking to be this age_  
_Locked in prison of teenage rage_

Well, Emma has nothing to say to her either. She blends into the dark as best she can. Unfortunately, the song is ending, the dancers' shuffling feet coming to a stop.

_Well I was out for a little fun_  
_But I'm guilty till I'm twenty-one_  
_I guess I'm doin' time for being young_  
_I don't wanna be doin' time for being yoooung!_

Nate slides across the stage on his knees, the bright lights framing his blonde hair. The crowd of girls yell their appreciation, slamming the stage repeatedly, crying for more. Nate bows and beams at Talbot.

"This is talent," says Nate, flashing his arm in Talbot's direction. "Touch it."

Talbot throws a pitiful stare at Darcy, who's as peeved as Nate was before this whole showdown began.

"Nate, you're being a jerkwad!" says Darcy, storming off but pausing briefly. "Sorry for cursing, everyone."

With a toss of her hair, Darcy leaves the auditorium through a side door.

"What the heck is going on?" cries a concerned voice from the wings.

Manny, Toby, and the officers parade into the room. They'd obviously heard all the screaming. A pilot flying a plane over Degrassi could've heard those screams.

"Nothing except Nate proving he's got balls," says Heather. "Darcy couldn't handle the heat."

"She was definitely hatin' the gyratin'," says Danny.

There's a light snicker coming from the back of the auditorium after that comment. Emma identifies it as Liza and turns when Manny's voice echoes throughout the room.

"This shouldn't be a competition to see who has the most testosterone," says Manny.

"Says the girl with massive estrogen," chimes in Heather.

"Stop insulting my girlfriend!" cries Toby.

"Toby, I like you now and everything, but get real," says Heather. "I can beat you up with my pinkie."

Manny drags Toby to the vending machines. Heather grins triumphantly and walks towards Danny.

"Baby, you know she just says things when she's bored," soothes Manny.

Stroking his forehead, Toby seems to calm down, and he's not the only one. Nate keeps looking at the door Darcy went out of as if she's returning at any minute.

"Okay, okay," offers Nate apologetically. "Everybody...stop fighting. I shouldn't have interrupted Talbot's audition."

"Awww," say a few girls, staring at Nate with compassion.

"Thanks," says Talbot, shrugging. "I guess."

You figure she'd have spoken up sometime during the conflict, thinks Emma, going by Principal Hatzilakos as the murmurs die down. Or maybe she's just a principal that's good at creating conflict. The auditorium door clatters behind her. Good, she's in the clear. Emma walks towards the water fountain. She locates her pill box, decorated with a tiny picture of a beluga whale, and takes out one small blue pill. You wouldn't think something so small could change her mood. But like Talbot, she's more likely to do it if nobody's judging her.

"Emma."

The voice that utters her name curls the hair on her fingers. Her fingers tremble without her being able to stop them. The pill jumps from her grip, swirling until it enters the drain of the fountain. Emma reaches to rapidly save the pill. It's gone...in a flash.

"What?" exclaims Emma.

"Sorry to scare you," says Principal Hatzilakos. "You rushed out and I wondered if anything was wrong."

You're what's wrong, condemns Emma in her mind. And look what you made me do. Or maybe she doesn't want her to see how much the affair had affected her life.

"I gotta be somewhere," says Emma, turning from the fountain.

"Archie told me you were a nanny this summer," says Principal Hatzilakos. "Was it fun?"

Emma doesn't reply, lifts her shoulders.

"How old was the little girl?" asks Principal Hatzilakos. "What grade?"

She likes talking about Hannah so she can at least give her one response.

"She'll be eight soon and she's home-schooled," says Emma. "Though she might switch to public school. That's up to her dad, though."

"My ex-husband and I searched for schools for Peter in L.A.," says Principal Hatzilakos. "I did some substitute teaching there as well while he was directing films. Maybe I could assist you there."

Assist her? She's done plenty for her - destroying her family, making her mother worry, pulling Snake away from their house. Is this her way of settling things? How unaware is this woman? Emma hits the hardness of the water fountain a single time and glares at Principal Hatzilakos.

"I wouldn't take your assistance if you were the last person in the world!" says Emma.

"Emma, be civilized," says Principal Hatzilakos.

"You be civilized and leave me alone!" cries Emma. "Why are you here? Why couldn't you change schools?"

The two questions continue to ricochet in her head. Her body grows hot while different thoughts vie for attention, about how lonely her mother was, about how deep the kiss between Snake and Principal Hatzilakos appeared, about how many days their family wasn't together thanks to the woman who stands in front of her. The unuttered thoughts fall down her throat, sit on her chest.

"Degrassi is my school," says Principal Hatzilakos. "Just like it's Archie's, just like it's yours..."

"We were both here before you!" says Emma. "Gosh, you are the worst principal that could possibly be here..."

"This isn't about my career, Emma," interjects Principal Hatzilakos firmly.

"But it is about your character!" returns Emma.

"I do a lot for my students, whether you want to admit that or not," says Principal Hatzilakos. "Listen, why don't we go to my office and talk? I honestly didn't want to upset you."

"Well, you are," says Emma.

"You might want to ask your father who ended the affair," says Principal Hatzilakos reluctantly. "Not that I don't share half of the blame. But...just ask him."

What's that supposed to mean? She begins to breathe audibly, gripping the cold edge of the water fountain. Principal Hatzilakos comes closer to her. Emma presses a hand against her thundering heart. She accidentally drops her pillbox. The pillbox clatters open. Principal Hatzilakos picks up the single pill from the floor. No, she doesn't get to know about that. She won't. Emma maddeningly wrests away the pillbox and the pill, throws the pill in the trash, and twists the water fountain handle. In no way is this cheater going to have even a hint that she's in therapy. The fountain fails to work. Jammed. Work, you stupid fountain. Work.

"Do you need water?" asks Principal Hatzilakos.

"Why am I letting you do this to me?" whispers Emma to herself.

A deep frown crosses Principal Hatzilakos' lips as Emma faces away from her. Her breathing becomes more labored, and she sinks to the floor. She can't be here now. She can't be. Why doesn't this horrible liar leave? She hears Principal Hatzilakos open her purse and spots a bottle of water in her periphereal vision. Emma's unable to gasp out a "no." Her chest clenches in pain.

"Em!" yells a familiar voice, feet rushing towards her.

She makes out a blurry Spinner as her eyes grow teary. He stoops to sit beside her. Emma buries her face in her hands. Spinner puts an arm around her, taking in her quivering chest.

"Here...please take the water," says Principal Hatzilakos, joining them on the floor.

Looking at them both, Spinner removes Emma's hands from her face and removes the water from Principal Hatzilakos' hands.

"Emma, please," says Spinner.

Emma grudgingly takes the water, without looking at either of them, and drinks a few gulps. Her breathing levels out. She'll just have to wait to get another pill though the water does help. Spinner strokes her back as Emma stares ahead of her.

"I should go," says Principal Hatzilakos.

She follows Daphne Hatzilakos as she goes past the lockers, the MI Lab, until she's far from her sight. Emma wipes her lips, wipes off any remnants of what that woman offered to her.

"Are you okay?" says Spinner, guiding her to stand.

"Yeah," says Emma. "She's gone... so yeah."

III.

They could've been any other family, passing around chow mein, kung pao chicken, and sweet and sour pork. If not for the stacks of legal paperwork on the opposite table, reasons Ellie. The Camerons, huddled around the miniscule dining table in the kitchen of Sean's apartment, trade white cartons while keeping an eye on the two figures in the living room. Sean's leaning forward with his chest above his lap. Mr. Fletcher's body is hunched forward too, though from where she is, Ellie can tell that his posture is better.

"They're deciding before we get there," says Mr. Fletcher. "Remember, all the evidence has been collected and the prosecutor's just gearing up for the formal trial. The formal trial's jury is who we need to woo."

"Can the charges be reduced?" asks Sean. "I didn't make that deal for nothing, I hope."

Ellie catches Iris Cameron's lips tensing when she hears those words.

"I have that covered," assures Mr. Fletcher. "Even if they do go for more serious charges, I've been corroberating enough evidence to show that you weren't the master operator, and that the deal you made was beneficiary for the police. That's why your trial is a day ahead of Jay's. Yours is a particular case."

Iris nods knowingly, calmly squirting some soy sauce onto her kung pao chicken. Ike and Tracker appear distracted, then dig into their bowls of chow mein. Ellie lays down her fork.

"The smell's getting to me," says Ellie, leaning into Iris. "I'm going outside."

"Sure thing, dear," says Iris.

She loves the smell of Chinese food, and if he heard, Sean would've recognized the excuse for what it was. Ellie stops to wave at Sean through the doorway. He waves back and shifts his gaze to Mr. Fletcher.

Ellie walks down the steps, trying not to picture the courtroom that's soon to come. What if the case goes terribly wrong and she has to say good-bye to him? Is she prepared to watch him walk out in handcuffs, to imagine him being alone in a cell? The deal must relieve him of any dire consequences because if anything else occurs, she might be incapable of functioning for quite awhile. This is probably what her dad means when he says you have to "soldier on." She's willing to do that for Sean but can she really?

The night is unquestionably warm with crickets chirping in the distance. A dragonfly swoops past Ellie's ear and lands on the lid of a recycling bin. Tracker's truck and the Camerons' car rest silently in the nearby lot where a father and son are working on a bike together. Ellie wonders if she should get a newspaper and digs out fifty cents from her jacket pocket. It might be nice to think of other news before Sean receives his news tomorrow. She approaches the newspaper machines, walking more slowly when she hears the creaking of wood. Ellie peers past a "No Loitering" sign and spots an angled cane. She looks skyward, shakes her head, and moves to the sidewalk. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, a full frown planted on her face, she steps inches away from the seated visitor.

"What are you doing here?" asks Ellie.

Dale brings his cane closer to him. He wears a white T-shirt and tan, pressed slacks, his ponytail the longest she's ever seen it.

"I was trying to decide whether to go up," says Dale. "Getting anywhere takes me awhile these days."

"If you came to threaten him...," says Ellie.

"I didn't," interrupts Dale strongly. "I won't."

She listens to the crickets for a moment, bunches up her shoulders.

"He has too much going on to talk to you," sighs Ellie. "I don't know why he would anyway."

Dale smirks. He begins to light a cigarette, then decides against it. He pockets the pack.

"Are you always this sweet?" says Dale.

"This is as sweet as you're going to get so I would enjoy it," replies Ellie.

"Well, I have twenty minutes before the next bus comes," says Dale. "I'd like to speak with him...if he's willing. You can come along if you're so interested."

"I'm not...but he might be," says Ellie.

Glancing at the gold light filling Sean's window, Ellie wonders what to do. Dale did come all this way...for something. Sean did sit with Dale at the funeral so apparently they were on civil terms, however lasting that turned out to be. Plus if this has to do with Ty, Sean would've built a bridge past their beef in nanoseconds. She'll take the chance.

"This better be the last time you talk to him," says Ellie over her shoulder as she opens the door to the complex.

"I can't promise that," says Dale after her.

Ellie climbs the steps, sighing into the sticky air of the stairwell.

IV.

Sean zips up his jacket for nearly thirty seconds. He halts his hand at the top. Any action that requires slowing down is appealing. He's heard legal jargon all day, and is not enthusiastic about the tripe that's sure to topple out of Dale's mouth. Surely the super genius of stolen car parts will weigh his words carefully. Sean tightens his grip on the handle of the glass door.

"Gonna stay," says Ellie, standing beside the row of tenant mailboxes.

"You don't have to," says Sean.

"Gonna stay," repeats Ellie, glaring at Dale through the glass window.

He touches her arm once and opens the door. Dale is staring at three kids playing football across the street. They yell the number of plays and run across the field in no set order anyway. Sean walks to the bench, waits for Dale to take note of him, and sits.

"You look worried," says Dale.

Clamping his teeth together, Sean pulls at the sleeve of his jacket.

"Who wouldn't be?" says Sean.

"I hear your man Fletcher's good," says Dale. "He's talked to Emmitt and Delonte and all sorts of folk that have passed between us. Word has it he wins most of his cases."

"My dad hired him because he does what's best for me," says Sean.

"You did what was best for you," says Dale coldly, stamping his cane.

"Had to," says Sean.

"Look, we both understand what's going down tomorrow, Sean," sighs Dale. "They'll formally charge you. The trial will be cake. You'll get arrested but before the ink is dry on the papers, you'll be out because of the deal you made. The deal you made that caused all of this to happen."

"You made the business that caused all of this to happen," points out Sean.

"I can't believe you still don't take any responsibility for this," mumbles Dale, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Do you?" throws back Sean.

"You're such a fink," says Dale. "I saw it that first day and now I'm paying for it."

"Guess it was something you couldn't beat out of me," says Sean.

Dale lets out a deep groan. Sean's tempted to release one too but he'd rather get this over with.

"Why'd you come?" says Sean.

Dale's lips start to tremble, as much as the cane that won't stay stationary no matter how hard Dale tries to make it freeze.

"Marcus," answers Dale. "He won't take my calls. He didn't leave his cell when I came to visit. He's completely cut me off."

Call him heartless, but after all the personal jabs he's taken this evening, he can't drudge up a lot of sympathy for him. Marcus has every right to be angry, and Sean can't control the man's emotions.

"I keep writing and telling him Ty would want us to patch up our problems," says Dale.

"Ty isn't here," says Sean, crossing his arms. "There hasn't been enough time for that to sink in...for any of us. You say you want to patch things up but you haven't done squat to show that you're sorry other than cry while they buried his brother."

"My dad's meeting with lawyers too, Sean!" exclaims Dale. "Don't forget I'm screwed too."

"I'm talking about you screwing us," says Sean. "You said Ty was your conscience or whatever...yet you're still sulking in the shadows, hoping you get off easy."

"You're hoping for the same, coward," seethes Dale.

"No, I did what was right," says Sean. "I stood up to you. And even Ty, who was quieter than both of us, stood up for you. Marcus nailed you to the core. You _are_ a coward if you let me and Jay get punished without mentioning that you were threatening us most of the time! I'll take whatever's coming but I'm not taking your bull."

Sean rises from the bench, hearing Dale's cane rattle behind him. He's surprised that he unleashed those words on him, on tonight of all nights, though he won't take it back, not for the best bargain in all the world.

"Ty chose me over you in the end!"

Dale's declaration leads Sean to spin around. The sentence was said so confidently that it cracks a piece of him on the inside yet it may be the one thought that keeps Dale from cracking entirely. Sean hears Ellie, the glass door creaking open.

"Whatever lets you live with yourself," says Sean.

Throwing his cane to the ground, Dale's nostril flares as the city bus moves towards him. Sean reenters the complex. He takes Ellie's hand and they head towards the top.

V.

"I can't believe you brush right before meals," says Ellie.

The hand dryer sucks the water droplets from Ellie's skin while Amberly runs a toothbrush over her tongue. They're in the washroom of Guillermo's, a Mexican restaurant with a Parisian atmosphere. Of course Amberly selected the restaurant and approved of the conflicting atmospheric, "fun" touches. Ellie has no doubt she'll be the most successful economist of her generation simply because she'd convince everyone else that nobody could live up to the label. Her parents, according to Amberly, were uncharacteristically late and Ellie's parents arrived uncharacteristically early. As if this lunch wasn't going to be strange enough.

"And after," says Amberly, then spitting into the sink. "It makes me feel like a movie star to have rockin' teeth. I'm going to save up for Zoom and get a touch-up."

"Cool," says Ellie.

She has no idea what Zoom is and doesn't care to hear what it is, though she can make an educated guess. She'd rather not. This doesn't prevent Amberly from providing her own roommate-related guesses as she washes her hands.

"I know why you're moody," says Amberly. "Your parents don't know about Marco, do they? That's why they didn't help you move in."

This girl is mixed up to the maximum. Never mind that she showed her a photo and told her about Sean. For some reason, she called Ellie a fibber and laughed it off. Ellie suspects it's because Amberly thinks a hot guy like Sean wouldn't be interested in her. That's more annoying than the seven hundred other annoying quirks Amberly holds dear.

"Marco is not my boyfriend," shares Ellie for what feels like the fiftieth time. "He's gay, as in gay."

"Good cover story!" laughs Amberly, poking Ellie's ribcage. "You really are a reporter. I saw that mountain of pictures of you and him on your wall. Can't fool a fellow honors student."

"Listen," sighs Ellie. "Marco and I are friends. Okay, we did used to date and we have kissed...actually, it's complicated."

"Oh my gosh, we should totally double one of these days!" cries Amberly.

"You have a boyfriend?" questions Ellie.

"I will," says Amberly. "I fully intend on hitting every frat party in search of a hot guy, without my parents knowing of course."

"So we're both keeping secrets from our parents," muses Ellie.

Perhaps Amberly isn't as squeaky clean as she thought.

"Is Dylan available?" asks Amberly cheerfully. "I love jocks."

No, she's not clean, just utterly clueless. Whatever. Coming in here kept her away from her parents and she'll watch Amberly brush until her gums are sore if it means avoiding them longer. Amberly runs the bristles along her lower teeth and announces that she's done. Shoot. Amberly's usefulness left with her plaque.

"Spinach burritos, here we come!" says Amberly, indicating that Ellie should go with her.

They reach the lobby, which has the usual maitre'd table, attentive waiters and waitresses, and a sign asking customers to stand there until they're seated. There's also a large mural, the first decoration to catch Ellie's sight, of the Moulin Rouge. Inexplicably, someone painted a burro wearing a beret right above the red windmill. This lunch just gets curiouser and curiouser, to borrow a phrase from one of her favorite childhood books.

Amanda and John stand next to the sign, Ellie's father wearing a beige suit and her mother in a tea-length, cream-colored dress that flatters her hair. Ellie dressed up in a black blouse and tailored skirt, perfect for a forced lunch and an unpredictable trial. She made sure to fix up her wardrobe for today but also made sure that it was practical to the point where her parents wouldn't comment on it. Then there's Amberly who put on an ivory business suit that she said the Nashes would love. This Nash doesn't love it, thinks Ellie. It's almost like the poor girl is trying too hard.

"Mom texted me when I was doing my molars," informs Amberly when they reach Ellie's parents. "They'll be here in a jiffy."

"We can't wait to meet them," says Amanda.

The door to Guillermo's swings open, revealing an attractive Asian couple in their mid-forties. These have to be the Wu parents, reasons Ellie, especially since her mother is wearing a pea-colored suit and a smile almost identical to Amberly's. Her father's in a blue suit with a white tie. He has a more somber expression, attempting to grin as their group exchanges pleasantries.

"Mr. and Mrs. Nash, these are my parents, Kenny and Cissy Wu," introduces Amberly.

They shake hands with Ellie's parents, and then Ellie.

"Kenny Wu," says Ellie quietly. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

"I have the same name as a Mighty Ducks character," says Kenny, letting a smile slip out.

Ellie chuckles. "Oh yeah!"

"Such a silly coincidence," waves off Cissy. "You had the name well before that boy was born."

"I hated the lead kid...Charlie," says Kenny.

"Me too," says Ellie, sharing a laugh with him.

"Anyways, let me flag down a waiter so we can eat," insists Cissy, waving a hand discreetly.

A waiter instantly walks to them, guiding their party to a table in the center of Gulliermo's. The centerpieces on the table have sombreros with miniature bottles of wine surrounding the hat. When they're presented with menus, Ellie raises her eyebrows at a Photoshopped portrait of a can-can dancer carrying a tray of tacos.

"What's your line of business, Mr. Wu?" asks John.

"Dermatologist," replies Kenny.

"Both of us," says Cissy. "We keep trying to persuade Amberly to follow in our footsteps with no success."

"Well, Ellie's always been on her own path too," says Amanda with a warm chuckle.

Ugh, her mom's in suck-up mode. Ellie reaches for the bread just as Kenny does. He lets her select first and then grabs a piece himself. He bites into the bread.

"This bread is terrible," says Kenny. "Why do we keep coming here?"

"Kenny," chastises Cissy.

"There's a giant Eiffel Tower on the wall, above a French poodle eating salsa," says Kenny. "It's an eyesore but I can't stop looking at it."

Ellie attempts to stifle a laugh, lifting a menu. Her mother notices and pats her knee.

"It's too bad Ellie's boyfriend couldn't join us," says Amberly, winking at Ellie when she lowers her menu.

Why do people like Amberly exist? Why, why, why? Ellie reads her mother's troubled glances towards her father. She's pretty certain the name "Sean" is on the tip of their tongues. They were going to find out, right here, right in public where she'd be embarrassed?

"Boyfriend?" cries Amanda.

"You know," says Amberly, with a grin aimed at Ellie. "_Marco_. I just had to put in a good word for him. He's so sweet."

"Oh," says a relieved but confused Amanda. "Marco?"

"Hmmm," says John, sharing a subtle smile with his daughter. "That would make for a very interesting couple."

Thank goodness. In her panic, Ellie neglected to remember that Amberly had mentally hooked up her and Marco. She was spared of the boyfriend backlash. Phew.

"Dear, I hope you didn't meet this Marco at a frat party," says Cissy. "You're much too beautiful to settle for a guy like that."

"I...I don't think they're so bad," stammers Amanda as their waiter comes over to pour water for them.

"Some of our prime ministers have been in frats," offers John.

"Have you seen the guys at today's frat parties?" says Kenny Wu with disgust. "They belch the periodic table and pour rotten milk onto their Lucky Charms."

"Daaaaaaaddy, stop being a somber Stanley," sighs Amberly.

Ellie knows why Amberly is really irked, because that's pretty much the kind of boy she's looking for.

"I remember those types," continues Kenny. "You two girls should be focusing on your studies anyways, especially since you're already taken."

Several heads swerve to Ellie. She drinks, gulps, and pretends to read the dessert specials. Ellie spies her mother choking her napkin from under the menu.

"Mr. Wu would probably like to know the answer to that question, Ellie," says Amanda.

"Didn't sound like a question," remarks Ellie, her head still down.

Kenny clears his throat. "It wasn't a question actually..."

"I'm curious," goes on Amanda. "Go ahead, Ellie."

"Marco should be here to vouch for himself," says unaware Amberly, Cissy immediately shushing her.

"Marco's been out of the game for awhile, to my knowledge," argues Amanda, her brow furrowing. "I'm thinking it's someone we told you to steer clear of."

"Well, that's plenty of ammo for her to do the opposite," says Kenny.

"Kenny!" says Cissy. "Stay out of this! Just be thankful our child's not the one who's lying."

"Are you lying, Ellie?" sighs Amanda.

"I don't feel comfortable answering that question...which is yes, an actual question," mutters Ellie, shrinking in her seat.

Abruptly standing, Amanda takes a last sip of water and taps Ellie's shoulder.

"Come with me."

Amanda's command hovers over the table like a sombrero with an invisible head underneath. John unbuttons his suit jacket and follows Ellie to the hall next to the Senor and Senorita washrooms, a tiny French flag below the male and female forms. Amanda looks at both of them before speaking, then fixes her gaze on Ellie.

"After everything we've done for you...after you fainted...after we got you settled somewhere else," exclaims Amanda. "You run back to Sean?"

She may not have meant it to, but the list is delivered cruelly, as if Ellie spat on them every time she went to be with Sean. Ellie doubted that they could secretly date forever but it wasn't a crime she was committing against her parents with no regard for their rules. She thought about them every moment she was with Sean. That's the honest truth.

"How long have you been lying to us?" says John, his voice wavering.

Ellie's in tears before her father can sigh. She fusses with her hair, staring at the red, white, and green carpet.

"You hang with a liar, you become a liar," says Amanda, then to her husband. "It's been going on for weeks, John. That much is obvious."

"I can't turn off my feelings," sobs Ellie through her rapidly falling tears.

"So you turn against us?" cries Amanda.

"Why does it have to be like that?" exclaims Ellie. "I may have lied but I'm still a good kid. I'm _your_ good kid."

"You're not acting like it," says Amanda tersely. "Ellie, don't you understand? You limit your potential when you're with him. He's dragging you into that pit of going nowhere right along with him."

As usual, her mother is not evaluating the whole picture, only staring at a fragment of the situation because of her Sean blinders. Today is not the day to believe that Sean is heading towards a dead end nor is any other day. Today is the day to have faith that the single direction they're going is up.

"I'm in college on a scholarship!" cries Ellie. "I have work published! I've never done drugs or gotten arrested or brought home a bad report card. I am not limited and neither is Sean. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I'm growing up and me finally saying this...is your proof."

Amanda sets her hands on her hips as Ellie catches her breath. The speech took a lot out of her and she's winded. This has been building in her for so long that she's physically incapable of moving. It's her mother's move anyway. Amanda sniffles, dabbing at her cheeks with a hankerchief.

"John," says Amanda, glancing at her husband. "I can't...with her anymore...you try."

"Dad," says Ellie weakly. "He's hearing his indictment today."

Running his thumb across his chin, John glances at the dining room where the Wus are talking.

"I don't agree," says John.

Ellie hangs her head and strokes her neck, watching her mother's lips become a smile.

"I don't agree, Mandy," continues John. "Ellie is an adult and she's free to be with whoever she wants. I wish it didn't come with a web of lies but...if she made a promise to be there today, that'd be one more lie to add to the pile and _I_ don't want that."

A floating sensation goes throughout her entire system, her limbs breaking way until she's embracing her father as closely as she can. She dreaded this lunch for weeks, while planning with Marco how to meet up somewhere, while resolving to take the city bus to court, while getting dressed. Not to mention battling with her nerves and guilt for days on end. Her father is putting an end to that.

"John!" exclaims Amanda.

"Amanda, deep down, didn't you know they'd work it out?" says John, his tone softening.

Out of pure instinct, with a morsel of courage, Ellie reads her mother's features. There's only certainty there...and maybe a bit of brief acceptance that fades as instantly as it came.

"That..that doesn't matter," says Amanda. "Well, somebody has to tell the Wus we're leaving."

"We're?" says Ellie with an iota of hope.

"I have no choice, do I?" says Amanda. "My car's at home."

Her mother strolls quickly from the hallway, a hankerchief pressed against her nose. Not many fights are won in a day, but Ellie's going. She's going with her father's blessing. They walk to the exit.

"I'll drive," says John. "I don't believe you have your license yet, young lady."

"In a little while," affirms Ellie, her arm around his waist.

"In a little while," says her father.

VI.

He feels ten again, when his mother angles the collar of his suit's black jacket, when she runs her aging fingers across the holes on his buttons, when she smooths the edges of his hair with three gentle flicks. Then he adds three years, when a voice is changing, when you officially become a teenager, when you're nearing adulthood with still enough distance to consider every dream achievable, and maybe those aren't meant to ever be dashed. Ty died with dreams. Sean lives with fear. As Iris brushes away specks of lint on the left arm of his jacket, he swallows these feelings whole.

They're in the courthouse, official and familiar voices carrying from the packed courtroom. It seems like most of Toronto is here and ready to hear the account of his actions from May to August. Sean takes a step back, staring at the official seal of Canada captured in a bronze circle on the wall. What if he and Ellie took that trip? He'd be offering a more fun account, a typical account from a kid having a fun summer. Would they be as interested then? He'd never know.

The audience includes a few members from the ring, namely Emmitt and Delonte who've yet to let him down; Jerry and Dee, stone-faced and sitting in the rear, their uniform badges glowing due to the sun streaming in through a window; Officer Rali, head of the investigation, hands folded over his chest; Officer Pinsky who could really clean up when his face wasn't covered in smoke; Mr. Hill, consistently staring past Sean at the courthouse door; Patrick and Garrett, Hill's most loyal workers, appearing just as wily and innocent as when Dale and Sean went to rob the shop that night; some of Sean's former and most cherished customers - the Sumters, the Culvers, and to his surprise, Ms. Kwan from Degrassi. Mr. Ehl's wheelchair stops beside her and he greets her with a hug. Most surprising to him, however, are the occupants of the fifth row. He was confident that Marco, Dylan, and Ellie would be there, but is speechless when it comes to explaining why both Nash parents are seated with them. If that wasn't enough...Jeff Isaacs is the final person in the row, fumbling with his watch every few seconds. Of course, Jeff liked Ellie but he can't fathom why the last customer he deceived is sitting with his girlfriend's family.

Two courthouse doors open just as the Camerons crowd around him. A sea of individuals with faces that partly comfort his heart pass through the courtroom lobby. A warm Sandy and distracted Cheryl go by after delivering firm shoulder rubs, a shy Becca leading her grandmother inside. Finally, there's Jay, Mr. Hogart, Cindy, and Alex. If anyone's in his shoes, it's Jay who remains wordless until he rolls his wheelchair to Sean.

"It'll be me tomorrow," says Jay. "Might as well keep that seat warm...oh wait, I'll be in this seat."

The comment comes out more light-hearted than it should probably be, Jay bumping fists with Sean.

"Good luck, bro," says Jay softly.

"This isn't Jamaica, bro," interjects Alex. "Come on. Seats are filling fast."

"The heck?" cries Jay, looking into the courtroom. "They come out in droves like Sean is getting a Nobel Peace Prize."

"Quiet, you," says Alex.

She wheels him away. Sean smiles with his chin touching his shirt. There are plenty of people here, though he can't tell if the grand jury will be the opposite of his friends and family. And Dale's not here to sway them. He honestly did think his talk with Dale had gotten through to him. He looked shaken when Sean laid into him about his many faults. Well, he should slap himself for holding onto that last string of hope. Dale let Jay fall. He let Sean fall. He'll let anyone fall as long as it's not him falling first. This is the guy who stole from his father, thinks Sean. This is _that_ guy.

Iris kisses Sean's cheek. His father and Tracker provide gazes of pride.

"Whatever happens, we ain't going nowhere," says Tracker.

" 'Til the last word is said," adds Iris.

"Thanks Mom, Dad, Tracker," says Sean. "For everything."

Sean stands beside his parents, Tracker behind them, and they enter the courtroom. Whispers that Sean has come into the fray zip from corner to corner. Ellie stands for a better view. Sean approaches her when he reaches the gate, clasps her hand once, and joins Mr. Fletcher at the defendant's table. Mr. Fletcher pours Sean a glass of cold water.

"You'll be amazed how short this will be," says Mr. Fletcher. "I promise."

"It's going by slowly, from what I can tell," sighs Sean. "Hope you're right."

A side door parts, with the jury filing into the room. They look as if they could've been his customers any day of the week. A few are in their twenties, some in their thirties or forties, a couple past fifty. He wonders if Dale has ever sold their sons or daughters faulty parts. They sit as a unit, noting Sean's presence at about the same time. Will their opinions of him be just as simultaneous?

He hears a pair of clomping heels go to the gate that separates the gallery from the defendant's table. Ellie leans into his ear.

"Don't be scared," whispers Ellie. "I love you."

"Right back at you," whispers Sean.

Ellie smiles and returns to her seat. Sean spies Amanda Nash cross her legs and drop her eyes.

The bailiff comes into the courtroom, a broad-shouldered woman with short blonde hair. She walks past the court clerk and stands near the judges' bench, staring out at the people in the gallery.

"Hear ye, hear ye! The court case of the city of Toronto versus Sean Hope Cameron is now in session," calls the bailiff. "The Honorable Judge Colwaithe presiding. Please stand."

Everyone stands, Sean's knees going weak as Judge Colwaithe comes through the door. Clothed in a long gown, her white bob shining under the flourescent lights, she walks to her bench. Her mouth forms into a firmly set pout. She bangs her gavel.

"You may be seated," says Judge Colwaithe.

Her voice is harsh yet soft. Mr. Fletcher skims through a file as the prosecuting attorney rubs his hands together. Sean had been briefed on the opposition. Mr. Steele often handled cases that dealt with minors and he was likely to go to bat for some jail time for Jay and Sean. Mr. Fletcher would do his best to counter him and advocate for community service...lots of community service in the later formal trial. Sean would scoop dog doo for the rest of his life if it meant avoiding jail.

"Councillor Steele, you may start with any opening remarks," says Judge Colwaithe.

Mr. Steele stands, plays with his wristwatch for a moment, and begins to speak as he paces the front of the courtroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the city of Toronto disbanded a widespread car ring a year ago, thanks to the efforts of our hard-working police force," says Mr. Steele. "And now they find themselves using precious time and the dollars of taxpayers to disband a stolen cars part ring in the same vicinity where Sean Cameron played a chief role. Mr. Cameron has a charge of theft on his record. He made a deal that resulted in a probationary period, which has since elasped, and yet he finds himself in even worse trouble several years later. The car parts made in Ace's Auto Shop have been the cause of the deaths of your fellow community members. A naive and innocent child died as a result of taking this sinister business down. Let's not let these people die in vain. Based on the evidence, I'm sure you came to the conclusion that Sean Cameron deserves a far more severe punishment this time around."

"No, he doesn't!" yells a loud voice from the gallery.

Startled gasps greet the cry, Sean turning to view an angry, red-faced Emmitt.

"Order in the court!" says Judge Colwaithe, pounding her gavel. "If your outcries continue, young man, I will dismiss you from this courtroom."

"Sorry," says Emmitt.

He scratches his chin, letting Becca gently pull him to his seat. Sean's never seen Emmitt so eager to say something that didn't have to do with cars.

"I'm done, your honor," says Mr. Steele.

Throwing a disconcerted glance Emmitt's way, Mr. Steele returns to his table. Sean is glad he's done. He couldn't have skewered Sean any better unless he was a piece of meat. Mr. Fletcher didn't prepare him to hear about his former charges...not until the trial at least. He notices the jury nodding to themselves and puts his head into his hands.

"The opposing counsel wishes to introduce pertinent information for consideration," says Judge Colwaithe. "At the request of Officer Rali, I will permit it. Your floor, Mr. Fletcher."

Mr. Fletcher clears his throat and goes to the center of the floor. Sean peers past Marco and Dylan until he views the Nashes, grim expressions covering their faces except for Ellie who's on the edge of her seat.

"While Mr. Steele is correct that Mr. Cameron has a less than golden past, he fails to mention the personal risks this young man has faced on this path," says Mr. Fletcher, eyeing each member of the jury. "Whereas some delinquets continued to participate in criminal activity during their probationary period, the defendant was saving the lives of his schoolmates, maintaining a B average, and holding down a steady job as a respected mechanic. Mr. Cameron willingly came to the authorities with a stolen part, fully aware of the future repercussions. He also worked with the police force to ensure that they collected necessary evidence, wearing a wire, putting himself right in the line of fire, literally. Ladies and gentlemen, he only asks that these risks be rewarded. Thank you."

Lifting his head, Sean tugs at the collar of his jacket. Beads of sweat run past the nails on his thumbs. Mr. Fletcher packed a lot into several sentences, the single sentences he's allowed to say today. Most of his argument would still be made in the accompanying formal trial. Yet they were said eloquently, and he views the multiple features on his friends' faces relax.

"Sean Hope Cameron, please stand," orders Judge Colwaithe.

Sean stands, the chair hitting the backs of his legs. The ache spreads from his calves to his ankles. He stares ahead at another seal beyond Judge Colwaithe, this seal bigger, the letters bolder.

"The jury has reviewed the evidence presented by the prosecutor," says Judge Colwaite. "These are the charges you have been indicted with following their meeting. They have considered the fact that you're a juvenile. You are charged with multiple counts of theft and trespassing. Two charges of theft have been dropped because the two offended parties, one Mr. Leland Hill and one Mr. Jeffrey Isaacs, are not pursuing legal action."

A few delighted murmurs fill the gallery. Sean gives a grateful nod to Mr. Hill, and uses every ounce of energy to turn to Mr. Isaacs. Toby's father shrugs at him and cocks his head. Jeff and Kate could've definitely punished him. How could he make it up to them...that is, if he can in the near future?

"How do you plead?" says Judge Colwaithe.

Guilty. Not guilty. No contest. The options run through his head. They practiced this part, and he races to remember which words to give her as his heart thunders beneath his shirt.

"No contest," says Sean through the lump building in his throat.

"The maximum sentence for such charges is five years, which you would spend in a juvenile facility for a short period, and then be transferred to a local prison," continues Judge Colwaithe.

Five years. It's coming. The deal made no difference. He hears his mother sob, a throaty wail that echoes past the gate. He won't graduate or open a shop or pursue the things he's worked for for the past two years. His life is over.

"However," says Judge Colwaite, lowering her glasses to look at him. "Your honorable actions were not known to the grand jury. They will be taken into consideration during the trial. I would like to hear from you why you took it upon yourself to make this deal."

He exchanges cautious glances with Mr. Fletcher. Sean was going to save his words of appeal for the formal trial, but they're so ingrained in his mind that they come out anyway.

"I've done things I wouldn't normally do this summer," says Sean. "For selfish reasons. I could argue that it was for self-preservation, but that would be a selfish argument. The fact of the matter is that I hated what I did, where it lead, who I hurt. I've been working hard to make sure that people could trust me since I got to Toronto six years ago. Why'd I throw it away?"

Why did he, especially with people like Mr. Hill, Mr. Ehl, Mr. Isaacs, Mr. Simpson, Ellie, so many others were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt?

"I had to go right somewhere," continues Sean. "This deal was it. Thank you."

"The defendent has pleaded no contest," says Judge Colwaithe. "Mr. Fletcher, you..."

Her order to Mr. Fletcher is devoured by the creaking of doors. The doors clang against the walls. The bailiff jumps at the sudden movement, hand on her pistol. Heads revolve, including Sean's, to see the reason for the raucous. The person approaching the bench does his best to be as quick as the bailiff. Out of breath, his father shooting up, Dale ambles up the aisle on his cane. He stops behind the gate.

This isn't real life. It has to be a vision of Dale coming forward, because surely the real Dale wouldn't be here. Would he? Sean leans into the table, ready to drop. He grips the table's edge hard.

"What on earth?" cries Judge Colwaithe.

"Your honor!" cries Dale. "Your honor! I...I'm late, but this...this is important."

"For goodness' sake!" moans Mr. Steele.

"This has to do with Sean...and Jay," says Dale.

"Who are you?" asks Judge Colwaithe sternly.

"Dale...Dale Hill," replies Dale.

The name travels among the audience, with Sandy and Cheryl placing hands against their chests. Dale takes them in, then focuses on the judge.

"This is very unorthodox... but this is a rather unorthodox case," says Judge Colwaithe. "Proceed."

Dale shifts his cane, touches the top of the gate with his fingers. They slip a couple times before they're resting on the wooden surface.

"A lot of what Sean...and Jay were doing was because of me," says Dale. "I threatened them...with a gun. I threatened their loved ones. Heck...I...I even pulled Jay out of a class only to...shoot him that same night."

Sean glances at Jay who stares fixedly at Dale while Alex strokes his back.

"Then I almost shot Sean," says Dale. "But I didn't since...since Ty told me to leave him alone."

Judge Colwaithe removes her glasses, folds them, and gives him her attention.

"Ty's...Ty's the boy who died," says Dale tearfully, scanning the jury members. "And..and he was an extraordinarily good boy. That's why he liked Sean...cause he was good too. To quote him, he was the best mechanic ever. It didn't take a genius to figure that out, but it took a kind kid to protect him from me. I wish everyday it was me and not him. I wish that so much...every single day."

Dale has to be real, since only the real Dale could talk like that about Ty. Would it be enough to reassess the trial? Perhaps not, though Sean is certainly reassessing the boss who broke him down and forced him to climb up again on his own merits. Dale's Jiminy Cricket broke him for the better.

"Why are you telling everyone this now?" asks Judge Colwaithe with warmth in her voice.

"I'm saying this because both Sean and Jay are in court this week...and they deserve me telling you this," sobs Dale. "I'm also saying this because I love the Markham family, specifically the two Markhams I can't talk to anymore. "

Cheryl rises, pulls down her dress, and guides Dale into a hug. He embraces her as if he'll be dragged away at any second.

"Counsellors, I would like to talk with you in my quarters," says Judge Colwaithe. "The court is dismissed."

She slams her gavel, going into the side door. Mr. Fletcher reaches to shake Sean's hand joyfully.

"This is going to change a lot," says Mr. Fletcher.

He takes off after a grumbling Mr. Steele. The door closes behind them.

Covering his mouth with both hands, Sean barely registers Ellie and his parents thrusting the gate open. Ellie holds him against her tightly. He receives kisses from Iris and handshakes from his friends and approving stares from other gallery members, yet the biggest gesture he's sure to remember is Dale, his cane finally steady, sighing into Cheryl's shoulder as if the weight of the world had hugged him good-bye.


	110. You Spin Me Right Round

**CX. You Spin Me Right Round**

_Yeah I, I got to know your name_  
_Well and I, could trace your private number baby_  
_All I know is that to me_  
_You look like you're lots of fun_  
_Open up your lovin' arms_  
_I want some_

_Well I...I set my sights on you_  
_(and no one else will do)_  
_And I, I've got to have my way now, baby_  
_(and no one else will do)_  
_And I, I've got to have my way now, baby_  
_All I know is that to me_  
_You look like you're havin' fun_  
_Open up your lovin' arms_  
_Watch out, here I come_

_You spin me right round, baby_  
_right round like a record, baby_  
_Right round round round_  
_You spin me right round, baby_  
_Right round like a record, baby_  
_Right round round round_

_I, I got be your friend now, baby_  
_And I would like to move in_  
_Just a little bit closer_  
_(little bit closer)_

_All I know is that to me_  
_You look like you're lots of fun_  
_Open up your lovin' arms_

_Watch me, here I come._

**You Spin Me Right Round is the property of Dead or Alive, and appears** **in the film** _The Wedding Singer_.

**1999 is the property of Prince.**

**All In is the property of Lifehouse.**

**The Crash and Sellie storylines will pick up next chapter right where they left off.**

"That isn't even an issue, Mr. Swab!" cries Craig.

He keeps a finger between attic ventilation and awnings and canopies installment, the yellow pages crinkling under his skin. For the last couple of days, this was his morning routine, that and canvassing Starfly's. Neither activity is turning up anything useful or positive. Craig watches Amos hitting the taps, beer swirling into a mug.

"Oh, excuse me, Schwab!" says Craig into his cell. "Cause there's such a difference. Hello? Hello?"

Schwab, the inconsiderate swab, had hung up on him. Wonderful. He swears, every time he tells a lawyer that he's seventeen, they ask to speak to his parents. Never mind that he's about a week away from being eighteen. The longer they wait on this, the worse Ashley's chances are for making Wheeler pay. He's out there doing who knows what with who knows who, and the very thought makes Craig want to push him into a highway.

"Amos, can I talk to Ilene again?" says Craig reluctantly.

"She's home sick," sighs Amos. "Stop bugging my waitresses. They've told you all they can tell."

Craig slams the book shut. "Just to remind you, this happened at _your_ bar."

The shoulders of Ashley's former boss shoot to his ears, his complexion growing crimson.

"I take excellent care of my girls!" exclaims Amos. "When they're outside, I've got no control. If what you say is right, I'm sorry that it happened here. Ashley's a sweetheart. But it's not my fault. Blame who you really need to blame or take your business out of _my_ business."

Amos' argument is valid. He did believe Ashley was nineteen, and he probably had no idea she wasn't with the other girls for the whole night. Unfortunately, this seems to be a running theme. Craig had hoped that somebody saw Wheeler going after her but the bulk of his wished-for witnesses were plastered that night. Then, there's Ozzie, who Amos insisted hasn't been around since Wheeler ran for it. This is getting more and more frustrating, though Amos doesn't deserve the accusations he's hurling at him.

"Sorry," says Craig, nodding at him.

"Water under the bridge," says Amos. "Oh, there's a visitor staring at you."

He almost forgot. While he was trying to arrange a meeting with a lawyer, he made a meeting with his new roomie named something-Ripley. His first name was faint on the paper. Craig managed to secure his classes without a problem. His belongings were boxed. He even attended the second half of orientation with Marco and Ellie. Truth be told, he needed it far more than they did seeing as they were more familiar with the campus. His only hold up is actually moving into the dorm. So he left a message on the room's door to arrange a time.

He wonders if his roommate will be irritated if he's around so much, like Amos. Then again, he's pretty good with people. Nobody outwardly hated him, not to his knowledge. Craig got along just fine with other guys. Maybe this guy is a clean freak. He can be neat...occasionally. The dealbreaker might be that he plays his guitar too loudly but he's willing to meet in the middle. Craig pivots his stool to face his new living partner.

He's grateful he isn't holding the thick Yellow Pages above his foot because he would've dropped it. A reasonably tall female with short wavy hair, and caramel-colored skin, stands by the front door. She wears a navy CU tee and skinny jeans, a keychain full of knicknacks near a brown belt. She also holds a yellow page, which Craig recognizes as his dorm's roommate assignment card. The girl slaps the paper against her head.

"You?" says the girl, coming forward.

"Me?" says Craig blankly. "Uhhhh, are you Ripley?"

"Clearly," says Carmen, then groaning. "Carmen Ripley. Come, sit at the table. We'll work this out."

Craig leaves the stool and sits opposite Carmen.

"Did you request a co-ed quad?" asks Carmen.

"I don't remember marking any box," confesses Craig. "I had...a lot on my mind. It was kind of a rush job."

"Well, I didn't care either...at first so I left that box blank," interjects Carmen. "But deep down, maybe I did care."

"Listen, if you're uncomfortable living with a boy...," begins Craig.

"Who's uncomfortable?" interrupts Carmen. "I have six brothers. And...and a serious boyfriend."

"Oh," says Craig with arched eyebrows.

"How am I going to explain this to my grandmother?" wonders Carmen aloud.

On his end of things, Joey wouldn't care. He really wouldn't. He'd toss out tons of jokes and tease Craig mercilessly. Angie...she'll find it gross, and sort of fascinating.

"We'd only be sharing a kitchen and a bathroom," reminds Craig. "With another boy and girl."

"The other two found better housing options, so it'll only be us for like four weeks," says Carmen.

"What?" cries Craig.

"Exactly," sighs Carmen. "How would your folks feel about it?"

"My dad...would be more than fine with it," replies Craig.

"Weird?" says Carmen, looking him up and down. "Okay. Maybe my abuela doesn't need this nugget of info. It helps that I don't find you attractive so..."

"Hey!" cries Craig, then softly. "Why not?"

"To start with, you're skinny, have curly hair, barely have any facial hair, and you're pathetically pale after a viciously hot summer," goes on Carmen. "I mean, no offense."

"My girlfriend begs to differ," says Craig pointedly. "And...she'd freak if I told her about you."

Carmen grins. "Awesome, but make sure to tell her I find you as sexy as a poison ivy bush."

Rather than have a retort ready, Craig's mouth finds itself in an amused smile. They laugh, Craig shaking his head while drumming the table with his fingers. Well, since they aren't attracted to each other, and it's a space of four weeks, he wagers they can deal. He'd be spending the majority of his non-school hours with Ashley anyways.

"We can do this?" says Craig.

"Gravy," says Carmen warmly. "Alright. Why'd you bring me to this dive? I thought I saw a dead rat stuffed in a bottle walking in."

That's the treatment he'd love Wheeler to have, Craig instantly shushing his inner thoughts. He's not about to tell Carmen about Ashley's ordeal, especially since Ashley won't talk about it herself. Thankfully, his phone rings while Carmen waits for an answer.

"My dad," says Craig, peering at the number. "We'll drive to the room afterwards and map out what we're going to do."

"Do what you need to do," says Carmen.

Craig stands, walking away from the table. He's not sure why Joey's calling. Not at all. If something happened at Harmony Hill during this week away, he's going to be livid. He'll blame himself more than he blamed Amos, that's for sure.

"Is it Ashley?" says Craig immediately.

"No," replies Joey. "Craig, why are you contacting lawyers without me? Bernie Bernstein of Schwab and Bernstein just rung me. He bought his SUV from the lot last year and thought you were in some legal trouble. I told you to wait 'til Friday so we can go over lawyers together."

"Nobody will talk to me," moans Craig.

"Cause you have no idea what you're doing," says Joey sternly. "We're going to handle this the right way. Calm down."

"Fine," mutters Craig.

"Craig," says Joey in an authoritative tone.

"Fine!" speaks up Craig. "I will wait, if it helps."

"Thank you," sighs Joey.

"By the way, I'm living with a girl," says Craig breezily. "Have an opinion on that?"

"Ha!" chuckles Joey. "Wait 'til I tell Diane."

"Come on, man," says Craig.

"You're like the perfect guy to live with a girl platonically...this is classic," says Joey, laughter eventually winning over his voice.

"Bye, Joey," says Craig, clicking off.

His father, the comedian. Ugh, who else is going to laugh at him today? He starts to return to Carmen until he spies the person responsible for Ashley's living situation several weeks ago. Ozzie comes into the bar from the backroom, exchanging a few words with Amos who hugs him. Should he go over and say hello, or will Amos just tell him to scram?

"Craig!" calls over Ozzie.

That handles that. Craig approaches the bar, joining Ozzie at the end of the counter.

"You vanished," says Craig as he greets him with a frown.

"I did, but I'm back," says Ozzie apologetically. "I...I didn't...I never would've introduced Wheeler to her if I thought she'd get hurt."

He lowers his guard, offering Ozzie a seat. Ozzie sits, revolving to Craig.

"His brother told me he's roughed up girls before," continues Ozzie. "Wheeler denied it. Kinda sucks I took his word for it. But the fact that he's missing now says it all, doesn't it?"

Ozzie removes a small piece of paper, smaller than any page Craig's turned today, though perhaps more valuable. He hands it under the desk to Craig as soon as Amos' head turns.

"That's where he lives, his hang-outs," whispers Ozzie. "And where I think he is now."

"Than...thanks for this, Ozzie," says Craig.

"You told me I wasn't a good friend to Ashley once," recalls Ozzie sadly. "Maybe I wasn't, but this time? I can be."

II.

The French fry version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa wavers to the right, staying erect after a few wobbles. Its architect Derek Haig steadies the structure, in the zone as he endeavors to cover most of the building with ketchup. Emma finds the whole practice annoying, and asks herself why she agreed to the plan of putting two Dot tables together for their large group. Then, she views Spinner coming towards her with a tray of drinks. Oh, that's why.

Emma's expression grows sunnier once Spinner is passing out sodas and smoothies to their friends: J.T, Toby, Manny, Jimmy, Hazel, Darcy, Nate, Danny, and Derek. He always looks so adorable in his uniform, like a surfer-slash-busboy, which is basically what he is, muses Emma.

"Presenting the Watermelemma!" says Spinner, setting a smoothie the shade of deep pink in front of his girlfriend.

"Awwww," comments Darcy.

"Looks like throw up," comments Nate.

"Shush," says Darcy, who elected to sit on the other side of the tables.

Emma totally got why, too, given Nate's wild child antics, but she doesn't get why she has a drink named after her.

"Try it," says Hazel.

"Sniff it first," cautions Jimmy.

Hazel hits her boyfriend upside the head with a napkin. Manny rests her own head on her boyfriend's shoulder.

"This is so sweet," sighs Manny.

"Em, it's watermelon, carrot, and strawberry," lists Spinner from memory. "Oh, and a touch of mango. I went gangbusters with the ingredients you picked."

"Thanks, Spin," says Emma.

Without so much as a sniff, Emma takes a couple sips and a few more. This is good, compliments Emma inwardly. This is really good. Oh, she should probably tell him.

"This is the epitome of delicious," praises Emma.

Spinner raises the roof, causing the whole group to laugh.

"The name could catch on fast," says Toby.

"We can all take a sip of Emma," jokes J.T. "And then...puke."

"We can all take a sip of J.T., and break out in hives," returns Emma.

"Pwnage," says Manny, pushing J.T. to the side.

He nearly gets shoulder-checked into Clara, carrying a cup of coffee past their tables. If they weren't so packed, they could've fit her in, but Derek appears fine with the seating arrangement. It's not long before he's abandoned his fry tower and sharing a booth with his fellow Computer Club member.

"Did anybody notice the camera crew two blocks away?" asks Toby.

"I did!" says Manny.

"Isn't that kind of stuff second nature to you?" questions Emma.

"I still find it amazing," insists Manny.

"Please let it be for the _Veronica Mars_ movie," prays Darcy to herself.

"I keep telling you that is not going to happen," says Danny. "Let it go."

"Don't tell her what to do," comments Nate.

Darcy gives him a brief grateful smile, very brief. She starts picking lettuce off her taco salad.

Despite an overwhelming amount of Student Council work, Emma did catch sight of a camera crew near Degrassi Grocery. At first she figured it was for an advertisement for the store but the owner was so old-school, she snuffed out that idea. There were a couple film trailers so she's assuming it's for a TV movie or an independent film. No sign of Kevin Smith and thus it's safe to say he's not involved...this time. Emma polishes off her smoothie, handing the glass to Spinner.

"Can I have you for a sec?" requests Spinner.

"Only for a sec?" teases Manny, wiggling her shoulders.

"Dude," says J.T. "I'm eating."

Emma follows Spinner to a small blackboard announcing the specials. She can't fathom why they'd need to talk.

"About what happened in the hall..."

Oh, that. Emma averts her eyes to a chalk picture of a smiling pickle.

"That's...that's the second time," whispers Spinner. "Remember...at the Tar Pits?"

Yes, she remembers because she lived through it, thank you very much. But that instance went on for far longer, so she must have some control of it by now, right? Besides, her breathing's regular again. It was Hatzilakos who caused her to panic, and Emma's planning on staying well away from her.

"You're going to mention that in your call to your parents?" suggests Spinner.

"I...I already called them," stammers Emma.

"Make a second one," says Spinner. "I mean, I don't think you should keep that close to your breast...I mean, chest...I mean, you get what I mean. You have to mention that to them."

She blushes, nodding her understanding. Spinner leaves her beside the menu, mulling over her thoughts. Emma can't phone them. They're already trusting her too much and this will halt the plans she has. How is Hannah going to take it if Emma's missing at her party? Who's going to do her school-related tasks? What if Snake informs Ms. Sauve and it gets to Hatzilakos and she has to deal with the woman's guilty murmurings again? Most importantly, if everything's going smoothly, her parents won't fight. She cannot let them down, including Spinner.

Her inner monologue is interrupted by a cry of surprise coming from Manny, as the door to the Dot opens. The new customer is fresh from California, a bevy of new questions invading Emma's consciousness.

"Blake!" exclaims Manny.

The blonde, burgeoning actor stands at the front of the Dot, beaming when he catches sight of her. He's in pricier clothes, a designer T-shirt and finely cut jeans. It almost takes Emma awhile to process that it's him since he's lost a lot of the sun-kissed complexion he had.

"As I live and breathe, it's my plucky theatre paramour," greets Blake, going over to hug Manny.

"Toby's here," says Manny, releasing him. "And Emma. Em!"

Emma goes to the tables and waves to Blake.

"I come in for coffee and the gang's all here!" says Blake enthusiastically. "How's it hanging, Toby?"

"It's...it's hanging fine," replies Toby.

Officers Wheaton and Patton, parked at a nearby booth, lower their newspapers to grimace. Yes, not the coolest response.

"What are you doing in T.O.?" says Emma, desperate to cover up Toby's embarrassment.

"Filming...a movie in your humble hometown," brags Blake as he flicks his collar.

"Oh yeah!" says Manny. "You told me that at the ball. I totally spaced."

"Like you spaced that you were going to buy me lunch," reminds Blake. "I see how it is. Now that you're admitted to a top acting academy, you forget the working actors."

"Cause I'm sure your paycheck is minimum wage," challenges Manny. "And hello? You promised me lunch."

"True, true, I'm making bank," admits Blake. "Of course I'd be doing more work if the director didn't keep yelling at the location manager."

"What's the problem?" asks Emma.

"The teen hang-out my character goes to with a date got quarantined," explains Blake. "Something about mold. Anyways, they're hunting for a roller-skating rink we can film at...pronto."

"Paige went to a roller-skating rink with her sorority sisters," speaks up Hazel. "She says it's actually pretty decent."

"Huh, maybe you should be a location scout," compliments Blake.

Hazel exchanges a smile with Jimmy, who pats her hair. Emma's happy for her too. Hazel rarely got opportunities to contribute outside of dance class.

"And I'm not sure you guys are interested, but we kinda need extras too," says Blake sheepishly.

His offer is met with a round of screams, shouts, yells, and every exclamation under the sun. Darcy nearly chokes on some chili and Danny rushes over to Derek. Emma doesn't raise her voice. Honestly, she has so much to do for Council. There are addendums to prepare, a Welcome Back newsletter to write and edit, and five emails to reply to in-depth.

"I can't go," says Emma.

"Cause of Council?" says Manny. "Tobes will give you an extension. Right, baby?"

"Uh-huh," says Toby instantly.

Only because Manny is asking, thinks Emma without verbalizing it.

She can't deny that being an extra is fun. The opportunities that came with the Kevin Smith movie, and the Kutcher film in L.A., were good experiences, some of the most fun she's ever had. The whole thing is tempting. She's just afraid her work load will build up. Well, one night won't throw her off. About to speak, Emma is pushed to the side by two eager tweens.

"We love your movies!" cry the girls.

"I appreciate the support," says Blake, grinning. "Where'd you see them?"

"The Hallmark Channel at my cousin's in Philly," says the less shy fan.

Blake wrinkles his nose. "The Hallmark Channel?"

"And CTV," adds the other fan, impressed.

"What is CTV?" asks Blake, glancing at Manny.

Emma's fairly certain Blake's walking out with a slightly bruised ego.

III.

"Pass the earring!"

The command comes courtesy of Manny, who opens the bathroom door to close her fist around a gold hoop earring Emma hands her. The earring is Hazel's, who's showing her own courtesy by having the girls over in her room to get ready. Emma and Hazel stand side by side at the washroom mirror. They deliver occasional grins to one another, Hazel fussing with a high ponytail and Emma electing to wear hers straight down. Darcy and Manny were in the bedroom, giddily going through Hazel's immense closet. The Adens were pretty well-off and their daughter's closet was part of the proof. In fact, Hazel has as many clothes as Lia, which is an accomplishment.

"Are you sure you don't want to borrow anything, Em?" says Hazel. "I have tons of sparkly outfits to catch the camera. Maybe a scarf?"

Emma glances at her light blue, short-sleeved tee and form-fitting jeans. It isn't the most eye-catching ensemble.

"Ummmm," says Emma.

"Hold on," says Hazel.

She parts the door, Emma spying her other two friends vying to be fashion plates. They were apparently going for seventies glam which she's sure Manny came up with. Darcy has on a gold lame fabric top and white pants, while Manny found a pink-and-purple striped top and matching purple bell-bottoms.

"Charlie's Angels, _come on_," says Manny, doing the pose in Hazel's floor-length mirror.

"We're going to majorly stand out," affirms Darcy. "I look like Public Affair-type Jessica Simpson, only with better calves."

"You two look so cute," compliments Hazel. "I'm seriously Facebook-ing us."

Emma stands awkwardly in the doorway. Manny and Darcy have probably been in here multiple times, whether because of Spirit Squad or their community center activities. She's understandably more hesitant. There used to be a time when Hazel wouldn't even entertain the idea of having Emma in her room. A lot has changed, though not Emma's secret hope that Hazel would like her as much as Manny or Darcy. If Hazel didn't like her, then Jimmy wouldn't like her, and then Spinner might not like her anymore. She ducks back into the bathroom, flicking stray pieces of hair from her brow.

Perhaps this is a hint that Hazel likes her. She did arrange this gathering post-Dot and everybody bit, including Emma. And it's feeling like someone is biting her. Her eyes burn. Emma tries to make sense of the stinging pain that skips across her forehead once in awhile. It is like a set of teeth chomping on the very edge of her brow, an ache that takes a few seconds to register. She's only endured this when...well, before she was put on medication. The medication she skipped taking today because Hatzilakos wouldn't leave her alone. Ugh, she knew she should've convinced Manny to swing by the Santos home but firstly, she hated the idea of being a spoilsport, and secondly, Manny would get on her about not taking it. How could she turn down Hazel's first invitation to her house without insulting her or worse, revealing the reason?

"Here we go," says Hazel, reappearing.

She carefully wraps a pretty and sparkly deep-blue scarf around Emma's neck. It brings out the lightness of her hair.

"This looks pretty expensive," remarks Emma.

"Every girl should feel expensive once in awhile," says Hazel. "You gotta remind guys you should be treated like a queen, right?"

"I'm with that," replies Emma.

Their reflections laugh as they laugh together in the mirror.

"It really means a lot that you came," says Hazel after they're silent for a moment. "Not that this means much now, but I regret the way Paige and I treated you back in the day."

Emma allows her hair to fall, covering her turned up lips.

"Me and Manny are close, but...since you're with Spin and I'm with Jimmy, it's really important to me that we're friends too," says Hazel. "Is that cool with you?"

"Yeah," answers Emma speedily.

Hazel grins.

"And we both can show up Spinner on the dance floor so...," says Hazel.

Emma chuckles. "No lie."

"Okay, you guys are done, and I haven't put my outfit on," nudges Hazel.

"The bathroom is yours," says Emma.

She leaves, pleased by the past minute, pleased that something she cares about is something someone else cares about. Emma can imagine the four of them hanging out regularly. She can see that this will be the beginning of a new and fun chapter for all of them.

Darcy's no longer in the bedroom but Manny's before the floor-length mirror, adjusting her strapless top. The top's for Toby, no ifs, ands or buts about it. Emma goes to tease her and stops midway when a throbbing spasm circulates her head as if a doctor is wrapping surgical tape around her forehead. Hazel's bright bedroom goes blurry for a few seconds.

"Em," says Manny, the single point of clarity in her hazy vision. "Are you okay?"

"Manny...I'm...I'm a little dizzy," murmurs Emma, then shaking her head.

Did she say the last three words? She doesn't know. Well, it's gone, whatever it was.

"What?" says Manny, coming closer.

"I'm fine," says Emma, trying to grasp her surroundings. "I was just trying to remember everything I already did for Council."

"Don't stress," says Manny. "We're going to have fun!"

"We are," says Emma.

"And I'm really sorry about earlier, Em," whispers Manny. "Me asking about your medication was way misplaced. You don't need a mini-mom when you're more responsible than me. I won't do it again."

"Yeah...yeah, okay," stammers Emma as Hazel comes out.

"Hello, Foxy Cleopatra!" yells Hazel.

She's dressed in a hot, dark-red pantsuit that's sure to cause Jimmy to crash into the side of the rink upon his first view. She turns around for Emma and Manny, who applaud their fashionable hostess. Hazel shrieks suddenly.

"This ring is gorgeous and a half," comments Hazel, lifting Manny's finger.

"Tobes gave it to me," shares Manny. "It's a symbol of our solidarity."

"You and Toby are baby engaged!" cries Hazel.

"Way not happening," assures Manny. "If I even say the word engaged, my father will kill me, my mother will plan the funeral, and Mr. Isaacs will send Toby to a monastery afterwards so he won't propose ever again."

"Do Jewish guys go to monasteries?" asks Hazel.

"I guess... not?" says Manny, clearly stumped.

"Officer Patton brought the car around!" yells Darcy from downstairs. "Hurry up!"

The girls grab their purses, phones, grooming tools, and jackets in one fell swoop, trudging downstairs to a tickled Officer Patton.

"You all look lovely," says Officer Patton. "If I was filming, I'd certainly notice you ladies this fine Friday."

"_We so excited_!" sings Darcy, raising her arms. "_We so excited_!"

"Darcy," says Manny, lowering her arms. "Don't."

After locking her door, Hazel and the other girls gather into the police car with Emma, Manny, and Darcy in the rear. They set off into the night. Emma watches the neighborhood out of the window. The goldish hue of the streetlamps become misty orbs in her sight. The last is one giant circle, no openings, and once they've turned the corner, it becomes barely anything to remember.

IV.

Word had gotten out. That could be the only explanation for the amount of people, ranging from thirteen to thirty, crowding the entrance to the not-so-popular skating rink, Skate, Rattle, and Soul. From the tempestuous to the timid, the majority of the group members are girls. Sure, there are a scattering of males arguing to be extras, but most of them are females desperate to be in the limelight. Emma almost receives an elbow to the eye as she follows her friends to a marked exit where Blake will meet them. A long line stretches from the main entrance to several parked trailers. Grips, camera men, costumers, and hair professionals ferry equipment to the set. Even the Kevin Smith premiere wasn't this rough.

"I brought my headshots!" cries a girl with a pierced lip directly behind Emma. "Pleeeeeeease!"

"The set is now closed," informs a boom guy. "Unless you've been cleared, go home!"

"Excuse me!" shouts Manny. "We've been cleared. We're clear!"

She grabs Emma's hand as not to lose her, and Emma's thankful. She would've been lost in the crowd otherwise.

"Your names," says the boom guy, holding up a clipboard.

They say their names, and the boom guy ushers them inside, a string of boos behind them before the exit door is closed. Inside, the atmosphere's significantly quieter. There's lots of strobe lighting, neon signs and blinking spotlights illuminating the rink. Several couples are already on the floor while the red-haired man Emma assumes is the director is in a conference with production assistants.

"The main thing is to animate the scene," explains the boom guy. "Act like we're not in a movie. You'll get standard pay for extras."

"We get paid?" cries Hazel.

"Ya'll are new to this, aren't you?" asks the boom guy.

"No, we're pros," assures Manny, then admitting. "Okay, one film each."

"That's still more than a lot of people," laughs the boom guy. "Blake's in make-up. I brought the others to the arcade near the skate rental station."

He gestures to Spinner, Jimmy, Toby, Nate, Officer Wheaton, and J.T. mulling around in the arcade section. They're wearing...regular clothes. Talk about being overdressed, thinks Emma. Nobody else seems to mind, making a beeline for the guys. Emma does her best to hide her scarf's tag, which may've started showing due to all of the pushing outside. Spinner hugs Emma while the bulk of the group say their hellos.

"Doesn't this make you think of Hannah?" says Spinner over the rink's speakers, changing to a new song on the director's signal.

"Huh?" yells Emma.

"When we were extras in the Ashton Kutcher flick?" yells Spinner.

"Huh?" repeats Emma.

"You look beautiful!" yells Spinner.

She didn't need to hear all of that, just see that he mouthed "beautiful." Emma grows flustered under the rapidly moving rays of light. A tiny bit of light and a recurring buzz take her gaze away from Spinner.

"It's my mom!" exclaims Emma.

"Huh?" yells Spinner.

Emma indicates that she's going to the washroom, and Spinner mouths that he'll wait. She finds a low-key nook near a broom closet.

"Mom?" answers Emma, sticking her finger in her other ear.

"No, it's Dad," says Snake. "Or...Snake. Whichever you feel comfort...anyways..."

Yeah, anyways. She honestly has no clue how to address him, or what to say to him, not after her infuriating talk with Principal Hatzilakos. Daphne, however, knew exactly what to say to her to piss her off. Ask your father who ended the affair. Seven, not so simple words. What would he say if she asked him the question? What should he say? Say she's lying about what she's implying, that _he_ ended the relationship that ruined her family's life.

"Anyways, you're bothering me calling this very second!" exclaims Emma, staring at the wall.

"Whoa," says Snake. "What's with the attitude, Em?"

"It's the attitude you deserve!" cries Emma.

"We...we left...I mean, you left and we were fine," stammers Snake. "I just called to finalize travelling plans."

"Who finalized the end of you and Hatzilakos?" snaps Emma. "Excuse me. You and Daphne."

"Emma, we'll talk about this when...," begins Snake somberly. "There were a lot of factors that..."

"She did," interrupts Emma. "Like she basically said. End of conversation, Snake."

Emma closes her phone. She ignores the constantly buzzing phone as she walks down the hall, the buzzing of her own body as she finds the arcade. Snake said more in silence than he did in person. He didn't end the affair. So how can he repair his marriage if he didn't want out of his extramarital hook-up? He had her fooled. He had their whole family fooled.

"Where'd everybody go?" asks Emma, returning to Spinner.

Spinner steps to the side, revealing their friends taking the area by storm. Jimmy throws multiple three-pointers during a timed basketball game with Hazel completing the last shot. J.T. and Danny speed through racing courses on video game screens. Darcy is bragging to Nate about her Skeeball skills. Toby and Manny are bopping plastic moles with mallets.

"Get it!" cries Manny, beaning a mole in the middle.

"Yes!" says Toby, plunking one at the same time. "We're killing this."

"That is so barbaric," comments Emma.

"I'll lead you to the land of wooden wonder," says Spinner, drawing her to the rink floor. "The boom guy, whose job sounds cool, just saying, told us they're filming in twenty minutes."

"What should we do til then?" asks Emma.

"Let's rent and splint some wood," suggests Spinner.

Before Emma can protest, Spinner's retrieved two pairs of skates from the rental station and he's doing up his laces. Emma does likewise. She's fine with doing a task that allows her to focus on a mundane activity rather than a complicated development. She'd rather play than have somebody play around with her emotions. Light-hearted music bounds across the stone walls and the gleaming floor.

_Don't worry , I won't hurt you_

_I only want you to have some fun,_

_I was dreamin' when I wrote this_

_Forgive me if it goes astray_

"Emma, you're...like not talking," notes Spinner.

"Oh!" says Emma, staring at him. "I was...I was thinking that life seems so easy when you're rolling around out there. Probably."

"That's why we're here," says Spinner, helping her to stand.

_But when I woke up this morning could've sworn it was Judgement Day_

_The sky was all purple, there were people runnin' everywhere_

_Tryin' to run from the destruction, you know I didn't even care_

Spinner and Emma skate towards the floor, pausing to view the whizzing couples who roll by to the tune of the music. Some of them are coordinated, others not so much. They cross the floor together until they're in the midst of many smiling skaters. Emma releases her senses to the whirr of the floor, the busy stream of people, the freedom. Spinner grasps her hand tighter as they build momentum.

_I was dreamin' when I wrote this, so sue me if I go to fast_

_But life is just a party and parties weren't meant to last,_

_War is all around us, my mind says prepare to fight, _

_So if I gotta die, I'm gonna listen to my body tonight._

"Whoo!" yells Spinner as they race through the wind. "_Party like it's 1999_...or 2099!"

Emma lets the air hit her cheeks, her neck, and her legs until she's almost a part of the air itself. The scarf flutters behind her neck like a flag of surrender.

V.

Two firm arms embrace Manny's waist and two lips touch the top of her shoulder as her eyes scroll down the snack menu.

"Mmmm," sighs Manny. "This is my idea of dessert."

"I missed doing this," says Toby.

"I missed you doing it," says Manny, instantly putting the reason for the injury out of her mind. "All healed up. I hope this means we won't stop playing doctor, though."

"Why don't we do a private examination right here?" says Toby, leading her to a dark alcove.

Biting her lip, Manny giggles as Toby's body meets the wall. She's pretty glad they're on the petite side or the officers would've seen them immediately. Privacy shouldn't be this hard to get, particularly on a closed set. At least they're kissing furiously as if they were alone. Toby didn't need a thermometer to measure the heat of her temperature. He stops mid-kiss to speak, his eyes closed.

"Don't go," whispers Toby.

Despite the pounding music and the pulsating skates scraping the floor, Manny can hear him without a problem.

"We have five days left," reminds Manny, then puts her lips against his.

He's no longer interested in kissing apparently. Manny watches his mouth move by itself.

"I'm going to miss taking care of you," says Toby.

"Toby, you're the one out here with the investigation, remember?" says Manny.

"And the two of you should be out here, remember?" speaks up a disgruntled voice.

They reluctantly turn to view Officer Patton with a frown. He steers them to the snack stand where Manny originally stood.

"I suggest you order," says Officer Patton strongly. "I'll even buy it for you."

A man with a sculpted hat and red stripes, obviously not an extra, gets behind the cash register.

"I most definitely need sugar," says Manny. "When you're an extra, who knows how long you're going to be on set?"

"Oh, no," mutters Officer Patton.

"Oh, yes," teases Manny. "Can I have a strawberry sundae? With two spoons, please."

"Oh, dear," remarks Officer Patton, glancing at Toby.

"Oh, cool," says Toby. "And chocolate syrup."

"Hmmmm, let's do rock, paper, scissors for the syrup," suggests Manny.

Manny and Toby shake their hands slowly three times. Toby throws rock and Manny throws scissors.

"Champion," boasts Toby.

"Syrup it is," says Manny.

"This long order is a deliberate punishment for my interruption, isn't it?" speculates Officer Patton.

"Oh, yeah," answers Manny. "Can you pour that syrup all leisurely like?"

The cashier chuckles, and does as he's told.

"You both have curfews you have to keep," reminds Officer Patton.

"Ooops," realizes Manny. "Speed it up, please."

"Champion," says Officer Patton, dropping down three-fifty.

Sneaky, and this is, of course, why they feel like sneaking around. Manny carries the sundae to a table. Sitting with her, Toby shrugs and takes his spoon.

"I guess you don't have to worry about me either," says Toby. "I'm well-protected. Wheaton, my dad, J.T., Lucie..."

Manny swallows a cold lump of ice cream and almost gags. Lucie? She knows Lucie promised to look after him, and she knows she should try to understand it, but the pool party puts that in a different perspective.

"To the point of annoyance," adds Toby, stabbing a scoop with his spoon.

She grins at him over the sundae. "None of them can replace me?"

"Nobody can replace you," says Toby, staring straight at her. "I'm...like ridiculously in love with you."

Or else you wouldn't be going through this, sighs Manny inwardly. Pausing her spoon, her sight goes misty as she looks at him.

"What's wrong?" asks Toby.

"Brain freeze," covers Manny, digging in again.

"There's something," says Toby, scanning her face. "Not sure what..."

Block Lucie out, Manny chalenges herself. Block her out. He doesn't care about her, not like that. They're fine. Lucie wouldn't do anything to hurt Toby and he wouldn't do anything to hurt Manny. This moment is about them, not her.

"I'm...overwhelmed," says Manny, smiling and looking up again.

"Hopefully, that's a good thing?" says Toby.

"Toby," says Manny. "That is a _very_ good thing."

VI.

Based on the cheers filling the floor and the camera crew jumping to their feet, it's no surprise to Manny that Blake Willis is in the building. He high-fives a few fans and pokes the brunette, grey-eyed actress who's probably his love interest. They gab for a nanosecond until the director commands them to come over to the rink. Manny sort of misses this. She's pumped for the academy but sometimes the thrill of a live movie set, the interplay between director and cast, and the call for action find their way into her dreams. She'd love to be that rare actress that lands an Emmy, a Tony, a Grammy, and an Oscar. The stats for that aren't encouraging but it has been done. Manny finishes lacing her skates just as Blake purposely bumps into the railing to bring them head to head.

"Funny running into you," greets Blake, skating backwards. "Like my superior moves?"

"What, the crash and act brash?" says Manny.

"How I pined for your confidence-crushing commentary," says Blake wistfully.

"What's this movie about?" asks Manny bluntly.

"Search me," says Blake. "They have a rough draft of a script they're still hashing out. Basically, I fall in love with a blind girl and I die in the last three minutes. The writer might let me live."

"At least you can chew the scenery with a plot like that," offers Manny.

"I worked out for a love scene they got rid of," reveals Blake. "Three pull-ups for nothing."

"You're so lying," laughs Manny.

"You pictured me naked, didn't ya?" kids Blake. "But you can't admit that with Toby around. Alright, I'll do you a favor. One of these lucky extras gets a one-line part, a guy that rents out skates. But with enough of my convincing, it could easily be a girl."

Manny's mouth drops, Blake raising his eyebrows. Another film role? Okay, a one-line role, though that's more film roles than she's had in a year. This would seriously aid her in generating cash for Manila. Plus, it's a decent resume builder.

"Speediest sex change ever," entices Blake.

"This isn't going to come free, is it?" wagers Manny.

"I want a date...," begins Blake.

"No," interjects Manny.

"You didn't let me finish!" protests Blake. "With a mystery woman."

"What happened to Camille?" says Manny. "You guys would've made a good-looking couple."

Blake smacks his lips together. Uh-oh. She's opened a wound.

"Once Camille saw Stunt Guy on her Paramount picture, she was done," shares Blake.

"That blows," breathes Manny, stroking his arm.

"Help a cowboy out," says Blake. "It's not like you're not friendly with this girl..."

Friendly with this girl? That narrows the field. She doesn't believe it's Emma. Maybe Elena? But they haven't spoken in eons. Not Jade, not Camille, so who...

"Lia!" cries Manny. "I knew there was some type of nutso chemistry...I knew it, I knew it! I knew it!

Blake's ears revert to a reddened state, hands shaking as he fumbles with the loose white shirt that goes to his waist.

"She thinks I'm a toad," waves off Blake.

"All the more reason to try," argues Manny. "She doesn't put up with your cockiness."

"Yeah," says Blake fondly.

"Does she have any clue?" asks Manny.

"I pick on her extra hard," offers Blake.

"Blake, you're hopeless," sighs Manny. "I will try, though. I will if..."

Manny motions him forward, practically having to yell in his ear to be heard. He skates backward with a thumbs up, dorkily rocking his shoulders to a disco beat. Blake almost hits the actress portraying the blind girl, and she whaps him in the stomach with her script. Manny's totally not picturing him in any sexual capacity now.

VII.

J.T. tosses a paper plate into the nearest trashcan like a discus, Toby keeping his gaze on his girlfriend and her former co-star. They're inches away, centimeters away...no, he should stop. He should really stop.

"Are you burning a hole into Manny's skull?" jokes J.T., poking Toby in the ribcage.

"No," says Toby. "I'm just..."

'Jealous," fills in J.T.

"I was going to say curious," insists Toby. "But something is bothering Manny."

"Maybe it's the funky foot odor," says J.T., scrunching his nose. "Egads."

"This is serious, J.T.," says Toby. "I can't lose her again. If I do, I'll be...be...well, I won't be much of anything."

"Don't have a conniption, Tobes," says J.T.

"A conniption?" balks Toby.

"Liberty's going through possible debate words," explains J.T. "And you and Manny are fine. You don't wear tight, strapless shirts for your boyfriend if the relationship's in trouble."

"Your logic astounds me," says Toby sarcastically.

"Ain't it the truth," says J.T. proudly. "Here comes your honey."

Skating in their direction, Manny expertly stops her wheels and places her hands on Toby's blue terrycloth shirt.

"I haven't put on my skates yet," says Toby.

"Leave 'em off," instructs Manny playfully. "Cause you won't have to wear them. Cause something amazing is about to go down."

"Okay, confused?" admits Toby.

"You have a line...in the movie!" reveals Manny, attempting to hop but sliding momentarily until she gets her balance.

"What?" exclaims Toby.

"It can be your first official, sort of unofficial film role," says Manny. "I mean, you can be on an IMDB page, but like you don't have an agent...except me. That isn't important. What's important is that you have a line!"

"Why aren't you doing it?" questions Toby.

"Ummmm...well, they want a guy so yay for your gender," replies Manny, grabbing his arm.

This is occuring so fast he can barely find his own balance, and he's skate-less. Is that what Manny and Blake were discussing? Is this truly happening? What if he screws this up? This isn't an amateur production. This is an actual movie that's going to be broadcast...somewhere.

"Let J.T. do it," suggests Toby.

"How soon we forget I have my own show, Tobes," says J.T. "You can see me weekday afternoons, and twice on Friday."

"J.T. can plug while we go," encourages Manny.

"My plugs are the bomb!" calls J.T. after them.

They're heading over. There's a real camera, boom microphone, production assistant, and director's chair. The chair holds a thirtysomething man with flaming red hair and alert blue eyes. Blake spies Manny and Toby, waving them to him and the director.

"A regular teenager," says the director thoughtfully. "I never would've thunk. Eh, he'll do."

"Toby, this is Cutter Crowley, the director," introduces Blake.

"His name's Gunther," remarks Cutter, situating himself in his chair. "Give him some foundation and his line. How deep is your voice?"

"This deep," says Toby wearily.

"Eh, he'll do," repeats Cutter. "Wardrobe!"

A panicked redhead lifts Toby's arms, decking him in a green and gold employee vest with a Gunther nametag. A blonde woman, just as panicked, dusts something on his face, Toby watching the make-up brush cover each cheek. Manny rights his nametag.

"All that customer service is paying off again," says Manny.

"Manny, what should I do?" whispers Toby. "This isn't...Hollywood Video Hut. This isn't my line of work."

"Two words of work," quips Manny.

"You know what I mean," says Toby.

"Ummm, just pick a song and hum it in your head, so you're not a slave to your nerves," says Manny.

"I remember that gem from Arissa," recalls Blake, handing him the script. "It's showtime, Toby."

Hum a song...two lines...foundation...ugh. How does Manny do this? He's freaking out over two measly lines. But she's right. He was good in customer service and the line isn't difficult. The redhead, possibly the production assistant, takes the script and leads him to his mark. He's in the rental station, tons of skates surrounding him on various shelves, lights hovering over him.

"Do you wanna listen?" he hears Cutter say to Manny.

Blake plunks down his chair so that Manny can sit. Manny tenderly accepts a pair of headphones connected to the sound system. Then, she lowers her head to a small screen. He must be on the screen. Wow, they're about to film. Manny smiles fully.

"I'll be watching," calls over Manny. "Like always."

Placing an eye behind the camera, Carter's face tenses.

"Quiet on the set!" yells Cutter. "And...action!"

In the background, it's hard to believe people are still talking, still skating, though he supposes that must be part of the atmosphere of the place. Toby stands still, watching Blake approach the rental station with confidence.

"A pair of skates please," says Blake.

Well, if Manny's previous leading man can be confident, so can he. This isn't his first time at the rodeo, or rather at a customer service station. Toby remembers a song, and speaks.

"What size?" says Toby.

"The biggest you got," says Blake.

"And...cut!" says Cutter, clearly and pleasantly surprised. "That will most definitely do."

Manny leaps from her chair, clapping soundly, this time managing her balance. Toby hears several murmurs of content. Bowing, Blake grins.

"That...was a good cold read," remarks Blake. "Your boy's no slouch, Manny."

The production assistant races to remove the vest from Toby as Manny zooms to him.

"This was fun," says Toby.

"You rocked," praises Manny.

"Cause I did what you said," says Toby. "The song."

"Which song?" asks Manny.

"As cheesy as it sounds, the one that says _for sticking by me, I have to give you two thumbs up_," replies Toby.

"Kanye lyrics," recognizes Manny.

"We heard it at the store," reminds Toby.

"You've become way cooler since you've started dating me," kids Manny.

"Yeah," says Toby. "Scary, isn't it?"

VIII.

The mood has darkened. While people navigate past the flying frenzy of feet on the floor, several lights dim. Chatter ceases. Emma and her Degrassi crew are on the edge of traffic. They politely watched Blake and his costars run a couple of scenes, most of the dialogue unheard. She couldn't do this everyday. There's order, but not the reliable kind she prizes. Actors have to have the most unpredictable occupation ever...besides law enforcement.

Or maybe teachers. She's willing to bet her teachers were not expecting half of the surprises that took place at Degrassi because their students definitely weren't. Did Hatzilakos predict Snake would be into her? There she goes thinking about them again. Emma leans against the railing, Spinner's waist touching hers.

"They must pay you for the time you waste standing on the side," says Jimmy, behind the railing with Hazel.

"They're setting something up," says Manny.

Sure enough, a wrangler is gathering couples into a shot, picking out more attractive couples and passing on others. The system sort of sucked. Nate attempts to convince Darcy to go with the flow.

"We're on a break!" cries Darcy, slinking off.

Nate stomps his foot and nearly drops.

"There's nothing like an Edwards cold shoulder," reminisces Spinner.

Emma glances at him, at a loss for words.

"I hope we're never on a break," adds Spinner quickly.

"Same," says Emma, grasping his hand.

"Hey!" yells the wrangler.

"Us?" shouts Spinner.

"You're a good height," says the wrangler, assessing Emma. "Are you two good on skates?"

"We haven't fallen...yet," replies Spinner.

"Join those four couples there," says the wrangler. "They're going to go around you guys, and we'll have you spin a few times in the center."

Emma and Spinner trade awestruck smiles, and despite her problems with the selection, she doesn't hate the idea. Besides, Spinner looks utterly giddy.

"You guys are going to be the spotlight couple!" exclaims Hazel. "This is so choice."

"My man!" says Jimmy, giving him some skin. "Don't moon the camera, man."

"Dude!" cries Spinner in protest.

"Come here, Em," says Manny.

Moving to Manny, Emma releases a sharp "oh" as her best friend begins perfecting her hair and scarf combo. Manny is pleased with her efforts, removing her cell.

"We'll be taping you," says Manny.

As soon as she mentions the act, Jimmy, Toby, and Hazel aim their phones in the same direction. The wrangler is not as patient as Emma is, practically throwing out her back while signalling for them to skate to the right spot. A quartet of couples line up beyond the camera. Cutter takes a sip of coffee, yells "action", and a nicely sung, midtempo number echoes through the area.

Every eye or lens is on them. Emma feels that familiar buzzing, a tempo faster than the tune wrapping itself around them.

"My heart's beating past my bones," says Emma.

"Must be cause of me," jokes Spinner.

"Must be," says Emma with conviction.

"You excited?" whispers Spinner.

"Yes," answers Emma.

The wrangler makes a motion as if she's stirring a cup. They don't have cups. Oh, spin. That's right. They have to spin.

"They don't even know my name is Spinner," laughs Spinner.

"Must be destiny," says Emma.

"Must be," says Spinner, leading them in a turn.

_All night staring at the ceiling _  
_Counting for minutes I've been feeling this way _  
_So far away and so alone _

Emma stares upwards at the pale pink and purple lights, the glow brightening the skin of her nose, the very tips of Spinner's hair. It blocks out other sights, other sounds, other people. The smooth revolution relaxes her muscles until she brings her head down.

_But you know it's alright _  
_I came to my senses _  
_Let go of my defenses _  
_There's no way I'm giving up this time _  
_Yeah, you know I'm right here _  
_I'm not losing you this time _

Eight skaters enter the scene, pairs of travelling legs in synch while the two of them turn in their little world. The strangers dash to and fro, Emma staring at them as they go by, memorizing their faces.

_And I'm all in, nothing left to hide _  
_I'm falling harder than a landslide _  
_I spent a week away from you last night _  
_And now I'm calling, calling out your name _  
_Even if I lose the game, I'm all in I'm all in tonight_  
_Yeah I'm all in, I'm all in for life _

They're young and blurry, blurrier by the second. Spinner grows less distinct by the second. The top of Emma's skate skids the floor.

"The spin's crooked!" yells Cutter above the noise. "Getting dizzy or something?"

Tightening her hold on Spinner, Emma shakes her head repeatedly, only seeing a fragment of his features. She can't keep hold. This isn't right. Her body bends, goes lank. The lights continue to shine as the lids of her eyes fall.

"She's fainting!" cries a voice she's never heard.

"Emma, what's..."

Spinner's unable to finish, with Emma unable to detect the skates beneath her. She hears a sharp thud, several screams, firm fingers holding her neck under thick fabric. So many feet pound the floor while hers feel like they're missing.

IX.

Frequent dots, smaller than a pen cap, flutter across Emma's face. She blinks without delay at a far off cop car's headlights through a window. Cries of concern float under the store manager's office door.

"I've never seen anybody go down like that out of the blue before!" cries Manny, choking on tears.

"What's taking so long?" says Jimmy. "They say she's fine but we can't talk to her?"

"She'll talk when she's ready," says a voice Emma recognizes from five minutes ago.

Spinner curls a hand over hers, Emma accepting it. The more casual voice belongs to an EMT, who checked Emma for signs of concussion and dehydration. She proceeded to ask about Emma's eating habits that day and if she was pregnant. She ate and her being pregnant isn't even a remote possibility. The EMT's name was True and true to her name, she was pretty no-nonsense. It was only a matter of time before she hit the nail on the head.

"They can't come in yet," says True, reentering the room. "Til _we_ talk."

True, a tad on the hearty side, but with luxurious curls under a cap, joins Emma on a small bench. The room is ugly. There's tons of leather, including the top of the bench Emma hates sitting on, and red and brown picture frames that clash with bright green wallpaper.

"Do they have to know?" wonders Emma aloud.

"What did you think would happen when you skipped your medication?" asks True softly. "When you miss your dosage this early, it can throw your whole body chemistry off. You took nothing today?"

"No," says Emma, which she was very honest about earlier.

"Please don't gamble with your health, Emma," sighs True. "You can't be neglectful. What if this young man didn't catch you? I'm not your physician but I do recommend that you take your next pill as soon as possible and call your psychologist."

"My parents are going to kill me," says Emma, sniffling.

"Not if you stay healthy," says True, rubbing her arm and leaving the room.

She didn't anticipate this being a problem or rattling her friends' nerves. Dr. DePauw did go over the practical use of her medication and what would occur if she didn't take them. She did do her job. It's just...Emma didn't believe this would be the end result if she didn't do hers. Now everybody knows she's different.

"Manny's really freaking out," says Spinner.

"This is why I didn't tell her," says Emma. "This is why I don't want to tell anybody what I have to do everyday. I'm a freak who has to take meds or else I faint."

"Who cares?" says Spinner.

"Spin, come on," says Emma, rising from the bench.

"No, who cares?" cries Spinner. "These are your friends. Our friends. If they leave cause they can't handle this, then I guess they're not worth it."

Emma walks to him, tears forming at the base of her eyes.

"I was Gonorrhea Girl!" whispers Emma fiercely. "Cause Girl, Girl Whose Dad Kissed the Principal! I do not want to be Depressed Girl too."

"You don't want to be human?" says Spinner. "Or sad? That's...sad."

"I can't," whispers Emma.

"After I mooned the school...," starts Spinner.

"Don't compare this to something funny," sighs Emma.

"It wasn't funny," counters Spinner. "When I got home, it was embarrassing. Like I hated myself for giving Jimmy that Ritalin, but I hated myself for doing something stupid in front of all those people. Including you."

He hated that day? She always thought his sense of humor would squash any embarrassment he may've experienced. That's usually how he coped.

"How'd you face it?" asks Emma, lowering herself to the bench.

"Promising myself I'd be better," replies Spinner. "And I have."

"Too late to hide," whispers Emma.

Spinner's seldom serious yet constantly he makes sense. Once they heard why she fainted, they'd be relieved. It's something she can control and she likes control. This can be a one time instance. Their friends might understand and they would've walked away if they didn't care.

"Thanks for not letting me fall," says Emma.

"I'm a hot pillow," says Spinner.

"Let them in," says Emma with a smile. "I'll break it to them...gently. Nobody else should faint."

Instantly opening the door, Spinner steps aside to let in the majority of their friends, Manny at the front of the fold. The rims of her eyes are more red than Hazel's pantsuit.

"Where's Toby?" says Emma, scanning the crowd.

"He couldn't break curfew," says Manny. "He's been texting J.T. nonstop, though."

"You stayed past curfew?" balks Emma.

"Of course I stayed," says Manny. "So are you okay?"

"I was being stupid," replies Emma, then turning to the group. "This summer, I was diagnosed with depression, and I...didn't take my medication tonight."

Nobody gasps, says anything, or, more importantly, leaves the room. They nod and smile. Manny breathes in and out.

"But I'm fine," says Emma, Spinner's arm finding her shoulders.

Hazel breaks rank. She tugs on the scarf.

"Well," says Hazel. "We'll make sure you stay that way."


	111. Trouble Is A Friend

**CXI. Trouble Is A Friend**

_Trouble he will find you_  
_No matter where you go_  
_Oh, oh_  
_No matter if you're fast_  
_No matter if you're slow_  
_Oh, oh_  
_The eye of the storm_  
_Or the cry in the morn_  
_Oh, oh_  
_You're fine for a while_  
_But you start_  
_To lose control_

_He's there in the dark_  
_He's there in my heart_  
_He waits in the wings_  
_he's gotta play a part_  
_Trouble is a friend_  
_Yeah_  
_Trouble_  
_Is a friend of mine_  
_Ahh_

_Trouble is a friend_  
_But trouble is a foe_  
_Oh, oh_  
_And no matter_  
_What I feed him_  
_He always seems to grow_  
_Oh, oh_  
_He sees what I see_  
_And he knows_  
_What I know_  
_Oh, oh_  
_So don't forget_  
_As you ease_  
_On down my road_

_He's there in the dark_  
_He's there in my heart_  
_He waits in the wings_  
_He's gotta play a part_  
_Trouble is a friend_  
_Yeah_  
_Trouble_  
_Is a friend of mine_  
_So don't be alarmed_  
_If he takes you_  
_By the arm_  
_I won't let him win_  
_But I'm a sucker for his charm_  
_Trouble is a friend_  
_Yeah_  
_Trouble_  
_Is a friend of mine_  
_Ahh_  
_How I hate the way_  
_He makes me feel_  
_And how I try_  
_To make him leave_  
_I try_  
_Oh, oh, I try_

_But he's there _in the _dark_  
_He's there in my heart_  
_He waits in the wings_  
_He's gotta play a part_  
_Trouble is a friend_  
_Yeah_  
_Trouble_  
_Is a friend of mine_  
_Oh, oh,_  
_So don't be alarmed_  
_If he takes you by the arm_  
_I won't let him win_  
_But I'm a sucker for his charm_  
_Trouble is a friend_  
_Yeah_  
_Trouble_  
_Is a friend of mine_  
_Ahh_

**Trouble is a Friend is the property of Lenka, and appears in the film _Easy A_.**

**Stereo Hearts is the property of Gym Class Heroes.**

Sitting under the court's gold seal now, Sean can hardly comprehend what happened an hour before. The rough back of his chair digs into his spine after all the minutes he's sat there replaying the event in his mind. Jay sits nearby, playing with the left, faded knee of his jeans. Both of them were escorted to this spot right outside Judge Colwaithe's chambers by the bailiff who grasped their wrists a little too tightly. But the most pain-inducing part of the day is the fact that Sean is unable to hear a single word they're saying behind the strong wooden doors.

"Think they're batting around jail sentences?" asks Sean, though really not wanting to do so, to even introduce that thought.

"Steele was ticked," recalls Jay. "He's definitely pulling for us to be behind bars. Hope Fletcher's as good as he was in court."

"We're still going to have longer records," says Sean.

"This blows," sighs Jay.

"We blew it," says Sean. "This can't go down again. Deal?"

"Massive deal," says Jay, giving Sean a low high-five.

They're soon joined by the Camerons, Mr. Hogart, Cindy, and Alex. Sean's other friends were waiting outside the courthouse, sure to be bustling, sure to be filled with talk of what Dale's speech meant in the long run. Dale himself was detained. As soon as he confessed, he was ripped from the arms of Cheryl and taken to another room with a police escort. Sean figures that would've been him without Dale's public admission.

"I hear movement," says Alex.

So does Sean, hearing several pieces of furniture slide across the floor, feet approaching the door. Sean folds his hands, gripping them over his groaning stomach. Jay fixes his sight on the leg rest of his wheelchair. Tracker puts an arm around his parents' backs. Councillor Steele exits first with a frown while Mr. Fletcher walks to the boys. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.

"You guys have gone through the worst," says Mr. Fletcher.

Several sudden sighs of relief echo through the area.

"No jail?" brings up Ike Cameron.

"Her Honor is very open to the idea of a plea bargain given Dale's testimony," shares Mr. Fletcher. "Provided the boys plead guilty and give a written account of what transpired. But she would like to speak to the boys individually before anything is settled."

"But they can still come home tonight?" says Iris tentatively.

"I see no reason why not," says Mr. Fletcher, finally revealing a smile.

His smile causes a chorus of smiles, including Alex who Sean knows doesn't always give them out freely. Sean's stomach becomes stationary. This is the outcome he wished for, practically prayed for, and it's about to be set in black and white. He'd be grateful to do the community service or whatever punishment came with the plea bargain.

"Sean, Judge Colwaithe would like to speak with you first," announces Mr. Fletcher, breaking through his thoughts.

Oh, the judge. He almost conveniently forgot. Sean wasn't one hundred percent comfortable with women in authority, including uncomfortable exchanges with Ms. Kwan and Principal Hatzilakos, the latest being the female officer at Marcus' jail. Sometimes he froze up and didn't have a clue about what to say, especially if he was in the wrong. He spoke in front of Judge Colwaithe during his indictment but that was with the knowledge that Ellie and other people were behind him no matter what. Talking privately is a whole other situation.

"What if I go blank?" moans Sean.

"Just speak truthfully," reassures Mr. Fletcher. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Okay, if this is what it takes," sighs Sean, standing.

Ike and Tracker pound him softly on the back, which is a bit better after Sean leaves the chair. He knocks on the judge's chamber door, eyes wet, heart pumping. He's got nothing left to lose, right? She wouldn't promise the chance for a plea bargain and then snatch it away, right? Sean enters after two words are spoken: "Come in."

Judge Colwaithe's chambers consist of a room the size of a study, full of wall-to-wall books on lined shelves, a sturdy desk, four file cabinets, multiple plaques, and two chairs opposite her revolving chair. He really doesn't feel like sitting in another chair again but he does so when she nods to it. He swears even his shins are shaking. A silent bailiff stands beside a side door while Judge Colwaithe opens a file.

"You have prior misdemeanors on your record," says Judge Colwaithe, turning a page. "Do you believe being a minor constitutes a degree of leniency?"

"No, ma'am...I mean, your honor," stammers Sean. "No."

"Some judges would not be so expedient to offer a plea bargain, considering the operation of such a business lead to negligence and other disastrous results," continues Judge Colwaithe.

Sean's gaze travels from her to a nonfiction book on capital punishment. Maybe that one "ma'am" is going to do him in. Maybe she went over the case again and stumbled upon crucial aspects that may've changed her attitude. He decides to find the least offensive item in the chambers, focus on that. He locates a drinking bird, just behind a stack of paperwork. The nose of the pink bird goes up and down into a glass of water. It's such a strange thing for a judge to have, almost playful enough that he suspects she's not incredibly strict.

"But those are _some_," says Judge Colwaithe, closing his file.

He sits upright as the bird descends.

"I do see progression, Sean," says Judge Colwaithe. "But I also see an inability to maintain it. Many young men I've met want to do good things, even in the face of bad circumstances. Yet you actively do them which suggests to me that you're serious about altering your current state of affairs."

"I am...serious, I mean," insists Sean.

"So the question is how do we make sure that you stay on a productive path," says Judge Colwaithe.

Sean shrugs.

"Do you have any goals for yourself?" asks Judge Colwaithe.

"Well, I did, before this," replies Sean. "I wanted to graduate, open my own shop. That's what kind of attracted me to Ace's, to be honest. I liked explaining stuff to other guys...like a teacher would. I don't know. Most teachers have diplomas."

"Not all, though there's no reason why you can't complete your high school education," says Judge Colwaithe. "Given what you've done in the past at that particular school, I'd almost have to insist on it."

Sean grins, beginning to feel as loose as that constantly moving bird. A diploma isn't totally unachievable. He could be the first Cameron to cross that stage, hold on to that very important piece of paper.

"However, I'm also going to demand that you perform no less than five hundred hours of community service," continues Judge Colwaithe.

Five hundred? In his last year at Degrassi? Would he graduate on time? He's scared to let the worry show on his face. That would mean no free time certainly, and less of a chance to be with Ellie. Her parents would love that. Sean nods slowly. Like Mr. Fletcher said, he's been through the worst.

"Are you familiar with the Warner Mechanical-Correctional program?" asks Judge Colwaithe.

"No," replies Sean.

"Well, we have instructors visit local prison facilities for vocational programs that help inmates learn a trade," explains Judge Colwaithe. "The Warner program focuses on auto mechanics. The inmates are male youths under age twenty-one. Periodically, their instructors aren't much older. You'd have to wait until you're eighteen to participate, though."

"Why...why would you want me?" says Sean in disbelief.

"I read the eyewitness accounts from your fellow employees, including the young man who stood up for you during the indictment," replies Judge Colwaithe. "Emmitt? He said that you were a good influence and that he learned many things. I'd like these young men, most of whom have committed misdemeanors, to learn and grow in some capacity before they go back into society."

Though Dale told him that Mr. Fletcher had spoken to various people in preparation for a trial, Sean had no idea that the other guys at Ace's regarded him so highly. Ty? Perhaps. But others? The exchanges were natural for him. He genuinely enjoyed getting to know them and what they could do, this small team of able-bodied mechanics. This could be the best community service opportunity for him.

"That sounds...," begins Sean. "That sounds perfect actually."

Judge Colwaithe beams, the kindest expression he's seen of hers, as firm as her desk.

"Mr. Fletcher said you needed something written?" says Sean.

"Yes, I would like to hear how the three of you saw that night and your individual involvement in the shop," says Judge Colwaithe. "I'm sure certain parts of that will be painful to relive but..."

"Yeah," says Sean, speaking and instantly regretting it.

She turns her chair to look at him squarely and leans forward.

"You were a heroic ally to the police, Sean," says Judge Colwaithe. "Don't let anybody tell you differently. Not everyone would jump at the chance to do what's honorable."

"Ty...Ty died," says Sean, teary-eyed. "A hero would've saved him."

"Did Ty ask that of you?" says Judge Colwaithe.

"He didn't," admits Sean. "He just...he just asked that I do my best."

"Do that, then," says Judge Colwaithe softly. "Do that, then, and save your own."

Was this the lesson Ty ultimately taught him? He's unsure, but having a thirteen-year old teacher isn't impossible, especially in light of this conversation.

"Um, is Jay going to get the same deal?" asks Sean.

"That can be arranged," says Judge Colwaithe. "But I think it'd be wise to let Jason decide his own fate. Covering for each other hasn't worked for either of your benefits, has it?"

"Right," says Sean with a thankful nod. "I appreciate this, your honor."

"You're welcome, Sean," says Judge Colwaithe, returning the gesture. "And, for the record, I do like the occasional ma'am."

II.

The double doors of the courthouse break, patches of heat hitting his neck and cheeks. A summer day hasn't felt this freeing, non-fleeting in a long time. Ike and Iris are on either side of him. They greet friends they made this morning and acquaintances Sean scarcely saw out of school or work. Before, they were people in a courtroom, but currently they're the only people that matter.

Sean stops midway, meeting Jeff Isaacs and Mr. Ehl.

"Mr. Isaacs, I'm...really grateful you decided not to press charges," says Sean.

"You kept my son from getting shot," insists Jeff. "That's more priceless than any car part. But I do trust you'll apologize to Ashley and Kate."

"As soon as I can," vows Sean.

"I'll call you when it's possible," says Jeff, patting him on the shoulder and going past him.

When it's possible? Is Ashley still on tour? He thought she would've been home a week ago. Maybe Ellie can clear up what's going on there.

"You made me proud up there," says Mr. Ehl, breaking Sean's train of thought.

"Better late than never," says Sean modestly.

"It's funny," says Mr. Ehl. "When you were in tenth grade, a fellow faculty member asked me if you were going to turn out alright. And without any hesitation, I said yes and signed the papers to be your guardian. I knew you'd land on your feet after a wobble or two."

"I'm going to work really hard to stand straight," says Sean.

"There's no doubt in my mind that you will," asserts Mr. Ehl.

Sean bends to envelop Mr. Ehl, simultaneously viewing Ellie talking with her parents. Mr. Ehl releases him and Sean treks through the crowd of his supporters. He details the Warner program for the Markhams, though not everything since he can see that the mention of "prison" makes them think of Marcus. Jerry and Dee interject to praise the program while Officer Pinsky provides information about the actual prison. He only reaches Ellie after promising Mrs. Kwan he'll brush up on the Student Code of Conduct section that lists the graduation requirements.

"So, the rumor is five hundred hours?" says Ellie.

Sean nods nervously in front of her parents. John Nash appears relaxed whereas Amanda has her sight locked on his fearful countenance. Ellie ceases to wait for a reply, instantly hugging Sean.

"And an essay I'll have to carefully edit," shares Sean as he pulls away.

"Editing's my forte," pipes up Ellie.

"Why doesn't she just write it for you?" asks Amanda testily.

"Amanda," sighs John.

"I...really should do everything myself," says Sean.

All four of them stand in silence for awhile until John flips the car keys on his ring.

"How about I bring the car around?" says John.

"I can drive?" suggests Ellie. "It's probably the last practice I can get."

"Have at it," says John, dropping the keys into her palm.

"Your parents are taking you home?" asks Ellie, touching Sean's arm.

"Yeah," replies Sean. "Plus Mr. Fletcher wants to give them and the Hogarts a rundown of plea bargain procedure."

"I'll call you later, then," says Ellie.

She kisses him on the cheek, Sean catching Mrs. Nash bite her lip in the background. Great. Her mother's still digusted with him, and no bargain can be reached to earn her good graces. But that won't stop him from trying.

"Mrs. Nash, would you mind hanging back while they get the car?" questions Sean.

Amanda shakes her head routinely, continuing to do so until John and Ellie make the decision for her and walk to the lot. She sets her heels firmly on the last concrete step of the courthouse. Sean rings his hands on the step below.

"I suppose I should be impressed," says Amanda. "That you got off...again."

Sean straightens his tie without letting his confidence waver. After the talk with Judge Colwaithe, he thinks himself just a bit more bold.

"How many chances are they going to give you?" sighs Amanda.

"How many chances will you?" asks Sean, looking her straight in the eye.

"That is _not_ fair," returns Amanda.

"Well, regardless," says Sean, releasing a heavy breath. "I know you didn't want to come today, but thanks for bringing Ellie..."

"Her father brought her," interrupts Amanda. "Because he's a soft touch. You forget that unlike him, I've seen every instance where you've disappointed our daughter. You've taken her on quite the trip this year. And while you may be on a smooth road with them, I'm waiting for the next collision."

"There's not going to be a next," says Sean assertively.

"Good luck with your hours," says Amanda.

Grinning, Sean's almost knocked out by what comes across as a flicker of friendly behavior.

"I doubt you'll have much time for Ellie," continues Amanda. "Which is a-okay with me. Maybe we both won today."

She brushes Sean's side on a determined stroll to the car. Sean blinks behind her, alarmed that the conversation was cut short, saddened by her cutting remarks. Amanda shuts the car door tightly. The car speeds into traffic with Ellie at the helm.

"Oh no!" cries a disgruntled Jeff, a few inches from Sean.

Sean nearly goes blind from a wave of flashing lights as a cop cruiser drives up to the sidewalk. Not too long afterwards, three TV news vans are on the premises, with Rachel Rhodes, that incredibly annoying reporter who pestered him years ago, on the scene. However, Rachel flies past Sean, her camera crew in tow.

"He's coming out!" shouts Rachel at the crew. "My tips never steer me wrong."

A policeman jumps out of the cruiser. "You're trespassing. This is getting to be a regular thing with you!"

"I'm just trying to do my job!" snaps Rachel defensively.

Who's coming out? His first instinct is to find Jay, who's thankfully being loaded into a van with the help of Cindy and Alex. Rachel clearly wasn't looking for him because she knew who he was and couldn't care less today. Who did that leave?

The double doors fly open, more violently than they did when Sean walked out. Dale. It's Dale they're looking for. Two officers lead Dale through the throng. Sean watches Mr. Hill cover Dale's head with a jacket as they scramble to the cruiser, Dale's cane causing a problem as Rachel confronts him.

"Lay off, lady!" exclaims Mr. Hill.

"Is it true you threatened your employees, and in turn, wounded Jay Hogart?" barks Rachel. "Was your intent to kill him, Mr. Hill?"

"I'm Mr. Hill!" exclaims Dale's father. "And we're not taking any questions."

Dale raises the jacket slightly, peering out in Sean's direction. He waves Sean over. Slinking through two cameramen, Sean stands next to Dale near a shrub. Dale doffs the jacket as the officers map out a strategy.

"They're taking you in?" says Sean.

"They consider me a threat," says Dale, half-smirking, half-sad. "Should've guessed that's what my confession would cost, Cameron. Going to stew in that slammer for awhile before the trial."

Mr. Hill sniffles, turning away from them.

"I told myself I'd die if I ever gave you the satisfaction of having this but...," says Dale as he searches in his pocket.

He locates whatever the item is, slipping it into Sean's palm. Dale presents him with a key...for what?

"Think real hard what that would unlock," hints Dale. "The cops may've closed it off but trust me when I say...it's worth a look."

If the cops closed the place off, it has to do with Ace's. He only hopes that the thing he's searching for hasn't been burned or taken in as evidence. But if Dale says it's worth a search, that's a decent endorsement.

"Hey," says Sean as the officers close in on Dale. "Ty would've liked what you did today."

Dale's smirk improves to a smile. "The crazy part is...I almost do, too."

His father flanks him, with a matching expression. It's the single moment where Sean would swear they were related. They continue their walk to the cruiser, the handcuffs digging into Dale's wrists, the cane clomping against the pavement until Sean's two former bosses are tucked away from sight. The siren sounds throughout the courthouse lawn. When the car's gone, you can hear the remnants, the last wail petering out to a heavy hum.

III.

"Have I completely messed my body up?"

Dr. Hiram Shareef bristles at the brusque question, setting down her lunch on her tray. Her meal consists of an avocado salad, fresh salmon, wild rice, skim milk and a bagel. It's a meal that would make her mother proud, but it's better than the liquid bags of nutrients.

"Oh, Ashley," says Hiram, obviously amused. "Your bluntness could cut a conference session in half. Eat all of it. Doctor's orders."

"You guys mentioned my liver," says Ashley as she opens her milk.

"And your brain electro-chemical activity, your blood pressure, your toxin levels," says Hiram breezily. "Like we do every other detox patient. Your body will be and was, prior to the heavy drinking, in good condition."

"As long as you guys don't drain me anymore," sighs Ashley. "I got over looking pale and goth at fourteen."

Hiram laughs while jotting down notes on his pad. Ashley dices her fish, or rather fish mixed with rubber based on the taste.

"Eat your salmon," he says finally.

Ashley scowls. "This salmon tastes like Spam."

"I'll pass your compliments to the chef," says Hiram. "Angelique will be in shortly with your vitamins and more fluids."

"Groovy," says Ashley, stabbing her bagel with her fork.

The room's door opens, revealing a woman who Ashley doesn't mind being concerned about her heath. Ashley lies back on her pillow.

"How is she this afternoon, Dr. Shareef?" asks Kate Kerwin.

"A ball of sunshine like always," answers Hiram.

"Typical Ashley, then," says Kate warmly.

"I'll leave you to it," says Hiram.

He disappears. Ugh, she'd do anything to disappear. The treatment team is full of nice folks and true to Ellie's word, they definitely weren't judging her. But she's so tired of being in a hospital room. How on Earth did Craig stand it? Plus, there's barely anything to return to once she leaves. She insulted most of her friends. Her music career's dead. Unlike Craig, she missed the boat on applying for colleges. So why are they surprised she's gloomy? They shouldn't be.

"I'm not empty-handed," teases Kate, flashing a paper bag. "A gift!"

Ashley looks at Hippity Hop Hare-y covertly. Nobody's stumbled upon him, and she's keeping it that way.

"Is it grilled chicken or spinach pizza?" asks Ashley desperately.

"No, it's the second best thing," says Kate. "You grew up with them."

"My Little Ponies?" guesses Ashley.

"Ashley!" says Kate. "Use your imagination."

"I'm imagining this food is a four-star meal," groans Ashley.

Kate waves her off, digging hungrily in the bag. Well, I'm a bit curious, thinks Ashley, rising from the pillow.

"The Louvre!" says Kate.

Her mother showcases the top of a puzzle box. The famous piece of French architecture gleams under the flourescent lights. Ashley tries not to act too excited. The truth is that she's done her share of puzzles and she loved putting the pieces in order, like how a seagull acts finding a whole chunk of bread.

"There's nothing else to do," says Ashley.

"Excellent," praises Kate. "Are you done eating?"

"Whatever," says Ashley.

It takes her awhile to finish the foul meal, but everything goes down the hatch. The doctors can congratulate her on bravery for digesting their cuisine.

"Build from the bottom," suggests Ashley. "Got the top covered."

Kate turns the puzzle box, allowing the pieces to spill onto the table. Ashley flips each piece. The action allows her to study the edges more clearly.

"Are you feeling like you're under a microscope?" asks Kate.

"Constantly," replies Ashley. "This isn't the kind of attention I sought all summer."

"I hear you," says Kate.

"Thanks," says Ashley.

They exchange a couple short smiles, Ashley beginning to fit pieces. Strangely enough, this _is_ the attention she craved from her mother, the positive outweighing the negative. Her mother willingly went to Starfly's. She chased her to the graveyard. Kate Kerwin even teamed up with Craig Manning for Pete's sake. That's commitment.

"Is Dad here?" asks Ashley.

"He's receiving a well-guided tour of Harmony Hill," says Kate. "Figured someone should go."

"Why aren't you?" says Ashley.

"I'd rather build the Louvre with you," replies Kate.

Ashley manages to secure the glassy center of the artsy building. That's right. She's forming a pyramid. If only she could work so well with the fragments plaguing her mind. Her counsellors are probably going to have a Feelings Field Day once treatment starts.

"Do you think these were pictures somebody took before they created the puzzle?" wonders Ashley aloud.

"Possibly," says Kate. "Were there any pictures you took in London that you wish were puzzles?"

Stopping, puzzle piece in hand, Ashley swallows a lump in her throat. Kate clears hers.

"Sorry," says Kate.

"There were good moments," provides Ashley. "The worst moment was...here, anyway."

Kate tenderly clutches her daughter's elbow. Ashley trudges on with her other hand, connecting an angular piece of a blue sky.

"Have you told Dad about...the graveyard?" whispers Ashley.

"It's not my secret to tell," says Kate. "Though I would talk to him and Jeff, Ashley, instead of carrying it on my shoulders."

"This is too hard to talk about with him," sighs Ashley.

"What about Paige?" questions Kate.

When she was younger, she could do five puzzles in one day. This was before she palled around with Jimmy, Terri, and Paige, of course. She was such a geeky kid. Yet they hung out with her. But this is a side of her they might not overlook.

"What about her?" says Ashley, shrugging. "I was terrible to her...and Jimmy and Hazel. I can't call them. That intervention was basically a big good-bye."

"You underestimate your friends," says Kate.

"I estimate that the Louvre won't get done if we keep talking," counters Ashley.

Kate resists the urge to argue, which Ashley is thrilled by. They construct the infamous museum seconds ahead of Angelique's routine visit. Ashley pats the puzzle with pride.

"First-rate effort," praises Angelique.

"Egyptians, eat your heart out," says Ashley.

"Speaking of which, I'd like us to take a walk after your nap," says Angelique. "A last bit of exercise before the transfer."

"The transfer?" says Ashley.

"Yes," says Angelique, beaming. "Your test results indicate that your body is ready and will be responsive to our rehabilitation methods. In short, we're raring to go."

Thank goodness. Ashley jogs to her bed with renewed purpose.

"Hey, slow down," cautions Angelique. "We want you fully rested. Drink this water, take a short nap, and we'll mosey around the building, okay?"

Ashley silently drinks the water, watching her mother clap her hands enthusiastically. Perhaps everyone needed a change of scenery.

"I'll phone your father," says Kate.

Left alone, and unfortunately tired, Ashley lies against the sheets. Her eyelids flutter. Her body slackens until she's fast asleep. Her sleep is serene at first. You'd figure she was a newborn dreaming of stars and the man in the moon. Then, her perspective changes.

_She's old...if you could call eighteen old. The entire atmosphere is surreal. All is black and brown. Whatever is brown is tough to the touch. An unclear finger, hers, runs against the large brown material. The Louvre? This isn't a pyramid. No, it's a wall. A brick wall. _

_Ashley screams, a quiet scream that's so low it doesn't scare anything...or anyone. Why is she here? She did everything she was supposed to. Going with her parents to the facility, cooperating with the hospital staff, trying to stop the mentions of his name. Instinctively she knows what's next. She's flung, her feet barely meeting the ground. The sour breath, the rough yanking of her shirt, the uncaring eyes she can scarcely see. What will she do if she ever sees that set of eyes again? _

_"Shhhh," coos the only other person who was there. "Shhhh."_

_"Why?" breathes Ashley, the wall digging into her neck._

_"We didn't get far," is his reply. "I stopped."_

_"But...," begins Ashley._

_"We **didn't** get far," says his voice strongly. "Did we?"_

The blankets become tangled as Ashley struggles to sit up. It's almost as if she's held on to it, a repeat of that night. Ashley's heart hammers under her hospital gown. Wheeler didn't get very far. She cannot determine whether that's fiction or fact, whether she's ready to ask herself this or not.

IV.

Many designs deck the storefront window, including the standards (double hearts, crossbones); the fantastical (golden dragons, mischevious pixies); the meaningful (R.I.P. in Gaelic letters, Mom in multiple versions). But they are not the draw for him. Craig's contemplated getting a tattoo maybe once, like a lot of musicians, but the idea basically fizzled out by the time the Battle of the Bands rolled around. The overpowering intent, then and now, is to right a wrong, having no clue how it will turn out.

Testament Tattoo Parlor provides ink and piercing services, and will hopefully provide enough information to trap Wheeler in his own web. He ran an undercover fake I.D. racket which Craig knew about, but the tattoo parlor was run by a friend of his, the most important detail on Ozzie's list. Wheeler could very well be crashing here. He still has to make money. He still has to pay, thinks Craig, tapping his steering wheel repeatedly as he stares at the shop.

His reluctant accomplice turns the air on, surveying the contents of his car. Marco moans.

"Either go in or let's go," sighs Marco.

"Dylan's coming any minute," says Craig.

"I can't believe you convinced me to drive out here," says Marco. "To the center of Sketchyville. I hope to God they sterilize those needles properly."

"Nobody's getting a tattoo, Marco," reassures Craig.

"Please don't, Craig," insists Marco. "You're too beautiful of a canvass."

Craig spies Dylan in his rear view mirror.

"Yeah, tell that to your boyfriend," mutters Craig, rolling down Marco's window.

Dylan eagerly opens Marco's door, eyeing Craig.

"Have my baby back at nine," says Marco, patting his car seat. "I mean it."

"Easy doing," says Craig.

Marco exits his car, occasionally looking longily at it. Craig wishes he would settle down. He's never wrecked a car and he only stole a car once. _With_ Marco, he might add. He can hear his anxious friend and Dylan's conversation through the window.

"Why were you out here with him?" questions Dylan.

"Dylan," sighs Marco. "It's not a big deal. Unless he totals my car..."

"It is a big deal," moans Dylan. "Thought you were in trouble, and Craig just needed a favor. You and your heartthrob best friend."

"You're a heartthrob, too," says Marco. "Can we chill and go home?"

"Fine," says Dylan. "Just don't expect me to share my Shake n' Bake with him anymore."

"You're acting like I kissed him again," says Marco, rolling his eyes and getting into Dylan's car.

"Ellie eats less," says Dylan. "Just saying."

Craig blows out a breath, certain that Dylan would probably hit him with a puck in the gut if he could. The tires squeal as Dylan takes off. He'd do something nice for them later.

The neon sign for Tattoo Specials glows green after a few seconds. Good, they're open. Hopping out of the car, Craig approaches the parlor. He ruffles his hair to kill any clean-cut conceptions Wheeler's friend might have about him. The parlor is considerably less clean. There are rusty spots on the floor. A collection of open cleaning products sits on a peeling wooden table. The middle mirror is smudged. The only neatness on display are the needles, the sheets of options, and the tan vinyl seats.

It's not packed yet with a guy and girl as the sole people in the room. The girl is a pretty redhead, singing a death metal song into a needle point. Her hair's done in about a million tiny braids. The guy's more intimidating. His white T-shirt is slashed above the waist, showcasing tattoos of bat wings, a stake through a heart, and a werewolf gnashing his teeth. Craig figures it's some weird tribute to Halloween. Half his hair is black and half is blue, but it basically worked with the dark blue gaze he's giving Craig.

"Smoke?" speaks up Craig.

"No, thanks," says Smoke, grinning. "I quit."

"No, your name's Smoke, right?" says Craig.

"Relax," says Smoke. "That's me. You itching to get inked?"

"I'm here for another reason," replies Craig.

His coworker starts to bang her skull back and forth. Smoke turns off the needle's power.

"Ever hear of health insurance?" complains Smoke. "Knock it off or bruise yourself."

The girl sticks her tongue out at him, and begins setting up her station. Craig's okay with the distraction. He thought of a plan but he can't guarantee it's foolproof or that Smoke will play along.

"If you're not here for a tat, what are you here for?" asks Smoke.

"An I.D.," answers Craig. "Can you hook me up?"

Smoke laughs, more to himself than at Craig. "Hook me up."

Craig watches Smoke go to a drawer full of Tat-2 Rx wipes, stencil transfer solutions, and topical anesthetics. Going by Smoke's reaction, he said something dumb. The items in the drawer lead him to an image of Ashley's hospital room, not the one at Harmony Hospital, but the hospital room where Ashley had to go in alone so Dr. Sutton could examine her post-rape. He was useless then but he can't be useless here too.

"Do you want the man or the card?" says Smoke, glancing over his shoulder.

The guy's no sucker. He must have an idea where Wheeler is, or when he's set to return.

"The man," says Craig softly.

"You're not a cop?" says Smoke. "This isn't some 21 Jump Street biz, is it?"

Craig goes closer to Smoke, so close that he can view how many teeth the werewolf has.

"Tell me straight," whispers Craig. "Where can I find him?"

"You got that wild look in your eye," says Smoke, chuckling quietly. "Wassamatter? He pork your honey?"

"Shut up!" shouts Craig, slamming him into the drawer.

"Hey!" yells the girl.

She pushes Craig off of Smoke. Smoke fixes his shirt, still smiling. What was he thinking? Of course any stupid friend of Wheeler's isn't going to budge.

"He did the worse thing you could do to a woman!" cries Craig. "To my girlfriend while she was drunk. And you're protecting him?"

Smoke's face falls. What, Wheeler didn't give this guy the whole story? Why would he? He can lie and lay low, has maybe done that his entire life.

"What...what if he comes after her next?" says Craig, gesturing to the girl.

The girl looks helplessly at Smoke, who scratches his chest and peers past Craig to the door.

"Braids, go on your break," says Smoke.

"But this guy...," begins Braids.

"Do it!" commands Smoke.

"Fine!" exclaims Braids before storming out.

Smoke pushes Craig to a spot five floor tiles away. He thrusts a finger in front of his nose.

"You ain't joshing me?" whispers Smoke harshly.

"No...no, sir," replies Craig.

"Well, Wheeler brings me business," says Smoke, lowering his finger. "It's why I tolerate the dude."

Just great, moans Craig inwardly.

"But I don't believe in housing no liabilities," sighs Smoke. "He went to New York for business, but he'll turn up. What are you aiming for?"

"His hours, maybe some contacts," says Craig. "Anything."

"What if I don't feel like talking all of a sudden?" poses Smoke.

Craig removes his wallet, and a whole wad of cash. The cash came courtesy of a nice chunk of his savings. It's what's left from the weeks working at Joey's lot. He's willing to clean out his funds if it means Wheeler's getting his clock cleaned by overeager cellmates.

"I'm counting on this to make you gabby," says Craig, setting the money in Smoke's grip.

"Hmmm," says Smoke, eyes flashing with pleasure. "Cold hard bills can make a man awful chatty."

V.

This has to be more embarrassing than your car stalling at the drive-thru window. Ashley drags the apparatus with her bag of fluids along with her. When Angelique mentioned a walk, she immediately thought of the grounds. At least there were flowers and trees outside. Walking "around the building" actually meant walking within the building. She was duped into believing differently. The poor naive newbie. That's what every nurse should call her until tomorrow.

They pass a row of wheelchairs, a scale, and Dr. Shareef's office. The idiotic bag of fluid is slowing her down. Can't she walk normally?

"I can do this by myself," insists Ashley.

"It's a precaution," says Angelique. "Someone else should be by your side."

"If I finish, do I get a pat on the head?" mutters Ashley.

"Let's hope your mood improves once you go to bed," sighs Angelique.

She'd love to skip bed, especially following that short nightmare. She shivers despite the hallway being suitably warm. Ashley and Angelique come to a bend in the hallway, then advance to the receptionist area. A third pair of feet, in sneakers, joins them.

"Excuse me, miss," greets Craig. "You had the right of way."

"A traffic jam," kids Angelique. "Perfectly planned, I'd say. Would you like to accompany her for the remainder of her walk?"

"I'd be delighted," answers Craig.

"He's serious because he's using goofy words like 'delighted' ," reassures Ashley.

"Have a pleasant journey," says Angelique, rubbing Ashley's arm and then retreating.

Craig wraps his arms around Ashley for a moment until she whimpers a bit from the pressure. The IV in her arm leaves a small imprint where the plug dug in.

"Gone stir-crazy yet?" asks Craig.

"When you're not here, the crazy gets really stirred," jokes Ashley, through pretty much meaning it.

"I bet the courtyard's got the cure for what ails ya," suggests Craig.

Ashley balks. "They okayed that?"

"For a total of ten minutes," reveals Craig.

"That's good enough for me," says Ashley, clambering on.

The courtyard is a stone's throw in distance, but once they reach it, Ashley thinks it is well worth it. This tiny diversion was planned. A row of red candles and a CD player fill the courtyard's stone bench. Fallen flower petals were swept away from the courtyard. Her room's window is lit and unshut, Dr. Colby alternately checking on her and preparing her final hospital meal.

"They told me you were moody, and I told _them,_ it's because I'm not here, obviously," says Craig.

"Did anything interesting go on this week?" asks Ashley.

"Um," says Craig, shifting his sight. "No...it was...pretty boring. Nothing I can't wait to say to you."

Ashley nudges him and shakes her head.

"I admit I did miss you this week," says Ashley.

"Like mounds?" teases Craig.

"Like mounds," confesses Ashley. "How're you going to top this weekend's visit?"

"Come naked?" says Craig.

"You are so lucky my doctors didn't hear that," laughs Ashley, elbowing him.

"Speaking of hearing," says Craig as he switches on the CD player. "I know one of the sucky parts of this is that you can't listen to music at rehab so...maybe hearing it tonight will do for awhile."

_My heart's a stereo_  
_It beats for you, so listen close_  
_Hear my thoughts in every no-o-o-te_  
_Make me your radio_  
_And turn me up when you feel low_  
_This melody was meant for you_  
_Just sing along to my stereo_

Ashley smooths down her hospital gown and motions for Craig to walk over. In her opinion, this is the best "walk" of the night.

"This is fantastic," says Ashley.

"Nothing to it," says Craig. "I just had to bribe the tai chi league to stay off the courtyard."

"It isn't nothing," says Ashley. "I needed this. You have no idea."

"I need you to be happy," insists Craig. "You have no idea."

_If I could only find a note to make you understand_  
_I'd sing it softly in your ear and grab you by the hand_  
_Just keep it stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune_  
_And know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you_

They both lean in for a kiss, Ashley taking the initiative, willing her mouth to show him how much he was missed. On Craig's end, she can tell it's the same.

_I only pray you'll never leave me behind (never leave me)_  
_Because good music can be so hard to find (so hard to find)_  
_I take your head and hold it closer to mine (yeah)_  
_Thought love was dead, but now you're changing (yeah) my mind (come on whoa)_

"To quote another chart topper, the dog days are over," says Craig, holding her against him. "The dog days are done."

The light from the candles frame his curls. She will carry this night with her since it's more wonderful than many other nights she's had this summer. This is a night she can return to repeatedly.

VI.

"I could be playing Words with Friends," moans J.T., shifting the box's weight.

"And you would be losing to me," asserts Liberty speedily.

Toby stays mute between his two friends and Officer Wheaton. Degrassi's much larger when you're using every ounce of your energy to lug boxes of PTA packets. He almost wishes the presidency came with its own parking space, but nope, Bubbe's former car is right smack dab in the middle.

"That's what you think, muffin," says J.T.

"Do I look like a pastry to you?" says Liberty, forging ahead. "Toby?"

"No," says Toby quietly.

"Thank you," says Liberty proudly as she gets further ahead of them.

"Toby," whispers an annoyed J.T. "You're supposed to back me up in my spats."

"Fine," sighs Toby. "From now on, I'll back you up in spats."

The two of them exit the school into a scorching August day. You'd never guess autumn is around the corner, thinks Toby. More and more students are hanging out at Degrassi, including summer school students who'd just left. Officer Patton and a pair of students he saw all summer are on the front steps, tapping out classroom signs eagerly on laptops. Darcy nudges Manny's ankle with an eraser when she misspells geometry. J.T. and Liberty go to Toby's car while he sets his box down.

"Why are there so many fancy fonts on this thing?" sighs Manny loudly, laying down on the school's front steps.

"Your hair's getting redder on the top," notes Toby.

"Swoon," says Manny, dipping her hair back. "I love it when you notice the small stuff."

Toby sweeps her hair behind her ears and kisses her upside down leisurely, their lips dancing until her palm grazes the keyboard. The momentary motion results in some goobledygook on the screen. Manny deletes the nonsense.

"Okay, I've done most of Em's e-mails," says Manny, adjusting Liberty's laptop. "Then we'll have the signs done by four."

"Just let me know if it's too much," says Toby.

"Nothing's too much for Em," assures Manny. "Or you, my Hebrew hottie."

Toby blushes. "Well, there's my motivation to have you do the signs permanently."

"Can we have a lemonade break?" sighs Darcy. "There are these two nine-year olds that make the best lemonade, and their stand is down the street. They're going to be big!"

Leaving his girlfriend and Darcy to discuss refreshments, Toby carries the box to the trunk of his car. He pops the trunk for J.T. and Liberty. Liberty puts in the box and wanders over to Darcy and Manny.

"It's nice you guys are sharing Emma's duties," says J.T.

"She could use the break," says Toby. "And I hated not sticking with you guys last night when she fainted."

"Judging by that step kiss, I bet you'd like Manny to stick around for more than four days," guesses J.T.

Officer Wheaton loads both boys' boxes, stopping when his cellphone rings. He'd been receiving a decent amount of phone calls lately. Toby secretly wonders if they're connected to him but his optimism is shrinking by the day.

"Can we not do a countdown?" sighs Toby. "Let's get these to my house, okay?"

"Yes, el presidente," says J.T., going to the passenger seat.

The drive to his house is smooth, despite Toby's brain being more crowded than L.A. traffic. Why isn't he being told anything new? The fliers for Justin went out weeks ago and there's no word from Sergeant Blanchett. Have they tabled the whole case? Is it a lost cause? Is Manny's return going to be more of the same? His patience is on thin ice despite stretching it as far as it can go.

J.T. lets out an impressed whistle. "Check out those wheels."

"Those wheels" make Bubbe's car look like a twenty year-old tractor. The hood of a cherry-red BMW glistens in the sunlight, its sides and state-of-the-art windows adding to its expensive appearance. As far as Toby could tell, Jeff doesn't have any friends who are that wealthy and neither did Kate. Maybe a client of Kate's? But Kate is with Ashley at Harmony Hospital. Officer Wheaton leaves the car quickly.

"Seen that car before," mumbles Officer Wheaton.

The front door of the Kerwin-Isaacs household opens after J.T. and Toby get out. Toby nearly bites his tongue upon viewing the owner of the car.

"Seen that scum before," adds Officer Wheaton.

Would he classify Eli Chernoff as scum? Toby takes in the sharp three-piece suit, gold cufflinks, and thick, parted hair. Try as he might, he can't. The worst insult he can drudge up out of his system is "jerk." Eli purposely delayed the case and probably had a clue where Justin was if he destroyed the journal. So what's he doing here? Officer Wheaton isn't waiting to find out.

"What are you doing here?" exclaims Officer Wheaton.

"Relax," says Eli with an awkward grin. "This is a free country, last I heard. I came to chat with Mr. Isaacs."

"Which Mr. Isaacs?" demands Officer Wheaton.

Jeff throws the door open. "I told you to leave!"

"Hello, Toby," says Eli, ignoring them both. "How's it going?"

"Don't answer that," says Officer Wheaton, throwing a glance at Toby. "Your rich lawyers may've gotten you off, but I can make you get off the premises!"

"Just cause you have a badge doesn't give you the right to badger me!" says Eli. "And we settled that incident fair and square."

"Nothing's settled until we find your son!" exclaims Jeff.

"Okay, you obviously don't enjoy me being here," sighs Eli. "Can I at least call Triple A? My ignition went wonky."

Toby can spy beads of sweat on Eli's forehead, a vein throbbing underneath a lock of hair. He didn't come across as mean as he seemed earlier at the police station. He is a father without his son after all.

"Dad," says Toby pointedly. "It's a phone call."

Opening the door more, Jeff narrows his eyes at Eli.

"Whatever makes you leave sooner," says Jeff.

"Thanks, Jeff," says Eli.

There are no other words as Eli side-steps Jeff and goes into the house. J.T. and Toby follow, with Officer Wheaton on their heels. Officer Wheaton immediately takes Jeff by the arm, leading him to the kitchen. No sign of Eli. He must be in the den. J.T. shakes his head at Toby.

"That was a shocker," says J.T.

"I don't think I can be around him anymore," mumbles Toby. "I'm going to my room."

"Sure thing," says J.T.

Taking the steps two at a time, Toby starts towards his bedroom. He freezes when he hears a low dial tone. Yes, his father and Officer Wheaton were downstairs, and yes, Kate and Ashley are out of town. That can only mean that it's...no. Toby turns but unfortunately can't escape as Eli beams at him from the bathroom door. Toby fumbles with his glasses, stuffing his shaking hands into his pants pockets.

"I got lost," says Eli.

"Mr. Chernoff, we probably shouldn't be talking alone," says Toby.

"Toby, I just need five minutes of your time," says Eli, his voice low. "Surely, you're as sick of this drama as I am. Can't we put this unpleasantness behind us...for our mutual benefit?"

"How?" asks Toby reluctantly.

"An agreement of sorts," explains Eli. "I love my son and you love your girlfriend, correct?"

"Correct," says Toby.

"And when you really reflect on what happened, was it so...terrible?" says Eli, his shoulders rising.

Toby's face reddens, his fingers moving maddeningly now.

"What?" says Toby.

"You, Justin, and Clara were friends," says Eli. "And Justin thought he was being a friend when he said you should date a Jewish girl. Is that so bad?"

"Justin and I weren't friends!" cries Toby. "He picked on me...like a lot!"

"He's proud of his heritage," says Eli, smiling. "That's not such a negative trait. His grandparents were both Jews. I married a Jewish woman and couldn't be happier. It's important to have that sense of community. I mean, when's the last time you went to your synagogue?"

"I've been busy...," begins Toby.

"Sure, sure," waves off Eli. "My point is that Justin's beliefs are rooted in a good place. He doesn't want to be...a bad Jew."

Eli's gaze travels across Toby's features until it sinks in, Toby unable to meet the man's eyes anymore.

"That said, I'm sure she's a lovely girl," says Eli. "And my belief is that you should take care of good people. So I'm offering to do just that."

"Ummm," says Toby, his eyes on the hall carpet.

"I can pay for your college education," says Eli simply.

"Mr. Chernoff...," starts Toby.

"Or hers," interjects Eli. "I'm sure her folks would love that. We can say it was your idea. Something tells me you like taking care of what's precious to you. I certainly do."

He'd pay for Manny's education? Or his? That's unfathomable. Justin's father paying thousands of dollars...for what exactly?

"If," says Eli gently. "You drop any legal proceedings regarding my son. Let's all have a clean slate, huh?"

"I can't," whispers Toby.

"Imagine nobody having to worry anymore," says Eli. "This discussion doesn't have to be made public. You can say you're tired of this ugliness, convince your father it's for the best to end this. You'll still get the money. What's a secret between friends?"

Toby opens his mouth to speak, suddenly finding it dry. His wish to have everything solved is coming via the last person he expected, possibly the last person he'd take it from. But the reward's so tempting that...

"He's not your friend!" yells J.T.

They turn to view J.T. at the top of the stairs, thundering towards Toby in the hall.

"Stay out of this, kid," says Eli with disinterest.

"Isn't that what you should be doing?" says J.T. "The police are handling it and your racist son isn't worth any settlement money."

"I said stay out of this, brat!" bellows Eli.

"Officer Wheaton!" yells J.T. "Mr. Isaacs! An uninvited guest is up here!"

A rapid succession of footsteps sound after J.T.'s shouts. Officer Wheaton strong-arms Eli, and Eli struggles until he's puffing for breath. Jeff hurries to Toby.

"Don't you ever come here again, unless it's to apologize to my son!" cries Jeff.

"We were...simply chatting!" puffs out Eli. "Take your hands off me... or you'll hear from my lawyer!"

"And what are you going to say, huh?" challenges Officer Wheaton. "That you bothered a teenage boy you had no business talking to? Fabricated another lie to cover your tracks? I should drag you to the station right now!"

"Fine," says a red-faced Eli, managing to get out of his hold. "I'll go."

"Move!" yells Officer Wheaton.

Eli backs away, staring at Toby until he reaches the staircase. Toby's father and Officer Wheaton rush to follow him. Toby hears the front door close loudly.

"Come on," says J.T., leading Toby to his bedroom.

Toby closes his own door with his back against it. He slides to the floor while J.T. heatedly paces the room.

"That man's as bad as his son," condemns J.T. "I mean, the junk he was spouting..."

"He offered to pay for Manny's education," interrupts Toby, banging his head lightly against the door.

"He would," groans J.T., looking outside Toby's window blinds. "I'd like to throw your computer at his sportscar."

Toby mentally replays the offer. If he did accept it, him and Manny wouldn't have to glance over their shoulder every other second or deal with baby-sitting bodyguards. Plus his father and Mr. Santos wouldn't have to stress about financial difficulties when it came to college. Frankly it's too good to dismiss the proposition entirely.

"I miss me and Manny being normal, J.T.," admits Toby.

"Huh?" says J.T., stopping in his tracks.

"Dating, driving, going somewhere without protection," says Toby. "Just being alone. It has to bother her cause it certainly bothers me."

"This too shall pass, Tobes," insists J.T. "Manny's handling it pretty well in my opinion."

"Plus...maybe he's not completely off the mark," sighs Toby.

"You're kidding me," says J.T., annoyed.

When Toby rises, his heart practically drops to his waist. Toby stands before his desk's mirror, catching J.T.'s puzzled brow.

"Am I a bad Jew?" says Toby, frowning at J.T.'s reflection.

"No, Toby," says J.T. "Don't let him do that. He's trying to twist you into some insecure mess."

"I haven't gone to synagogue since the service," mentions Toby. "I haven't prayed in weeks."

"And?" poses J.T.

"None...none of my girlfriends have been Jewish," says Toby.

"Your parents were Jewish and it didn't work out," reminds J.T. "Look, I love that both my grandparents are Irish, but that's not going to dictate who I date. That bigot is a big waste of flesh, hoping that his son isn't caught."

Toby's temples pulsate. Hoping that his son isn't caught...why is that statement ringing the bells in his head?

"Justin's in town," whispers Toby.

"Come again," says J.T.

"Why make this huge gesture if there isn't something to it?" continues Toby, a little louder. "He's terrified that they'll find him. It would cause any father to freak out."

"Toby," says J.T., sympathetically. "Maybe you're hoping that Justin hasn't gone anywhere. Especially after that...grand display of idiocy. The police haven't had any luck and maybe that's why you're wishing for that."

"Maybe," sighs Toby.

"Listen, I'm going to wash the PTA packet ink off my hands," says J.T. "Will you be okay?"

"Uh-huh," says Toby, a labored smile on his lips. "And thanks, J.T. That was worse than a spat."

"I'll say," says J.T.

J.T. enters the bathroom. Pretty soon, Toby hears the rush of water, cleansing the ink from his friend's fingers, drops of black clouding the water. Toby removes his glasses and undoes his shirt's top button. His own fingers dip under his collar to fetch the Star of David necklace Manny gave him. Most times, it felt as natural wearing this as it was wearing his watch. This time, it feels as necessary to him as breathing.


	112. Doesn't Really Matter

**CXII. Doesn't Really Matter**

_Hmm, he-he_  
_Oh, hey_  
_Doesn't matter (It doesn't matter)_  
_Doesn't matter at all_

_Doesn't matter what your friends are telling you_  
_Doesn't matter what my family's saying too_  
_It just matters that I'm in love with you_  
_It only matters that you love me too_

_It doesn't matter if they won't accept you_  
_I'm accepting of you and the things you do_  
_Just as long as it's you_  
_Nobody but you, baby, baby_

_My love for you, unconditional love too_  
_Gotta get up, get up_  
_Get up, get up, get up and show you that it_

_Doesn't really matter what the eye is seeing_  
_Cause I'm in love with the inner being_  
_And it doesn't really matter what they believe_  
_What matters to me is you're in love with me_

_Doesn't really matter what the eye is seeing_  
_Cause I'm in love with the inner being_  
_And it doesn't really matter what they believe_  
_What matters to me is you're nutty-nutty-nutty for me_

_You're so kind_  
_Just what I asked for, you're so loving and kind_  
_(And you're mine)_  
_And I can't believe you're mine_

_Doesn't matter if you're feeling insecure_  
_Doesn't matter if you're feeling so unsure_  
_Cause I'll take away the doubt within your heart_  
_And show that my love will never hurt or harm_

_Doesn't matter what the pain we go through_  
_Doesn't matter if the money's gone too_  
_Just as long as I'm with you_  
_Nobody but you, baby, baby_

_Your love for me, unconditional I see_  
_Gotta get up, get up_  
_Get up, get up, get up and show you that it_

_Doesn't really matter what the eye is seeing_  
_Cause I'm in love with the inner being_  
_And it doesn't really matter what they believe_  
_What matters to me is you're in love with me_

_Nutty-nutty-nutty my love for you  
I can't believe my dreams come true  
I've finally found somebody whose heart is true  
And best of all you love me to  
And nutty-nutty-nutty my love for you  
I can't believe my dreams come true  
I've finally found somebody whose heart is true  
And best of all you're nutty-nutty-nutty for me_

**Doesn't Really Matter is the property of Janet Jackson and appears in the film _The Nutty Professor 2._**

"Look at how long it's getting!"

"I tried to tell him, but he won't listen!"

"Ma!" cries Manny's suffering brother, making sure that his neck is still in place after his mother's fingers tug at his unruly hair. "I'm letting it grow out. I think it looks boss."

"It's not at all flattering," complains Maria.

Manny keeps her own opinions to herself as she watches her mother try to part J.J.'s hair unsuccessfully with her hands. Rosa was the other detractor on the situation but unlike Maria, she had to stare at him everyday. Other than the troubles with J.J.'s tresses, it was busincess as usual at the Santos homestead. Her father was concentrating on his meal; Officer Patton was perusing the refrigerator for the mineral water Manny's mother begin buying for him; Emma was in Manny's bedroom, doing stretches and whatever other exercises she does to maintain her lean, tall body.

"Drink this," says Officer Patton, putting a full glass of milk in front of Manny.

"Why?" moans Manny.

"Drink it, Manuella," says Joseph, his eyes never straying from the morning paper.

"Fine," sighs Manuella.

Officer Patton returns with the milk and pours one for himself. J.J., managing to separate himself from Maria and Rosa, joins them at the table. He carries a plate with charred toast, blackened bacon, and a storebought raspberry scone. Manny glances at the bacon and grimaces.

J.J. states the obvious. "I cooked this myself. Pretty good for a first attempt."

"Cause I am not cooking all of the time," says Rosa over her shoulder. "But maybe tomorrow you won't get distracted by a volleyball tournament and pay attention to the food."

"How about I make you instant waffles instead?" poses J.J.

"How about you go cut your shaggy hair so we can have decent wedding pictures instead?" throws back Rosa. "Go to the barbershop."

"Why?" moans J.J.

"Cut it off, J.J.," says Joseph, turning to the sports page.

"Fine," sighs J.J. "Manny, why aren't you eating anything?"

"Because Toby and I have a brunch date," says Manny cheerfully. "Like you and Rosa have firsts, this is our..."

"First official brunch date," fills in an entering Emma and J.J. in unison.

Emma strolls in wearing a light blue tank top and white jogging shorts. The stretches were doing her body wonders. Manny discreetly pours herself some more milk. With any luck, she'll become taller.

"I'm surprised he got J.T. to text you so late," says Emma.

"Have I mentioned it too much this morning?" says Manny, turning red. "Sorry. It's just so cute. He made it sound really important. I could barely sleep I was so excited."

"Did you dream that you and Toby were swapping spit in an IceBreakers commercial?" teases J.J.

"Shut up and eat your black bacon," returns Manny.

"Hey!" says Joseph. "That's enough. And nobody's eating that bacon."

"Manny, you better get dressed or you'll be late," warns Maria.

Manny finishes her milk, leaving the kitchen with Emma. Toby, or rather J.T., did text her fairly late. That's not necessarily a bad thing. If it were an emergency, Officer Patton would've gotten a call. How can brunch go badly? Unless J.J.'s the chef.

"What will you be doing this morning, Ms. Nelson?" asks Manny as they go down the hall.

"A run with Spinner," answers Emma with a slight smile.

"Oooh la la," kids Manny. "Lots of sweat."

"Be quiet," says Emma as she softly nudges Manny.

She leaves Emma alone, for the time being. After brunch, she had to put up with the different Drama Club personalities for the final leg of the auditions process. They did find a decent amount of talent. Despite Nate's reservations about the Club finances, he was growing cautiously optimistic about the semester. Manny did wonder if Nate would miss her at all. He'll probably revel in the fact that she won't physically be there. She hopes Darcy can keep him somewhat in check...that is, if they ever work things out.

Manny chose a simple outfit: a frilly, blue, short-sleeved blouse, a white blazer, and matching white pants that were appropriate for her father but tight enough to catch a boyfriend's eye. She went to work on her hair until it fell pleasingly to her waist. She was so caught up in her styling choices that she didn't hear the phone ring. Ten minutes later, Joseph appeared in the doorway.

"We need to talk for a sec, Manny," says Joseph.

"Okay?" says Manny.

When she reached the living room, J.J. and Rosa had apparently split so she was left alone with her parents, Emma, and Officer Wheaton. Her parents, wearing serious expressions, are seated on the couch. Please don't let it be anything awful, she thought. Things were finally running smoothly after a whole lot of problems. Even Lucie had been out of the picture for the past week.

"Did they...did they find...," starts Manny.

Officer Patton knows what she's asking instantly but shakes his head. He appears more flabbergasted than she is.

"That was Eric Hegel on the phone, from the Academy," says Joseph. "There are two scholarships you're eligible for but they decided to award another student one of them yesterday. Now, don't worry. Your mother and I have always been saving up for your education..."

"A penny here, a penny there," interjects Maria.

"But a scholarship would help, as it would any parent," says Joseph.

Manny went over the packet when it arrived in the mail a couple of days ago. She tries to recall which scholarships were available to her. It must be the Emerging Artist Scholarship and the Diversity Scholarship if she's not mistaken. Based on her father's face, the Emerging Artist one, the one that offered more money, must've been snapped up. The Diversity Scholarship was tailored to underrepresented communities, namely minorities, and after her experiences in California, she'd be proud to represent her culture in a top-notch arts colony.

"The Diversity Scholarship covers half the year," says Manny, shrugging. "That's pretty good. Even Mr. Hegel said I could be the next big Filipina actress..."

"That's the scholarship they awarded," interrupts Joseph.

She can feel her dreams deflating by the second. More people were obviously up for the Emerging Artist award. Even Colin and Jade, who'd prepare for years to be on Broadway, were likelier to nab the funds.

"But the other scholarship's harder to get," says Manny. "What am I going to do?"

"This is more a matter for me and your mother," says Joseph, rising to put an arm around her. "You're involved but we put J.J. through his education, and I swore on my life the day you were born that I'd put you through yours."

"We have time," says Maria reassuringly.

"It's nearly September," sighs Manny.

"We'll work it out," says Joseph, kissing the top of her head.

Glancing at her parents, Manny observes that they're not fearful or angry. Just...at peace. She won't interrogate them further since she knows them. She knows they may've already anticipated this, may've put money away since before she could walk, walk away from them and towards someplace else.

"I'd cut my hair for you guys any day," says Manny.

Joseph chuckles warmly and pats her on the back until it's time for her to go.

II.

There's nothing like going for a brisk jog around the block, or several blocks according to Emma's pink pedometer. Manny bought her the practical thing as a birthday gift last year because she claimed pink went with everything. Emma's more focused on the small, pleasant sights of her neighborhood: the squirrels skipping up and down trees; the sprinklers squirting roses, lawns, and empty kiddie pools; children on training wheels or Big Wheels.

Mr. Lantis looks up from helping his son cross a tricky spot in the sidewalk with his bike. He was a single father who had at least two gym memberships. The proof showed in his pecs. Manny used to watch him during his martial arts exercises, in the lull between Craig and Toby, and invited Emma to do it as well. She "reluctantly" agreed.

"Hey, Emma!" calls Mr. Lantis, waving with his arm muscles visible.

Emma notices an immediate change in her partner's pace. Spinner, who lagged behind after the first eight blocks, manages to reach Emma. She likes to think Mr. Lantis is the reason for Spinner's sudden surge.

"Who is that?" asks Spinner.

"My personal trainer," fibs Emma.

"Yeah, right, in what century?" says Spinner jokingly, then serious. "He's not really, is he?"

"No," admits Emma. "We'll do the park and take a break, okay?"

She can tell Spinner's holding in a groan. He wipes his forehead and follows her into Degrassi Park. Spinner had been a stalwart thus far. He wore his black Dot tee and black shorts which wasn't helping. Plus, he'd just gotten off work. She tried to argue that she could go alone but after the rink incident, Spinner wouldn't hear of it.

They reach the center of the park, Emma easily running to the row of benches that marked the middle of the area. Spinner remained a few feet behind her. They pass a few soccer moms doling out snacks to their kids' team. Spinner stops short of the final bench. Emma pauses.

"Snacks," breathes Spinner, longing in his voice.

A boy with apple and orange juice boxes smiles at Spinner. Spinner approaches the bench.

"Dude, come on," begs Spinner. "You're seriously going to drink two juice boxes."

"My mom would murder me," teases the boy.

"For a sip?" cries Spinner. "I work at this place called the Dot and I could spot you. Be a pal, homie."

The boy dangles the drink in front of Spinner, then instantly slurps the last remnants of one box.

"Mmmm, applelicious!" cries the boy, hopping off the bench and taking off towards his mother.

"I did not come to the park for this," moans Spinner.

Emma shrugs and leads Spinner to sit. He's beat. The lack of snacks can do that to a person. Besides, she has to make "the call." She delayed it as long as she could, two days in fact. While she did contact Dr. DePauw, she was leery about going into the details with her parents. They loved the idea of Emma being on top of her medication. Spike and Snake were getting along due to that and not biting each other's heads off about her health anymore. If anyone asked her in May if that was possible, she would've told them they were crazy. So even if she's steaming mad at Snake for not being the one to dump Daphne, better for her to be that way than her mother.

Still, she can't let this sit like Spinner. If there's something she learned this summer, it's that waiting only causes the situation to get worse. Wasn't she devestated enough to walk off the pier? Desperate enough to stay at the Y? There's only so much running you can do before you're gasping for a breath.

Pulling out her phone, she scrolls through the calls she's missed. Snake had tried to reach her on ten different occasions. Her mother dialed her twice. Without second-guessing herself, she dials Spike.

"Emma!" answers her mother. "Have you had your phone off?"

"Hey, Mom," replies Emma. "And um, yeah."

"We were worried sick about...," begins Spike.

"I'm fine, except for one day, that day Snake called," interrupts Emma. "I was nervous to tell you. But don't get upset, okay?"

Spike sighs. "I'll try."

"I told Dr. DePauw, but I did skip my pills once and fainted," says Emma.

"That's not good, Emma!" cries Spike. "Dr. DePauw specifically said..."

"I've done it all the rest of the days, Mom!" insists Emma. "There was a lot going on..."

"I should've gone with you," says Spike. "This is my fault. You need an adult with you. We didn't...I suppose Snake can come out there. Yeah, that'll work."

Snake? Hold the phone. Emma tightens her grip on the phone, staring at the bright sun until her eyes grow so wet she has to stare at the ground.

"Aren't you overreacting?" cries Emma.

"You bet I'm not," replies Spike. "Emma, I have full confidence in you, but this is something new we're dealing with. That you're dealing with. This can't happen again."

She should be grateful that her mother cares, although she's sort of not if it guarantees Snake a first-class ticket here.

"Why can't you come?" moans Emma.

"Jack was extremely fussy on the plane," says Spike. "I can't bring him with me. Besides, while Snake's out there, he can check out the psychiatrist Dr. DePauw recommended. He'd be better at that."

Who cares if Snake is good with researching psychiatrists when he tongued his co-worker's tonsils until she told him to stop?

"I don't want him out here, Mom!" exclaims Emma before she can utter anything else.

"You two were reconnecting while you were here," says Spike. "What's the matter, Em?"

Like she can be honest, like she can spill to Spike that her husband wasn't the person that ended the affair. How dare he put her in this position? She's had to lie for him before and she won't do it again.

"I..I don't...I don't want anyone out here," stammers Emma. "Let me handle it."

"Not your decision, Emma," sighs Spike. "I'll talk to Snake about a flight, and when he calls, please pick up. You not answering his calls is really getting to him."

Good, thinks Emma. Maybe he'll reflect on his former indiscretions and their cost. Or is he just sad that Emma heard the full truth about them?

"Would you like to speak with Jack?" asks Spike. "He keeps peeking into open hotel rooms and expecting to see you."

Now there's a Simpson male she can count on. Emma grins and says yes. She hears a scurrying of small steps and Jack speaks.

"Is this Cookie Monster?" asks Jack.

"No, Jack," says Emma. "This is Emma. Hi!"

"Is this Elmo?" says Jack. "I saw your shows. Why are you red?"

"Emma, not Elmo," clarifies Emma.

"I have sister name Emma," says Jack. "Is this Manny?"

"This is your sister, Jack," insists Emma.

"I look for Emma now," says Jack. "Thank you for call, Elmo. Bye!"

Spike recovers the phone. "He misses his Sesame Street Dial-And-Speak."

"I figured," laughs Emma. "I miss you guys."

"Me too," says Spike. "Snake will ring you tomorrow. No more missed meds, got me?"

"Yeah," replies Emma.

Maybe the world will end and tomorrow won't come. The dial tone whirrs. Emma rolls her eyes and clips on her cell. She returns to Spinner, who's happily slurping juice. A red-haired mom is fussing over him. She offers Spinner a towel to wipe his face. Doesn't she have other things to do?

"Don't let yourself become dehydrated, dear," cautions the mom.

"Ah, nice and cold," sighs Spinner after the last remnants of juice are gone.

Emma marches over to take the box from his grip. Spinner stands.

"Stay," says Emma. "Since you're occupied."

"I like Welch's," says Spinner to himself, falling to the bench. "Is that a crime?"

The trashcans are in a neat row near the swingset so Emma veers left when she spots the empty seats. The birds chirp above while bugs buzz below. She's very attentive to the sweet sounds of the day until another sound breaks her concentration. There's a couple drum kicks and then a few guitar riffs. It's music on somebody's iPod. It's music on Daphne Hatzilakos' iPod. She's opposite the swings, doing calesthenics on the wide grassy field. Her toned arms and legs move smoothly with each beat. Well, I guess she has to keep the husband-hunting bait skinny and warm, thinks Emma, tossing the juicebox into the trashcan with force.

Emma turns to view Degrassi's principal smiling and taking off her earbuds.

"You caught me," says Principal Hatzilakos, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm trying to lose a pound or two before school starts."

"Don't let me stop you," mumbles Emma, about to take off.

"Would you mind if we talked a little?" says Principal Hatzilakos.

"Do I have a choice?" says Emma.

"Yes, actually," replies Principal Hatzilakos.

She regards the administrator with a weary glance. That wasn't what she was anticipating. She's accustomed to having Hatzilakos tell her and everyone else where to go, what to do.

"I might leave if it's too much," confesses Emma.

"I'm willing to take that chance," says Principal Hatzilakos.

Principal Hatzilakos goes Indian-style on the ground with Emma, shutting off her music and situating her body at a respectable distance. Emma can't imagine what else needs to be said.

"This is your last year, and I'd like it to be the best year possible for you, Emma," says Principal Hatzilakos.

"Please," mutters Emma.

"That moment in the hall," continues Principal Hatzilakos. "Are you okay?"

Emma's more alarmed than confused when she notices tiny traces of concern crossing Daphne's features.

"No," says Emma.

"How would you be okay?" asks Principal Hatzilakos.

"Stop acting like you care about me, cause you don't," moans Emma, starting to play with her shoelaces.

'I do, Emma," says Principal Hatzilakos. "Whether you believe it or not."

"To use a cliche, actions speak louder than words," argues Emma.

"I suppose so," sighs Principal Hatzilakos.

Silence follows, Emma yanking the laces out of their loops. This woman has nothing to say after she revealed how sucky her life's been?

"That's it?" says Emma.

"What else can I do?" replies Principal Hatzilakos. "Your opinion of me..."

"Wasn't always like this," interjects Emma. "You were my teacher, my coach. You are my principal. I trusted you!"

Principal Hatzilakos lets her chin descend.

"I looked up to you," continues Emma, letting go of her laces. "There were three people you and Snake didn't think about. Mom, Jack, and me."

"He thought about you guys all the time," says Principal Hatzilakos softly. "It was the anniversary of my divorce. Peter blamed me and lived with his father. Your father was there..."

"Snake is not my father," says Emma speedily.

"Oh, Emma, you don't mean that," says Principal Hatzilakos, staring at her. "Despite everything, he never lost sight of you or Jack during the...problems we created."

Maybe she's right...or wrong. The Snake she remembers is a father, the best father she ever imagined. Is he the same? He'd have to change an awful lot to scrub out the parts of Snake she felt close to.

"How are you so sure?" asks Emma.

"Cause parents don't stop being parents after they've let you down," says Principal Hatzilakos. "Hasn't Snake shown you that that's true?"

Yes, he came across the country when he heard she wasn't doing well. He let her go to California alone so she could have some rest, and he let her go to Canada when she needed some room. Actions speak louder than words, mulls Emma. Especially recent actions.

"What's going to happen when you two are around each other again?" says Emma.

"We won't...," begins Principal Hatzilakos.

"There's no guarantee!" exclaims Emma. "Nobody saw it coming the first time. Not me, not my mother. Have you even apologized to my mother?"

"That would be difficult," says Principal Hatzilakos.

"You made it difficult!" cries Emma.

"Well, I'd do that for you," says Principal Hatzilakos. "If it would earn back your trust."

"Do this for me," says Emma. "Snake's coming to T.O. for a couple days. Don't talk to him. If he approaches you, cross the street. If you're in the hall together, look the other way. I need to see that you do care, Principal Hatzilakos. That would get me on the road to being okay."

Principal Hatzilakos is mum for a minute, rocking back and forth. Why would she be considering this? Wouldn't you say yes immediately? This woman is the definition of frustrating. Whatever.

"Spinner's waiting," sighs Emma, hopping to her feet.

She looks over her shoulder to find Principal Hatzilakos staring off past the swings. An agreement is apparently too much to ask for. Jogging to Spinner, she notices the soccer moms are nowhere near. Their game must be over, like her tolerance for her blonde principal.

"Daphne Hatzilakos is disgusting," affirms Emma, her hands on her hips.

"Is she jogging too?" says Spinner.

"No, she's 'stretching'," says Emma with air quotes. "Or probably scheming to attract married men on family outings. I'd sic her on Mr. Lantis if I didn't like him."

"She slipped up once," says Spinner, shrugging. "I bet she feels bad about it. Don't we all make mistakes?"

"Spinner, stop sticking up for her!" exclaims Emma. "She's a homewrecker."

"Emma, you're being way extreme," says Spinner, growing flustered.

"Am I?" says Emma. "Cause we're still coping with the aftermath. At least...I'm trying to cope."

"You are," says Spinner, rising to touch her shoulder.

"Spin, I'm only asking for one favor," says Emma. "For her not to talk to him for two days. I thought it was fair. But who I am kidding? Nobody's going to listen to a girl whose head gets shrinked."

"That's not true, Em," says Spinner. "Chillax. Let's talk about this."

"I'll chillax on the way to Manny's," sighs Emma.

She breaks off into a run, not bothering to check her pedometer or her pounding heartbeat. When she's alone on the other side of the park, her heart slows a bit as she jogs at a new pace. But just for a bit. After all, Snake's coming and she's running.

III.

He hesitated. Before going to bed last night, before brushing his teeth, before he set his fingers on the steering wheel, Toby stalled with each motion. Hesitations were nothing new to him. This summer was chock full of instances where he didn't go full throttle into something or examine the "what ifs" of the situation. But this? Tops every last one of them. Toby turns the key into the ignition, going forward.

"You'll regret this," says J.T. in the passenger seat. "Even mentioning it to her."

"Nothing's decided yet, J.T.," reminds Toby.

"You discussing it is a decision!" argues J.T. "Alright, gimme your keys."

"No," says Toby strongly.

"Friends don't let other friends commit stupidity," says J.T., reaching for the keys. "Stupidity prompted by a man with stupid beliefs."

"Huh?" says Toby.

Toby blocks J.T. from securing the car keys. J.T. huffs, peering out the window at Officer Wheaton as he speaks on his walkie-talkie. Officer Patton and Manny were already there. There was nothing J.T. could've done anyways. If he called the whole brunch off, Manny would be suspicious. J.T. certainly was, and Toby finally broke and told him why this meal was happening.

No matter how you sliced it, Eli Chernoff is offering them an out. And it's the only out that can be done quickly. This case could ruin their senior year, and they just have one of those. What if they never apprehend Justin? They will have wasted so many potentially precious moments waiting for him to be caught. The last thing he said to Manny ahead of the investigation was that she wouldn't have to worry; he had it covered. This is how they might be able to cover it. Manny would understand. She always understands.

"Manny's gonna go berserk," says J.T.

"This could pay for her education," says Toby, although half-heartedly.

"Yeah, the Santoses are going to take money from a guy whose son thinks she's below dirt and threatened their daughter," scoffs J.T. "None of us should crave their moola."

"No offense, but you aren't _us_, J.T.," says Toby. "How'd you like a police escort on dates or living with the knowledge that a whole group would terrorize your girlfriend?"

"I mean, it blows but so does Justin getting away with everything," replies J.T.

Toby sighs deeply. "Officer Wheaton's coming. Do you still need a ride to the station?"

"Yeah," says J.T. "I'll shut up like you told me. Just trying to spare you and Manny some more heartbreak."

"Manny's heart won't be broken," says Toby. "I won't let it."

Officer Wheaton climbs into the car a second later. He puts on his seatbelt.

"Ms. Santos is ready and waiting," announces Officer Wheaton.

"No way she's ready," mutters J.T. under his breath.

After elbowing J.T., Toby drives the car to the TV station. The dress rehearsals for the episode J.T. wrote were this week. So far, the rehearsals ran smoothly. J.T.'s show was a lot more organized than J.T.'s locker, bookbag, room, or any other aspect of his life. The episode's season mascots were hanging out at the station entrance including whoever J.T. found to be the bunny. J.T. left the vehicle as the bunny approached him.

"What's up, doc?" says J.T.

The bunny pushed him in the gut. He sure had spirit. J.T. coughed and recovered.

"That's hilarious," comments Officer Wheaton in the backseat.

"Why is everybody grouchy with me today?" says J.T. "You're supposed to hop, not hit."

In response, the rabbit grabs for his shirt.

"My production notes were to stand there and look cute," says the bunny. "Nobody told me about a song."

The bunny sounds a lot like a muffled...

"Liberty!" exclaims J.T. "How could I guess that Cyrus' vacation would become his honeymoon? I cut half his lines and added the song since you have such a great voice."

"I'm not singing in front of preschoolers," says Liberty, taking off the costume head. "Preschoolers are mean..."

It seems J.T. has his own relationship issues, no matter how small they are in comparison. Toby sneakily starts the car.

"We're not through, Isaacs," says J.T., pointing at his friend.

"Leave Toby alone and explain to me why you expect me to magically become Barney!" shouts Liberty.

Thankfully, Liberty's good at maintaining J.T.'s attention. He heard about the restaurant from Calvin last week. He and Kym were entertaining a Dreamworks producer this coming Saturday and the producer liked to sleep late. Ta-da, brunch plans! Toby wasn't invited to that meeting but he bit at the opportunity to shuttle Manny there for for what might be a more sensitive meeting.

Toby went through three green lights. A good sign? He hopes so as he parks in the lot. The place appeared a little fussy but it's not like he was going to come every week. _Margaret's_ had floor-length glass windows, multiple chandeliers, tables with crisp white tablecloths, and tuxedo-wearing servers manning a buffet that went on for two and a half hours. Manny is worth the extra bucks, though, and totally belongs in a business of this caliber. She stands with Officer Patton at the entrance. With her clad in blue, he's instantly reminded of his Confirmation where he gave her the larkspur meant for his mother. She was extremely nervous when she told him that she didn't know a whole bunch about the Jewish faith. He said he didn't care...without hesitation.

"Hey baby," says Manny, running to him on the sidewalk and kissing his cheek.

"Hi," says Toby.

"Those glasses are really working for me," sighs Manny.

Manny pulls him in for a liplock, Toby sighing. Perfect. What could go amiss? They're stopped by a couple well-placed "ahems." Right, their chaperones.

"We're going to make out," says Manny. "Just saying."

"In front of a public place before noon?" counters Officer Patton. "Nope."

"I'm famished," says Officer Wheaton, ushering them to the door.

They enter the restaurant, which is mostly full. He didn't bother with reservations. His stomach was in too many knots to talk to a complete stranger. Toby freezes near the "Wait to be Served" sign, fumbling with his yellow tie in a side mirror. He has an unsettling flashback to when he was touching his Star of David necklace after Eli Chernoff left. Bad Jew. My son doesn't want to be _a bad Jew_.

"Tobes, you're antsy," notes Manny. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," says Toby, then clearing his throat.

"Awww," sighs Manny.

She reaches for his neck. He's afraid she'll be able to feel his cold hands, or worse notice that he's not wearing the necklace. The piece of jewelry became the bearer of a bad memory. Hopefully that won't be the case for long.

"You never wear yellow," continues Manny, gripping his tie. "I like it. Brings out your eyes."

"Thanks," says Toby, relieved.

"Thank _you_ for bringing me to this awesome locale," says Manny.

Toby lowers his eyelids.

"Table for four?" says a bright-eyed hostess, putting her hands behind her.

"Actually," speaks up Toby. "Could we have two tables for two?"

The officers offer Toby puzzled stares whereas Manny seems elated. The more private, the more he can do this.

"That can be arranged," says the hostess. "Follow me."

The four of them enter the dining area. There are more adults here than children, which Toby isn't too surprised by, but it's also eerily quiet for the peak brunch hour. He'll melt if Officer Wheaton and Patton catch wind of their conversation, and the temperature inside is a comfortable seventy degrees. Luckily, the hostess sits the officers at a table near the buffet tables where most of the noise exists.

"Very chi-chi," compliments Manny, scanning the restaurant.

Their hostess directs them to a table on the left of the officers'.

"Our most popular special is the buffet, but I can bring you a menu if you're not interested," says the hostess.

"We're interested," says Toby, pulling out Manny's chair.

"He texted me that the buffet was fantastic," explains Manny.

"That it is," says the hostess proudly. "Just grab a plate and you're home free."

She disappears, leaving them to talk. _The_ talk. That's what they came for, besides the buffet. Should they eat before they...definitely. Toby begins to move his silverware. Manny places a hand over his, stopping the movement of his spoon.

"I have an idea," says Manny.

"What?" says Toby.

"How about I pick out what you like to eat, and you pick out what I like to eat?" suggests Manny. "And whoever has the most right picks wins, and the winner gets a prize we decide on later."

The game sounds doable, and delays the inevitable.

"Okay," says Toby, grinning widely.

"Prepare to lose, Tobias," vows Manny as she stands.

"Not even, Manuella," challenges Toby. "I'm a details guy and you can't beat that."

Manny walks confidently to the buffet. Shortly after she leaves, Toby removes a list he drew up last evening. He hadn't done a pro-con list in ages, but he had a huge urge to do it for this scenario. There were a good amount of pros: Manny's school finances taken care of, overall privacy, less stress for his parents and the Santoses, the Chernoffs out of his hair, his own peace of mind. Unfortunately, most of the cons didn't make it to the paper. It was tough to verbalize them so never mind writing them down in a few words. The biggest con somehow found its presence onto the page. _Guilt. _Eli, J.T., and undoubtedly some others would make him feel guilty for a myriad of reasons. Manny might too. But honestly, he wouldn't have written it down if he didn't feel it already. Toby pockets the list when he catches Manny returning to the table.

"Eat them and weep," proclaims Manny, setting Toby's plate down.

The plate held blueberry pancakes, grapefruit wedges, and toast with grape jelly on the left, and grilled chicken, potato salad, and a peach danish on the right. A smidge of chocolate cake was tucked away in the corner.

"That's a combo of the Artists' Inn, the Starlight Ball, and every meal at the Dot we've shared," says Manny. "How's that for details?"

"Whoa," comments Toby. "I'm intimidated."

"As you should be," brags Manny.

"I'm not defeated, though," says Toby, scooting out his chair.

"As you will be," says Manny.

"This will be the breakfast of champions, and that champion is going to be me," affirms Toby.

He walks to the buffet table, the line whittling down. Alright. She enjoyed the location and was in a good mood. That's another positive sign. However, she's being incredibly sweet this morning and he'd hate to mar the nice occasion. Was he foolish to think she'd react more kindly here than at the Dot or at Degrassi? Noticing the officers conversing over their selections, he couldn't help but notice how light-hearted they were, how carefree, and it wasn't just because Toby was footing their bill as well. Why wouldn't they be? Their relationships weren't under a community-wide microscope.

Going through the buffet proves to be less tricky than he thought. While Manny might be an easy read when it comes to food, she could harbor and display many emotions at the drop of a hat. That's what made her such a terrific actress. Therefore it's simple for Toby to picture her lips curling in sadness, or her mouth parting in shock, or reluctant relief starting to form on her face. He prays on everything holy that he doesn't see disappointment.

Toby carries the plate to Manny, displaying his contents. There's scrambled eggs, chocolate chip pancakes, hash browns and a group of strawberries on one side, with chicken wings, brown rice, and a slice of miniature pizza on the other. He set several little chocolate pastries around the rim.

"Come onnnnnnnnn," says Manny, letting her cheeks fall into her hands.

"Told ya," says Toby. "I've fetched food for you how many times?"

"I set myself up for failure," laments Manny. "You are too good, Toby. I surrender."

Manny leans in for a kiss, which he'd rather be doing than eating.

"Do you have a prize in mind?" asks Manny after the kiss.

Their hostess brings them two glasses of water and takes their drink orders before Toby can reply.

"I'll think about it," says Toby when she leaves. "Meanwhile, dig in."

The cuisine is better than advertised, and it takes a spell to go through their entire plates. By the time they hit dessert, they're mutually stuffed. Manny bangs the table with satisfaction.

"Oh my gosh, that food should be illegal it's so good," praises Manny.

Toby tosses his napkin on the tablecloth. Manny winks.

"Was it good for you?" asks Manny.

"Oh yeah," chuckles Toby.

"Should we signal to the law enforcement that we're done?" says Manny.

"No!" says Toby suddenly.

He stands, which is a chore at this rate, and scoots his chair closer to Manny's. The hostess appears to be annoyed but doesn't say anything. Great. The last thing he needs is an interruption. Tell her, Toby, he convinces himself. Tell her. This could be good for her.

"Listen," says Toby, taking her hands.

"You've chosen a prize," guesses Manny.

"No," says Toby.

"This is my prize," sighs Manny. "You take me to the best places."

"Manny, I want to take you to a lot more places," says Toby, recognizing an "in" when he hears it.

"Likewise," says Manny.

"That's why I'm considering this offer Justin's dad made," continues Toby.

Manny's warm smile changes to a horrified gape in a nanosecond. Uh-oh. His shoulders stiffen.

"He said he would pay for your college education," continues Toby. "If we dropped the charges in the investigation."

She slowly removes her hands from Toby's, breaking contact. Truth be told, her touch was what got him through to this point.

"Who left you alone with him?" cries Manny.

He wouldn't have thought that would be her initial response but it was a fair response.

"Mr. Chernoff came up to my room," says Toby.

"Why were you alone?" says Manny. "Toby, this isn't like you. Why would you...there's not a fraction of me that would take that money. You always said money meant nothing to you."

"But this proposal is for school," insists Toby. "Wouldn't you enjoy not having to worry about funds?"

"Not if I knew where the money came from!" replies Manny.

They've garnered the attention of the officers, who whisper among themselves.

"What other options do you have?" says Toby, his voice slightly above a whisper.

"Scholarships, my parents, outside grants," lists Manny. "And you'd be going against your principles, Toby. Everything you stood up for this summer."

"Don't you miss us being normal?" whispers Toby, leaning into her. "Like just a little?"

"Sweetie," says Manny, a glimmer of agreement present in her eyes.

"I want us to go on real dates," confesses Toby. "I don't want a police chaperone for homecoming or prom or any other event where other people have the freedom we deserve too. We've done all we can do..."

"No, we haven't, which is the problem," counters Manny.

Beginning to cry, Manny's tears leap to the tablecloth. Toby feels like every butterknife in the area is being twisted into his stomach. Why didn't he heed J.T.'s advice or follow his own conscience?

"Something must've switched your brain cells," chokes out Manny. "You said you would fight for us to me and my parents and now you're giving up? You're still that insecure about the love we have for each other, unsure that we couldn't get through this?"

Toby grasps her shoulders. He hasn't forgotten what he promised or what they've endured. He's simply tired, very tired, and he thought she'd be tired too. Manny scans his face for clarity. He might as well release the whole spiel of Eli since the most attractive aspect flopped terribly.

"It's me whose insecure," says Toby. "He...called me a...bad Jew."

"For being with me?" sighs Manny, wiping her cheeks.

Toby nods and releases her. He doesn't deserve to touch her anymore. It's most likely not a comfort after this conversation.

"You can't let stuff like that seep inside you," says Manny. "You have strong faith so he hit you where it would hurt the most."

"Manny, I thought it over for five minutes," says Toby. "For more than five minutes honestly. I mean, we are talking about it. I couldn't fathom why I seriously considered every word he threw at me."

"Well, what conclusion did you come to?" asks Manny, looking away.

He didn't possess the perfect conclusion. Eli Chernoff's subtle accusation cut deep. Toby observed that he had a lot of influence, but he believed that it would never be ravaging his brain or poking at his soul this strongly. So he'll give Manny what he can. This time, he's near tears as the officers finally elect to go over.

"I don't know how strong my faith is without you," replies Toby. "I need more than I have. I'm scared."

Finally, Manny's smile returns, like a headlight blasting through a dark tunnel.

"That's okay, Toby," says Manny, stroking his back. "You can be scared. Don't be ashamed."

"You're...you're not disappointed?" asks Toby.

"In you?" says Manny. "No. Never. Who do you think I am, Toby?"

Toby embraces her without thinking. "My girlfriend."

IV.

Spinner combs through a collection of magazines he discovered on a side desk. The magazines, namely _National Geographic_ and _Time, _were standard for Degrassi's front office. He read a copy from 1981 which was before he was born. What he saw astonished him - acid wash jeans, shoulder pads, mesh tops. He wouldn't even play tag football in those clothes, and the hair? The hair. He went all Flock of Seagulls once but that was a blip in an otherwise charming good sense of style. But he didn't show at the office to discuss style.

The secretary on duty, Mrs. Hampshire, informed him that Daphne Hatzilakos would be in at eight. Spinner had to be at the Dot by eight forty-five so this had to be a relatively short meeting. He took the iniative, calling a day ahead, scheduling an appointment. His drive would've made Emma proud, if she had any idea.

He sits up when he hears heels in the outside hallway. They belong to Hatzilakos' niece, Liza. She's in a bright orange T-shirt, cut off at the belly, and tight white pants with rhinestones.

"Mrs. Hampshire, can I have fifty bucks?" asks Liza.

"For what, dear?" says Mrs. Hampshire.

"Whatever I want to do this weekend," says Liza. "Paintball or go-karts or go-go dancing lessons."

"I'm not giving you money to live friviously," harrumphs Mrs. Hampshire. "You should try to find an extracurricular activity here that you wouldn't mind sticking with."

"They're boring!" moans Liza.

"Your aunt might reward you if you do," says Mrs. Hampshire, adjusting her typewriter. "How's that for motivation?"

"Motivation bites," says Liza dismissively, stomping out of the office.

Spinner avoids chuckling, able to resist the temptation. Hatzilakos' niece was a handful, but so was he awhile ago. Heck, he might be the biggest handful in Degrassi Community School history. Besides Jay.

Another smattering of steps brings forth Daphne Hatzilakos, a short-sleeved, salmon-colored business suit on her frame. She immediately sees Spinner.

"Gavin, have you ever been to school this early?" kids Principal Hatzilakos.

"Not in this century," says Spinner.

"I'll open my office," says Principal Hatzilakos. "Come on back."

Principal Hatzilakos opens her office with her key and turns on the light. The light reveals the same office Spinner visited a year ago, a visit that decided his fate as a Degrassi student. The same potted plants, pictures of Peter, fading blue carpet, biology textbooks Hatzilakos couldn't part with. Even the lone picture of Kendra, Daphne, and the entire gymnastics team remained in the original position.

"Have a seat," says Principal Hatzilakos.

"Thanks," says Spinner, sitting opposite her.

He wonders if Emma sat when she talked to Hatzilakos at the park or if she was caught mid-motion and spoke with Hatzilakos on the path.

"I can't speculate why you called," says Principal Hatzilakos. "Your records are in order, and you're poised to graduate if you keep up the good work."

"That's...not why I'm here," says Spinner.

Rubbing his palms together, he nods to himself, steels himself for the next thing he'll ask of her.

"Umm, I'm dating Emma, obviously," says Spinner.

"I surmised," says Principal Hatzilakos, leaning against her chair.

"Emma means well," goes on Spinner. "In almost everything she does. But...she's what I'd label a tough customer? She gives it to you straight."

"That's also obvious," says Principal Hatzilakos, averting her gaze. "Gavin, where is this going?"

Spinner fingers his Dot tee that he washed yesterday. It took quite a bit of soap to get out the sweat of his jogging and the particles of food flying up from the Dot grill. But he thought a lot during his loads of laundry, including how best to understand the level of Emma's annoyance with the circumstances confronting her.

"You're a good principal," says Spinner. "I'd vouch for you like no other. You're the reason I'm a student. Mondo thankful that you overturned the expulsion."

"The board did more, but you're welcome," says Principal Hatzilakos.

"Only the Simpsons are trying to rebuild something," continues Spinner. "Not sure what or if it'll work. All I figure is that Emma isn't cool with your involvement."

"I extended an olive branch," shares Principal Hatzilakos.

"Emma's not going to see that since there's a bunch of weeds," says Spinner. "A bunch of feelings she can't control. So if you can do what she asked, that'd be righteous, Ms. Hatzilakos."

"So two teenagers are asking me not to speak to another adult?" poses Principal Hatzilakos.

She weaves a pencil through her fingers. Spinner's knees go up and down of their own accord.

"Two teenagers that are nearly adults," adds Spinner with a shrug.

Principal Hatzilakos lets the pencil drop and straightens some papers. Well, he tried. The ball's in her court. He hopes that ball won't bounce into Snake's hands again. Gross.

"You're as good a boyfriend as I am a principal," says Principal Hatzilakos.

What does that mean? Does he want to know?

"Must be nice to be young and in love," muses Principal Hatzilakos. "See you in September, Gavin."

"Uh, right," says Spinner, saluting her and leaving.

Why did he salute her? He's nervous, that's why. _Must be nice to be young and in love_. Dude, the L bomb hasn't been dropped yet.

"Tell Emma we said hello," says Mrs. Hampshire as Spinner passes her desk.

"Uh, right," repeats Spinner.

_Love_. Is it love? Okay, if he factors in how he feels, what he's done (even just now), the fact that others can tell...then, yes. Yes! Why hasn't he told her this? Spinner checks his watch. Fifteen minutes until his shift. That's three seconds out of a thousand seconds he could say a four-letter word. What is he standing around like a lump for?

Spinner bursts through the door, his tee flapping at his waist. He's gotta say this, mean this. This is a sprint he won't stop for juice for. He races down the blocks, two blocks, three, where he spots her on the street. Emma's alone. Couldn't be more perfect. She's leaving the Dot with a medium-sized Watermelemma.

"Emma!" shouts Spinner, reaching her, then more quietly. "Emma."

"Spinner, you've got...twelve minutes," says Emma, consulting her watch. "Slow down."

"This can't wait," says Spinner.

He catches his breath and summons the words he hasn't said in a good two years.

"I love you," shares Spinner.

The bell of the Dot door clangs. A woman's paper bag rustles as she exits Degrassi grocery. His boss, Pat, throws a cardboard box into the dumpster. Eleven minutes, thinks Spinner. That's eleven minutes where you can say it back, Emma.

"What?" utters Emma.

"What!" cries Spinner. "What do you mean, what?"

"Like as in...what?" says Emma softly.

"Dude," whispers Spinner, backing away.

Emma's lips tremble as she watches him go. He turns around completely. She failed to speak. How could she not reciprocate his emotions? He isn't the kind of guy to say it for the sake of saying it. If they weren't in love, what were they? Spinner walks away the same way he came.

"Gavin, where you going?" says Pat. "You have to clean the fryer today!"

"I'm calling in sick, man!" yells Spinner.

He rounds the corner.

"Spinner!" yells Emma after him.

Too bad he couldn't care less to hear it.

V.

"Where are we going?" demands Manny, restlessly shifting her skirt.

Toby shuts off the car radio, glances at Officer Wheaton and Patton relaxing in the rear. There was cause to relax. Toby spent the latter part of yesterday afternoon going into detail about what prompted the brunch outing. Officer Wheaton went into a profanity-filled rant while Officer Patton kept an eye on Manny to check if she was alright. But Manny was nothing less than resilient, as far as Toby could decipher. She could be more sad than she's letting on and hiding other feelings. She's excited for the moment so he's choosing to focus on that.

"To a surprise," answers Toby.

He goes right. They're three houses away. Stopping the car, the four of them stare at the yard Toby's stared at off and on for ten years. Manny blinks behind the window pane.

"This is Bubbe's house," informs Toby.

"Toby!" exclaims Manny. "I'm wearing a mini!"

Manny rises, pulling her skirt to the lowest possible length.

"You're fine," reassures Toby. "She won't notice. Promise."

"Thank God I sprayed on perfume," moans Manny.

"I think it's time I brought you over," says Toby. "You wanna go?"

He beams at Manny who got her skirt down to a respectable level before smiling at him. Toby periodically contemplated bringing Manny to Bubbe's, particulary after the ceremony at the synagogue. They've interacted during family gatherings but not for very long. Nevertheless, he saw a lot of similarities that convinced him that they'd be good friends.

"Yeah," says Manny, already unzipping her seatbelt.

"Today's going to be smooth sailing, you guys," he says to everyone in the car. "I promise."

Toby exits, parting the door for Manny as the officers scramble out. The garden gnomes were in fine weather, the sun glinting on the tops of their yarmukles.

"Each gnome represents a son or daughter," shares Toby. "The one nearest the house is my dad. He's her favorite, or that's what he claims. My cousin David...you met him during Hanukkah? He's campaigning for one."

"David the Gnome," says Manny. "I liked that show so I hope he gets it."

They stroll up to the door. Manny plays with her skirt when they're halfway there.

"Walk in front of me," whispers Manny, manuevering herself behind Toby.

Toby rings the doorbell. The door opens. Bubbe greets him with a hug. Her hugs were so consistently good that Toby wondered if she'd been saving them since his last visit. Manny had nowhere to hide now, and in his opinion, didn't need to.

"Manny's with me," says Toby, stepping to the side.

"Hi," says Manny shyly. "We kinda brought cops."

"Oh, I've been briefed," says Bubbe, sharing a glance with Toby. "Come in. I made tea. Hurry or it won't keep."

"Ooooh!" remarks Officer Wheaton, not masking his delight.

"Pick a chair, any chair," invites Bubbe.

Manny approaches a pink armchair, weighing whether she should sit on it or another chair that wouldn't make her mini ride up. She stands awkwardly as the men in the room wait for her. Manny bites her lip in Toby's direction and he leads her to sit on the sofa with him.

"You're the first girl Toby's brought to my house," shares Bubbe. "Isn't that right, Toby?"

"She is," confirms Toby.

Smiling at her exposed knees, Manny clutches Toby's arm.

"Just like Jeffy and Kate," says Bubbe, pouring tea for Officer Patton. "Anne Marie was a busy bee and never flew to my hive."

Toby rubs his left temple. There was a tinge of sarcasm in there that he'd rather Manny not be privy to during a first visit. He decided to change the subject.

"Have you seen the finished mural, Bubbe?" asks Toby.

"Yes, my bingo group drove by the synagogue," replies Bubbe. "They were tickled pink that it was inspired by my grandson."

"My handprint's pink," mentions Manny, clasping the material of her skirt. "I mean, on the wall. Next to Toby's."

He wishes she were less nervous. He's reminded of when she crashed the Hanukkah dinner, but she won his whole family over by the end. It's impossible not to love her. Toby wound a hand over hers, stroking her wrist. Manny keeps her hand still.

"I think about you two everyday," remarks Bubbe.

"We appreciate it," says Manny.

"I worry about you," says Bubbe, looking directly at Toby.

She does? She should. This is without Bubbe being aware of yesterday. Maybe she'd be as offended as Manny if he revealed the truth. In fact, that was partly why he popped by her home. She survived torture using the shield of her faith. The stress he's held on to for days were unlike the stresses she held for months. Toby accepted a cup once Manny had hers.

"Toby's a trooper," affirms Manny.

"Not as much as Manny," says Toby.

"Manny, would you be a dear and fetch the lemonade from my fridge?" requests Bubbe.

"Sure," says Manny.

"We'll help," offers Officer Patton.

The three of them advance to the kitchen. Toby senses that this was planned, by someone. Bubbe seldom asked a guest to fetch anything.

"Did someone call you before me?" wonders Toby aloud.

"Manny's acting didn't cover up her nerves, did it?" says Bubbe, smirking. "She did contact me and say she was concerned."

He sets the teacup on the saucer. Here he was driving for a regular visit and "surprising" Manny when she knew where they were going. The shoe is on the other foot. Didn't he blindside her at brunch? But her interference has better intentions, that's for sure.

"You talked to the young man's father?" says Bubbe, drinking her tea.

"I hate that I made what he said matter," sighs Toby. "Standing there, questioning what it's in my heart, what feels right."

"Questioning something is not the same as doing something," says Bubbe.

"And money as the catalyst?" moans Toby, grabbing his hair. "I hate greed. I hate what it can do to people."

Bubbe sets her saucer on a coaster in the center of the coffee table, joining him on the sofa. There were untouched cookies, muffins, and bagels. He didn't have the appetite for them.

"When I was barely older than you, I was digging graves," says Bubbe. "Graves that were never marked. That didn't mean they weren't still taking things from the bodies. I saw a soldier violently remove gold fillings from a twenty-year old boy's body. For Nazi gold."

If he did have an appetite, it would've disappeared then and there.

"Avoid regret, Toby," says Bubbe. "There's no price that will soothe a troubled soul, and no bank big enough to keep what you fear to lose."

"Why me, Bubbe?" asks Toby, his eyes falling to the floor. "Why do I have to be the one making these decisions?"

She tucks back a stray hair of his, like any grandmother would.

"You come from hardy stock," says Bubbe. "From people who didn't give up during adversity. That's not a curse. It's how we thrive."

"I wish Eli Chernoff could hear you," says Toby with a weak smile.

Bubbe kisses his brow. "He'll hear you."

VI.

Her reflection in the bumpy grey panel of the refrigerator scowls at her. Seemingly, that too is unclear. The shot at the Diversity Scholarship waved her good-bye. Her diversity is now complicating her best romance. Maybe if she weren't as distinct, she'd be happier. Manny returns the lemonade to the second shelf.

Detecting movement in the other room, Manny cleans her glass in the sink. Her ringtone sounds. Great, she didn't enjoy the idea of Bubbe listening to a Lil' Wayne track coming from her kitchen. She silences her cell and reads a text from Emma. What was "crisis...not an emergency" code for? Manny goes to the door, almost bumping smack into Bubbe.

"I told my cell to _silencio_," says Manny. "Sorry."

"Do you have to go?" says Bubbe with a hint of sadness.

Awww, she hates that she has to say yes.

"Unfortunately," replies Manny. "How...is Toby? If I overstepped any boundaries, then..."

"We could do with less boundaries, wouldn't you agree?" interjects Bubbe.

She leans against the oven, nodding.

"My kitchen is not that interesting," says Bubbe. "Why are you hiding from us?"

Manny smooths her mini. It really was too short. But she wasn't fully thinking when she grabbed items from her closet. She wondered if Toby hadn't told her everything, including whether he'd rather save himself the internal agony and date a nice Jewish girl.

"Does...does Toby...," stammers Manny.

"Yes?" prompts Bubbe.

"Is Toby debating whether we should date?" blurts out Manny.

"Is that how you're feeling?" says Bubbe.

"What if what Mr. Chernoff said took root?" says Manny. "Toby's confused. Is he confused when it comes to me? He gave me your ring before but maybe he wants it on someone else. Someone Jewish."

She lifts the ring for Bubbe to view. The black stone was originally beautiful to her, although now the blackness might represent how cloudy their future is together. Didn't that fortune teller predict Toby would be unhappy? She read it as a farce then, but today...please don't let her be proven right.

"You can't slip a heart on and off," consoles Bubbe. "If you're in his, that's as stationary as it gets."

"Manny!" calls Officer Patton from the living room.

"Thanks for this," says Manny, glancing at the ring, then gesturing around the kitchen. "Thanks for all of this."

"Stop by again soon?" asks Bubbe.

"I'll clue in Toby next visit," says Manny. "Plus I've got monster bingo skills to test out on you."

"Let the chips fall where they may," says Bubbe.

Bubbe escorts her to the front door, where Officer Patton and Wheaton pause to praise her refreshments. Manny slides into the car with Toby, who rolls up the window, clicks the air on.

"Emma's having a crisis-slash-not-emergency," says Manny. "She went for a smoothie. What could've happened while she was doing that? Did Lia veto her Sleeping Beauty costume for being blue instead of pink?"

"Who are you going to be?" inquires Toby. "Ariel?"

"You want to see me in that purple shell bra," kids Manny.

"No!" says Toby defensively. "I just figured you'd be her since you found your voice this summer."

"Good save," says Manny, poking his nose.

"But you really do have it together, Manny," says Toby.

Not according to the convo she had three minutes prior. However, with Emma freaking, that can remain unsaid. Plus she believes Bubbe, like she believes in her grandson.

"Toby, we all have doubts," says Manny. "Only we can't let doubt decide what we're going to be. I know you've got bravery all bottled up in there somewhere and I'm uber sure you'll use it when the time is right."

"When being the operative word," says Toby.

"Yeah, when," breathes Manny, lingering skepticism collecting in her chest.

"I've figured out what I want to do," sighs Toby. "You won't hold it against me since we've talked it through?"

"I really hope not, Tobes," says Manny as a second series of nerves appear.

"I really hope not, too," says Toby, killing the air.

VII.

_Harmony. Cooperation. Commitment. Peace. Happiness. Trust. Respect. Caring. Wisdom. Joy. Wholeness. Nurturing. Love. _Toby spreads the arrhae across his Kytel desktop, taking in the symbols of the thirteen coins he couldn't return to her parents, but could return to Manny. Thirteen's an unlucky number. Some of the characteristics blended into others, and others seem to have eluded them during the summer. He gives them a look, a last look before fetching the heart-shaped bag he brought in his suitcase without fail.

"Are you sure?" says J.T., storming into Toby's cubicle for the umpteenth time.

Toby begins putting the coins into the bag.

"Yes," says Toby.

"Officer Wheaton!" calls J.T.

"I hate to respectfully agree with J.T.," starts Officer Wheaton, who also situated himself by the cubicle. "But..."

"Agree!" encourages J.T. "Agree!"

"I thought your conversation with your grandmother would...," says Officer Wheaton, his voice fading.

"You spoke to Bubbe?" cries J.T. "Then why are you...I'm gonna go. I just can't..."

J.T. exits the cubicle, then reenters.

"No," says J.T. "I'm gonna stay...and watch you single-handedly ruin your relationship."

Halting when he reaches the _Love_ coin, Toby opens and shuts his eyes. This would be difficult but it's for the best. It's the only avenue that will allow them to move on. When the phone rings, Toby picks up immediately.

"Your visitor's here," says Berniece.

"Thanks," says Toby. "Send them up."

The five minutes it takes stretches on forever in his mind. He's weighed every aspect he can weigh, gone back and forth to the point of exhaustion. He can't suffer anymore. Neither can Manny. The elevator chimes while the visitor walks to Toby's cubicle. Enthusiasm is pasted on his visitor's face. They sit down without being asked.

"I am pleasantly shocked that you contacted me," says Eli Chernoff. "Although, this offer is too good to pass on. Your girlfriend's going to be on easy street. You're going to be without a care. We've come full circle."

"Glad you could fit me in," says Toby.

"Stopping by a top-rated firm like Kytel?" says Eli. "Of course. You must be pretty intelligent to work here. About as smart as my boy."

Officer Wheaton sneers as J.T. shoots dagger stares from the corner. Eli consults his buzzing cell, a number flashing on the screen.

"Put your phone away," says Toby. "Make yourself comfortable."

Eli's moved by his politeness, tucking his cell into a briefcase he straps on his chair. J.T. inches forward, meeting Toby's eyes as he carefully slides out the phone. Toby didn't ask him to do it, can barely register that he did. He has down what he's going to say. He has it down pat.

"Because I'm about to make you extremely uncomfortable," says Toby. "Like you did with me."

J.T. grins in the background, his sight remaining on the phone. Officer Wheaton releases a pleased grunt.

"Hold on a second," says Eli.

"No, since the first mistake I made was listening to you in the first place," shoots down Toby. "You asked me if I loved my girlfriend and that's where you should've stopped since that's all that matters."

"Which is why you should accept the cash!" exclaims Eli.

"You should accept that your money's no good and your racist reasoning is crap," says Toby.

Eli crosses and uncrosses his legs, furor growing in his eyes. He seriously believed he had this sewn up.

"I thought you were smart," says Eli. "But apparently you missed the boat on loving your heritage _and_ displaying maturity."

This man is deluded. He's the last person who should be determining maturity levels.

"Instead, you play with chocolate coins in gold wrappers like a child," goes on Eli, gesturing to the coin-filled bag. "Toby, I won't make this offer again. Reconsider."

"My girlfriend's safety and these coins are worth more than any offer," insists Toby. "Your deal's dead so you can leave."

J.T. manages to push in the phone while Eli lifts his jaw from the floor.

"Protecting a sexually promiscuous Catholic schoolgirl from somebody you haven't seen in weeks...," starts Eli.

"I'm in love with that Catholic schoolgirl so shut up!" exclaims Toby, standing speedily.

"That is it!" says Officer Wheaton.

Officer Wheaton lunges across the cubicle, securing Eli in a strong grip. Eli contracts in the hold. He locks eyes with Toby, his complexion getting rosier with each jolt.

"The only thing my son did wrong was give that boy a little shove," seethes Eli. "The rest is that group's doing."

"Then your son is the worst type of bully," says Officer Wheaton. "He has other goons do his dirty work."

"Maybe the Santoses will be more agreeable," says Eli, smirking.

"They won't," assures Toby. "Sergeant Blanchett."

A chair slides out in an adjoining cubicle. Sergeant Blanchett, dressed in his uniform, comes in and waves a couple forms in front of Eli's nose.

"Restraining orders," says Sergeant Blanchett. "Filing these will be done in a snap if you step foot on the Santos premises or have the bad judgement to make a repeat trip to the Issacs."

"How'd you like your country club friends to hear about that?" asks Officer Wheaton.

"Get off me!" says Eli, Officer Wheaton releasing him.

"With pleasure," says Officer Wheaton.

"I'm getting out of here!" exclaims Eli, grabbing his briefcase. "This was a waste of my time."

"Then we've come full circle," remarks Toby.

Eli rushes from the cubicle, knocking the paperwork to the carpet. Officer Wheaton and Sergeant Blanchett shake hands. J.T. claps Toby on the shoulder.

"Bravo!" applauds J.T. "Just bravo."

Noticing a lot of chatter beyond his cubicle, Toby figures the whole room saw Eli retreat. They undoubtedly had questions Toby's not sure he could answer. What's most important is that he answered the questions that he had. What's better for Manny and what's best for him? Eli heard him loud and clear.

"Did you find anything on his phone?" whispers Toby, pulling J.T. aside.

"A ton of unavailable numbers," whispers J.T. "Tobes, I'm beginning to think you're right. The baby scumbag might be in T.O."

"We'll dig more later," says Toby. "I have to tell Manny. I have to see her."

"Well, go!" encourages J.T.

This time, he follows his friend's advice, grabbing Officer Wheaton mid-sentence. He drives to Degrassi in under twenty minutes. Manny would be at the school at this hour of the day. He tracks down the Drama Club in the auditorium. Manny's missing from the backstage area, the dressing rooms, the prop room. A winded Officer Wheaton collapses in an audience chair. Toby stays put in the aisle, out of ideas as to where she could be.

"If you put your pen on the spotlight, Derek, it looks like a buttcrack!" complains Manny, her voice echoing down the aisle towards Toby.

"Precisely," laughs Derek, slapping the soundbooth window.

Toby flies up the stairs to the booth just as Manny's chasing Derek out. He displays all his teeth, his chest heaving.

"I can kiss you today without any guilt," says Toby when he reaches her.

Manny lowers her clipboard to her waist with a smile. "You said no."

"And I want to kiss you a trillion times after today," says Toby.

She chucks the clipboard, linking her lips with his in the dim booth. His feelings can't be bargained with. She's the real reward.

"Toby," sighs Manny, resting her head on his chest. "There's nothing I want more."


	113. A Duo

**CXIII. A Duo**

_I can tell,  
we've got an awful lot,  
in common,  
even though,  
we look as different as can be!  
We don't even have to try,  
to see things eye to eye,  
it just comes to us, naturally!  
Come to think of it I think we fit together,  
playing cat and mouse won't get us, very far!  
There's no need to fued and fuss,  
when it isn't really us,  
Let's you and me be who we are._

_We're a duo,_  
_a duo,_  
_a pair of lonely ones who were meant to be a two!_  
_Oh, a duo,_  
_it's true-o,_  
_wherever we go, we're going me and you!_

_No matter what now we've got one another,_  
_we'll be be there to pick each other off the floor!_  
_Anytime you're feeling glum,_  
_count on me to be a chum!_

_If ya get an itch attack,  
I'll be there to scratch your back!_

_Now who could ever ask for more!_  
_(laughs and talks some)Oh stop, oh stop, no, don't stop._  
_(back to singing) More, more,_  
_we're friends and that's what friends are for._

_We're a duo,_  
_a duo,_  
_a pair of lonely ones who were might to be a two._  
_Oh, a duo,_  
_it's true-o,_  
_if we're ever in a stoop,_  
_we know we can make it through,_  
_cuz you've got me and I've,_  
_got,_  
_you! Yes, sir!_

**A Duo is the property of Dom Deluise and appears in the film _An American Tail_.**

**1985 is the property of Bowling for Soup.**

"_Bruce Springsteen, Madonna, way before Nirvana_," sings Craig. "_There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV..._"

"_Her two kids in high school, tell her that she's uncool_," sings Ashley. "_Cause she's still preoccupied..."_

_"__With 19, 19, 1985_!" they sing together.

Craig lowers the volume as they near the end of the road. Ashley lets the tune stroke her soul, fill every part of her purposely empty mind, ignores the movement of breeze-touched trees and leaves swirling to the ground. If she's with Craig, she'll really be somewhere on the other side of things. They'll be able to sing whatever and for however long she imagines. They'll never run out of road.

When they removed her IV, told her to take off her gown, deposited her into a wheelchair, and settled her into the car, none of those actions seemed completely real. It was the biggest hospital stay of her life and she can scarcely detail a single moment. She would have to measure everything through reactions - gritting her teeth during the prelude to a possible seizure; shadowy forms standing above her; foggy conversations while she was on different medications. Now the true test...would it add up to anything? Detox was done, and the rest lies ahead.

"I'm glad I'm riding with you," says Craig, glancing at Ashley and returning his gaze to the road.

"Yeah," says Ashley, then quickly. "How's school? Have you met your roommate?"

"Uhh, I did," says Craig. "I'll tell you more next visit."

Great. She tries to direct the conversation to a non-rehab subject and they're talking about his next visit, which wouldn't be for weeks. If this bothers Craig, he hasn't said. He's very tight-lipped today. When he switched on the radio, they both relaxed and pretty soon the musician habit of rocking their hearts out took over. Ashley had a crystal-clear memory of Craig complimenting her "air guitar" in this car on this day. In fact, she realizes that most of her most vivid memories from the past few weeks were due to Craig, and just as he's going away.

"Who's going to sing silly song lyrics with me in there?" moans Ashley, pulling her jacket sleeves above her wrists.

"You'll find somebody," says Craig.

"Maybe that's outlawed too," says Ashley. "I can't believe they banned CDs and ipods."

"So compose," offers Craig.

"I've got nothing left," says Ashley. "The tour left me dry. I won't be playing for awhile anyway. Maybe that's a silver lining."

Craig bites his lip, continues to focus on the winding path to Harmony Hill. She's pretty sure he's pitying her. But she is glad she won't have to play. Her keyboard can stay in its case for all she cares. Ashley cranes her neck to view her parents' cars behind Joey's car.

"The bonus is that you took care of the introductions the previous night," mentions Craig.

"Right, my addiction team," says Ashley. "The A-team."

"Ash, you're going to take this seriously, right?" says Craig, moving slowly as they come to a loop.

"It was a joke, Craig," says Ashley. "These people get paid to float around me and analyze every detail of my existence. Might as well have a couple of laughs at the weirdness."

"Yeah," breathes Craig. "Okay."

Stalling the car at the entrance, Craig shuts off the radio. Ashley unclips her seatbelt and stares at a gushing fountain in a lawn to her left. She came during the night so she had little idea about how beautiful the scenery actually was and what surrounded the entire facility. A see-through birdhouse and nursery stood farther on the grounds, while three wooden cabins sat across from a glittering lake. The land was more breath-taking than the brochure.

"Peaceful," says Craig, breaking the silence.

"For what it is," says Ashley. "The conflict's inside."

Craig removes his seatbelt to stretch and stare at the adults, still in the car. He slides over to Ashley.

"You have to tell them," says Craig softly. "About that night."

"I've already got enough on my plate, okay?" sighs Ashley.

"I've already started...well, I have somebody looking for Wheeler," confesses Craig.

"Craig!" exclaims Ashley, then lowering her voice. "Please say you didn't."

Based on his slumped shoulders, he did. He more than did. Ashley would love to bang her forehead against the dashboard.

"I don't need this right now," says Ashley, clutching her head with her fingers.

"The longer you wait, the better chance he has of getting away with this," says Craig. "He may've gotten away already. But...but if you speak to your dad and your therapist, that's one less hurdle for you during your recovery."

"If I don't speak and let it fade, that's one less hurdle I have to deal with," counters Ashley angrily. "Let's go. My parents are at the door."

Ashley crawls out and slams the door. What was Craig thinking? She can guess, but she'd rather not. Wheeler is a pre-rehab memory she'd sooner block out. She can't handle a confession or a trial. She can barely handle being five feet from these double doors.

The doors open to reveal Reva, Angelique, Hiram, and Colby, her rehab specialists. Included in the fray is a woman she's never interacted with before. This must be Dr. Englecourt, her psychotherapist. Fairly tall, with red hair that goes down to her waist, Dr. Englecourt grins politely at the two teenagers. She has an orange I.D. unlike the others who wear standard white staff badges.

"Hello, Ashley," says Dr. Englecourt, stepping forward immediately. "I'm Doctor Englecourt and it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," says Ashley though anybody would doubt the truth of her statement.

They all reenter Harmony Hill's main reception area. It's exactly how it looked about a week ago. Ashley finds this odd, but comforting.

"I imagine this is quite a change of scene from Toronto," continues Dr. Englecourt. "Or London for that matter."

Stiffening at the word "London", Ashley pretends to be distracted by the fire roaring in the fireplace.

"Were you in London alone?" questions Dr. Englecourt.

"No, Craig was with me," answers Ashley, watching a flame leap to another log.

Luckily for her, the Q&A session ends when Farrah, the receptionist from the night of the intervention, strolls to the desk.

"Welcome back, Ashley," greets Farrah. "Your bed's ready and your roommate's waiting. Do you have any primary questions about the living arrangements?"

"Can I ask why I can't listen to outside music?" asks Ashley.

"We try to have patients avoid any materials with references to drugs or other harmful behavior," chimes in Angelique. "Since that's become widespread, it's easy just to listen to or read the material we have here."

"Censorship," mumbles Ashley under her breath.

The staff members frown or suck in their cheeks with the exception of Doctor Englecourt, who offers a thoughtful smirk.

"Ashley, it's for a matter of weeks," says Robert. "Surely that's a sacrifice you can make."

"Anyway, lunch is at one o' clock," says Farrah. "We have your weekly schedule right here."

Ashley takes the schedule and reads the contents. She has breakfast at seven-thirty, pre-admission counselling at nine, a group therapy session at eleven, lunch at one, family counselling at four, an AA meeting at five, and dinner at seven. This is a packed schedule.

"Is this for every week?" asks Ashley.

"For the first two, at least," says Farrah. "You won't have to speak in the group sessions during that period, but we do want you to listen to other individuals' experiences."

Throughout her delimma in detox, she kept hearing "two weeks", as if the duration was the cut-off of something great.

"Can I go home after two weeks?" says Ashley.

"That's simply not feasible, Ashley," says Dr. Englecourt.

"She's asked this before," interjects Riva. "Ashley, I don't think you understand..."

"No, I think you do understand, Ashley," interrupts Dr. Englecourt, coming towards her. "There's simply no way someone could go through detox, endure what you've endured, and expect to come out ready for the world in two weeks."

This woman has some nerve. They just met moments ago. She's going to be her therapist? Hard to believe when she's telling a patient she can't do something.

"I have to lie down," says Ashley, facing Farrah and not Dr. Englecourt.

"You should find everything in tip-top shape," says Farrah, handing Ashley a key. "You can have twenty minutes to yourself, then we'll all meet for lunch."

Ashley shoulders her duffel bag and walks down the hall without saying another word. What if she bailed on meeting Englecourt today? Would she get paid then? For whatever reason, her parents remain behind, but she hears a pair of feet rushing to her. Loud, energetic steps...has to be Craig.

"I'll see you guys at lunch," says Ashley, crossing her arms.

"I...I can't go to lunch," shares Craig.

To his credit, he lets out a frustrated sigh, though that doesn't solve the problem. He's leaving. He's leaving right now.

"Craig," chokes out Ashley.

"I have college stuff," says Craig. "And they said family counselling could only include family. Ash, I'd be here if...well, maybe I can be."

"No," says Ashley, dabbing her wet eyes. "You can't miss college stuff and..."

"That's not what I mean," offers Craig.

He removes a thick item from his leather jacket. They're bound envelopes, addressed to Ashley Kerwin. Every envelope is sealed.

"Some of these are thoughts, some of these are lyrics," explains Craig. "Some of the lyrics suck..."

Ashley releases a reluctant chuckle.

"But they're from me to you," says Craig. "And I promise, Ash, you won't be without me for these two weeks. I am always thinking about you."

Ashley can practically feel her body seep through the floorboards. What would she have done without him this summer? He's been there or tried to be there through every ugly argument, every dumb action, and every painful second. He was her peace.

"Craig, what I said in the car...," begins Ashley.

"Whenever you're ready," says Craig.

Craig collects her in his arms, Ashley shaking against the leather folds as if she was against ice. Will she be able to do what she told him? Will she be strong enough to conquer this, without shaking on her own?

"I'll read each of them twice," promises Ashley. "I need to hear your voice that much."

"I hope you like mine more than Bowling for Soup," kids Craig.

"Likewise," says Ashley, and this time she meant it.

Letting him go, she watches him walk slowly down the hall and out of sight. She crouches slightly for an intake of breath. Gone. He's gone. This is hers to win or lose, and the battle's just begun.

The key goes perfectly into the lock. Turns out that the door's not locked. Ashley enters the room and immediately spies her keyboard sitting on her bed. Opposite her bed, she sees a very slim girl in a short-sleeved denim shirt and ripped jeans. Her chesnut brown hair is gathered in a side ponytail and her startled hazel eyes peer at Ashley.

"Cybil," says the girl.

"Ashley," returns Ashley.

Cybil falls onto the bed, crosses her legs. Her half of the room resembles a museum. There's art covering the wall, landscapes and portraits and images Ashley couldn't articulately explain. They _would_ stick her with an artist. Ashley goes to her more bare part of the room. She puts her keyboard on the floor and sits on the bed.

"How old are you?" asks Cybil, fussing with her pants leg.

"Eighteen," replies Ashley.

"Same," says Cybil. "Where are you from?"

"Toronto," says Ashley.

"Oh, a city chick," says Cybil, somewhat dismissively. "They always stick me with city chicks."

"That's not what I am," says Ashley, shrugging off her jacket.

"What are you then?" says Cybil and then nodding to the keyboard. "A musician?"

Ashley kicks the keyboard beneath her bed, firmly. "Nope."

II.

"First impressions?"

Sean tosses a Koosh ball haphazardly in the air, the small item landing softly on the wooden floor. Ellie sits Indian-style on her black bedspread.

"You sure she's not secretly a cheerleader?" asks Sean.

He scoops up the ball and places it on Amberly's desk next to a U of T megaphone.

"I wouldn't put it past her to try out," replies Ellie.

She's lived with her roomie for a good while, and Ellie hasn't gotten much serenity in quite awhile. Amberly always wants her to go with her to campus events - dorm meetings, movie nights, the quad barbecue, and of course every party within walking or driving distance. Ellie would rather focus on nailing her driving test tomorrow and even if she did have her license already, she'd sooner go anywhere with Marco or Sean than Amberly. Amberly might be bearable if she toned it down a peg but she just didn't have an off switch.

Thankfully, the rest of her life has become less hectic. Sean and Jay were bound for community service; her parents checked in occasionally but weren't overbearing; Matthew delivered the final draft of their article that would appear in the _Core_; she believes Ashley's alright since Jeff failed to mention anything at Sean's trial. It _is_ hard to believe that she fainted because of stress several weeks ago, but Ellie was dealing with the types of things squeezing a Koosh ball couldn't fix. As far as she could tell, only one problem remained after the driving test: bringing her parents and Sean closer. Maybe they should room together. Nah, Sean would be out on his butt before breakfast.

"She's hogging too much space," says Sean, glancing around. "Got a tape measure?"

"I don't care," waves off Ellie, scanning the section on traffic signals.

"Yeah, you do," guesses Sean. "You're just in study mode."

"It's fine, Sean," says Ellie.

"Alright," sighs Sean. "But don't come crying to me when she puts a treadmill in here."

Ellie shrugs, goes to her drawer, and gives Sean a tape measure. He bends to his knees to measure the width of the floor.

"I'm not sure whether I want you to leave before she gets back or not," confesses Ellie.

Sean wrinkles her brow. "What are you, embarrassed of me or..."

"No," interrupts Ellie strongly. "I'm embarrassed...for her. My brain hurts now. Study break."

"Gotta meet Emmitt in an hour anyways," says Sean. "He got a new part-time job. Powell's Garage on Sutton Road? He asked me to stop by."

"Cool, I like Emmitt," says Ellie, nudging Sean with the eraser of a pencil. "And I can make the most of an hour..."

Playfully rolling his eyes, Sean lets the tape measure snap into its compartment and kicks off his tennis shoes. Ellie smirks.

"Do you guys have a sign, like one of those girly hair thingies on the doorknob?" whispers Sean, tucking a pillow behind Ellie's neck.

"Sean," chuckles Ellie as she gets under him. "That's only in bad movies."

The dorm room door flies open, and Ellie grimaces, certain no signal will suffice in keeping Amberly out of their room. Amberly stares flummoxed at Ellie's bed with her jaw a good distance from her nose. Sean rolls to the side to sit up.

"Eleanor!" cries Amberly. "How could you do this to Marco?"

"Marco?" blanks Sean.

"Honestly?" groans Ellie. "That again?"

"What would he think if he saw you in the sack with this sandy-haired babe magnet?" continues Amberly. "Isn't it enough that he has to hang out with Dylan since you're conveniently busy most of the time?"

"Marco spends time with his boyfriend just like I spend time with mine!" exclaims Ellie, rising from her bed.

"What?" cries Amberly.

"Um, I'm her boyfriend, Sean," says Sean, reaching out for her hand.

Amberly looks at Sean, then Ellie, and then does a double take once more.

"Isn't she a little young for you?" asks Amberly.

Young, as in out of her league? Ellie's about to tell her where she can cram her Koosh ball.

"We're the same age," replies Sean. "I'm in high school actually."

"Oh, so you like that you're dating a college girl," says Amberly, patting his shoulder. "Good for you."

That's really all she can stand. Amberly clearly doesn't respect her opinions, her privacy, and according to Sean, her need for physical space. She's due for an outburst, and hello, only one of them has a test tomorrow!

"Stop bothering my boyfriend and berating my relationship or I'll push your perky body into my printer!" snaps Ellie.

"Eleanor!" cries Amberly. "I...I thought we were friends."

"We could be friends if you listened to me and didn't drop bombshells around my parents," insists Ellie.

"Are you still mad about that?" sighs Amberly. "They would've found out about your boyfriend eventually...who's apparently Sean. Let it go."

"No!" cries Ellie. "You go!"

Amberly whips her hair to the right, and throws the lanyard holding her room keys behind her. She stares stonily at Sean for a moment and then locks her gaze on Ellie.

"Nothing is solved by yelling," affirms Amberly, marching out.

The door slams. Ellie hears her roomie's retreat, wondering if she'll snitch to the RA or simply head for a latte at Starbucks. Please, please let there be no conflict resolution classes in my future, thinks Ellie. She's taking heavy-duty courses and doesn't need the extra pressure, which Amberly would be sure to bring.

"Bombshell?" questions Sean.

"Guess who spread the secret that we weren't done to John and Amanda Nash the day of the hearing?" sighs Ellie. "I meant to tell..."

"Whatever," interjects Sean. "As long as you came."

"I would've come regardless," assures Ellie.

Sean settles onto the bed, pensive, eyes on his lap.

"Do you...do you think your parents will ever like me again?" says Sean. "Your mom used to, but I understand why she...and your dad...well, I bet he's not thrilled either."

"My dad's more of a wild card," counters Ellie. "He's very forgiving."

That's true, and she doesn't feel as if Sean should give up hope. She loves her mother, despite their turbulent bond, but her father has the more open heart.

"That must be where you get it," says Sean, leading Ellie to lie on the bed with him.

"Are you trying to convince me to give Amberly a second chance?" kids Ellie.

"Well, she did leave us alone," notes Sean as he glances around the empty room.

Yes, she did. Advantage? Ellie. She tosses her manual as easily as Sean chucked the Koosh ball. After all, she's read through it five times.

"But I could go back to measuring," says Sean, standing to fetch the tape measure.

He starts to bend, Ellie stealing the tape measure and wrapping the bendable banner of numbers around his neck. Her mouth reduces the inches between them, Sean eagerly returning the kiss. They fall onto the bed within the span of two seconds.

"Don't you dare," says Ellie.

"No hair tie needed," jokes Sean.

"Nope," says Ellie.

"Hey," whispers Sean. "We should do it on her bed."

"Sean!" cries Ellie. "What would Marco say?"

"Please don't mention him again," says Sean, both of them laughing until their lips meet.

III.

This small space of borrowed cabinets, cedar shavings, and inventoried belongings almost evokes paradise for her. Well, at least today it does, what with Toby's decision made hours ago. She stands with Toby in the dim prop room located backstage. To keep her mind off the discussions they've had over the past two days, she set about doing early prep work, marking and setting aside items for _Romeo and Juliet_. Manny somehow forgot that the fictional love story would only make her feel worse about her own. They did end up separated, then dead.

Manny could barely sleep beforehand. She ingested the feelings around her like a sponge - the quiet, polite unease following the scholarship discussion with her parents; the persistent melancholy of Emma, who still hadn't contacted Spinner; the little tensions of Drama Club, which only became worse since her co-chairmen's relationship with Darcy was out of whack. Her eyes closed but she couldn't rest. She was particularly worried about Emma with Snake's arrival being less than twenty-four hours away. With the scholarship committee and Toby, the outcome was decided, whether she liked it or not. The same could not be said for the Simpson-Nelson marriage. She secretly wishes Spike and Snake would get together already. She can't imagine them being apart. That was up to them, though, and there's nothing she or Emma could do about it.

"I found some poison," says Toby, tossing over a wine-colored vial.

"Awesome," says Manny as the prop sails.

Catching the vial, Manny puts an orange dot on the bottle's bottom.

"Why aren't you trying out for Juliet again?" asks Toby.

Manny marks three spears leaning against a dollhouse and carries them to a corner.

"Remember I told you I wanted to stage manage?" says Manny.

"Yeah, but I was hoping you forgot," admits Toby. "You did Shakespeare all this summer, won the top award at camp, and still have no interest in playing the most famous heroine ever?"

She falls silent. Truthfully, right now, she doesn't feel very accomplished. The scholarship's out of reach. Camp is over. Things may improve while she's in the Academy, but there's no certainty.

"If anybody thinks Manny should play Juliet, raise your hand," says Toby.

Of course his hand shoots up first. Officers Patton and Wheaton, taking a break from sorting silverware, lift their hands as well. Manny smiles briefly.

"There will be other Juliet opportunities," assures Manny. "Listen, can we finish this? I have somewhere to take Toby."

"Where?" says Toby, startled.

"Just you wait, Romeo," says Manny with a teasing smirk.

Before Toby can speak, the room's door flies open and the visitor enters unapologetically. Liza Hatzilakos, midriff bare under a sleeveless blue crop top, stands in front of Manny. An out of breath Nate follows her.

"I want to join your stupid Drama Club," says Liza.

"Look, I told you we had auditions awhile ago," says Nate after a long breath. "You can't come in here and disrupt what we're doing! You're too late!"

"I'm the principal's niece so I can audition whenever I want," challenges Liza. "She's obsessed with me being involved with a club, and you should be pumped I chose this one."

"Well, we're not pumped," insists Nate. "And we're not stupid."

"Everybody, calm down," says Manny, placing a hand on Nate's shoulder.

"I am calm," says Liza. "It's Blondie that's out of sorts."

"Blondie?" balks Nate. "I've done commercials, TV spots, regional plays...what have you done?"

"We know, Nate," says Manny good-naturedly. "Why'd you change your mind, Liza? You weren't into this when we talked."

"Cause I can sing, dance, and memorize stuff," replies Liza, shrugging.

"That _stuff_ is quality entertainment, which is very difficult to master," argues Nate.

"Plus Aunt Daphne said she'll cough up some cash if I stick with an activity," adds Liza.

"See?" cries Nate. "You see, Manny? That's exactly what she told me. She's not a serious performer. We already have a set list anyways. It's just a matter of posting it."

Okay, sure, Liza wasn't the most serious actress, and no, she wasn't auditioning with the best of intentions. But her voice was much stronger than any Degrassi student Manny's ever heard. Liza might be a diamond in the rough, a diamond wearing a thong, but a diamond.

"I think we should let her try out," says Manny, crossing her arms.

"How is that fair?" exclaims Nate.

"Nate, you said we were looking for the best how many times?" replies Manny. "Liza has a drop-dead gorgeous voice. We need a triple threat. What if she's our threat?"

"She's a threat to the heart of theatre!" says Nate. "A premature diva dressed like Britney Spears!"

"Just cause your girlfriend dresses like the poster girl for Banana Republic...," begins Liza.

"Shut up about Darcy!" interrupts Nate.

"Guys!" exclaims Manny. "Liza, if you're going to audition, you have to do it all. A full performance. Acting, singing, dancing. If Nate says no after you show what you can do, you'll have to wait until next year. Is that cool?"

Already rubbing his hands together, a grinning Nate stares at Liza. Manny suspected he wouldn't pass up the chance to judge another potential club member. Liza is clearly not intimidated and stares at him right back.

"Prepare to be a fangirl," says Liza, pushing Nate to the side.

"A fangirl!" says Nate, trailing her. "Hey, what does that mean?"

Manny sighs. "Another crisis averted."

"You are such a pro," praises Toby.

Over the next fifteen minutes, they manage to identify every prop that will be used in the production. The future Verona will be well-stacked. Manny closes a box of candles, which will circle Juliet and Romeo's corpses. Morbid. She's kind of glad she's going to pass on playing the part. She doubts her parents would like her playing dead after a summer like this.

"That Liza was a wild child," says Toby. "Entertaining, though."

Manny takes a lampshade from a lamp the Club used for a production of _Hedda Gabler_.

"No more wild than you, party animal," says Manny, placing the shade on Toby's head.

Toby chuckles along with the officers.

"I'll be one too," says Manny, putting a shade on her own head. "I dub us the bad kids of Degrassi."

They smile at each other, only stopping when the prop room door opens. It's done more reluctantly this time and Emma comes inside after a few seconds.

"Hi," greets Emma. "I...I didn't mean to bust up your prop party."

"No, we're done," says Manny, lifting the shade. "I could use the fresh air. I'll be with you in a bit, Tobes."

"Take your time," says Toby.

He takes off the shade and ruffles his hair as the two girls go out. Officer Patton stands in the corridor while the two girls hang in the stage wings.

"I've erased a bunch of texts to Spinner!" cries Emma. "What am I supposed to say to him? How do you make up after something like that?"

Manny's immediate advice after Emma revealed what went down was to call Spinner. Chances are that he's more confused than upset. That's how she was when Toby wasn't able to say "I love you" to her this past winter. It took a while for her to get why it was so hard for him. However, Toby said it in about a week, and his family wasn't falling apart in the process. Manny fears the root of Emma's problem is something they're both afraid to say, that her fear is deeper than whatever anxiety Spinner may have himself.

"Em," broaches Manny carefully. "Do you think you can't say...can't say I love you...because you're scared?"

Emma eyes Manny up and down. She grabs her hair, twisting the blonde locks into a loose braid.

"N...no," replies Emma. "Of course not. He...he caught me offguard."

"Well, then why don't you go over to his house and tell him what he's dying to hear," suggests Manny.

"It's not that simple!" says Emma. "Manny, you're different. You love to say 'I love you.' You're a romantic. You made your Beanie Babies kiss when you were little."

"That may be true, but there's nothing worse than keeping someone in suspense," says Manny. "Does this...oh, I'll go ahead and put it out there."

"Put what out there?" says Emma, a flash of recognition in her eyes betraying her naivete.

"Does this have to do with your parents?" sighs Manny. "With Snake?"

"What does Snake have to do with Spinner?" cries Emma, releasing her hair.

"Maybe nothing," says Manny defensively. "Maybe everything. I mean, your attitude towards your parents can influence your life. Believe me. Their marriage could be affecting you and Spinner."

"I treat Spinner way better than Snake treated my mom!" exclaims Emma.

"I didn't mean that!" insists Manny. "It's just...you've been through a lot. Snake leaving, your parents fighting, counselling. If you can't say it, it would be understandable. Spinner deserves to hear why and I'd be shocked if he were upset afterwards."

Emma shakes her head, rocking on her feet. Tears stay stuck to her eyelids. Manny wonders if she should've brought the subject up at all. But that's where her mind went first and she's betting that's where Emma's mind has been ever since Spinner dropped the L bomb.

"What Spinner deserves is to hear it," says Emma, wiping her eyes furiously. "To actually hear _it_."

"You deserve time too," says Manny, hugging her. "He won't go anywhere. He never has, has he?"

"No," says Emma, with a bit of a smile.

"Listen, we're in serious need of a girl's night," affirms Manny. "How about we have a _Grey's Anatomy _evening of McDreamy and McSteamy in my bedroom, pigging out and passing out due to hotness included?"

"We never did have our girls' night," recalls Emma.

Yes, because she fell asleep with Toby, moans Manny inwardly after releasing Emma. She didn't mean to bail. That night lead to dire consequences for their friendship, consequences that she's had to make up for. Well, if life gives you a do-over, take it and don't sweat what you can't change. She'll more than make it up to her.

"I'm driving Toby somewhere, but tonight belongs to you," promises Manny. "We'll be closer than Ashley and Mary-Kate in a straight-to-DVD film!"

Emma laughs. "Well, somebody has to point out which one's McDreamy and McSteamy to me, cause I can't keep them straight."

"Hello?" says Manny. "As long as their shirts are off, who cares?"

IV.

The mirrors checked, the distance calculated, and confidence summoned, Ellie Nash reminds herself that she's moments away from scoring her license. She arrived at the DMV at four sharp. Taking her father's advice, she had a full breakfast so she wouldn't be hungry or ill-tempered during the test. Then she took Mr. Ehl's advice. Ellie focused on her breathing before entering the vehicle, paid attention to the important nuances of the test area, and didn't let her very chatty examiner hinder her awareness of the surroundings.

John Nash and Marco were waiting with bated breath for Ellie's return. They took turns teaching her and wanted to see if their efforts paid off in person. So far, so good.

"You're doing nicely, Ellie," says Drew, keeping notes as Ellie checks her blind spot.

Nicely? She couldn't get a "great" or a "wonderful" or a "fantastic". Maybe the enthusiasm would come when she completed her final task.

"Would you ever buy a self-driving car?" asks Drew.

Rather than ignore him, and be docked a few points, Ellie shrugs.

"They have those?" says Ellie.

"I keep hearing about them," says Drew thoughtfully. "Perhaps they're a myth. Okay, the big Kahuna. Parallel parking."

Ellie's too agitated to release a "yipes", but it's very much at the back of her throat. The dreaded parallel parking. Aspiring drivers lost their minds over this. She grips the wheel, sighs, and starts the familiar motions. Steer right, left, align, look to the rear, squeeze, park. Done!

"Let me hop out and assess," says Drew, undoing his seatbelt.

Stiffening in the car seat, Ellie taps the steering wheel until her fingertips throb. She can not go through this again. Please, borrowed car, be cooperative.

Drew slides over to Ellie's window. She stares at the evaluation sheet as if it were a court order, which is the last thing she'd like to see more of, thank you very much.

"Ellie Nash is ready for the road," congratulates Drew, presenting her with the form.

Hopping up and down in her seat, she accidentally presses the horn.

"Yes!" cries Ellie. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, and in case you missed it, thank you!"

Drew chuckles, and climbs into the passenger seat. Ellie regains her composure and drives to the front where Marco and John sit patiently on a stone bench. Ellie pulls to the curb and grins. Drew jumps out, and lifts his arms in triumph.

"I can ride shotgun now!" exclaims Marco. "Congrats, El!"

"So proud of you, sweetie," says John, coming over to kiss her cheek.

The open road is calling her name. Well, it would if she had a car. But that won't stop her from navigating Toronto's streets or pulling into any driveway she chooses in another car. Going to college and claiming a license are the first tastes of freedom. She can't wait for what's next.

"Unflattering thumb-sized picture, here we come," jokes Marco as Ellie exits the car. "Too bad Sean couldn't be here."

Ellie delivers a disappointed glance at Marco while receiving her results. She would've invited Sean if her mother wasn't milling around the DMV. Amanda Nash walks outside to find an enthused Marco, a congratulatory husband, and a torn Ellie.

"Oh, Ellie, surely you will smile for your picture," says Amanda.

"And you'll come by after," adds John. "Eight-ish this evening?"

"What's happening at eightish...I mean eight o'clock?" asks Ellie.

"We've had it in the works for awhile," offers John. "If you're that curious, you have to show."

Ellie looks pointedly at Marco.

"Listen to your father, Ellie," says Marco.

She laughs and elbows him, certain the event's tied to today. A milestone calls for a celebration, she supposes. However, it won't be a true celebration if somebody else isn't in the room with them. Ellie heard Sean yesterday. He craved approval, not from a judge or from his own parents but _her_ parents. Shouldn't his honesty count for something? Sean lost a lot by confessing his part in the ring. He lost double when he tried to rectify his original mistakes. Sean wasn't even requesting full, immediate forgiveness. He'd settle for so little when he's suffered so much.

"The line for the photo IDs is lengthening," informs Amanda. "Come on, Ellie."

"In a second," says Ellie.

Marco and John start towards the door, until Ellie stops one of them. John's puzzled stare almost mutes her request, but Sean's downcast demeanor acts as fuel to make her as loud as that horn.

"You can give me a reason to smile in my picture," says Ellie.

"Go on," says John, intrigued. "A hybrid? A black VW that's all the rage?"

"Not a car," counters Ellie. "A second chance...for Sean."

John rubs the stubble near his chin.

"Can he go to this party?" says Ellie. "Assuming it's a party."

"Ellie, your mother would flip," replies John.

"Would you?" says Ellie. "Didn't you say that you expected us to be together? At least there we could all be together."

"Do you really want drama on the day you got your license?" sighs John.

"I'll deal," says Ellie. "Especially if the only drama is off the road."

"You're going to blame that frown on me for the rest of my life, aren't you?" kids John, more declarative than inquisitive.

"I do have to look at it everyday," says Ellie playfully.

Viewing the test area, full of unmoved orange cones and ordinary road signs, they both take in the breadth of the course, which isn't that intimidating from afar. Ellie must've flown through at a decent speed. She nailed the twists and the turns, prepared for the final result. The course had it coming.

V.

Too bad this car doesn't have a GPS. This is the second straight day where Manny's more informed than him. However, she swore that this trip would result in relieved nerves rather than any scary self-assessment. Besides, most of their excursions in J.J.'s car were fun-filled and he sensed that they could do for some fun. The way she cheerfully changed the subject when he mentioned Juliet made him wonder if she was disappointed about an unnamed source of trouble. His source, Eli Chernoff, had a name at least.

"Anybody need air-conditioning?" asks Manny, guiding the car off the highway. "Or you can stick your head out of the window. It's perfect for where we're going."

"Can't be a car wash then," says Toby.

"Like I'd do a favor for my brother," waves off Manny playfully.

"That would be nice," says Officer Patton, the perfect response from a parent with two kids.

It'd be nice if he had a clue why Manny was so evasive. There's the investigation, which is always on his mind too, and the distance that would soon be between them. He's terrified to dig, terrified that he might have said or done something he can't undo. That stupid deal. What if merely mentioning it lead to a host of other problems?

"Is this a fast food place?" guesses Toby, hoping the mental image of ordering into a cow menu will put her in better spirits.

"This will cost way more than a combo," says Manny. "Though I think this combo will work out for you."

She drives the car into a parking lot, but it's not the only car he recognizes across from a group of office buildings. His father waves to Toby from behind his car windshield. They're not in a car lot and frankly a new car would be more extravagant than a trip.

"Hop out, peeps," commands Manny, shutting off the ignition.

The officers, Toby, and Manny leave the car. Jeff exits his car and meets the other four on the sidewalk.

"Where are we?" asks Toby.

"Look around," suggests Manny.

Toby shifts his gaze along the line of office buildings. There's a dentist office, but none of his teeth are bothering him. There's a baby clothing store. No chance...unless Manny isn't telling him something. Toby nervously scans the other door to their left.

"Uh, the store window has collars, chew toys, and cardboard paper pawprints," lists Toby. "So we're at the vet?"

"No, Toby!" cries Manny.

"The groomer's?" says Toby.

Jeff laughs, along with the officers. Alright, he's lost. Toby reads the sign on the door carefully. Paws Worthy of Applause. The phrase sounds familiar. Kaelyn springs up behind the glass door to grin at the small group.

"Oh!" cries Toby. "This is where the dogs came from...when you were dog-sitting."

"Yep," says Manny. "Let's go in."

They walk into the animal rescue shelter, instantly surrounded by pet paraphanelia. From dog carriers to rubber newspapers, leashes to shampoo, it's all here. The walls are a bright green and the furniture in the lobby is a bright blue. Kaelyn, her blonde hair in a top bun, wears a smock and gloves.

"Thanks for coming in, guys," greets Kaelyn. "We're going to have fun."

"Are we volunteering?" murmurs Toby to Manny.

"Possibly," murmurs Manny. "Do you want to bail?"

"No, I like dogs," answers Toby.

"That's what I heard," says Manny.

Turning their attention back to Kaelyn, she's spotted her mother who is introducing herself to Jeff and the policemen. She's blonde too and only slightly less cheerful. They follow her and Kaelyn into a play area the size of a tennis court. Toby smiles as the dogs wrestle, nudge, or sit beside each other. There are ten of them at the most. They're surrounded by balls, toys, and a food dish in four different sectors. Kaelyn's mother, Enid, asks Toby and Manny to wash their hands.

"Have you ever had a dog before?" asks Enid.

"I haven't," says Toby. "My sister did for a little bit. She gave hers to a friend."

Jeff frowns at the mention of Ashley but he manages to play it of really well. She'd get better. Toby has confidence in her, as confident that he's sure that these dogs will go to good homes.

"I asked for a dog and I got this job," says Kaelyn spacily.

Manny smiles into the sink, making certain the soap has gone into the drain.

They're fitted with PWA smocks and gloves, and then Kaelyn unlocks the gate. The officers stare into the play area. Toby's positive they're trying to see if they can recall any of the dogs' names. Toby believes he knows about five of them. When he's past the gate, the Pekingese from the park instantly jumps to his waist.

"Perry, isn't it?" says Toby, patting his head.

"That's Perry," confirms Enid.

Perry trots over to Manny who squeals.

"Hi, baby," says Manny, smoothing his cheeks. "Remember me? Remember me?"

He wags his tongue and sits placidly when Manny lets him go. The other dogs are more than busy. A pug, who Manny says is named after one of the Sopranos, is gnawing relentlessly on a rubber newspaper. The dachshund Popcorn is trying his hardest to hide behind the largest food dish. The rough collie, Prince Harry, is watching two females, Duchess and Winnie the Pooch, spar over a Frisbee. There's a notable absence, however. Right, the boisterous white dog that was all over the place.

"Where's Coconut?" questions Manny.

"Alas, poor Coconut," sighs Kaelyn. "She gets adopted, then returned, adopted, then returned. Not many can handle the hyperactive powderpuff."

"She just needs someone who's patient," says Enid. "Perhaps this new family will fit her."

Toby can see why dogs are brought here. They talk about them like they're children with fur.

"We were about to give Perry a bath," says Enid. "Do you guys want to help with that?"

"Sure," says Toby.

Enid attaches a leash to Perry's collar and the dog watches as she reopens the gate. Toby exits the area, Manny going to follow him.

"Why don't you let Toby do it by himself?" says Jeff, cupping his chin.

Manny shrugs. "Okay."

"You can hold Winnie why I trim her nails, Manny," offers Kaelyn.

Manny didn't appear too elated with the job yet she returns to collect Winnie from the group. This is strange. Why would his father recommend him for a task he knows virtually nothing about? And why would Manny bring him here to volunteer out of the blue? Nevertheless, Perry proves to be a very easy customer. He has mounds of fur, layers of hair around his face, but he looks at Toby the entire time with a warm expression. Toby does his best to keep soap and shampoo out of his sweet, little brown eyes, and cover every angle of his long, thick coat. Enid provides great tips during the ordeal.

After the bath, Toby and Enid return to the play area. Kaelyn was trying to prevent Winnie from clawing the gate with her newly cut nails. Manny throws a Frisbee to Prince Harry who catches it for her but won't deliver it. He goes into a fit on the floor, chewing on the toy like it's a steak. Perry stands beside Toby, clean and content.

"Prince Harry, stop being selfish," complains Manny.

The collie rolls to the other side, barks and bites the Frisbee in a frenzy.

"Lassie had better manners," mumbles Manny.

She walks to Toby.

"He's so clean he's sparkling," says Manny, scratching Perry behind his ear.

'Toby did a very good job," says Enid. "Their ears have to be cleaned daily, and you have to brush him out too."

"That sounds like a lot of work," notes Jeff. "So Toby, if you could have any of these little rascals, which would you pick?"

"What?" cries Toby.

"What's the matter? You didn't clean out your ears this morning?" kids Jeff. "I think you're old enough to take care of one of these, and it's not like we haven't had a dog in the house before."

"Plus it's a rescue dog!" chirps Kaelyn.

"You're behind this?" asks Toby, turning to Manny.

"I am," replies Manny. "I figure you need something to keep Eli Chernoff-type people away, and I want someone to watch you and have fun with you while I'm gone."

Toby's cheeks hurt from smiling too wide. She didn't have to do this, especially since he almost fell prey to Eli's machinations. He had police protection but this was Manny-approved protection and it meant a lot.

"Make sure you pick right, because this is where my movie extra money is going," says Manny.

"I can't," argues Toby.

"Yes, you can," insists Manny. "There's no other way I plan on spending this."

He sighs, scanning the area, taking in each of the animals. Most of them were engaged, doing their own things, except for Perry who hasn't moved an inch. He locks eyes with Toby. The gaze is helpless and hopeful at the same time.

"I believe in staying loyal," says Toby, patting Perry's head. "And I'm a hard worker."

"Pekes are unflinchingly loyal," reassures Enid. "And we've had Perry since he was a pup. He's the sweetest thing walking."

"Actually, he kind of rolls," says Kaelyn.

"Are you sure, Toby?" asks Jeff. "He just has so much _hair_."

"That's what I thought, too, but the more I hear about him, the more I want to take him," replies Toby.

"Yay!" cheers Manny, bending down to Perry. "I had my fingers crossed for you. Are you going to protect Toby for me?"

Perry barks, eliciting a laugh from everybody, even Jeff.

"If you come into the lobby, we'll go over pet care, supplies, and Perry's medical history," says Enid.

Kaelyn secures the gate with Prince Harry still terrorizing the plastic dish. They walk in single file toward the lobby, except for Toby who hangs back with Manny.

"When I went away to computer camp, I also had my fingers crossed that it'd be you," whispers Toby.

"Me too," says Manny, kissing him on the lips. "You'll never know how much."

Reaching the lobby, they find that they're not alone. Enid was removing paperwork when she heard the store's door close. The powderpuff had returned. Coconut bounds to Perry, clearly excited to see her friend. Perry barks a hello while Coconut puts a paw on the Peke's nose. The woman with him, apparently the owner, thrusts a stack of paperwork into Enid's palm.

"This fluffy thing is a menace!" cries the woman.

Enid starts to speak, but is blocked by a raised finger.

"She ripped my new drapes, put my designer shoes into the toilet, and tried to climb into the mailman's truck on seven different occasions," explains the woman. "What a deplorable mutt!"

"She's a purebred," says Kaelyn defensively, ushering Coconut behind the counter.

"We told you she was very active," says Enid.

"There's active and then there's a typhoon!" insists the woman. "Normally I'd ask for my money back but I'm a charitable lady and Lord knows it needs some behavioral training so you can spend it on that for her. Anything to be rid of her without any more hassle."

The woman storms out, leaving a wave of open mouths behind her. Coconut jumps onto the lobby desk and licks Enid's cheek.

"Well, that's a first," sighs Enid. "Sorry for that folks."

Kaelyn grabs a pawprint from the front desk, whispering insults at the woman who was still visible through the glass door. Toby notices that the pawprint has Coconut's name in the center. Up goes Coconut, and down comes Perry's pawprint. Oh yeah. In all the excitement, Toby almost forgot that he has a dog now.

"Are you going to keep his name?" asks Officer Wheaton.

"You can add onto it," suggests Officer Patton. "That's what some people do."

"Well, I do like Perry," says Toby. "But I kinda like Happy too. Maybe I'll call him Happy Perry, or H.P. for short."

"Like the computer company," chuckles Officer Wheaton.

"Yeah, exactly," says Toby.

He goes to tell his father, but Jeff is already thumbing through breed information.

"The Pekingese used to be royal watchdogs for ancient Chinese rulers," reads Jeff. "Because of this, they're excellent family companions. That sounds good. Brave, but stubborn. Aloof to strangers and very protective of owners. A picky eater."

"I can give you a list of what Perry will eat," says Enid.

"Oooh," says Manny, who was very quiet and checking out cloth bags. "Can we get this for him? This blue bag is so cute."

Over the next fifteen minutes, Toby is pretty overwhelmed by all the new information, supplies, and instructions coming his way. He could hardly check the final receipt he stuffed in his wallet. Perry sat fascinated with the whole affair. He probably watched this happen to other dogs and couldn't fathom that it was happening for him this time around. If anybody could identify with being surprised about being a first choice, it was Toby.

"Ready to go home, Happy Perry.?" says Toby.

H.P. wags his tail and goes ahead of Toby.

"Bye, Perry," says Kaelyn affectionately, her eyes welling up. "I mean, H.P."

"We'll make sure he comes to visit his friends," guarantees Toby.

The group begins to go through the glass door until Manny stops in her tracks. A series of beeps blast through the store. Manny stares at everyone in confusion, puzzingly goes through the blue cloth bag. She rolls her eyes and pulls out a plastic porkchop with a sales tag.

"Who put this in here?" exclaims Manny. "I can't be in trouble. I don't shoplift, I swear! How did..."

Coconut yaps twice and manages to fly past Manny and out the door at full steam.

"Oh my God!" cries Manny. "Coconut!"

VI.

The not too shabby Powell's closes at eight. Unlike Hill's, the garage welcomes a slew of heavy-duty modes of transportation. Trailers, semis, and smaller delivery trucks line the lot. They're cared for by twenty-somethings, thirty-somethings, and higher-ups well beyond forty. Sean never considered Hill's workers to be that young (he and Jay were a couple years younger than most), but Powell's clearly had an experienced army under the hoods.

Emmitt seemingly fared better without Dale. Sean expected that to be the case, although not this fast. Emmitt now shared a station with his supervisor, Linc, in the midst of the powerful machines. Linc let him hang his summer school completion diploma above the Sports Illustrated calendar, which Linc leers at when they're not working. Sean's glad Emmitt is doing alright. Delonte and the bulk of Dale's guys were either unemployed or no longer interested in fixing parts. They probably wanted a clean break. Who could blame them? Certainly not me, thinks Sean. Where are they going to say their last job was, at an illegal business that burned down?

Truth is, Sean envies Emmitt. He not only has a job; he also has twice the knowledge of his co-workers, thanks to Dale and Sean.

"Catch any trucker speak?" asks Emmitt.

He rolls a tire to an eighteen wheeler. A diesel engine roars in the rear of the garage.

"The stuff on the radio?" poses Sean.

"They say the strangest sentences," says Emmitt. "Might as well be a foreign language."

"What if they taught that in school?" says Sean.

"Then I'd be on the honor roll," replies Emmitt.

While Emmitt assesses the old tire, Sean casually peers at his phone. Ellie's not done yet? She said she would text him with the verdict. Verdict? Bad choice of words. She'll pass. Ellie always passes.

"Stupid punctured tires," groans Emmitt. "Why do you keep looking at your phone?"

"Expecting a text," says Sean. "Ellie's going for her license today."

"As soon as I drive, I'm going to start saving for a towing company," vows Emmitt. "More cash in the bank."

Emmitt affixes the pliers to the damaged tire. If he could fix the damage, repair the trust the Nashes used to have in him, he could be at the DMV. Months ago, he was at Ellie's and sharing a root beer with John Nash. They talked cars. They talked trust. Then he started ripping pieces out of cars and out of his relationship. Ellie claimed her father was forgiving but you don't forgive a tire that has a tear. You throw it away and get a new one.

There's an item in his pocket that's fairly new. When Dale presented Sean with this key, he told him to think about what it would open. Of course Sean guessed the office and did his research. The building was condemned. If he was going in there, it'd be a risk. For Ty, he's willing. He just wishes he had a clue so he wouldn't have to search in a crumbling space for hours and hours.

"Um," says Sean. "Have you...do you ever go back to...the building?"

"What building?" says Emmitt, then registering the question. "Oh. I did. They were putting police tape up."

"And the inside is...gone?" says Sean.

"I wager you could walk in there," replies Emmitt. "I should bet Delonte."

"No, don't," says Sean. "I mean, I'm only asking cause Dale gave me this key. It could be to a desk or a cabinet that's already ashes..."

Emmitt takes his hands off the pliers, sticks his grease-covered fingers into his pockets.

"I bet I know," says Emmitt laboriously. "Dude, it makes sense."

"What?" says Sean.

Hitting the pliers in frustration, Emmitt watches the instrument shake.

"Sean, when we were at Ace's, who did you like more?" asks Emmitt. "Me or Ty?"

"I...I liked you guys the same," stammers Sean.

"That's a lie," affirms Emmitt.

"Emmitt..."

Rather than debate the argument, Sean chooses to let it go. Only one boy stayed with him, accompanied him to his hometown, met his family, managed to wedge himself into a hole in Sean's healing heart. He likes Emmitt immensely; they just weren't as close yet.

"At the funeral, I saw it," says Emmitt, sniffling. "But I wanted you to say it."

"I wouldn't help you out here if I didn't respect you," insists Sean. "No matter what, you're a good mechanic. No matter what, you're my friend."

Emmitt wipes his nose with his sleeve. He steadies the instrument.

"Before the fire, I saw Dale and Ty arguing over something in a yellow UPS package," says Emmitt. "Their last conversation was not a good one."

"What else?" says Sean.

"Dale said he'd burn it if Ty ever got hold of the thing again," continues Emmitt. "Or tried to mail it. He said destroying it would be for his own good. Since it would make you come looking for Ty."

What could possibly be in that package? He has no idea. Whatever the package holds, Sean's convinced it has to be found.

"You think of me as a mechanic?" asks Emmitt, breaking Sean's thoughts.

"No doubt," reassures Sean.

Emmitt removes his fingers, reaching towards the tire, shaking Sean's hand instead.

"Thanks," says Emmitt. "You know, I said once that you treated him better because he was black. I've felt bad about it ever since. You guys were just close... because you were close. Attached from the start. Sometimes that's all it takes."

"We're close to finished," says Sean. "If we aren't done, feel bad about that."

They change the tire as a team. Linc would show in twenty minutes, and neither of them would enjoy explaining why Emmitt needed a refresher's course on the Nealy tire system. They don't teach that in driver's ed.

"Two more tires," observes Emmitt.

"I got 'em," says Sean.

He spots the semi-ready tire near a canoe some family forgot to take with them after unloading their RV. He grunts, getting a great grip on the large tire.

"Excuse me...Emmitt?" says a voice behind Sean. "Is Sean here?"

That's not Link or even Ellie. Sean sighs in the rough circumference surrounding him.

"Sean?" calls over John Nash.

"Oh God," mutters Sean into the hole, slowly removing his frame from the tire.

John steps over the canoe to stand in front of Sean. He's in a button-down shirt with blue slacks, and doesn't have Ellie with him. That's the shocker. His daughter is nowhere to be found.

"I recognized Emmitt from the trial," says John. "How are you?"

"Surprised," says Sean.

"We thought you would be," says John. "Ellie said you'd be here. Is this your new place of employment?"

"No," says Sean. "I'm helping Emmitt. Uh, how can I help you?"

"We're throwing Ellie a little celebration at eight tonight," says John. "My house."

"Oh, she got her license!" remarks Sean, then reddening. "Not that she wouldn't..."

"Anyway, your presence has been requested and we'd be more than happy to have you," says John.

"Uhh, request...request accepted," says Sean.

"Til eight, then?" poses John.

"Til eight," replies Sean.

Sean freezes as John steps over the canoe again, walks among the trailers, and disappears completely. Is this real? He leans, unfortunately so far that he falls into the tire's center.

"Sean," jokes Emmitt, coming to him, extending his arm. "You're useless."

VII.

"Wheeeeeee!" cries Manny.

Slump, slump, thud. The dog, formerly known as Perry, pants with pleasure as Manny's flats touch the ground. If they were any bigger, they wouldn't fit on the slide. Manny figured this would be the best way to bond. If Toby's dog hated her, that would infinitely suck. She paid for him after all.

"He's going to hurl," claims Manny, returning H.P. to Toby's arms.

"Thanks for giving him to me, then," says Toby.

H.P. has gone through half the playground without being sick. He's having the time of his three-year old life. Toby sets him down to explore. Walking over to a swing, he puts his paws on the seat as if to guard it. Officer Wheaton goes to take him off.

"You're going to spend the whole night with him, right?" encourages Manny. "He might be scared to sleep in a new environment."

"I will," says Toby.

"Good," says Manny.

Deep down, she's wondering if Toby is losing any sleep. Eli may be taken care of, but his son wasn't caught. What if Toby saying "no" sent Justin further into hiding? What if he was in another city, another country? No, she has to put faith in the police department. Two months is quite a while but it's not forever.

"Manny, what's up?" asks Toby.

Manny laughs it off, starts to climb the nearby jungle gym. She, Toby, J.T., and Emma climbed the bars when she first met Toby. When you reach the top, you can see yards and yards away. Too bad you can't look far into the future up here.

"I'm up," says Manny, smoothing her skirt as she sits on the third rung of the gym.

"Is it the deal?" says Toby.

Not the deal itself, she'd love to reply. She's concerned that what she told Bubbe is a genuine problem. Playing with innocent parties, dozens of dogs, held benefits for her as well. Manny didn't have to confront the uglier parts of what Eli insinuated. Like them, and she wasn't thrilled about comparing herself to dogs, she wanted to feel special and picked out. Losing the scholarship made her think that she wasn't. Toby places his body on the gym and stares at her.

"The scholarship I had the best chance of getting...well, I didn't get it," shares Manny.

Toby straightens himself.

"With that, I thought being Filipina would be a plus, but...," says Manny, not bothering to complete her unrewarded hopes.

They toss glances at the officers who are trying to keep H.P. off the swing. He's pretty stubborn, doing so whenever he's told not to do so. Officer Wheaton was giving him a long lecture.

"That is a plus," says Toby. "People will see that."

"Not if they're like Justin, or his father," says Manny tearfully, spreading out her skirt among the bars. "It's dumb to think a scholarship committee full of strangers would appreciate it either."

Manny inches up the jungle gym, her knees next to Toby's glasses. When is being who she is going to pay off? She's not hungry for money, though the scholarship would've been amazing. She's hungry to be valued, hungry for admiration, on or offstage.

Folding his glasses and putting them in his jacket, Toby inches closer to Manny.

"Do you...do you know what I did after the first time we were intimate?" says Toby softly. "The morning after the ball?"

She shrugs, failing to guess what this has to do with her predicament.

"I looked at you and I really didn't want to do anything else," continues Toby.

Her cheeks flush. Toby kisses her bare knee tenderly.

"I love the shade of your skin," says Toby, gazing at her. "I love the shape of your body. I did then and I do now. Uncovered or covered, asleep or awake, you are exactly who I was looking for."

"Even if I'm not Jewish?" whispers Manny.

"I love who you are, and I love you for what you're not," replies Toby.

She almost chokes on her tears, so grateful to hear part of her fears abated. She wanted to feel wanted...by him. The rest would just have to wait. Manny slides down until she's level with Toby.

"Rawr," says Manny, cupping a butt cheek.

"Stop," chastises Toby despite the smile filling his face.

"Okay, but that was sorta sexy," says Manny, removing a hand. "Besides, I squeezed the left one so the cops couldn't see. You started it with the knee-kissing."

"Sorry," says Toby as he primly buttons his jacket.

"No, you're not," says Manny. "That's why I love you. And let it be known that the statements you said about me apply to you too."

Toby undoes his jacket and wraps the folds around Manny. Manny giggles as their lips touch. Yet another space she's not too big for.

"We could go appreciate each other at the Dot tonight," suggests Toby, resuming the kiss after speaking.

"I promised Em...," begins Manny as she allows Toby's kiss to cover her words.

"We'll eat cafe-style and let H.P. have scraps," says Toby. "He'd miss you as much as I would. Please..."

"Ummm...," says Manny, relaxing in his hold, appreciating the kiss and the blackness that comes with closing her eyes.

VIII.

_If I hurt you..._

_We have something good..._

_Maybe if you actually talked to me, we could..._

_Stop being a blockhead, Spinner!_

Emma deletes the last possible text with fury. There's no way she can send that. Emma sweeps her screen to stare at incoming messages. There are none. None. She climbs onto Manny's bed and ponders whether to throw Manny's pillows outside the window.

"Whatever, Manny," says Emma, stretching her legs.

The angry texts should be sent to her. Emma suggested they start promptly at seven-thirty, a reasonable time that respected Manny's investigation-related curfew and Emma's sleep schedule. This way, they could each pick out two episodes for their mutual enjoyment. But "mutual" implies that there's going to be two people! Manny's alarm clock shifts from seven fifty-nine to eight.

Deja vu. This is what she did when she waited for Snake. Snake came in at suspicious hours, made lame excuses, and didn't give a fig who he hurt. Don't commit if you're out with other women. Don't make promises you can't keep, especially promises to people you supposedly love.

Don't leave a person hanging. Spinner. Did Manny, despite her carelessness, hit the right bell? What if she never says those crucial words to him? What if she never believes in those words until it's too late and she's left alone?

The phone rings. Emma, certain it's Manny, prepares herself for another Toby-related excuse.

"Are you done making out yet?" says Emma to the listener.

"Uhhhh, Emma?" says Snake.

Oh no. She wasn't counting on Snake. In fact, she wasn't counting on talking to Snake if she could avoid it.

"Yeah?" says Emma, scrunching her legs to her chest.

"My flight's arriving at ten in the morning," informs Snake. "Can you meet me?"

She was supposed to go over in Spinner's car. Well, those plans are dead. She roped in Manny at the last minute, although she's forseeing a silent ride to the airport, back _and_ forth.

"Do I have a choice?" says Emma.

Bleh. She remembers using the same exact expression regarding Daphne at the park.

"I can catch a cab," says Snake. "I'd hate to be an inconvenience."

"No, I've set something up," offers Emma.

"Thanks for that, Em," says Snake.

He sounds pretty pleased. You shouldn't be, thinks Emma. Because when you get to T.O., we'll barely talk. And it won't hurt like it does with Spinner.

"My meds are making me groggy," lies Emma.

They weren't but he didn't know that.

"Yeah, yeah," says Snake. "Good night. See you in the a.m."

Emma clicks off without wishing him a good night. He didn't bother doing that for her when he was with Daphne during those late nights. She starts to cry, thinking about the screaming matches between her parents, the lonely breakfasts with Snake absent, the apartment he got and that she never saw in person. This whole situation is screwy. Nothing is reliable. Everything...everyone changes.

Shutting off the lights and using the remote, Emma goes through the channels.

"Emma, would you like a hot chocolate?" calls Maria from the kitchen.

"No thank you, Mrs. Santos," calls Emma.

At least Manny's mom cares about her. Emma stops flipping. She stares at the TV in the dark. A round of steady footsteps sound, reaching the door. Something clatters after the footsteps. She told Mrs. Santos "no", correct?

"Emma, why are you watching _Ever After _in the dark?" asks Manny, shifting the paper bag to her hip. "I got HD to better view the prince's cheekbones."

"Manny!" says Emma, springing up.

Manny flicks on the light and sets the bag on the floor. A package of double-stuffed Oreos falls to the carpet, along with a box of Graham crackers. The clattering. Junk food fills the entire bag.

"Mom said the kitchen was missing a key ingredient," says Manny. "Cookies!"

"I...I thought you weren't coming," admits Emma.

"Not even," says Manny. "I've got my two eps picked out, and...and you're my bestie."

Grinning, Emma stretches out her legs again. Manny joins her on the bed. Emma offers her a hesitant side-hug that Manny alters into a full one. Inside, Emma kills any notions of the silent treatment. There's reason enough to speak, loud and clear.

"Thanks, Manny."


	114. Don't Dream It's Over

**CXIV. Don't Dream It's Over**

_There is freedom within  
there is freedom without  
Try to catch a deluge in a paper cup  
There's a battle ahead  
many battles are lost  
But you'll never see the end of the road  
While you're traveling with me  
_

_Hey now, hey now_  
_Don't dream it's over_  
_Hey now, hey now_  
_When the world comes in_  
_They come, they come_  
_To build a wall between us_  
_We know they won't win_

_Now I'm towing my car_  
_there's a hole in the roof_  
_my possessions are causing me suspicion but there's no proof_  
_in the paper today_  
_tales of war and of waste_  
_but you turn right over to the T.V. page_

_Hey now, hey now_  
_Don't dream it's over_  
_Hey now, hey now_  
_When the world comes in_  
_They come, they come_  
_To build a wall between us_  
_We know they won't win_

_Now I'm walking again_  
_to the beat of a drum_  
_And I'm counting the steps to the door of your heart_  
_Only shadows ahead_  
_barely clearing the roof_  
_Get to know the feeling of liberation and relief_

_Hey now, Hey now_  
_Don't dream it's over_  
_Hey now, Hey now_  
_When the world comes in_  
_They come, they come_  
_To build a wall between us_  
_You know they won't win_

_Don't let them win_  
_Hey now, Hey now_

_Hey now, Hey now_

_Hey now, Hey now_  
_Don't let them win_

_They come, They come_  
_Don't let them win_

_Hey now, Hey now (yeah)_

_Hey now, Hey now_

**Don't Dream It's Over is the property of Crowded House and appears in the film _Adventureland._**

**The Only Exception is the property of Paramore.**

He hears another jangle from the backseat, an excited pattering of feet across the interior. H.P. bounds from left to right, looking out the window, clearly not understanding that he should stay put. Officer Wheaton offered to ride in the rear with him and Toby's questioning his decision to decline it. With all the materials in the trunk, and his dad practicing with the orchestra, Toby figured H.P. would calm down without any distractions. Bad figuring on his part.

But his more conscious decision to call J.T. after Manny was gone would have positive results. He's banking on it. J.T. saw a whole host of unavailable calls on Eli Chernoff's phone. Why? Surely, a businessman of his magnitude would receive calls from specific offices or big name companies. And if Justin was waiting somewhere to see if Toby took his father's bait...he'd be phoning good ol' Dad more than usual. This would be an ideal time for Justin to reappear. School starts immediately after Manny and Emma return. Justin has a senior year to finish. Clara's still single. Toby doubts Justin has given up on that front. Justin's mother would give birth sooner and later, and she'd probably be all for having her two kids under the same roof. Meanwhile, if he wasn't convicted, Toby would have to swallow his pride, always wondering if Justin and company would terrorize him again. Totally not fair. They're counting on Officer Wheaton to agree with their ideas, especially after J.T. comes by today.

"Home sweet home, H.P.," says Toby, parking at the curb.

Officer Wheaton collects the purchased items while Toby lets out the Peke. Toby attaches a new leash to H.P., who wags his tail as Officer Wheaton reaches them.

"He's a lively little sprite," says Officer Wheaton.

"Glad we have a backyard," says Toby. "He can pretend it's a small playground. He loved that."

Another car crawls to Toby's. J.T. honks his horn and Liberty's sitting next to him. What's she doing here, thinks Toby. He doesn't mind Liberty showing up but they had a lot to discuss, and what if those things get back to Manny?

"He's the cutest thing!" cries Liberty, peeking through the window.

"What is this little thing?" exclaims J.T. as soon as he hops out.

H.P. barks, his fur rising. Toby smiles nervously as J.T. scowls.

"This is H.P.," introduces Toby.

"Man's best friend," chimes in Officer Wheaton. "But not J.T.'s."

Softening a little, H.P. becomes agitated when J.T. frowns at him.

"I've been replaced," murmurs J.T. to himself. "Really, Tobes? I thought you were a cat person."

"That's what Manny said," recalls Toby.

H.P. barks once more, possibly due to the mention of cats.

"Was this your mom's idea?" asks J.T. "Remember how your folks used to fight about Xerox digging up the garden? You want to relive that with Jeff and Kate?"

"H.P.'s sweet," defends Toby. "He wouldn't do that. Plus, we don't technically have a garden. Just bushes."

"He's not sweet to me," points out J.T.

"Because he can tell that you don't like him," guesses Toby.

"I'll try if he will," says J.T.

Sighing, J.T. crouches and manages to pet H.P.'s head. H.P. stiffens, barks and then runs over to Liberty. J.T. groans.

"Whatever," says J.T. "I have to drive Liberty to Debate Club, but there's a twenty minute window."

Liberty attempts to make H.P. sit but he blankly smiles at her and then tries to sit...in J.T.'s seat.

Toby groans. "Really, J.T.?"

"You called me last minute, Toby," reminds J.T.

"Fine," says Toby.

"A twenty minute window for?" says Officer Wheaton, raising an eyebrow.

The two boys lead Officer Wheaton to the Isaacs-Kerwin porch, Toby anxious to cover the lead they found. It may not amount to anything but it's the only evidence they possess. Sergeant Blanchett's team has been tracing calls for weeks, standing watch on Justin's street day after day. Perhaps this unfulfilled deal is the best thing to ever happen in this case if it reveals Justin's whereabouts.

"When Mr. Chernoff was at Kytel, J.T. snuck a look at his phone," begins Toby. "There were a lot of calls from an unavailable number."

Officer Wheaton glances between the boys, eyes widening, and he takes off his hat to wipe his brow.

"In the span of two days," adds J.T.

"And we're sharing this now because whenever we've waited, it's kind of bit us in the butt," continues Toby. "He has no idea we checked his phone."

Officer Wheaton looks past the two cars, towards the neighboring lawns.

"It's a clue," insists J.T.

The officer folds his arms.

"Don't you understand, Officer Wheaton?" says Toby. "I saw Justin at the deli. Then, Mr. Chernoff gave us this deal. Then, he's being called constantly by a private number. His son's being hidden away...here!"

No visible response follows Toby's words. He expected Officer Wheaton to be surprised at least. Did they even think to check Mr. Chernoff's cell phone records? Are they going to sit on this mountain of hints while he agonizes over everything? They want him to trust them but they're slow to act.

"Do something!" exclaims Toby.

"J.T., take your girlfriend to Debate Club," says Officer Wheaton calmly. "Toby, go inside."

"Officer Wheaton...," starts Toby.

"I said to go inside," says Officer Wheaton, then whistling. "H.P.!"

H.P. jogs to the front door and Toby lets his cheek fall against the closed door. This whole invesigation is useless. They should've told him from the get go.

"I'm staying with Toby," insists J.T.

"No, you're not," says Officer Wheaton. "Come back in a couple hours."

"Why?" asks J.T.

Toby takes his face off the door, eager to hear this answer.

"Don't ask questions," says Officer Wheaton strongly. "Just do it. Toby, inside."

Murmuring a slew of complaints, J.T. gets back into his car, a concerned look staying on Liberty's face until they're out of sight. It's nice to see someone is concerned. Toby opens the door harshly and lets Officer Wheaton close it as he falls onto the living room couch.

"This is taking too long," speaks up Toby.

"We're not on a schedule," says Officer Wheaton, patting his shoulder. "Some developments have been going on the past couple weeks but they're...delicate."

Developments? What sort of developments? Would he care to elaborate since this affects the guy at the center of everything?

"Delicate?" prompts Toby.

"I'll phone Sergeant Blanchett and he'll be along shortly," says Officer Wheaton. "He'll explain what he can. In the mean time, why don't you let J.T. watch that dog of yours? This may be complicated."

H.P. rests his head on Toby's knee and whimpers. Yes, they're both in for a night of annoyance and uncertainty, aren't they? Officer Wheaton strolls to the kitchen, punching in numbers on his cell.

"That's the perfect word for your new home," sighs Toby, stroking H.P.'s back. "Complicated."

II.

"There are plants everywhere," observes Ashley, standing in the center of their herd.

Her group stalls in front of the moderately large dining hall, lunch in full swing. The hall is an even mixture of a typical facility cafeteria and a hotel lounge, only a whole lot quieter. Someone went "green-crazy" as the plants aren't the only green accessories filling the room. The hard-backed chairs, clean tablecloths, napkin holders, and carrying trays match the dominant color.

"Green is a very calming choice," praises Kate.

Ashley's wondering how "green" her fellow rehab patients are, including Cybil who's being grilled by Robert and Chris. Most of the forty or so patients she views are younger than she thought they'd be, half of them clearly teenages and the other half in their twenties. The majority wear comfortable clothes including robes and sweatpants. Each table has a staff member on hand, a white badge Ashley recognizes from the hospital pinned to their shirts. Minus the badges and boredom, she didn't think it was that different from an upscale version of the Calypso dining room.

"The meals are gourmet," shares Cybil with Robert. "I've never not liked anything."

"Hear that, Ashley?" says Robert. "First-rate cuisine."

"I'm not that hungry," replies Ashley, crossing her arms over her stomach.

Hungry? No. Thirsty? Yes. But it's not like they can serve her what she...wants. Ashley uncovers her arms to scratch them. She stops when she finds Dr. Englecourt staring at her. She's known this lady for forty-five minutes and she's already bugging her.

"How about we sit in the middle so everybody can notice me?" suggests Ashley sarcastically.

"You won't need to do that," mutters Cybil.

True enough, a few cluster of patients are looking at Ashley or politely trying not to as the Kerwins, Cybil, Dr. Englecourt, and Reva walk into the room. One girl pretends to yawn and another giggles.

"It's standard," says Cybil to Ashley. "This is amusement for some people. They don't get out much."

This elicits laughter from Ashley's parents, but Ashley would like to know what's so freaking funny. She rolls her eyes, and takes a seat at a table on the right.

"This beats hospital grub, eh, Ash?" says Robert.

"You mean the injected mineral and vitamin cocktails?" poses Ashley. "No contest."

Everybody bristles at the statement, including Dr. Englecourt, except for Cybil. She smirks.

"The detox diet," recalls Cybil. "Hey, you drop weight."

Now this is humorous to Ashley, the two girls exchanging a grin. Dr. Englecourt looks less than pleased however. Nice. Like she told Criag, if the woman thought Ashley wasn't taking rehab seriously anyway why not crack a couple jokes at first? Ashley rises from her seat between Kate and Riva.

"Speaking of healthy eating," says Ashley.

The adults start to stand but they're halted by Dr. Englecourt.

"Let the girls go," says Dr. Englecourt, firmly in her seat.

Robert and Kate stare wearily at each other but sit. Ashley truly couldn't care less. She could use the breathing space. Something tells her family counselling will be worse than her dining experiences here. Cybil tags along with Ashley to the cafeteria line.

"So how long have you been at Harmony Hill?" asks Ashley, throwing a glance over her shoulder.

Dr. Englecourt is in deep conversation with the Kerwins. That's why she was gung-ho about them going alone.

"This time?" says Cybil. "Three months."

"You're in and out?" says Ashley, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm a regular," replies Cybil. "Quite a trek from Hedgewood Farms to British Columbia. A different drug each time."

"How many drugs can you find out in the country?" blurts out Ashley. "I mean, sorry."

Cybil chuckles. "You'd be surprised."

Roars from a few eager eaters enter the cafeteria while Ashley tries to decide if she's going to take anything. She passes on the egg salad, banana pudding, and brown rolls but chooses a bowl of steamed rice and a plate of grilled chicken. The two of them are joined by three teenage boys who get behind Ashley.

"Well, who am I to judge?" says Ashley, rescuing a fallen apple from falling out of a fruit bin. "I went boozing around London."

"At least you left Canada," sighs Cybil, then taking off with her tray.

With her gone, Ashley considers how totally thoughtless the "country" comment probably was, and makes a vow to correct that mistake later. Cybil seems to be a friendly roommate and she could've had a total nightmare for one.

"_London calling to the faraway towns_," sings a nearby voice. "_Now war is declared and the battle come down..._"

Ashley spies an orange going up in the air and falling into a hand. She turns to view the same guy she saw a week ago, the first patient she saw putting M&Ms on musical notes. He puts a second orange on her tray. Like she'd take anything from a weirdo who can't mind his own business.

"No thank you," says Ashley, ready to return the orange to its bin.

"You've touched it so you gotta take it," says the guy, smoothing his light brown curls. "Nobody wants an orange with your fingerprints on it."

"You touched it first!" reminds Ashley. "What makes you think I'll eat it with _your_ fingerprints on it?"

"You're holding up the line, London," remarks the guy.

Gripping her tray hard, Ashley narrows her eyes at his hazel eyes but elects to go forward, if only to steer clear of him for the rest of the day. He can't even iron his pale teal T-shirt. Ashley heads towards her table.

"Forgot your silverware!" calls the guy.

Ashley pointedly grabs her own silverware.

"See you later," says the guy.

"Hopefully not," returns Ashley, walking briskly to catch up with Cybil.

It's not until they reach their table that Ashley figures out that Dr. Englecourt and Reva have switched places. That leaves Ashley right next to her least favorite person pre-orange boy. Ashley is slow to sit down. Dr. Englecourt pivots to her.

"Not everything you have to do in here has to be a chore, Ashley," offers Dr. Englecourt. "Maybe you should take this opportunity to reflect on how you can grow, to have some 'me time'."

"No offense, but I've been with me for weeks and it didn't do any good," says Ashley.

"Out facility has fun, healthy alternatives for you to enjoy while you undergo treatment," begins Dr. Englecourt. "Exercises, art classes..."

"I would have more fun if I was drunk," interrupts Ashley nonchalantly.

Robert and Chris slouch in their respective places. Cybil coughs.

"Ashley!" cries Kate.

"Everyone told me you had no filter," says Dr. Englecourt.

"Nope. Don't," says Ashley. "Sorry."

"Well, the wonderful thing about an open filter is that it won't be as hard to identify the problem," says Dr. Englecourt with a steady gaze. "And get in there and fix it."

Ashley wishes she'd saved a few of her narrowed eye expressions for the good doctor, but her face hurts now. This woman is insufferable. Dr. Englecourt, Riva, and her parents abandon her to pick up food. Cybil silently eats her pudding as Ashley stabs her grilled chicken. The chicken squirms when Ashley mutters:

"What a warm welcome."

III.

"Officer Wheaton. Mr. Isaacs. Toby."

Sergeant Blanchett sets his walkie-talkie above the cruiser's glove compartment, a weird place for a walkie-talkie to be in Toby's opinion. The three males climb into the cop car and are soon on their way. Toby hears muffled orders and wonders if there's a connection. He tries to connect the various street corners as evening comes on quickly, new stars becoming bold while the streetlights blaze bright. He's gone this way a couple times this summer. Where were they headed?

"Everything cleared out?" questions Officer Wheaton.

"The clearest," replies Sergeant Blanchett. "Toby, did you tell your dad how you stood up to Eli Chernoff?"

Jeff nearly drops his music folder.

"Suppose not," figures Sergeant Blanchett.

Toby would've rather told him at home. Jeff had no idea about the details of the deal or its result. But there's no reason to hide it anymore. He sums up the exchange, including Manny and Bubbe's involvement, while Jeff fumes silently.

"What kind of grown man threatens two innocent children?" cries Jeff. "I don't care if Tobes contacted him. That's emotional manipulation of Toby, verbal abuse on Manny. Eli is a snake on the lowest branch! We have to follow through on this restraining order."

"Believe me, Mr. Isaacs," says Sergeant Blanchett. "We're focused on Eli Chernoff's activities."

"He made some private calls," explains Toby to Jeff.

"To start with," says Sergeant Blanchett. "Then it became something else."

Fumbling with the buckle on his seatbelt, Toby thinks about what he could mean. The streets become similar as they enter a familiar neighborhood. Justin's. They're on Justin's street...and that house. That horrible brown house. Toby does a sharp intake of breath. Suddenly, he'd kill to be at his own house with J.T. and H.P. He grips the band of his watch just to grip anything.

"We're not going in there?" asks Jeff, putting a hand on Toby's arm.

"No," says Sergeant Blanchett. "But other people are."

"Who?" says Jeff.

"Remember when this neighborhood implemented a ten o' clock curfew in response to our investigation?" begins Sergeant Blanchett. "Well, it's gotten pretty lax the past couple weeks. We thought hey, that's normal since there's teenagers on the block, the summer's almost over, and it's only natural we'd spot a couple kids here or there, going through windows or streaming in near midnight..."

"So we let the sneaking in go for awhile," interjects Officer Wheaton.

"But then we noticed a man wandering around, doing his best to conceal himself," continues Sergeant Blanchett. "From what we can tell, it wasn't one of our men but a private investigator."

"Hired by Eli Chernoff," says Officer Wheaton. "That explains the calls, Toby. He's made a few calls on his office phone, which we tapped."

"And it explains the deal," realizes Toby, lowering his eyes.

"Why'd you bring us out here then?" asks Jeff, sharing in the frustration.

Toby glances at the house. They could've burned it to the ground and he'd still be able to narrate what it was like, recall how heart-wrenching the images were, and feel his stomach change into a ball of fire. But it's quiet now. Every opening is closed. Each brick appears dark but far away.

"A week ago, another officer saw a meeting," shares Sergeant Blanchett. "Last night, it happened again."

"Well, if it's Eli Chernoff and the investigator...," starts Jeff.

"No, it's the investigator...and a kid," interrupts Sergeant Blanchett. "The meetings are at different times, and they're never for very long. We almost caught them the second time but they slipped into a backyard. We combed each home. No luck."

A kid? Just has to be Justin. Just has to be. Toby unclips his seatbelt to further take in the whole neighborhood.

"They must've slipped into Justin's grandfather's yard," says Jeff.

"Our first instinct as well," says Sergeant Blanchett. "No. It didn't pan out. The grandfather pretty much offered us free reign of his house yesterday and we're going to take it. Two officers are stationed there presently."

"Why doesn't the investigator drag Justin to his dad?" speaks up Toby, his cheeks flushed.

"Good question," says Sergeant Blanchett. "That's what we're trying to figure out."

"Figure out, huh?" sighs Toby. "Well, I'm tired of things not working out."

"Toby!" cries Jeff as Toby leaves the car.

The purple streaks of cloud and cool evening breezes soothe him immediately. The cramped air of the cruiser, the stuffy nature of the situation, was bothering him more than the house at the moment. He's assured Manny on many occasions. Yes, they'll get through it. Yes, he loves her inside and out. Yes, he will fight when hope's fading. But it wouldn't take a private investigator to find the fear that's covering his face.

He stands on the sidewalk, watching a non-reliable streetlamp flicker on and off. A fly lands on the bulb. He hears a door clatter open. Well, it's not eight yet, not even past _his_ curfew. A boy comes out of a white house. He sucks a green apple lollipop and drags a trash can towards the street.

"Don't let those stray cats get in the trash!" calls a voice from the open door. "And don't let it topple when you bring it in tomorrow morning!"

"Yeah, Mama!" replies the boy, who has to be around seven or so.

The boy places the trashcan at the curb, but sends the lid crashing to the pavement. He giggles and lets the lid roll for a few moments. Toby's mouth parts. He's seen this boy on Cezanne Street before. The lollipop, the lid, a little sign of innocence in this neighborhood of bad memories.

"Hi," says Toby.

Letting the lid fall, the boy removes his lollipop.

"Hi," says the boy.

"Do you remember me?" asks Toby. "I...talked to you once."

"You have a car," replies the boy. "And you were nice. That's all I 'member."

Sniffling, the boy rubs his freckled nose and scratches his chesnut-haired scalp with the other hand.

"Are you going to be a cop?" asks the boy.

"No," says Toby, confused.

"Cause you're in a cop car now," explains the boy. "Cops are scary. Are you going to arrest the bald boy?"

"Oh," says Toby. "You mean the bad boys they're looking for?"

"No, bald," counters the boy. "He ain't got hair, but I seen him with hair before. He wears a grey sweatshirt. Grey's my favorite color. I like it, but I don't like him."

"Why don't you like him?" asks Toby.

"Because he talks to strangers next to my house," answers the boy. "They say mean stuff and I hear them when I can't sleep. They say bad words."

Toby can hear his heart drum the speediest rhythm ever strung together in Toronto. Is this too good to be true? Justin was wearing a grey sweatshirt that night at the deli. This boy's backyard could be the meeting place. A last question might put it over the top. He bends to the boy's level, hopefully receiving confirmation, hopefully unearthing the vital answer.

"Was the bald boy Justin?" asks Toby. "We both know him, right?"

"Toby!" exclaims Jeff, raising Toby with a gentle yank. "Don't walk around this neighborhood unattended!"

"Dad!" cries Toby. "Wait a minute..."

Officer Wheaton, Sergeant Blanchett, and Jeff surround Toby as if he were a foreign dignitary. The small boy backs up a bit. He shivers, Toby quickly catching on.

"You're scaring him!" continues Toby.

"No, we're scared for you," insists Officer Wheaton. "Who knows how many of these little racists are around or where they're hiding?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," says Toby, revolving to Officer Wheaton.

Before he can address his breakthrough witness, Toby hears a door slam. The boy ran inside. If there were no cops, he most likely would've talked.

"That boy saw Justin!" exclaims Toby. "The investigator and somebody fitting Justin's description were in his yard last night."

"Toby, we've interviewed the whole street, both sides," replies Sergeant Blanchett.

"Including the kids?" asks Toby.

"Small kids make stuff up or exaggerate," sighs Jeff, rubbing his son's shoulders. "Toby, please don't get your hopes up again. I hate it when they're dashed."

"So do I, but this isn't the same," insists Toby. "He's afraid of the police. If you left me alone with him, then maybe he'd talk."

Sergeant Blanchett strokes his chin. Toby's uncertain if that's a promising sign or not.

"His mother would have to be present," begins Sergeant Blanchett. "And sometimes kids turn out to be the most honest witnesses. I'm not sure how I feel about interviewing such a young minor, though, particularly when it's another minor asking the questions."

Officer Wheaton clears his throat. Toby's a hundred percent certain that that sign is not good news. He obviously was going to protest this arrangement.

"Sir," says Officer Wheaton. "It's been two months. If this leads to Justin's capture, does it really matter how old the eyes that saw him are?"

Or not. Toby offers Officer Wheaton a shy smile.

"Tomorrow," says Sergeant Blanchett with a nod.

"Why not tonight?" complains Toby.

"Because he ran off terrified," supplies Jeff. "Do you think he's going to talk to you right now, Tobes?"

"No," admits Toby, kicking a pebble with his shoe.

"For the best," agrees Officer Wheaton. "We do have our men at the grandfather's house should any trouble arise."

That's as well as it's gonna go, realizes Toby. At least they're not leaving him in the dark anymore. He just doesn't believe he can hold out until the sun's up. He concentrates, trying to will the door open, but it stays shut and solid...for now.

IV.

Spinner fiddles with the deep fryer, thick gunk spilling onto the top of his apron. A globby trail of French fry residue moves towards his new sneakers. Gross. He was usually more careful when cleaning this out but his mind has been preoccupied lately and not just with side dishes. Pat puts a dishrag around Spinner's neck.

"Stop getting grease on you, or you'll be paying with pimples later," jokes Pat.

Yes, his mood's so bad that Pat is spouting off two-year old jests. At least he can figure a fryer out. Distant girlfriends are tougher. He guesses Emma still wants that label. Why is she being this way? Doesn't she understand that it took guts to be that honest with her? Where are Emma's guts? Spinner scrunches his nose. Wait, that didn't sound right, but he didn't say it out loud. Emma could be more appropriate too, such as giving him the appropriate response for being a bang-up boyfriend.

"Not that hard," mumbles Spinner, nose-deep in the fryer.

"Is this how you're spending your weekend, Gavin the Gunk-wad?" asks a customer, Spinner taking his head away from the machine.

"Jimmy," sighs Spinner. "I've got crud to scrape, alright?"

Situating a basketball into his lap, Jimmy rolls to the counter.

"Isn't Emma leaving town very soon?" says Jimmy.

"That's what I heard," says Spinner, doing his best to act like he doesn't care, which isn't that convincing.

"Yeah, heard as in you still aren't talking to her yourself," moans Jimmy. "What did Emma do, step on your turtle or something?"

"Worse," offers Spinner.

"That bad, huh?" says Jimmy with a low whistle.

Spinner checks whether Pat is paying attention to him or not. His boss rifles through a stack of receipts. He should be occupied for a decent stretch of minutes.

"She didn't return the love word, dude," shares Spinner. "She kept her lips tighter than a Ziploc bag."

He can only hear the flipping of paper when Jimmy almost lets his ball fall, stunned. He catches the ball before it meets the floor.

"Why not?" asks Jimmy.

"I don't know why not," replies Spinner. "I bounced when she left me there like a fool. I gave that girl the best summer of my life."

"You are a fool, fool," chastises Jimmy.

"Wha?" cries Spinner. "Whose best friend are you?"

"I don't see anybody working over there!" reprimands Pat, refusing to let his eyes leave the receipts.

Wiping down the sides of the fryer, Spinner manages to still throw short looks at Jimmy.

"You can't force anybody to express that type of thing," says Jimmy. "Especially when you don't stick around to have a conversation about it. This is a new relationship. Put in the work or you're a jerk, man."

"Jimmy...," starts Spinner.

"Jimmy nothing," interrupts Jimmy. "It shouldn't matter if it takes three hours worth of texts. If you really love her, you'll contact her. Capiche?"

"Yeah, capiche, whatever," says Spinner, waving him off. "I've got other customers."

The Dot was becoming more crowded for the breakfast hour but it was nothing the two new waitresses couldn't handle. They were hired ahead of the school year, and honestly Spinner hasn't bothered to learn their names. They were better than Hazel which seemed to be the single stipulation for Pat's approval.

"I see," says Jimmy pointedly.

Spinner clutches a wet rag, tempted to throw it at Jimmy so he'll back off. When he faces the counter, however, he does indeed have a fresh person to serve.

"Going to wait for Haze," says Jimmy, winking at Spinner. "Cause that's what a good boyfriend does."

Manny parks herself on a stool. "Tough room."

"Leave me alone, Manny," says Spinner as he cleans off his apron.

"What lousy service," reprimands Manny playfully. "No wonder Emma didn't come in with me. It's gonna take forever to get a green tea, isn't it?"

"Emma's outside?" questions Spinner, glancing up.

"Yep, waiting in the car," says Manny. "We're picking up Snake today."

He tosses the crud-caked rag into a bin full of dishwater. Now he feels like crud. Emma couldn't be dealing well with Mr. Simpson being in town. Their relationship still had a lot of kinks therapy hadn't massaged out. The reality of T.O. might add pressure to an already crippled bond. As angry as he is, he can't stand the thought of Emma suffering.

"How is she doing?" asks Spinner.

"She's heartbroken," answers Manny speedily. "She needs you."

"I'm doing bad too, if we're keeping score," defends Spinner.

"Spinner, you're the most solid guy she has in her life at the moment," insists Manny. "And you were a good boyfriend to me before I walked away. Be a good boyfriend and don't walk away from Em."

Rather than respond to Manny, Spinner walks to the small container on his left and squirts green tea into a cup. While the tea swirls, he recalls every warm moment he shared with Emma - the kiss in the principal's office, the day trip to Chinatown, their beach outings, and their run-of-the-mill run-ins right here at the Dot. She struggled to even ask him to be her boyfriend, but she did ask. Perhaps speaking those three words are another battle and she can't deal with another one yet.

"I had to wait for an I love you," says Manny, taking the tea.

"And?" says Spinner.

Manny slides him three dollars. "It paid off."

"You actresses and your planned words," groans Spinner, handing Pat the money when he passes.

"Whatever it takes to get the job done," says Manny, patting herself on the back.

V.

DiFranco, Saunders, Kirkpatrick. The titles, clearly written in black marker, break up the monotony of many waiting airport visitors who hold similar expressions: expectant. Emma wonders if they all have the same expectations. Parted couples longing to embrace. Grandparents awaiting the hugs of relatives from younger generations. Happy anniversaries or birthdays or homecomings...yes, Daddy's coming home.

If Spike were here, she wouldn't greet Snake with a kiss. Jack may run to him but it would be a habit that would break over the years. Emma would stay planted, to the smooth carpet, where she stands today, thinking about the width of Manny's car and why Manny suddenly had a taste for green tea.

"We should've brought a sign for Snake," says Manny.

Put liar or continual cheater on there, moans Emma inwardly. He falls under both categories. She gave him the benefit of the doubt. Of course he wasn't the instigator. Hatzilakos was after him. He cut off the affair for the sake of their family. He was good ol' dependable, moral Archie Simpson. Of course all of this came crashing down when her pills did. Sure, Snake deserves a sign... that she's not buying his guilt anymore.

"He'll spot us," remarks Emma. "Thanks for driving."

"Always," assures Manny. "Except when J.J.'s wheels are out of gas."

Emma frowns, folding a paper with Snake's flight information until it's in the form of a star.

"You can laugh, Em," says Manny. "This will be okay."

"Watch his flight be late," mumbles Emma.

Another collection of travellers crosses their path. Snake isn't among them.

"Right again," says Emma, shrugging.

"He has a couple...seconds," corrects Manny reluctantly.

"We should've made a sign," affirms Emma. "He should answer to the name Snake."

"Please don't start off like this," begs Manny. "He'll hang out with us for a day and a half, and then the three of us are off to sunnier shores."

"Good, because Hannah has more maturity than he does," says Emma.

Manny peers down the row of well-wishers. She's probably sick of the verbal attacks, but ever since therapy, Emma's not about to start bottling up her emotions. So whether they're sour or sweet, they're coming out. Snake walks out without her being prepared for it. He wears a light green shirt and tan slacks, carrying a black rolling suitcase. His thinning red hair is combed, his black shoes polished. Who is he trying to impress? The stewardesses? Emma wouldn't put it past him.

"Are you two pretty girls waiting for me?" greets Snake, opening his arms.

Smooth talker...not. Manny hugs him anyway. He holds his arms out for Emma, then drops them when Emma keeps hers to her sides.

"Spike and Jack are doing well," mentions Snake while they head for the parking lot.

Emma bites her lip. Manny breaks the silence.

"Swell," says Manny awkwardly. "Will you be staying at your apartment or Spike's?"

"Home," replies Snake. "I mean, Spike's. I have her key."

Pausing briefly, Emma makes the conscious effort to walk in front of Snake. He can speak with Manny this entire trip and she'd do anything to remain out of his direct line of sight.

"We decided together, Em," informs Snake, causing her to pause again. "And _we'd_ like it if you'd stay there too. Your mother is concerned."

"Nobody told me I had to stay with you!" cries Emma.

"Well, it was implied," says Snake. "You need supervision and since you won't go to my apartment..."

"I'm not staying in some bed you probably banged some random woman or Hatzilakos in," shoots down Emma, stone-faced.

"Whoa!" says a frozen Manny, unable to click the car doors open.

Snake's gaze quivers in the sunlight reflecting off J.J.'s car. His cheekbones harden.

"I won't take that tone from you!" exclaims Snake. "I am your father and ..."

"Stepfather!" interrupts Emma, glaring at him. "Let's clear that up. You aren't coming on a white horse, Snake! You're here because I fainted once and have to suffer the consequences. But my mistake pales next to my mother's. You're the biggest mistake my mom ever made!"

Emma swears she can detect the points where Snake's chest collapses into itself. He takes a few weighty breaths to find composure, and can't, simply sliding into the backseat when Manny unlocks the car doors. Flustered, Manny moves to place the suitcase into the trunk.

"Manny, I..."

Her speech falters when Manny holds up a hand and climbs inside the car. Emma opens her door and adjusts her seatbelt slowly. From the airport to the community center, from Degrassi Grocery to the skating rink, they're quiet. Manny keeps her eyes restricted to the vehicle's mirrors. Emma steals several looks in Snake's direction. He has his head down the entire ride home.

Home, or something resembling their house. Emma wipes away burgeoning tears when Snake leaves the car. God, she wishes her Mom was home. Snake removes his suitcase from the trunk.

"Get out, Emma," whispers Manny.

Is she serious? After their girls' night, after their talk about Spinner, she thought her best friend would be in her corner. Alright, what she said to Snake was rough but surely they both know where it came from. Manny is crying too though, and she's not sure where it's coming from.

"You can't come with me," chokes out Manny. "You have to be with him."

"Manny," sighs Emma. "I'm sorry I lashed out..."

"This has to be fixed," goes on Manny. "Or it's going to rip you in two and you'll want to take it back so badly."

She cries into her hands, Emma speechless and softly gripping Manny's shoulder.

"I can't imagine a day without my dad anymore," cries Manny. "And none of my friends should have to either."

There. The catalyst for her tears. Emma wipes her shirt sleeve against her cheeks.

"Can I call you?" asks Emma.

"Whenever," promises Manny. "Go."

Emma exits the car but doesn't walk in immediately. She can picture the lecture she's about to receive or a stern reproach over the phone by her mother. She does what she did most of the summer. She sucks it up and plows ahead, meeting what's waiting for her.

He lies on the couch. The TV's off. A pile of mail sits askew on the coffee table. Emma doesn't remember when the porch light clicks on but it does. She anticipates a fiery demand before she descends the basement stairs. There's nothing but a whispered question.

"When are you going to stop punishing me?"

She clicks on her basement's light, her sanctuary for the stretch of his stay. Snake's wet stare finds her mouth.

"When I believe you won't punish us," replies Emma.

Keeping her body on the basement door after closing it, Emma's ready to slide to the bottom. She might as well have bruises to match the pain underneath her skin. Her stepfather? Her mom's biggest mistake? What other blast can she blow his way? She may be the weapon that blows her family to kingdom come. Gingerly taking her pillbox out, she walks to her bathroom sink, cups water, and swallows her dosage. It's a little scary that this is the only action that's made her feel victorious today. Like she's doing something right.

Emma lies on her bed, the very bed where she tossed and turned over Snake's late night arrivals. Him being there at eleven-thirty in the morning isn't comforting in the slightest. She finds herself asleep, body curled on blankets she hasn't slept on for days. When she hears her mother's voice, she believes she's dreaming. It cuts through the walls of the house. Emma arises, staring at the stairs.

She mounts the steps as if going to her execution, weary to come across any trouble. It's seven in the evening according to her watch. The combination of girls' night and today's stress took the wind out of her sails. When she makes it to the living room, the blue twilight is framing Snake on the couch. He is watching a DVD, legs resting on a footrest. Emma watches the screen with him but without him noticing her.

The screen reveals her parents, yes both, en route on a trail of the Grand Canyon. They're riding small horses or donkeys. Emma can't determine what they are from where she's situated. They're posing for a snapshot with the mules, Snake bending for Spike's benefit. That's what they are- mules. A mule starts to gnaw on Snake's hair.

"Quit it, Mario!" cries Snake, discouraging the donkey by waving a tan hat.

"Don't hurt him, Archie!" exclaims Spike.

"I don't have much hair, Christine!" remarks Snake, causing Emma's mother and their guide to laugh.

"He thinks it's straw," supposes their guide, a portly man in his thirties. "He stopped. He feels bad."

Mario grins with a set of yellow teeth, nudging Snake with his nose.

"And now he's digging in my pockets," sighs Snake as Mario sniffs his crotch.

"This will be a honeymoon memory we'll never forget," assures Spike. "Ever."

Snake ends his resistance to Mario's advances to kiss his new wife on the lips. She hugs him tightly, her gold band shining in the bright desert sunlight. Emma leans against the wall. She catches Snake dabbing at his eyes. Heh, Jack was on the honeymoon too, basically. But he would not have loved Mario more than Spike loved Snake at that moment. Snake stirs, searching for the remote. He locates Emma instead.

"Em?" says Snake, blinking at her in the dark.

Beyond Snake, she views his younger doppleganger, bright-eyed, carefree, honeymoon glow surrounding a skinnier body. Emma's pulse jumps and then slows.

"Cute mule," remarks Emma. "I'm going to sit on the porch."

She instinctively grabs her iPod, puts in her earbuds so Snake won't have access to her ears. Emma opens her front door and stoops to her porch. Pressing play, she spreads out her legs towards the street.

_When I was younger I saw my daddy cry_  
_and curse at the wind._  
_He broke his own heart and I watched_  
_as he tried to reassemble it._

Emma scans what's in her front yard. There are flowers kneeling to a solitary tree. A handful of Jack's miniature cars lie toppled next to a fountain the birds rarely visit. The driveway is empty since Spike's car was in the garage ever since Emma left.

_And my momma swore_  
_that she would never let herself forget._  
_And that was the day that I promised_  
_I'd never sing of love if it does not exist._

So much emptiness and so many reminders threaten to stifle any chance their family has to be happy. The wish she made with Hannah at the other fountain wasn't going to help. Emma really thought the hope was confined to her mother, Jack, and herself, but maybe Snake was more hopeful than all of them. Maybe he can't let it go any more than she can.

_Maybe I know somewhere_  
_deep in my soul_  
_that love never lasts._  
_And we've got to find other ways_  
_to make it alone._  
_Or keep a straight face._  
_And I've always lived like this_  
_keeping a comfortable distance._  
_And up until now I've sworn to myself_  
_that I'm content with loneliness._

_Because none of it was ever worth the risk._

Emma lets her shoes touch, like her feet are kissing. Her toes create a new shape and surprisingly a new color. A solid dark blue. The blue's on the move. Emma raises her head in alarm.

_Well you are the only exception._  
_You are the only exception._  
_You are the only exception._  
_You are the only exception._  
_You are the only exception._

"Spinner?" breathes Emma.

Spinner's blue jeans grow closer to the stoop and stop. Emma stands, an ear bud falling out of place while the other stays put.

"I'm sorry," they blurt out together.

They shrug, Spinner easing into a conversation.

"I blurt stuff out," says Spinner. "That didn't mean I didn't mean it. I just felt we were moving to you being ready, but it's okay if we walk til we get there."

Emma smiles. She's surprised he's at her stoop considering where they left off.

"I mean what I say too," assures Emma. "Even if I'm not able to say it yet."

"Okay," says Spinner, nodding more to himself than her. "I got that thanks to Jimmy, Manny, and a bunch of little smacks to the face."

"For real?" sighs Emma.

"Fo' real, fo' real," teases Spinner.

She throws her arms around him, his Dot apron tickling her skin. This is loads better than when they interacted before his last shift. Almost, thinks Emma. The word springs up with warning, a clue to what she's certain will come.

"But don't say it tonight, because I don't deserve it," cautions Spinner, pulling away.

"I promise you it will be worth it," says Emma. "Like fireworks-level worth it."

Spinner kisses her gently. "I love me some fireworks."

He whispers in her free ear that he'll text her and jogs away. Emma holds her head with her hands, showing her teeth to the clear sky.

_Oh, and I'm on my way to believing. _

VI.

"Is this straight?" asks Toby.

H.P. saunters to his sleeping arrangement, tugging the blanket off. He puts his blanket on Toby's bed and goes to sniff around the computer.

"Don't like the doggie bed, huh?" sighs Toby.

He fetches H.P.'s blanket and puts it back where it was, his glasses clattering to where he expects H.P. to sleep. Toby's close to doing just that but every time he's tried to hit the hay, it ended up a wash. Midnight and no hint of shut-eye. J.T. pointed out Toby's frazzled nerves when he wasn't trying to usher H.P. out of the linen closet. This was apparently H.P.'s version of slamming the door when his parent, namely Toby, ticked him off. But Toby soothed J.T. and H.P. enough so that each would have a cool head tonight. Somebody should because he definitely doesn't.

Ten seconds could've determined whether Justin was in the city or not. And they're waiting? They wait to tell him ninety-eight percent of what's going on. He considers himself a patient person but it can also grow thin if you use the majority of the virtue. Toby slides under the covers, slapping his palms on his sheets. How is Wheaton sleeping in the next room? How is his father? The dog is the most reliable worrywart in the house besides himself.

H.P. trots to a photograph of Manny, a picture Toby loved. After they began dating, he blew up her seventh grade portrait in the yearbook, the year they met. It was a tad sentimental but that's who he was. H.P. barks happily and licks his black nose.

"Yep, that's Manny," says Toby.

The dog licks the glass that covers Manny, and jumps to lick Toby's nose. Toby chuckles quietly. He couldn't help it. H.P. hops on Toby's bed and crawls over Toby's chest. He rests his head on the top of the blanket.

"You know, I always thought she'd end up with a bad boy or another actor," shares Toby. "I guess not, huh?"

Moving methodically, H.P. manages to lie under Toby's right arm.

"Goes to show that you shouldn't give up on who you want," adds Toby. "Or what you want..."

Toby deadens his lamp. H.P. wanders to the foot of the bed, but moves when Toby's legs move throughout the night, the dog clearly believing this is an hours-long game. Toby watches as each numeral changes. 1 a.m. to 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. It's the largest amount of numbers he's seen outside a classroom. Justin's out there, and he's not losing sleep over Toby.

No more games. Toby throws his own blanket to the floor. He dresses in the dark. By the time he reaches Cezanne Street, the boy and his mother will probably be up. He's more worried about sneaking by Wheaton. Toby was happy earning their trust over the last month. Disappointing his dad and the officers he not only likes but respects breaks his heart a bit. But it's breaking his heart, stabbing it actually, to sit in this room any longer. H.P.'s found relief at least, snoozing on the corner furthest from his doggie bed.

He tip-toes in the hall. Nothing creaks until he reaches the door to Jeff and Kate's bedroom. Toby grits his teeth until the creaking ends. He winds his way past Wheaton's room, reaching the steps. Toby clears the steps and goes to the kitchen for notepad paper. Jeff and Officer Wheaton were usually awake by eight-thirty. That provides him with an hour and a half to speak with the little boy alone. Toby writes, halting the pen when he hears footsteps. He freezes. He nearly got away with it.

Panting proceeds the final steps. Toby glances down. H.P. whimpers.

"Go upstairs, H.P.," whispers Toby, pointing to the staircase.

H.P. noiselessly stares at him. Toby hangs his neck. Spotting a second of surrender, H.P. jumps to Toby's waist. Toby glances at the disappearing moon through the kitchen window.

"I did promise Manny I'd spend the whole night with you," sighs Toby. "Come on."

Toby signs the note, adds _Don't be too mad_, and carries H.P. out of the kitchen. When they're both in the car, H.P. is fairly still. Toby never thought he'd ride to this neck of the woods twice in two days. He may be asking for danger but this could end the danger for him and Manny. He parks across from the little boy's house.

"Stay in the car, H.P.," orders Toby, lowering each window before getting out.

H.P. taps a side window with his paws, fascinated for whatever reason. He starts barking when the house door parts. Oh yeah, the boy's mother asked him to retrieve the can yesterday. Toby leaves the car instantly.

"Hi," greets Toby, hands going into his pockets out of instinct. "Again."

The boy appears shocked and frightened but approaches Toby. His reserve falls when he views what's in the car.

"Is that your puppy?" asks the boy, grinning.

He's missing several teeth yet his smile is very sweet.

"Yes," replies Toby. "He's new. Got him yesterday."

"I like doggies," says the boy. "They do funny things."

A small pop goes off in the distance. H.P. found the door lock. Great.

"Bartholomew!" calls a lilting voice from the house. "Who are you talking to?"

"Who am I talking to?" whispers Bartholomew to Toby.

Yikes. He really hadn't though this through, because a teenager showing up to talk to a boy on the street could look very strange. Bartholomew's mother stands in the doorway, rollers in her dark brown hair, capri pants on her legs. She takes in Toby and joins her son.

"Bartie, who's this?" asks his mother.

"Hi, I'm Toby Isaacs," says Toby. "I..."

"You're the teenager who's being harrassed," interrupts Bartie's mother. "And this is the last place you should be. Do I gotta call the cops?"

"No, please don't," begs Toby.

"Don't, Mama," says Bartie. "I don't like cops."

"That's why I'm here," explains Toby. "Bartie saw two people in your backyard. One of them might be the other teenager they're searching for. I don't want to bother him..."

"You are," says Bartie's mother. "But go ahead."

"Well, I figure he can tell me, since I'm not a cop," continues Toby. "Could you?"

Bart sniffles, gazes at his mother for a moment.

"Alright," sighs his mother. "And you better be speaking the truth, little mister."

The boy rubs his forehead for a bit, as if he's trying to force himself to remember. Toby looks at him hopefully.

"Was the younger guy Justin?" asks Toby.

"Not sure," replies Bart. "He talks like Justin. And they talk about parents a bunch. I seen the old man give him money. He said 'that all you got' last time. He said he could sell his computer and make more cash, that the man should bring double today."

"What time today?" says Toby.

"Ten-thirty," says Bart proudly. "I'm good at keeping times sactly."

"Exactly," corrects his mother. "My name's Moira by the way. Moira Dunlap. We hope that helps."

"More than you know," says Toby.

He bends to Bart's level, shakes his hand. A pleased Bart looks at his hand.

"Thank you!" cries Toby, already charging towards Justin's grandfather's house. "Bye!"

Reaching the porch, Toby pounds on the door. He observes two familiar officers in uniform, Lieutenant Croft and another officer who aided in clearing out the brown house. Toby recalls that he was a special agent from Montreal. His nameplate reads Hsu. Lieutenant Croft practically throws the door off its hinges.

"Where on earth is Officer Wheaton?" demands Lieutenant Croft.

"Land sakes, Toby, come in here!" cries Officer Hsu, dragging Toby to the foyer.

"I'm going to slap Wheaton silly," vows Lieutenant Croft. "I never would've guessed he'd let you compromise your safety like this."

"I snuck out," says Toby. "He was doing his job. It's my fault."

"Sergeant Blanchett is going to flip," says Officer Hsu.

The house hasn't changed since he was there in the early days of summer, still bare as it could be. Toby searches for Abe but he's flown the coop. He supposes Abe would rather not be there should his grandson get arrested.

"Look, we can stand here and argue about my safety, or we can take advantage of these crucial minutes and catch Justin red-handed," says Toby, his voice rising.

Lieutenant Croft and Officer Hsu stare at each other in confusion.

"Speak up, son," says Officer Hsu.

"A neighbor said that Justin would meet the investigator in his backyard at ten-thirty," shares Toby. "He wants cash. Lots of it."

"He might be trying to skip town," realizes Lieutenant Croft. "We have to move."

"I'll radio Blanchett," says Officer Hsu, taking out his walkie-talkie.

"You," says Lieutenant Croft, gesturing to Toby. "Stay there. That's the least you can do."

"I have a dog...in my car," mentions Toby.

"You're working my last nerve," complains Lieutenant Croft, walking to the front door anyway. "Come on. Let's get him."

Toby lets a grin sneak out. Sergeant Blanchett isn't so joyous when he arrives fifteen minutes later. Jeff and Officer Wheaton mirror his exasperation. This was the first time Toby wishes he lived in this house, in order to lock himself into a nearby room.

"You took the dog where you were going and not us," says Jeff, sitting on top of the couch where Toby trapped himself. "You're not going anywhere except school and work from now on."

"But Dad!" cries Toby.

"Don't but dad me," warns Jeff. "I hope this pans out but this is the most you're going to see of another neighborhood for some time."

"And I'll be driving you...everywhere," insists Officer Wheaton, whose hurt countenance causes Toby to say nothing else.

He lets H.P. rest on his lap. In the background, Toby hears the officers strategizing. They were clued in about the investigator, more clued in than Toby since Lieutenant Croft is able to describe him in detail. The request for money aggravated them and confused them. Speculation about skipping town was the most popular theory. Toby's rejection of the deal could've made Eli desperate. Toby listens so intently that his heart nearly leaps from his chest when Sergeant Blanchett says "ten-fifteen."

"Croft, you cover the right, Hsu the left," says Sergeant Blanchett. "Wheaton the front, and I'm in the rear. I've already talked with Ms. Dunlap. She and her son have vacated the house. Nobody shoots unless absolutely necessary. Let's go."

None of them say anything to Jeff and Toby, not even Officer Wheaton. Toby walks to the window, disturbing H.P. and discerning that he won't have full sight of whatever happens. Jeff stands at his side for what seems like hours. Silence covers the scene. What if Bart wasn't as skilled with telling time as he thought? What if Toby alerted the investigation team for nothing?

"Take him down, Wheaton!" yells a voice that cuts through the distance.

Toby's body trembles as he spies Officer Wheaton running out to the sidewalk after a grey-hooded figure. They tumble to the ground, the hood flying up when they roll, Toby only watching the bald crown of a head bobbing against the grass inthe Dunlap's front lawn. Sergeant Blanchett appears, running to handcuff the younger guy. The man who must be the investigator walks in between Lieutenant Croft and Officer Hsu.

"Dad?" broaches Toby.

"I have to see for myself, too," agrees Jeff, following his son outside.

They fly across the street, Toby stopping mid-stride. The boy is breathing hard.

"Nooooo!" moans the boy angrily. "Nooooooooo!"

The voice kills it for him, Toby watching as the face moves to the side, blue eyes blinking in anger.

"It's not Justin," sighs Toby.

"Who are you?" snaps Officer Wheaton.

"Let me go!" yells the boy.

"I'll give them your name if you don't," says the investigator, a curly-haired man in a button-down shirt and khakis. "Trying to press money out of whoever you can caught up with you."

"Shut up, stooge!" shouts the boy, then calmer. "Abel. Abel Stephens."

"Allow us to introduce you to our police station, Mr. Stephens," says Officer Wheaton, forcing Abel to stand.

Lieutenant Croft seizes her cruiser's door open, stuffing Abel inside. Toby feels something move against his leg. H.P. barks at the stoic teenager behind the door. Toby shakes his head, refusing to say "when", refusing to believe this went so wrong. He walks briskly to the cruiser.

"Toby!" calls Jeff. "No!"

"Do you know where Justin is?" exclaims Toby.

Abel slinks in the seat, failing to answer. Toby looks skyward. What is it going to take? He's pretty sure he's out of prayers. Abel smacks his lips and turns to Toby.

"Yes," replies Abel with a sinister smile.

"Tell me!" cries Toby.

"I know where _everyone_ is," says Abel. "Why not go back to the doggie shelter with your ill-bred tramp?"

Toby lunges at Abel, elbow hitting the cruiser door, his knee banging against metal. Officer Hsu prevents Toby from slamming Abel anywhere that counts.

"Your girlfriend's walking porn!" chuckles Abel. "A breathy-voiced, big-boobed Gentile for your spank bank. Ever heard of hit it and quit it, Isaacs? But I guess she's the pick of a dirty litter. Arf arf!"

Reaching for the door handle, Toby tries to wrest it open but Officer Hsu clasps him into submission. Beads of Toby's sweat fly into the air. This guy may not be Justin...this guy may be worse. Toby tries his best to break from Officer Hsu's hold.

"Take the Isaacs home, Wheaton," orders Sergeant Blanchett. "We're going to get this kid to talk about things other than garbage. We owe you that, Toby. Keep your head up."

Lieutenant Croft, Sergeant Blanchett, Officer Hsu, and a cackling Abel sail off in the cruiser. Toby takes off his glasses, weeping without shame. How could a sure bet unravel into this? Jeff leads Toby to cry on his chest.

"It wasn't Justin," moans Toby.

"Thanks to you, we have more information than before," consoles Jeff.

"They're following us, though!" says Toby. "They haven't given up."

"Neither should you," returns Jeff. "And..."

"What?" says Toby searchingly.

Jeff tousles his son's hair. "Now they know you won't."


	115. Cruel Summer

**CXV. Cruel Summer**

_Hot summer streets _  
_And the pavements are burning _  
_I sit around _

_Trying to smile _  
_But the air is so heavy and dry_

_Strange voices are saying _  
_What did they say _  
_Things I can't understand _  
_It's too close for comfort _  
_This heat has got right out of hand _

_It's a cruel, cruel summer _  
_Leaving me here on my own _  
_It's a cruel, cruel summer _  
_Now you're gone _

_The city is crowded _  
_My friends are away _  
_And I'm on my own_

_It's too hot to handle_  
_So I got to get up and go _

_It's a cruel, cruel summer _  
_Leaving me here on my own _  
_It's a cruel, _  
_It's a cruel cruel summer _  
_Now you're gone_  
_You're not the only one_

_It's a cruel, cruel summer _  
_Leaving me_  
_Leaving me here on my own _  
_It's a cruel, _  
_It's a cruel cruel summer _  
_Now you're gone_

_It's a cruel, cruel summer _  
_Leaving me here on my own _  
_It's a cruel, cruel summer _  
_Now you're gone _  
_You're not the only one_

_It's a cruel, cruel summer _  
_Leaving me_  
_Leaving me here on my own _  
_It's a cruel, _  
_It's a cruel cruel summer _  
_Now you're gone_  
_You're not the only one _

**Cruel Summer is the property of Bananarama and appears in the film _The Karate Kid._**

**Land of a Million Drums is the property of Outkast.**

"Got enough breathmints, buddy?" teases Jay, poking Sean's exposed neck through the bars of his headrest.

"Leave Sean alone, and read through paragraph two," orders Alex. "You have the punctuation of a pre-schooler, not that you'd know because the judge would have to find your apology under about three Cheeto fingerprints."

Sean had composed his essay earlier but he didn't feel so good about it either. Maybe it was the three-month absence from school or the grim recounting of his summer activities or the fact that his support system would be cut in half in two days. The Camerons were leaving, including Tracker, since Sean's plea bargain was set. He really relied on them staying close but he guesses it would be sort of selfish to ask them to hang around longer. He's already taken up so much of their time. Sean notices Ellie's new Frankenstein squeeze doll hanging over her dashboard. Marco presented it to her right after her driver's test. After helping Emmitt at the garage, Sean's body was nearly as stiff as the doll's but there was no way he wasn't going to accept a personal invite from Mr. Nash.

"I got hungry," defends Jay. "And speaking of making a case for myself, you never answered the question I asked earlier."

"For good reason," affirms Alex.

"What reason?" says Jay.

"Based on your past performance, with about a million diseased female mouths that would testify against you," replies Alex, circling a couple verbs Jay spelled incorrectly.

"It wasn't a million," says Jay quietly, though everyone knew the number was high, even though the question remained unsaid.

"What is the question?" broaches Sean.

"Mind your own business, Tic Tac," says Alex with a roll of the eyes.

"Oh no, Sean, she won't listen to you," insists Jay. "Because you would _vouch_ for me. Gimme that essay."

Alex grins as she hands the paper over. Jay balks.

"A D? Really?" says Jay. "I didn't ask you to grade this!"

Shrugging, Alex smiles and adjusts her seatbelt over her purple wife-beater.

"Why did I decide to drive again?" moans Ellie.

"Because of this," reminds Sean, nodding to her new license sitting very visibly in the cupholder.

"Oh yeah," says Ellie without a hint of modesty.

Sean kisses her cheek. He had to give her props. After the up-and-down state of their relationship, the stressful moments, and a grueling seminar, she passed with flying colors. His chief regret besides Ty is their missed opportunity to make other colors fly by as they sped on his road trip motorcycle. That trip was the reason for...everything. Life certainly liked to punch him in the face.

"You don't have to go with me tomorrow," whispers Sean.

He refused to burden their second chance with any more secrets so he told Ellie that Ty left him a package somewhere at Ace's now charred remains. Ellie instantly said she wanted to go along. Sean rejected the idea but after considering it, he agreed. He couldn't repeat his screw-ups. He couldn't block her out like before.

"Yes, I do," whispers Ellie.

"So when are you getting your own car?" speaks up Alex from the backseat.

"This month," replies Ellie. "Dad promised."

"Make sure to take Sean," says Jay. "He helped me pick out my second."

"Cause your first was a hot mess," recalls Alex.

"Sometimes I still use that hot mess and we met when I was driving that hot mess," says Jay.

"I couldn't care less if you sell that hunk of junk," claims Alex.

"The lady doth protest too much," says Jay with a smirk.

"You two are too much," sighs Sean. "I'm glad we're here."

They were, Ellie pulling onto her home street like she's practiced it a hundred times. The four of them are not alone. Ellie beams as she spies Marco, Dylan, and her parents in the front yard. Marco holds a "Honk If You Have a License" sign over his head but it still doesn't reach Dylan's chin. Ellie delivers a short honk. They cheer once Ellie winds her window down. Amanda Nash claps wildly...until she sees who's in the passenger seat. Sean debates hiding his features by lowering his mirror. Didn't Mr. Nash tell his wife he was coming? Maybe he was afraid she'd stay in the house or bolt the door right after Sean got out.

Ellie shuts off the ignition and climbs out. Sean unclips his seatbelt.

"I signalled like a champ on the way," kids Ellie, receiving a hug from her father.

"It's important to remember signals," says Amanda.

Sean exits the car and puts his hands in his pockets.

"Very important," adds Amanda with a withering look in his direction.

"Frankenstein's dancing," points out Dylan.

He effectively breaks the tension as they watch the monster swing to and fro in Mrs. Nash's car. Sean manages to smile.

"Come on in, folks, before the food gets cold," says Mr. Nash.

Once she hits the button to lock the car, Sean follows Ellie into her house. It's not as if he hasn't visited their house in happier instances but tonight it's different. Now, both her parents are informed about his past and present mistakes, and her mother is waiting for any future falls of grace. Sean waits in the foyer.

John pauses. "Steamy night, isn't it, Sean?"

"Yeah," replies Sean.

"Downright unusual," continues John. "For September."

For me, thinks Sean, this whole night's going to be unusual. He stands beside Ellie in the center of the room. Jay, Alex, Marco, and Dylan sit in chairs surrounding them.

"We had to do something after all your accomplishments," says Amanda warmly. "Getting your license, doing wonderfully in your seminar..."

"Having a story published in the _Core_," interrupts Marco.

"I was going to say that, Marco," insists Amanda, playfully moving her hands to her hips.

Everybody laughs, Marco hanging his head in mock shame.

"And we're anxious about the accomplishments to come," says John. "Paige, take out the take out!"

Sean hears some ruffling from the kitchen and Paige walks in with a large box of Indian take-out. Several bowls are on the tray.

"This smell is strong enough to curl any of Dylan's unplucked nose hairs," mutters Paige.

"Thanks, guys!" comments Ellie, walking over to view her favorites. "Sean and Marco deserve first dibs for quizzing me and/or taking me out for test drives."

"Yeah, buddy!" says Marco without waiting to hear any protests.

Alex joins the group anyway as they start loading plates.

"I totally just read on U of T's Res Social that your roommate is throwing a party!" whispers Alex to Ellie. "I need to see her cray firsthand."

"I'm not bailing on my parents' party, Alex," whispers back Ellie.

"We can hit both," suggests Alex.

"Wait, where is this party?" asks Ellie, realization dawning on her.

"Won't know til we drop by there," teases Alex.

Alex knew and Sean knew the missing information would drive Ellie up the wall. Ellie raises her eyes to the ceiling. Since their last interaction with Amberly was their fight in front of Sean, Sean's positive that their dorm room is the site. Who would suspect peppy Amberly was that vindictive?

"Our RA is away this weekend," mutters Ellie.

Sean groans. "Perfect timing."

While Ellie grumbles into her first helping, Jay moves his crutches towards the end of the table. He picks up the top of a sterling tray.

"Ooooh, I brake for cake!" cries Jay.

"Jay! That was supposed to be a surprise!" exclaims Mrs. Nash.

"Guilty as charged," says Jay with a wink at Dylan.

Dude, mocking Dylan's infamous line from years ago was so old. Dylan throws up his hands.

"Not gonna lie," says Alex. "I want cake too."

"Fine," sighs Amanda.

Ellie grins at the cake. Sean isn't lying, which is a relief, when he tells Mr. Nash he's impressed with the cake's decoration. The icing around its borders reflect a highway with small plastic trees interspersed throughout. _Congratulations Ellie _is located in the width of a red stop sign. Below that, a blue icing license plate with E11IE stretches from left to right.

"This is better than my birthday cakes," praises Ellie.

"It better be," says Amanda. "I was there for an hour, sorting everything out."

"Can I have a piece of the stop sign?" asks Ellie.

"You may," says Amanda, cutting it herself.

Then, she cuts a piece of cake for Sean to eat later. Sean nods in appreciation when Amanda puts the plate in a temporary spot.

"There, Sean, you can eat a license plate instead of making them," says Amanda.

Sean nearly drops his bowl as the rest of the room goes silent. Jay smacks his lips and starts sliding the knife through the cake for his slice.

"You did _not_," says Ellie, glaring at her mother.

But she did, moans Sean inwardly. He shouldn't have shown up. Amanda Nash loathes him, and the loathing runs deep, deeper than any piece of dessert, any wound he's ever had, or any hole he could dig himself out of...and he doesn't blame her.

"Ellie...," begins Sean.

"Never mind that we have guests," mentions Ellie.

"What, they aren't up on Sean's sordid history?" says Amanda. "Like I wasn't up on Sean being here?"

"You should've expected it," says Ellie.

"John," says Amanda as she turns to her husband.

"Dad doesn't have to fill you in," continues Ellie. "Because we're a package deal. Because it makes sense!"

"Nothing makes sense including why you choose to stay with this...this...," cries Amanda. "I'm out of words. Congratulations, Sean. I am word-less."

Sean shakes his head. Mr. Nash is correct. Steamy night. Too steamy to stand here and take it. He walks quickly to the kitchen. His friends trail him, running from the drama too.

"Best...family...celebration...ever," deems Paige as she retrieves a soda from the fridge.

"I didn't finish my cake," moans Jay.

"They hate me," groans Sean.

"We don't," offers Alex, sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I can't believe you left Mrs. Nash speechless, Sean," says Dylan.

"Somebody needs to shut her up," says Alex.

The group looks blankly at her.

"Ya'll know it's true," adds Alex.

"All those Tic Tacs for nothing," says Jay. "I guess I asked my dad to extend my hospital curfew until longer for nothing too."

"Why don't we shut up so we can hear them fight?" suggests Paige. "My money's on Ellie bolting."

There were three raised voices coming from the living room. John Nash's voice was the most muted but it had power behind it. Sean can only hope Ellie's not being unflinchingly grilled in there. He will go in if he has to, although he's hoping he won't have to do that.

"And he'll be taking my daughter to a crime scene!" exclaims Amanda.

Oh no, the Ty task they're doing tomorrow. He walks back to the living room. Amanda and John's stares dart to him.

"Uhhhhh," says Sean with widened eyes.

"Yes, because it's for Ty, and if there was anybody who was completely innocent in this, it was him," argues Ellie.

"I don't care if that sweet kid was altar boy to the Pope!" cries Amanda. "You're not going."

"I am!" says Ellie.

"Not in my car!" vows Amanda.

"Understood!" says Ellie. "Dad, you know, why bother? Sean didn't come for this."

"He should be in jail!" exclaims Amanda. "He just got off on so-called potential, according to the judge."

"Well, you're apparently a judge too," says Ellie, fumbling for car keys. "And you're not a very fair one."

Ellie locates the keys in a hurry and stomps into the kitchen.

"Five seconds if you need a ride!" yells Ellie.

She doesn't need to ask twice. Even Marco, Paige, and Dylan charge to the door and Dylan's car. Sean watches them go and can't stop himself from pausing by Mr. Nash.

"Thanks for having me?" says Sean, wondering if it's appropriate.

"No thanks necessary," returns Mr. Nash as he stares at him bewildered.

They pile into the two cars. Amanda Nash appears in the doorway, her gaze on Ellie. Ellie shrugs.

"You're not driving my car!" shouts Amanda.

"What are you going to do, call the cops?" challenges Ellie. "Then if I'm convicted, I can make a license plate for you."

Sean leans over towards Ellie's window. "Don't."

"Sean wants me to stay with you guys," announces Ellie. "Go figure."

Ellie climbs into the car and revs up the engine.

"We're going to a party," says Ellie.

"Yesssssssss," says Alex until Jay elbows her.

The tires peel on the street as Sean holds on tight. He breathes out as Ellie smacks the Frankenstein doll to the windshield. Frankenstein twirls before stopping to stare directly at Sean.

II.

The lawn is pulsing. Beer cans litter the scene, under the statue of former president Perry Blackmore with his stone ponytail, by the flowering bushes a few feet below her dorm room, and behind the glass door she and her friends go through. Ellie notices red marker breasts on a poster of Ghandi. Oh, to be eighteen and an idiot...to find this funny.

Ellie doesn't hate partying. She hates stupidity and she hates disrespect, whether it's from her mother or Amberly. Alex and Jay linger at the bottom of the steps as if they wouldn't go up regardless.

"Whatev!" says Ellie, leading the troops.

"The armpit university of North American education," condemns Paige. "Why do you go here, Dylan?"

"Banting's not that much better," says Dylan.

"I beg to differ," says Paige who lets out a squeal when her toes meet a discarded condom.

Her room door is open. As Alex, with Jay's crutches over her shoulder, and a one-foot-hopping Jay reach them, she views twelve guys around a beer funnel; a three-way kiss being captured on several cellulars; and a cherry-red thong on her typewriter. Who is walking around here without underwear? Does she want to know? Ellie interrupts the continuing kiss to pick up the thong with a pair of scissors and throw it to the floor. She screams but it's not as loud as the music. Amberly is this close to comatose. There must be about thirty people crammed in here.

_In the land of a million drums_  
_there is always something going on, on, on, on_  
_If you can't locate your thought off_  
_might as well go on take your dead home, home, home, home_

Sean joins her, bug-eyed. Even he's surprised how wild this is, and why wouldn't he be? Amberly knits lacy pillows for crying out loud.

"Should we yell at people to bail?" asks Sean over the thumping rhythm.

"I can't even!" says Ellie, practically ignoring him. "Where is she?"

Her sight goes from Marco blocking off jocks who are making a beeline to Ellie's drawers to Dylan hugging what seems to be a friend. Paige dodges one of Ellie's leering hallmates. Jay and Alex...were Jay and Alex. They dig through a bag for red paper cups before being tossed two beers. It's the red cup that lets Ellie zero in on the target. A dark-haired girl with a pink belly-baring T-shirt and tight jeans stands in a crowd of frat guys. Amberly squeezes a guy's muscle and flutters her fingers in front of her face.

"You should go on MTV's The Challenge!" praises Amberly.

"I applied four times for the Real World," shares the guy.

That guy...no, that familiar guy. Heath. He's the goober that was all over me when I moved in, recalls Ellie. Amberly had to have no idea but it bothered her all the same.

"Your muscles are so major!" continues Amberly.

Amberly should get a major tongue lash, and Ellie's amped enough to give it to her. She passes an enthused Jay and Alex dancing to the sound system.

_Break it down, break it down baby 'til the flow jumps off the ground_  
_Ooo break it down lookin' over yonder til the walls come tumblin down_  
_Ooo, yes lord y'ain't gotta tell me two times but you know I know_  
_Ooo, break it down, break it down baby 'cuz I want y'all all to know_  
_We rock the world_

"Heyyyyyyyyyy!" says Alex, turning to do a few hip rolls.

Jay cheers her flexibility with his cup. "U of T works for me!"

A few guys around him applaud and he rocks with Alex to the song's returning chorus. Ellie grabs Amberly's arm and whirls her away from the guys. Amberly hiccups, smiles.

"Eleanor!" greets Amberly. "Isn't this the best shindig on campus?"

"No, it's not the best anything on campus!" yells Ellie.

"You're always stressed!" says Amberly. "Goooosh, after all the last minute planning I did."

"What?" snaps Ellie.

"I waited until our RA's girlfriend went into labor. She's like twenty-eight!" says Amberly, putting a finger to Ellie's lips. "Scandal! And I don't mean the television show!"

"We're going to get busted!" says Ellie. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking...who's wasted?!" shouts Amberly at the top of her lungs.

Every partygoer turns to lift their cups. Ellie balls her fists. No parties in the first-year dorms. There were no exceptions. Plus, these people were touching her property. If anything was damaged...

_I coulda got away with it, if it wasn't for you meddlin kids_  
_(oh oh, oh no)_

Ellie notices Sean gathering the rest of their friends. He must still be angling to stop this thing despite Ellie confining her focus to the reason for this thing.

"Truthfully, I'm stunned you're stunned," says Amberly. "I posted party deets all over."

"Ha!" says Alex, staring at her cell. "I got an evite from the U of T party line, with a picture of your room."

"Alex, not helping," sighs Ellie.

"Like you were helpful when I invited you places, when I was trying to fit in?" accuses Amberly. "You are such a sad sack. I was dying for us to have fun together. Then, you yelled at me when I tried to understand your very weird personal life. Sean is the boyfriend, right? Not Marco?"

"Shut up!" snaps Ellie.

"See?" says Amberly. "See how you _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaare_?"

"You can speak," says Paige after the drawn-out word. "Good for you."

"Hey, Ellie, you know what?" says Amberly.

Ellie narrows her eyes.

"My legs feel like jelly!" cries Amberly, then louder to the crowd. "My legs feel like jelly!"

"Amberly! Amberly! Amberly!" chant a group of four frat guys.

"I'm obsessed," proclaims Alex. "That girl is a true headcase."

They lift Amberly onto their shoulders and travel out of the room. She'd love for Heath to be in that collection but he saddles up to her, smug, an item in his possession. Nope. Her possession. He has Ellie's journal, her boyfriend recognizing his present to her. Sean squares his shoulders.

"I don't suppose there's a dream starring me in here, is there?" questions Heath.

"Only if you're being eaten by a crocodile," seethes Ellie.

"That's way harsh, Tai," jokes Heath. "Amberly told me you got your license. I could've given you...a lot of rides."

"Clam it, Abercrombie and Fitch!" says Marco who, as much as Ellie loves him, wasn't much of an insult guy.

Sean's not into insults. He's into crushing a fist into his palm. But a fight's the last addition this party needs.

"Just give me back the journal," orders Ellie.

"It's thin on ink, anyway," says Heath, taking in Ellie's slim figure. "Except this list about a girl named Ashley? Perhaps we can have a party of our own when she leaves rehab."

"Chump, you've got five seconds," warns Sean.

Heath's lips curl. "Boyfriend?"

"Yep," supplies Ellie.

Heath squares his shoulders as well. You could tell that he finally got he had no shot.

"And that must be why you're not imbibing," says Heath, shrugging it off. "Genetics, right? Don't wanna go down the same road as your drunk mom."

Frat guy scum. Yeah, she wrote about Ashley's intervention and how she hoped that her post-rehab life was as successful as her mom's. But this fool had no clue how seriously Ellie had taken it nor the pain it caused and is still causing her.

Ellie opens her mouth to strike but Sean strikes first. He grabs Heath's arm and puts it behind his back. The journal drops and Alex recovers it. Heath lets out a surprisingly girlish scream.

"That's my hockey arm, man!" wails Heath. "Dylan!"

"You gonna insult her mom again?" yells Sean. "Huh? You've got a mouth. Talk! Are you?"

Sean continues to twist the arm while Heath winces. Dylan says nothing, scratching his neck. The music stops. The crowd waits for what's next.

"No!" replies Heath finally.

"You're getting out of here!" says Sean before turning to the whole party. "You're all getting out of here!"

There's a series of "boos". Sean releases Heath. Heath stumbles to the floor, jumps to his feet. He stares at Ellie for a millisecond and grabs a teammate with his non-sore arm. His teammate guides him out of the door.

"Take me to the hospital!" says Heath. "This has to be checked! I'm up for captain! Captain!"

"It can't be that bad, bro," says his friend. "You're holding the stair banister without flinching."

"Heathie!" cries Amberly. "Where are you going?"

"Ask that...ask that deranged dude, man!" snaps Heath out of their sight.

"But I'm a woman!" says Amberly, drunkenly shuffling inside.

Amberly takes in her leaving guests, the many crushed red cups, a dripping keg, and random trash throughout the room. Some party. Amberly is cleaning this up. The fall-out for both of them? Still to be determined.

"Too bad Amanda wasn't here to see that," says Ellie.

Sean shrugs, with a hint of a grin.

"Party poopers!" cries Amberly, pointing to Ellie and each of her friends.

"Take a dump in your pants," encourages a buzzed Jay.

"Ewwwww!" moans Amberly. "You are jealous, Eleanor Cash...Dash..."

"Nash," provides Paige.

"Where is my thong?" cries Amberly.

"Classic," says Dylan, now not so quiet.

"Hi, Dylan! I am plastered to the maximum!" says Amberly, suddenly cheerful. "I'll deal with you and your gang later, Dash...cause I kinda have to heave."

Grasping for the doorknob, Amberly races to the hall bathroom.

Alex snickers. "I wonder if her puke's pink."

III.

Double destinations: Degrassi and Kytel. Prognosis that he'll make it through today after the events of this morning: Slim. Toby wedges his day planner in between two Kytel-related folders.

"Okay, done," remarks Toby.

H.P. makes a grab for the briefcase handle with his teeth. Toby watches, amused that he believes he can carry all that weight.

"You can carry it to the porch," negotiates Toby.

He doesn't stop to wait for permission. H.P. reaches the porch and drops the case. From afar, Toby spies Officer Wheaton cleaning his rear view mirror, polishing it clean. Right. He's lost his driving privileges. Toby drops to the porch after the case, defeated.

What is he going to tell Manny today? That Justin isn't in custody but one of his cruel cohorts was caught, a boy that was privy to his whereabouts? That he was being held at the jail and would be transferred to the detention center in a few hours? That Toby saw the whole thing go down in less than a half-hour? Toby pulls his jacket around himself. Suddenly, it feels like twenty degrees even if the sun is scorching his neck.

H.P. picks up the briefcase again, trying to decide which car to bring it to, and Toby doesn't have the heart to say anything to him.

"Top of the line service, Tobes," says a faint female voice from the sidewalk.

Toby straightens himself and smiles swiftly. H.P. regards her for a moment but walks right by.

"He's picky about who he pounces on," assures Toby.

"Eh, he has a job to do," says Lucie, joining Toby on the porch. "What's his name?"

"H.P.," answers Toby. "Manny got him for me."

"Is he any trouble?" says Lucie.

"Only the good kind," says Toby. "He's already helped me out today. I wonder if he remembers that."

Bartie may not have provided any leads without being charmed by H.P.'s antics. If only Abel had an ounce of charm. Toby could block out his horrible insults if that were the case. Sergeant Blanchett and Jeff were at the police station even now discussing "the necessary precautions for Toby since Abel represented the possibility of continued danger."

"You look like you're remembering a bunch," points out Lucie, cocking her head. "What's up?"

He sets his briefcase on his lap, not eager to talk. While he's confided in Lucie, it's a hard subject to jump right into.

"Do I really have to work it out of you?" says Lucie.

"Maybe," says Toby.

"Justin," says Lucie simply.

Too simply. Officer Wheaton waves at Toby, holding his watch in front of his forehead. Toby is so not ready to deal with the regular parts of his day, especially without speaking to someone about this.

"They caught this guy in Justin's group," whispers Toby.

"Seriously?" gasps Lucie.

"Seriously," says Toby. "And he's followed me and Manny no matter what we've done. And the stuff he said about her..."

"Can't be repeated," guesses Lucie.

"But Wheaton won't let me go to the station," says Toby. "Dad's there."

"That's probably for the best," offers Lucie. "Hearing more might freak you out."

"Should I tell Manny?" asks Toby wearily. "I mean, this involves her. But if I did, should I go into specifics? That's too harsh, right? Maybe if we hadn't hung out in Toronto they wouldn't have found out she was here."

"You're thinking you shouldn't have?" asks Lucie.

"Or maybe we should be out in the open now," continues Toby. "Even at your pool party, she was begging to spend time together. Manny needs to be safe but she makes a huge effort to be with me. I'm so confused."

Toby puts both elbows on his knees. Perhaps they were too comfortable - himself, Manny, their friends, and their families. He convinced Mr. Santos that Manny was safe. Sure, they suspected Justin's group would figure out Manny was in Toronto eventually. For all their faults, they weren't stupid...when it came to logistics. But he didn't fathom them being a step behind every move. If they tracked them at the doggie shelter, where else? The park? The lantern festival? Rosa's apartment complex? He really liked Rosa and J.J. Would those racists start bothering them? And did they go to the Santoses' family church? Toby's stomach flip-flops.

"She's too vulnerable," speaks up Lucie. "Do yourself a favor. Don't spill the whole truth, Toby."

"Well, of course I'm going to spare her the insults...," begins Toby.

"I mean, more," interjects Lucie. "Do you want her looking over her shoulder the whole time? Her parents to forbid her from seeing you?"

"They wouldn't," says Toby, his throat quivering. "Would they?"

"I'm not them," replies Lucie.

"I have to spill to somebody," confesses Toby. "Or else I'm going to blow up."

"That's what I'm here for," says Lucie, placing a hand on his back. "Manny...she gave me her blessing because we're friends. Because it's the least I can do."

Toby glances at her, startled. He surmised that Manny would be alright with it but to say this outright to Lucie? They weren't exactly getting along, not as much as Toby would like them to be. Manny could be so selfless. And Lucie is so sweet.

"You're top of the line," says Toby.

Lucie blushes. "I try."

"Why have you been AWOL lately?" asks Toby. "Have you disappeared to draft skyscrapers?"

"I wish," says Lucie. "Dad required extra hands at the station and he still thinks he owns all of me so..."

"I miss you lending a hand at Degrassi," says Toby. "Try and make it there soon?"

"Yes, sir," says Lucie with a salute to him.

She salutes H.P. who returns with the suitcase and nudges it until it falls on her foot. He barks happily.

"H.P.!" chastises Toby. "Honestly? I'm sorry, Lucie. He's usually very nice around girls."

"What do you have against me, pup?" asks Lucie.

The "pup" yawns. Perhaps he's tired after everything they've been through this morning.

"Manners weren't built in a day," says Lucie, rubbing her foot. "I'm making it my mission to win him over."

H.P. glances at her apologetically and licks Toby's wrist. Lucie leaves the porch with a final wave to Toby.

"What's wrong with you, huh?" says Toby, settling H.P. into his arms as they walk to the car. "You're a good boy. I shouldn't have to remind you."

IV.

She misses texting, her TV, the locks on her doors, the tiles of her own bathroom...to start. She doesn't miss the alienation, accusations, all-day dizziness, and crafting any excuses...to be sure. She misses the boy terribly. His absence is crystal clear as she sits across from her parents. He wouldn't be combing through pamphlets or checking his work e-mails. Craig would be combing through her mind, which he got without trying too hard, and reading the message that she was ready for this to be done.

Family counselling rears its ugly head once more. When her mom married Jeff, they had sessions in order to make the transition smoother. The result? She tolerated Toby but she figured out how to love him as a brother on her own. She took X and counselling sessions with her mom made a return. The result? No drugs, but years later, a full-blown addiction. When is this junk going to work?

"Must they play that Muzak?" moans Ashley.

Waterfall gushes and wind chimes creep from under Dr. Englecourt's door. A xylophone was trying to cut through the other noise.

"It's soothing," says Kate.

Bite me, wind chimes, thinks Ashley. Dr. Englecourt opens her office. Her tall, slender form is straight in front of Ashley.

"Please come in," says Dr. Englecourt.

Ashley enters the strangest office she's ever seen. There were several displayed degrees and comfy chairs like normal but the walls are a bright shade of purple. There were two magazine racks and a white desk with a coffee machine. Multiple photographs of serene landscapes hung in every corner. The piece de la resistance was a kid, perhaps her son, sticking his tongue out in black and white pictures near the office window. Cute kid but creepy.

"I'd prefer Ashley in the center," says Dr. Englecourt.

Kate sits to the left of Ashley, and Robert and Chris sit on the right. The first annoyance of counselling? You sit for what feels like forever. A fair amount of paperwork rests on Dr. Englecourt's desk. She shuffles them and sits herself.

"We'll be meeting twice a week for the next two days," reminds Dr. Englecourt. "I'll be meeting with your parents while you're at your AA session this afternoon, Ashley. I appreciate all of you rearranging your schedules for this."

"Believe us...we want to be here," assures Kate.

"Today, I'll perform a mental examination, evaluating Ashley's present state of mind," continues Dr. Englecourt.

State of mind? She's exhausted, nervous, and crabby. That's not obvious?

"At what point were you aware of your dependency on alcohol?" asks Dr. Englecourt.

It takes a short beat before Ashley realizes Dr. Englecourt is addressing her. Dependency? Okay, yeah, she drank entirely too much in the latter half of the summer but she wouldn't label it a dependency. Technically.

"Ummm, I wasn't aware," says Ashley. "My drinking got worse when I came home."

She hears Kate stifle a cry and bury her nose in a handkerchief.

"How much were you drinking in England?" asks Dr. Englecourt. "Everyday?"

Ashley clicks her tongue. "Yeah."

"Between the hours of?" says Dr. Englecourt.

"Whenever I felt like it," answers Ashley strongly.

"Settle down, Ash," cautions Robert.

"How am I supposed to remember what happened a month ago?" says Ashley. "I thought you said present state of mind. Right?"

She folds her arms. The sides of Dr. Englecourt's lips turn up. Yeesh, this lady is enjoying this and not hiding that she's enjoying this. Ashley is tempted to read her degrees and Google the universities. Oh wait, she has no phone.

"Can I text after these two days?" asks Ashley.

"No," says Dr. Englecourt. "What settings were you in when you were inebriated?"

Ashley slumps in her chair. "Clubs, the tour bus...is that not specific enough for you?"

"Alright, Ashley," says Kate, turning to her. "When is this attitude going to disappear?"

"In case you forgot, Mom, our family counselling history isn't that hot," asserts Ashley.

"This is about the decisions you made," reminds Kate. "Including coming here so if I were you, I'd listen."

"I just want my phone," mutters Ashley.

Dr. Englecourt sighs and removes a bunch of white cards from her desk. The cards match the color of the coffee table desk.

"These are numbered one to ten," says Dr. Englecourt, showing the numbered cards. "When I say an associative phrase connected to your addiction, you're going to lift a corresponding card, letting me know how you feel about it. For instance, how high would you rate homesickness as a reason to drink?"

When she receives the cards, Ashley spreads them out. Each number is printed in bold black. She learned her numbers early, a year ahead of pre-school, but these appear foreign to her. They're striking, firm in her pupils. Ashley slowly pulls out a two. She catches the expression of relief on Kate's face. She must've thought it meant that Ashley didn't feel that alone over in England. Only she did.

"Pressure to please others?" says Dr. Englecourt.

Ashley takes a deep breath and slides an eight from the pack. Dr. Englecourt nods, writes furiously in her pad. Robert's head falls. He hooked her up with BB6 but she certainly hopes he isn't blaming himself.

"Job security? The tour?"

She doesn't have to go far. A nine is raised. Dr. Englecourt moves her pen for a long spell.

"Relationship problems?" asks Dr. Engelcourt, fetching a new pen.

She restacks the cards. Like she'll reveal that. Like she would be an open book. Like Craig is here to defend himself. Hey, I seduced my boyfriend to avoid a confrontation circled around booze. There you have it. Shrink me. Ashley lays the cards flat on Dr. Englecourt's desk.

"You're not in a relationship?" says Dr. Englecourt with a furrowed brow.

"Pick a card, Ashley," orders Robert softly.

"You guys won't let me contact him or let him be here," remarks Ashley. "Why should I?"

"Pick a card or...," begins Kate.

"No, Mom," says Ashley. "And let's not pretend you three were his biggest fans until he was there for me when you weren't. Craig is the real reason I'm not still at the bar."

Dr. Englecourt taps her chin with her pen.

"I lived at a bar," shares Ashley. "Surprise."

"I have your records," says Dr. Englecourt. "And the thing is, Ashley. You have to be the reason you're here or all this is for nought."

"Duh," says Ashley. "But that doesn't explain why he has to be part of this stupid game."

"No game," affirms Dr. Englecourt.

Ashley lets air stream out of her nostrils. If this isn't a game to get under her skin, what is it?

"To be blunt, most relationships become strained when one of the parties is struggling with addiction," says Dr. Englecourt. "Troublesome for the addict, yes, but increasingly hard for the other person trying to talk the other off the ledge."

"Well, I almost fell off a ledge in London," returns Ashley.

"Oh dear God," whispers Chris.

"I doubt my relationship is that dangerous in comparison," finishes Ashley.

"Were you drunk then?" asks Dr. Englecourt.

"Forget this," says Ashley, standing. "When does AA start? I can't handle your snide smiles and personal attacks, and I'd rather dish it out with a real professional."

"Ashley, stop being a brat and sit!" says Robert as he rises.

"Excuse me for choosing another...what is it, healthy alternative?" snaps Ashley. "At least in AA, there's no putrid purple walls and constant jabs. Tomorrow then?"

"Dr. Englecourt, I apologize," speaks up Kate.

"No," says Dr. Englecourt with a spreading smile. "Let her go to AA. Maybe she'll see who the bad guy really is."

"What's that supposed to mean?" challenges Ashley.

Dr. Englecourt refuses to reply. She puts her cards back in place. The Muzak returns. Ashley walks to the door, her nerves running throughout her body. The bad guy? Who on earth is that?

V.

Nothing to drink but flat punch. Ashley enters the designated room, the last guinea pig in a flourescent-lit cage. There's bottled water on the side, sprinkled cookies, and mini-pastries. She guesses sugar is the substitute for people used to throwing back a few.

A few things about this scene bother Ashley. When she saw AA meetings on T.V., the people were seated in a circle. The same is true for Harmony Hill but the chairs were very close together, almost a fence to avoid anybody finding an escape route. She also wasn't a fan of a chalkboard being placed beside the circle's edge. It read too much like school and she wasn't in the mood to copy notes. Lastly, some of the patients carried these little red chips as if they were heading to a casino later on. She's pretty certain gambling shouldn't be evoked right about now. What are those for?

Ashley stares at her fellow residents. Again, surprisingly young, but nowhere as annoyed as she is. Cybil beckons Ashley over. She's wearing her overalls and tennis shoes. Well, at least she won't have to care about what she wears. Ashley nods, indicating she's going for a snack first. She dips the ladle into the punch bowl, fills her cup.

"This is one of those places where they won't spike the punch," says someone across the table. "Or did they?"

Instant disgust swells in her stomach. The same guy that was in the dining room goes for the ladle.

"Oh, lifeguard for the oranges," says the guy, taking a floating orange slice out of the punch.

"Not funny," dismisses Ashley.

He beams. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

"After lunch, how could I not?" replies Ashley.

"No, I'm talking back," says the guy. "Waaaaay back."

She squints her gaze, evaluating him with sharp eyes, similar to Dr. Englecourt. Dude doesn't ring a bell. He thinks highly of himself so he's probably just teasing her.

"I have to thank you for my music career," continues the guy. "Ashley Kerwin...on piano."

Her punch is nearly dropped. Stalker? Did they not monitor who they let into this place? He's a musician, though. Maybe a fan? The world's most aggravating fan?

The guy smirks. "I switched to guitar. That was my downward spiral."

"Who are you?" demands Ashley.

"The guy who benefitted from you botching your audition."

A botched audition, where she played piano? Whoa, that was way in the past. He had to be...the timpani...

"Grant Yerby," breathes Ashley.

"Fancy meeting you here...at a meeting," says Grant. "This oughta be good."

Ashley keeps her gaze locked on the wood walls until a woman in a wool sweater yells for their attention. Ashley sits next to Cybil, her shin hitting the tightly packed chair legs. The woman is someone she hasn't been introduced to but she glances at Ashley when everyone is seated.

"Let's begin," says the wool-wearing woman.

Everybody scrapes their chairs back, Ashley leaping up at the sound of clatter. They join hands.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change," recite the patients. "The courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

They're praying? Ashley fiddles awkwardly with her strands of purple hair. She wasn't religious, by any means. It wasn't a horrible way to live or anything and she appreciates aspects of religion but she didn't see herself as that sort of person. They sit and Ashley's more than glad. Cybil pats Ashley's leg.

"Before we discuss our weeks, we have a new addition to our group," says the wool-wearing woman. "Please welcome Ashley."

"Hello, Ashley," says the group.

Hello, pod people, she'd love to retort. Nah, they were pretty nice and only following the lame rules.

"Hi," says Ashley.

"I'm Elisabetta and I trust that you'll realize this is a safe space," says the woman. "Our secrets stay in this room. That said, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"

Ashley cradles her punch on her thigh. "Could I do it later?"

"Sure, whenever you're comfortable," says Elisabetta.

Wow, what a far throw from Dr. Englecourt. Ashley relaxes her posture a bit. Cybil's arm goes skyward.

"Yes, Cybil?" says Elisabetta.

"My name is Cybil, and I'm an alcoholic," says Cybil.

"Hi Cybil," greets the group.

"I told you guys my mom hung up on me a week ago," recounts Cybil. "Well, I took your advice, Elisabetta, and we had a decent chat yesterday. I even apologized for stealing money from her. She's calling me tomorrow."

The group claps, including Grant who gives Cybil a thumbs up. Ashley tries to remove the puzzled look from her countenance. So she isn't the single person who's stolen money for booze? She didn't know why she thought she was...it made sense. Maybe the guilt was clogging her brain or she was that self-involved at the time. Has she apologized to Paige?

"Since Cybil's being brave," says Grant, raising his hand.

"Yes?" says Elisabetta.

"My name is Grant, and I'm an alcoholic," says Grant.

"Hi Grant," says the group, Ashley barely speaking.

"I agreed to regular drug tests once I leave Harmony Hill," says Grant. "I'm eighteen and they needed my permission...and I owe it to my dad."

His statement is met with loud applause including Ashley's. That does sound brave, whatever his story is, and he said it with pride. Ashley wonders if he's addicted to drugs and booze. Her addiction doesn't seem nearly as bad. Ashley bites her lip, raises her hand. Elisabetta's pleased and calls on her immediately.

"My name is Ashley," says Ashley. "And I made it through detox, which was scary, and I'm going crazy not texting but my fingers haven't fallen off yet."

Warm laughter follows her comments and a supportive round of applause. Ashley takes her seat. Grant raises his hand...again?

"You're gabby this afternoon, Grant," comments Elisabetta.

"There was a mistake...in Ashley's statement," offers Grant.

A mistake? Ashley grits her teeth. Is he honestly going to judge a heartfelt comment of hers?

"Ashley, you need to say you're an alcoholic," says Grant. "Right, Elisabetta?"

She doesn't let Elisabetta comment.

"But... I'm... not an alcoholic," says Ashley.

"What are you doing in this room then?" questions Grant.

"I drank a lot over the summer," replies Ashley. "But it's been months, not years. I'm here to get back on track."

Grant whistles. "Back on track? We should all be so lucky."

Ashley won't wilt, especially since she's correct. Grant has cajones if he thinks he can diagnose her in a heartbeat. She doesn't need regular drug tests. She hasn't gone in and out of Harmony Hill a la Cybil. This is a momentary lapse for her. She'll get well soon..._soon_.

"What's your problem?" cries Ashley. "I'm sorry I tanked my audition and you got into an amazing music academy. You should be thankful!"

"I will be absolutely thankful when you admit you're the same as the rest of us," says Grant.

"Who made you a doctor?" challenges Ashley. "You're just another patient who has to follow these stupid rules and attend these whackjob counselling sessions..."

"Awww, are you mad you can't text your boytoy?" asks Grant.

"No, I'm mad my life sucks now and you're part of the suckage," retorts Ashley.

"News for the wise?" says Grant. "You're cruising towards a break-up. Your relationship is going to be a casualty on the rehab highway."

"A doctor and a psychic!" says Ashley.

"A realist," insists Grant.

"That's it!" cries Elisabetta, Ashley shocked that this woman could be that loud. "This is a meeting, not a boxing match."

"I'm leaving," says Ashley.

Despite the difficulty, she manages to part two chairs and almost falls out of the circle. Supportive environment? Who are they kidding? Grant chuckles. Dr. Englecourt, as much as she hates admitting this, was right. There is a bad guy - Grant.

"Pride goeth before the fall," she hears Grant say as she retreats.

VI.

"That didn't take less than ten hours to rehearse?" questions Toby, flummoxed.

"No way," says Manny as she clicks the replay button. "Two days minimum. You're speaking with the ex-Spirit Squad choreographer."

Bridesmaids and groomsmen get their groove on in the tiny window on Liberty's laptop. Manny searched for epic wedding toasts last night and this symbol of wedding fun materialized. As the wedding party continues to dance, a DJ starts his toast after asking everyone to wave their hands in the air. Manny can see her grin and Toby's matching grin in the shining lower half of the laptop monitor. She likes it a lot.

"My favorite was the pig oinking at the farmer's reception in the barn," says Toby. "The main jist seemed to be I love you...or I oink you."

"I oink you," insists Manny, touching his mouth.

"I oink you, too," says Toby.

They giggle and kiss simultaneously but Manny slows down on her end. Since Toby walked into the hallowed halls of Degrassi today, he's been very weird. It's not a weird that's amazingly noticeable but it goes in and out when they're not speaking. Manny kisses his chest and looks up. Toby continues to lie on the couch though not as relaxed as she would want.

"Are you distracted because we're in a library?" asks Manny. "It's not like Dewey Decimal is a real person who'd snoop on us."

Besides, the study carrels were empty. Officer Wheaton is fiddling with a microfilm machine the new librarian mangled somehow. The door is closed, and no student would dare waste his last days of freedom in the Degrassi School library. Except them...but they're making out.

"It's done by computers nowadays," teases Toby.

"Is it now?" says Manny, melting into him, kissing him anyways.

Why isn't he doing it forcefully, though, normally? Toby's head goes back.

"I should check on H.P.," sighs Toby. "I left him with Emma and I think Spinner was trying to get him on a skateboard."

"Their making up is our gain," sighs Manny. "He's fine."

"Fine," surrenders Toby and he ushers her closer.

Yep, there it is. Toby runs his fingers through her hair, over her ears. Manny whimpers.

"Ahem!" breaks in a male voice.

When they part, Nate is standing in the doorway. Manny could kick him between the khaki pant legs this very second. Instead of Dewey, they have to deal with Nate.

"I posted the final list," shares Nate.

"How did people react?" asks Manny.

"Whooooooooot!" yells another voice. "Just call me Drama Club Danny!"

Danny does two cartwheels behind Nate and bounds off. What was he excited about? He was in Drama Club last year and it's not as if Manny gave him the lead in a production...yet.

"I haven't heard from Liza despite frequent calls to the Hatzilakos home," says Nate.

"You called her twice," clarifies Manny.

"No reply, and this guy?" says Nate, gesturing to himself. "Not surprised."

He walks off cocky and Manny releases a painful sigh. She scoots away from Toby. She'd better call Liza. However, three more people invade the room and halt her chance. Or two people and a dog.

"Oh!" cries Spinner. "I just thought it was Manny in here...hi, Toby!"

Spinner attempts to hide a skateboard behind his back. Emma pats H.P. before he rubs his body against Manny's bare legs. He felt like a moving muff against them.

"Toby told me he spent the whole night with you," coos Manny.

The dog tries to deliver a magazine to Manny but Toby manages to save _Scientific American _from most of his drool.

"Hatzilakos won't be okay with him being in here," says Toby.

"Excellent," says Emma. "I'm giving H.P. a tour. Come on, boy."

"Keep him off the skateboard, Spinner!" orders Manny.

"He's his own canine, Manny!" bellows Spinner from the hall. "He makes his own choices."

Manny rises from the couch to corner Spinner. She's shocked when Toby lowers her to the cushions again.

"Can I have a second...before we save H.P.?" says Toby.

This must be serious if it's stopping them from that. She won't say no if it means he's finally going to fess up. Manny crosses her legs, her lime green skirt shifting and her matching cotton shirt ruffling. Toby winds an arm around her waist, soft but affectionate.

"This morning, I went to Justin's neighborhood and they found somebody," says Toby without eye contact.

Who did they find? She wriggles on top of the cushion, not certain it's there anymore.

"Not Justin," clarifies Toby, answering her next question. "His name's Abel, and...he's in custody so you don't have to worry."

Manny says the only thing she can utter. "How?"

"Eli hired this private investigator to locate Justin," shares Toby. "Abel was trying to get money out of him."

"So he has an idea where Justin is!" cries Manny.

"He does," says Toby and electing to look at Manny then.

She puts a hand against her heart, the organ shuddering underneath. This seems impossible...not real. But it's Toby telling her this. They're close, aren't they? Close to ending this. Manny wonders if she should wipe the happy tears from her eyes, wonders if they're premature. She registers Toby watching her tears as they fall.

"I don't think I should say anymore," says Toby, dropping his gaze.

Manny shakes her head. "Why not?"

"You're crying," says Toby.

"That's not allowed?" exclaims Manny, drawing Officer Wheaton's attention.

Toby moves on the couch. "Never mind."

"What else is there, Toby?" whispers Manny. "Isn't this what we hoped for? What did Abel tell them? What aren't you telling me?"

"Never mind," repeats Toby.

"Do I have to keep asking questions that begin with what?" continues Manny. "Like what's going on with you?"

Silence greets her as Toby bends, covering his face with his arms. Manny bends to her knees on the carpet. She puts her head against his, her nose on his hair. He sobs into his knees.

"Toby?" says Manny.

"You told me I didn't have to tell you everything," is what Manny can detect out of his barely audible sobs.

She wishes she hadn't promised that, particularly in this moment, particularly since it's breaking him in two. As luck would have it, this is the moment when Toby's cell vibrates. Manny believes it's another sob at first but she sees the screen of his phone glowing. Toby recovers long enough to read the caller's name.

"My dad," says Toby.

"I'll drive you to the station," says Officer Wheaton.

Toby rises.

"Me too," says Manny.

"No," says Officer Wheaton. "Patton's already checked the perimeter. The school's a safe zone if ever there was one."

"Shouldn't we feel more safe?" exclaims Manny. "Toby?"

"We have to go," says Toby, kissing her lightly and passing her.

Manny rubs her forehead until they leave the library. This is insane. When are they going to stop protecting her? Justin is inches away from being caught and she has to sit here and what, watch pig toasts? She thunders out of the library, an eye out for Officer Patton. She doesn't even stop when she sees H.P. whizzing on a skateboard in the far corridor.

"Spinner, no!" she hears Emma call out.

She'd scold him. Manny knew that. Officer Patton is fitting two new batteries into his walkie-talkie. Manny stands by him.

"Dad needs me home," lies Manny. "Wedding stuff. Let's go."

Officer Patton runs after her in a mad dash to J.J.'s car. They speed off, Manny intent on her route, growing calmer when she views Officer Wheaton and Toby on their way to the police station.

"Manny Santos!" groans Officer Patton. "Where are we going? Wait 'til your father..."

"Can we press pause on the lecture?" waves off Manny.

They were going fast but she keeps two cars behind them. When they arrive a minute after Officer Wheaton, Manny parks and hops out.

"We're pretty far from home!" says Officer Patton with an accusing glance.

"You should've told me what was going on," defends Manny.

A street painter eyes the agitated duo but resumes painting a yellow line for an additional parking space. Toby's just about to go through the station door with his father until a pack of people scramble through the door.

"The sergeant said you moved him already!" cries Officer Wheaton.

"He was being difficult!" returns Officer Hsu.

The boy, who couldn't be more than seventeen, struggles as he's lead to a waiting car by Officer Hsu and another officer. He's skinny as a pole with hard cheekbones. His wide gaze focuses on Manny. Abel. This has to be him. Toby's gaze is on Manny as well. He leads Manny to the side while Manny takes in Abel's handcuffs and brown jumpsuit.

"Why are you here?" whispers Toby in alarm.

"Island girl! Island girl!" yells over Abel. "Can't keep her coconuts covered or offline!"

"Back off!" shouts Toby.

Manny turns away. He's older than Justin, colder too. Abel smirks, almost bumping into the street painter.

"Bam! Bam! Bam!" says Abel, pretending to thrust into something. "Porking the Filipino! Porking the Filipino! I thought you were kosher, bro."

"Bro this!" yells Toby.

He storms towards Abel who bends just as easily as Toby did on the couch. Abel darts out of the officers' hold. Despite his handcuffed hands, he lifts the small can of paint and tosses the contents. Over Toby, though a bit finds Toby's shoulderblades. Toby looks at him as if he's missed his mark. Manny knows, though. He was aiming for her. He hates _her._ Everyone gasps but Toby who attempts to cover her as Abel shakes out the last bits from the can. Manny feels the frigid liquid cross her neck, her breasts, the whole length of her. She cries out, not clear what sound she made.

"That's how we were marked by Hitler, with a disgusting yellow star!" exclaims Abel. "That's what you are, you hacktress! Go screw your own!"

Manny covers her ears while Jeff blocks the boy from Manny and his son.

"It started with a push and I'll end it with one!" assures Jeff. "If you weren't a kid, I'd knock the life out of you!"

Abel raises his two middle fingers to Jeff.

"One for you, and one for every night you plow your fug French-Canadian wife," says Abel.

Jeff lands a fist against Abel's jaw. Toby releases an intake of breath. Abel chuckles and claps as he's shoved roughly into the cruiser by Officer Hsu.

"Standing ovation, old man!" calls Abel from the cruiser.

Jeff crumples, falls to the curb and starts to cry.

"I...I hit a child," he says in a daze.

The cruiser takes off after a stern warning from Officer Wheaton, a warning Manny can't hear as she releases sound after sound. The sounds are not identifiable or loud or ending anytime soon. Toby ushers her inside the station, quiet as he was before. The paint on them hits the station floor and coats the lines inside.


End file.
